The WTF in the news last week

Photo Credit: Provincial Court of Alberta

After some blog avoidance for the last few month when the last post went rogue, I'm going to ease back into the saddle with this entry.

Robin Camp, the Alberta federal judge made famous for asking the complainant in a rape case "why couldn't you keep your knees together?" is fighting to keep his $300+k a-year job. His defense strategy is ignorance of criminal and sexual assault laws, because his Canadian criminal law experience was "non-existent". Despite this, he was appointed provincially to the head of the Domestic Violence Court in 2012 and then appointed to the federal bench in 2015 by then Justice Minister Peter MacKay's flurry of get-'em-in-before-the-election judicial appointments.

In the interest of judicial integrity, or lack there of, Camp's verdict in this case was thrown out prior to to his appointment to the federal bench.  

Camp, who called the complainant "the accused" during the criminal trial, continued to do so during his own testimony and defended his conduct by stating "I think that my thinking isn’t really sexist, but just old-fashioned." Yes, like the old-fashioned attitudes those pesky suffragettes combated nearly a century ago when they wanted to be persons under the law.

He's very sorry though, as anyone would be seeing a prestigious and lucrative career end in disgrace and has faith that he can be redeemed in the public eye by a favourable decision. "I can see the perceived problem. If the council sees fit to permit me to keep sitting, that should signal to the public that I am not such a person."

Wrong again, Robin. If the council finds in your favour, it doesn't mean you're fit to practice, it means that the judicial system that saw fit to appoint you not once, but twice, failed us for a third time.

South of the border, Hillary Clinton is backtracking on a claim that half of Trump supporters are a "basket of deplorable", calling them "racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamaphobic, you name it." Not because it isn't true, but because the anti-politically correct, freedom-of-speech defenders don't like to be called names. Irony: it's a tricky mistress.

Meanwhile, Mike Pence stumping for Trump at the Reagan Library did his best to paint Trump as the candidate to carry on Reagan's legacy. Thirty years after Hollywood celebrity politician declared wars on the poor and drugs, gutted higher education and mental health funding (despite being shot by a schizophrenic), and whose supply-side economic theory of deregulation, privatization, and tax breaks for the wealthy lead to the greatest income equality in American history, Pence is right.  Trump, that over-privileged, unread, orange-stained bigot who has never been told no, is the poster child for Reaganomics. The only thing Pence misses is that this isn't something to be proud of.

And speaking of bigot politics, Conservative leadership hopeful Kellie Leitch has gotten over her remorseful crying jag about the Barbaric Practices Hotline of last election and now wants to screen refugees for "Canadian values". She says Trump comparisons are unfair. Kellie, short of a time machine, there's no way to re-frame your party as giving a damn about either group after the last decade, but you're right, Trump comparisons are unfair. You're not Trump. You're Ben Carson. Exquisitely well-educated and still a fucking idiot.

Locally, Mark Lever, Chronicle Herald CEO, wrote a letter to CH readers on Friday. He's very proud of the work his paper has done in the two months since he wrote his last letter to readers. That makes one. I thought his promotion of Now! Nova Scotia was particularly timely. Because nothing says journalistic integrity like a deluge of advertorial masquerading as news interspersed with fluffy calls to action based on thoroughly debunked social theory. You're never bringing the unionized workers back. Just fucking say so.

And that's the things that made me go WTF last week.

Ghomeshi: a post verdict update

MARIANNE BOUCHER/CITYNEWS

I was asked my thoughts on the Ghomeshi verdict after I reposted an earlier blog article I wrote about Ghomeshi when the story broke in 2014. In it, I called Ghomeshi a sexual predator. Has the verdict changed that?

The ruling was, in my opinion, in keeping with the narrow definition of the law. Do I still think Ghomeshi is a sexual predator? You bet. Why? The difference is the space between beyond a reasonable doubt and a balance of probabilities.

Using a measure of beyond reasonable doubt, especially in the absence of any other evidence, requires witness credibility. The witnesses omitted what turned out to be damning evidence in their original testimony. When that came to light, the judge deemed all of their testimony as not credible. The cases also had to be judged on their individual merits, that multiple women reported similar experiences couldn't be factored into the decision.

Using a balance of probabilities, that multiple women reported similar accounts of abuse, that he was accused of workplace harassment, that the complaint was fumbled (most likely to maintain a popular radio star), that he presented such a toxic work environment that a professor felt it necessary to keep interns away from him, and that he was legitimately dismissed from his workplace under the terms of his union contract for his behaviour, all point to him being a predator. I don't need a judge for that.

On a balance of probabilities, that these women omitted all the awkward, after aspects of their relationship with Ghomeshi, the ones that lost them their court cases, also make sense. Why would a woman maintain a relationship with a man after receiving a punch in the side of the head? After being choked? The answer is that women become accustom to rationalizing away unwanted behaviour. It's every woman who doesn't tell a stranger to leave them alone when told, unsolicited, "you'd be prettier if you smiled, sweetheart." It's every woman who let's it go when she's the recipient of unwanted male attention, because she doesn't want to cause a scene with some handsy jerk and she definitely doesn't want to top it off by being called a bitch or a tease. It's every woman who puts up with sexual harassment in the workplace because she's afraid to lose her job or be labeled a troublemaker. It's every woman who stays with a man after he hits her, because he promises he'll never do it again.

It's because when it comes to men and women, the playing field is vastly unequal. Let's take a trip through some recent political and judicial scandals that make that abundantly clear.

According to court documents, Justice Minister Toews had two extramarital affairs, one of which was with the family babysitter, who was of a questionable legal age and who he impregnated. He was also a deadbeat dad who failed to pay child support. All the while serving as an MP and cabinet minister. Following his voluntary retirement from politics, Toews was appointed to the Manitoba Queen's Bench.

Maxime Bernier, Conservative MP, left classified NATO documents at his ex-girlfriend's place for over a month. His ex had longstanding ties to organized crime, sparking international embarrassment over security concerns within the NATO community. For his misdeeds, he spent three years without a cabinet position and is now contemplating a run at leadership of the Conservative Party of Canada.

In 2011, Justice Robert Dewar gave a conditional sentence to a man who told a woman he would drive her to a party and instead drove her down a gravel road and raped her. The woman ran into the woods half naked and managed to flag down a passing motorist for help. In his decision, Dewar described Rhodes as a “clumsy Don Juan” who had the mistaken belief “sex was in the air” and a “heightened expectation” sex would occur. He blamed the woman for dressing suggestively, wearing make up, and wanting to party. After an outcry, the decision was overturned an a new trial order. Dewar was made to apologize to the victim and was temporarily banned from hearing sexual assault cases. As of 2012, Dewar was again hearing sexual assault cases.*

According to allegations (backed up by compelling text messages) Senator Don Meredith groomed a 16 year old girl for sex, a relationship that was consummated when she became legal at 18. At the same time, it also came to light that Meredith's masters and doctoral degrees were bogus. While booted from the Conservative caucus, Meredith still sits in the Canadian senate.

The police arrived at Rob Ford's door after a 911 call for domestic abuse.  Police later witnessed Ford's wife with her face beaten. She refused to press charges against the father of her two children. When questioned regarding allegations about sexually harassing a former staffer, Ford stated he had more than enough pussy to eat at home. Ford was reelected to city council.

Lori Douglas, a former Manitoba justice, made headlines when it was revealed that her husband, without her knowledge or consent, published photos of Douglas engaged in sexual acts on the internet. Douglas was subject to a judicial inquiry that dragged on for four years, resulting in four years of public humiliation and forced retirement.

Helena Guergis, former Conservative MP and onetime Conservative rising star, was forced to resign from cabinet and expelled from the Conservative caucus in April of 2010 for unspecified reasons. Guergis was then subject to an RCMP inquiry and an ethic inquiry. The RCMP found no evidence of criminal wrong doing and the ethics commissioner fined Guergis $100 for failing to declare a mortgage within the 30-day reporting period for MPs, and contravened the MP Code of Ethics when she wrote a letter in support of a business to a municipal politician. That's it. That and her spouse became a national embarrassment to the Conservatives. In 2009, her husband, former MP Rahim Jaffer, was arrested for driving while under the influence and possession of cocaine. In March of 2010, Jaffer plead guilty to careless driving and the more serious charges were dropped. The light sentence caused a public uproar, especially when further investigation revealed Jaffer may have been in the company of escorts earlier in evening he was arrested. One month after the Jaffer verdict Guergis was turfed, her political career destroyed.

The moral of the story is that scandals, even ones that prompt national security concerns or defy principles of justice and the law, can be overcome as long as you're a man. As a woman, your career is over. Even if it's your husband's fault.

It shouldn't come as a surprise though, because when it comes to women's issues, political officials have a long history not standing up for women.

In 1982, MP Margaret Mitchell stood in the House and, in reference to a parliamentary report, raised the issue that one in 10 Canadian women were regularly beaten by their husbands. The House responded with laughter and heckling, right up until a video clip of it aired on the evening news to a public that didn't find wife beating funny. An apology was issued in the House the next day. This could have been a watershed movement for women's rights, but it wasn't.

One of the first actions of the previous Conservative government was to remove "equality" from the Status of Women's departmental mandate. They also slashed the department's budget by nearly 40 per cent, resulting in 12 of 16 offices closing and eliminating funding for advocacy groups, rape crisis centres, and women's health organizations.

The gap between wages earned by men and women in Canada is the eighth largest of OCED countries. In 2009, the laughably titled Public Sector Equitable Compensation Act, replaced "pay equity", widely regarded as a human right, with "qualifications and market forces", and barred female public servants from complaining to the Human Rights Commission about job pay inequity.

The Conservatives scrapped the national childcare program proposed by the previous government and instead ponied up an additional $60 a month in baby bonuses. Daycare costs range from $900 to $1600 per child a month and that is if parents can find a space in daycare. Especially in large urban centers, there's more children than childcare providers. In a 10 year run, the Conservatives created zero new childcare spaces.

The Conservatives appointed an anti-choice MP, Rona Ambrose, as the minister to the Status of Women. Ambrose, in addition to casting her vote behind a bill designed to open the abortion debate, has twice voted against action to address the gender wage gap.

In 2013, the Supreme Court of Canada struck down Canada's anti-prostitution laws as unconstitutional. Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin, in reference to serial killer Robert Pickton, “a law that prevents street prostitutes from resorting to a safe haven such as Grandma’s House while a suspected serial killer prowls the streets is a law that has lost sight of its purpose.” The Conservatives held public consultations, conducted the first ever Canadian sex-worker survey, and then disregarded the results entirely, making selling sex legal and buying sex illegal. So still illegal, and still forcing sex-workers into unsafe working conditions. Still no doubt, unconstitutional, but years away from a Supreme Court decision that says so.

Returning to lawmaker scandals, just one month after Justice Minister Peter MacKay tabled the new anti-prostitution bill in the house, declaring it would “protect those who are most vulnerable by going after the perpetrators, the perverts, those who are consumers of this degrading practice,” an Alberta MLA, who was arrested the year before for attempting to purchase the sexual services of two undercover Minnesota police officers, was welcomed back into the Progressive Conservative caucus.

In 2014, the Conservatives announced income splitting for married an common law couples with children under the age of 18 (but not actual income splitting, it was just a tax credit), at a cost of $2.2 billion, to encourage the lower income earning parent to stay home. The Parliamentary Budget Officer stated that the measure would benefit families with high incomes and encourage women (see pay gap above) to stay out of the workforce. Staying out of the workforce keeps women dependent on their husbands. Marriages end. Husbands lose their jobs. Husbands die. No consideration was given to the challenges women face when they return to the workforce after a prolonged absence. Nor was consideration given to the fact that women with older children who stay home are ineligible for a Canada disability pension, should they become ill. Of that $2.2 billion, divorced and single parents didn't see a dime.

In 2015, an NDP MP sponsored a motion, dubbed "A National Action Plan to End Violence against Women". The motion was to develop a national policy to address violence against women as exists in other countries, like Australia, the United States, and the United Kingdom. The Conservatives voted it down. Even the Minister of the Status of Women voted against it.

Also in 2015, the Conservatives spent nearly half a million dollars attempting to force one woman to dress the way they wanted, but had zero dollars and zero intent towards an inquiry into over 1,000 missing and murdered Aboriginal women, an estimated 300 of which went missing while the Conservatives were in office.

Between 2006 and 2015, Stephen Harper appointed 59 senators, more than any prime minster in history. The argument made in support the lack of gender balance within government is that you only get to elect those who run. The senate is an appointed body and, male or female, any person who meets the requirements can become a senator. Therefore, a gender balanced senate is absolutely achievable. Harper appointed 43 men and 16 women, leaving the gender balance of the senate just slightly worse than when he took office 10 years ago. Perhaps taking stock of his track record, Harper didn't bother to show for the 2015 electoral debate on women's issues.

One of the most telling events in terms of women's lack of standing, was a 2010 decision by the Harper’s government to eliminate funding for abortion, which is legal in Canada, from its foreign-aid focus on maternal health. Several Conservative cabinet ministers confirmed that this ban extended to war rape victims, like the kidnapped Boka Haram girls, and child brides, whose underdeveloped bodies are ripped apart by babies. Five weeks before the decision was announced, Nancy Ruth, Conservative senator and the "Nancy" of the Nancy's Chair in Women's Studies at Mount Saint Vincent University (and of later cold Camembert and broken crackers fame), stood on Parliament Hill before a group of 80 international development advocates gathered in response to the Conservative's decision to eliminate abortion funding from foreign aid. Her recommendation: "Shut the fuck up on this issue. If you push it, there will be more backlash." Ruth went on to say, “this is now a political football. This is not about women’s health in this country.” 

Ruth's message was loud and clear:  keep your mouth shut, don't fight back, because if you do worse things will happen. It's the message of abusers. It's the message of a society that gives men a free pass for bad behaviour while it pillories women. It's the message that makes women brush off sexual harassment in the workplace and it's the message that keeps them from reporting sexual assaults. Stay quiet, suck it up, if you don't it will go worse for you.

It's a message that should have died back in 1982 when the House of Commons laughed at Margaret Mitchell for standing up and saying one in ten Canadian women are victims of domestic abuse. But there is still hope. The Ghomeshi women may have lost in a court of law, but they didn't lose when they launched a national conversation about sexual assault. They didn't lose when they outed a sexual predator and alerted women to stay away from him. They didn't lose when they inspired other women to speak out about assault and abuse.

Canadian women didn't lose when they cast their votes against a government that spent 10 years actively working against them. When Prime Minister Trudeau announced his first cabinet would include an equal number of women and men, "because it's 2015", the virtues of merit-based appointments gushed across newspapers nationwide like so much sewage from a broken pipe. In 20 years of following politics, never has so much been made of merit as it was in the days that followed Trudeau's announcement. But all the editorializing and all the patronizing didn't change the fact that for the first time in Canadian history, cabinet composition is half women and half men. Just as it should be in a country that is half women and half men.

* I'm awaiting the outcome of the judicial inquiry into Justice Robin Camp, who in a sexual assault trial repeatedly called the woman "the accused". During the trial he asked, "Why couldn't you just keep your knees together?" and, "Why didn't you just sink your bottom down into the basin so he couldn't penetrate you?" The 19 year-old victim weighed one hundred pounds. Her attacker, a man in his 30s, weighed 240 pounds. 

Bowie Gets Stitches

Unbeknownst to us, Bowie gashed his lip open on something. You would think something like that would bleed heavily, but it didn't even leak. We'd know, his whole front half is pretty much white.  You'd also think he'd show signs of discomfort, but he was his usual Bowie self. It wasn't until I was giving him some rubs and hugs that I noticed his lips didn't match.

I started calling as soon as the vet's office opened. If they have call display, I'm a potential stalker. I got a 12:30 appointment. We arrived early. Bowie got weighed. He still a chunky lad. We saw the tech, we saw the vet, we were presented with a startling estimate and I signed on the dotted line.

I recommended sedating him immediately, knowing Bowie would unleash his inner bloodhound the second I left. They said they don't do that. Only when an O.R. became available would they sedate him. I admired their ethics. I also need to avoid any job that lets me dispense sedatives.

Also to never again feed the dog cookies from the jar on the counter in the exam room while waiting to see the vet. Don't do it. If your dog needs surgery, which ideally occurs on an empty stomach, you won't have to then fess up to the three cookies you swiped.

The vet tech took Bowie away and I made my way back to the reception counter to follow up. I saw the young guy whose conversation with the vet assistant I had been listening to through the other side of the exam room door. He knew very little about dogs and I didn't like the sound of what he did know, but his pup was friendly, healthy, and he cared enough to take the pup to the vet.  A man came in with an English mastiff therapy dog. It was the biggest dog I have ever seen. He was huge! The young guy asked how much the mastiff weighed. His owner said about 200 lbs. I said he looked like a really nice pony.

I watched the clock all afternoon waiting for the vet to call. When she did call late afternoon, it was blissful news all around. Bowie was repaired, his stitches would dissolve, he was a "cheap drunk" who didn't need general anesthetic (or take after his mother), and his bill was just under half of what was quoted. A choir of angels sang. Not really, but it felt that way.  The vet tech would call when he was walking and ready to come home.

My phone rang on the drive home so I continued on to the vet's office. A little brown terrier mix that looked just like Benji met me at the front door. I said to the dog, "Hey, you look just like Benji." His owner said his name was, in fact, Benji.

The tech brought me a very stoned Bowie. He gently swayed back and forth as I paid his bill and received instruction from the vet.

As high-as-a kite Major Tom and I headed for the door, a lady on the young side of senior came in carrying a white miniature poodle. "Look at his eyes!" She said of Bowie, in a heavy French accent. "He's David Bowie!"

I told her that his name was, in fact, Bowie. That we named him Bowie because of his different coloured eyes.

She laughed and gestured to her little white dog. "I have another poodle at home, a black one. Her name is Oprah."

Regardless of gender, we're calling our next dog Sport.

It's the End of the World as We Know It

The Chronicle Herald

As of 12:01 a.m. last night, the Chronicle Herald editorial strike entered its third week. The print edition continues to arrive every morning in the office. I check. I look at what's above the fold on the front page and give it a heft. It's thin and light, but it was like that before the strike. It's the most contact I've had with the print edition of the Herald since a weekend at White Point last summer when it was delivered to our cabin. I spent a lazy morning on our little deck reading the news, free of the largely vacuous online commentary of Herald subscribers, and completed the crossword. It was fantastic. I was also on holiday with nowhere else to be and nothing that needed to be done. As for before that day and every day since, my media consumption is entirely online.

I haven't read a printed book in about three years. I read e-pubs on my over-sized smart phone or my less clever Kobo Mini, both of which can hold hundreds of books. The last time for print was a different weekend away at cabin when, in a moment of unplugged nostalgia, I picked up a couple trade paperbacks.  It wasn't fantastic. I had to sit next to a light source and hold the book just so in the evenings to read the text. My phone is back lit, perfect for poor light and my Kobo displays text perfectly under a glaring sun, so I load the same books on both. I couldn't select an unfamiliar word and immediately call up a dictionary definition. I couldn't flip back and forth between the current book the series and the previous ones to refresh my memory of past story lines. Compared to the convenience and functionality of my electronic devices, devices that I once upon a time said would never replace printed books, the printed books were dumb objects. The stories within didn't change, but my preference for how I consumed those stories did. It was a change that came about because something better came a long.

This observation is likely not win me any friends in the journalism community, but printed newspapers are also dumb objects. I know that sounds harsh, but it's true. By virtue of its medium, there isn't a single news story that will appear in print tomorrow that isn't yesterday's news. That isn't good enough, because something better came along. News breaks all day long on the internet.

Now I will be the first to admit I engaged in hand wringing and hyperbolic panic about the death of newspapers, especially when the Herald strike first seemed likely, but I've spent the last two weeks somewhat obsessively learning about the Herald's current financial situation and the financial situation of newspapers everywhere. The newspaper business model that has operated for the last 150 years is dead. Not dying. Dead.

In 1986, the print edition of the Herald had 138,000 daily subscribers. In 2006, it fell to 111,000 daily subscribers. In 2016, 74,000 daily subscribers. The Herald sells more digital subscriptions today, but combined subscriptions only total 94,000; and subscriptions were never a main source of revenue. Subscribers were what sold advertising and classifieds, which in turn, paid for the newsroom, which in turn gave subscribers a reason to keep subscribing.

I don't remember using the printed classifieds in the last decade. A trip through the Wayback Machine tells me that a 2006 Monday edition of the Herald had 394 listings for unfurnished apartments and 87 houses for sale. In yesterday's Saturday classifieds (the big day for classified advertising) there were 22 total rental accommodations and seven houses for sale. This isn't the strike, this is Kijiji. A 2 x 3 inch classified in the Saturday Herald is nearly $300. An advertisement with photos and as much text as you want to type is free on Kijiji every day. You can promote your ad for as little as $8.50.

According to the Chronicle Herald, "North American newspapers are estimated to have lost three-quarters of their classified ads to the likes of Kijiji and Craigslist and half their general ads to the likes of Google and Facebook, outfits that pop them up as clickbait on your device." I would hazard a guess that a significant portion of the remaining classifieds result from obituaries and legislative obligations to publish notices. As for general ad revenue, Google and Facebook offer advertisers better advertising. This is not a grand conspiracy on the part of these "outfits" to deprive journalists and printers of their daily bread, they offered customers a better product and customers took it. This is capitalism. This is why we drive cars, not horses and buggies. (It's also a little myopic to criticize those "outfits" for clickbait advertising while lamenting the inability to sell advertising space.)

Capitalism is why newspapers thrived for most of the last 150 years. Newspapers had the best product. Oh sure, I can drone on about the importance of media as a gatekeeper for government and business and to serve as a voice for the people, but the newspaper business was not birthed and sustained by philanthropic intent, it was to make money. It made a lot of money. The only modern thing about the term "media baron" is the use of the word "media", which has replaced both "newspaper" and "press" in style guides. The barons themselves have been around since newspapers started, that's how they became barons. The movie Citizen Kane, a fictionalized composite of three media barons, is 75 years old.

Since then, the barons' numbers have consolidated greatly. In Canada, a handful of people control nearly all the newspapers. It shows. In the last election, those people endorsed a Conservative government in various arrangements, including ludicrously enough, the Globe and Mail recommending a Conservative government followed by the prompt resignation of its leader (as likely as a unicorn). The actual voice of the people gave the Liberals a healthy majority. If this is gate keeping, the rest of the fence is down.

Now on that front, I know from the same Herald article that it is the largest and virtually the only independently owned English daily newspaper in Canada, but think about that. The rest are gone. Speaking of unicorns, the Herald is one of the last. To be sure, I do not want the Herald to fail, nor do I want anyone to lose their jobs. It's just unreasonable to think that appeals to brand, to history, and to consumer loyalty on either side of the strike are going to somehow offset an obsolete business model.

Journalism is not dead. In terms of informing the people, it's never been so easy to reach so many people in so little time in so many places. No one has to wait until tomorrow to find out what happened in the world today. In terms of gate keeping, the most explosive muckraking (whistle-blowing) journalism in the last decade came from a wiki site run by internet activists. The medium has changed, the filters have changed, the very foundation has changed, but the news will continue. The news organizations that adapt will continue.

It is the end of the (newspaper) world as we know it, but I feel (relatively) fine.

Everything Bread Recipe (or just plain bread)

 

Last weekend I made "everything bread", which was just white bread coated in everything bagel spice (I love that stuff). It was really good, but more importantly, it reminded me that I have a damned fine white bread recipe. It's fast (in yeast bread terms), it's delicious (verified by others), and it freezes well (only leave out what you'll eat in a couple days).

An unfortunate bit of math made me realize I've been baking bread with this recipe for 20 years. It makes four loaves, because if am going through the trouble to make one loaf, I might as well make four. To that end, anyone has an industrial Hobart mixer and a need for 30 loaves at once, I can give you that recipe, from which this one came.

Bread recipe

4 cups water (hot tub temperature)
1 1/2 tbsp salt
2 1/4 tbsp sugar
2 1/4 tbsp quick rise yeast 
1/2 cup vegetable oil
Flour (at least 10-12 cups, I've never measured it)

Everything spice

2 tbsp poppy seeds
2 tbsp sesame seeds
2 tbsp dehydrated onion
2 tbsp dehydrated garlic (if you can't find it use a tbsp granulated garlic)
1 tbsp course salt

In a very large bowl (preferably larger than this one, one day I will buy myself a proper bread bowl), add the water, salt, sugar, yeast and oil.

Then start stirring in flour by the cupful.

 

 

When the mixture becomes so stiff you can't stir in more flour, and your hand and arm are tired, dump it out on a well-floured counter top. If you are like my grandmother, scrape every last bit of dough and flour out of the bowl onto what's on the counter, wash and grease the bowl. If you're like me, get the worst of it out of the bowl and give the inside a good coat of flour.

 

 

Sprinkle flour all over the top of the shaggy mess and start kneading.  It will be really sticky to start with, so coat your hands with flour and lift the dough and sprinkle flour underneath it every few kneads until it finally absorbs enough to stop sticking to everything and you get a nice smooth ball.

 

 

Both hands and arms should be tired at this point (professional bread bakers have forearms to make Popeye proud). Put the dough back in the floured/greased bowl and place it in a warm spot. I have a bread proofing setting on my oven. If yours doesn't, set your oven to 100F, which is all pressing the bread proofing button does. Leave it there for about 40 minutes.

 

When you come back, the dough will be twice as big. If it isn't leave it for another 10 minutes.

 

Flour your counter and dump the dough on it.

 

Divide the dough into four relatively same-sized pieces and knead each one into a loaf. The dough will make satisfying squeaky noises as the large air bubbles pop. Make sure you squish them all out or your bread will have holes in it.

 

 

If you're going the everything spice route, pour a bunch of the mixture on a pan or plate. I used parchment paper so I could pour the leftover spice mix back in the jar. Use another piece of parchment paper to line one big baking sheet or two small ones. If you don't have parchment, grease the pan(s) with butter.

  

Wet your hands and rub them over the top of a loaf to make it sticky and roll it in the spice mix. This works a lot better in theory than in practice, but do the best you can with it. An alternative would be to use a shaker, but I don't have one. Coat the rest of the loaves, or half and half, or just one. It's your bread.

 
Put the finished loaves on the baking sheet(s) and put them in the same warm place you used the last time. Leave them for half an hour or so. 

 

The loaves double in size. If your using the oven to proof them, take them out. Turn the oven to 350F and when it comes to temperature, bake the loaves for 30-35 minutes. When done, transfer to a cooling rack.

 

Eat, share and/or freeze. 

Meatball Soup

 
When I make this soup, which fairly often in winter, we still call it hamburger soup. The recipe originated from hamburger soup, but over the years has become its own soup. I didn't like the ground beef, so it was swapped for Italian sausage. I love marinara sauce, so the seasonings changed and the tomato soup became spaghetti sauce. Everyone needs to eat their vegetables, so the number and quantity of vegetables tripled.

The optional noodles are a nod to the tomato macaroni soup I grew up with and are great for stretching a few more bowls out of a pot, just don't get carried away or you'll end up with a casserole.

This soup freezes extremely well. We eat it a couple times and the rest is portioned into zip-lock bags and poked away in the freezer for lunches and easy suppers.

To ratchet up the comfort-food factor, serve with grilled cheese sandwiches.

Meatball Soup

1.5 tbsp oil

4 cloves garlic

1 large onion

1 large green pepper

3 medium carrots, peeled

3 stalks celery

4 small zucchinis

1 6 oz package mushrooms

1 lb Italian sausage

4 cups stock*

1 28 oz can diced tomatoes

1 26 oz can or jar of spaghetti sauce

1.5 tsp dried oregano

1.5 tbsp Clubhouse Italian seasoning (alternate: 1 tsp of salt and 1/2 tbsp dried Italian herbs)

1 tsp pepper

3 bay leaves

3 tbsp white sugar

1 cup dry pasta (optional)
 Parmesan for serving (optional)

Mince garlic and chop remaining vegetables into a one inch dice.**

In a large soup pot, add the oil and saute all the chopped vegetables except for the mushrooms and zucchinis over medium heat. When the vegetables start to soften, pinch one inch meatballs from the sausage casing into the pot. Saute until the meatballs firm up and are no longer pink. Add the mushrooms and zucchinis. Cook for five more minutes.

Add the remaining ingredients, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for about an hour, stirring occasionally. If adding pasta, do so at the 45 minute mark. Taste, season as needed, and serve with a sprinkle of Parmesan cheese (a sprinkle of Italian breadcrumbs also works).

*I use reconstituted powdered stock, beef, chicken or vegetable, whichever one I have on hand. If you're a vegetarian, use vegetable stock and the end result of whatever tofu endures to become vegetarian Italian sausage.

**When cutting the carrots and celery into one inch chunks, cut them at a 45 degree angle, they look nicer cut this way. Eat the odd shaped ends. Trim the ends of the zucchini and cut in half lengthwise and then cut each half again lengthwise. Line up and spears and cut in one inch chunks at a 90 degree angle (zucchini doesn't hold a bias cut well with long cooking, so straight cut). Quarter the mushrooms unless they are small, then half them, if very small, leave whole. If you're in a hurry, substitute the veg with a few bags of frozen Italian veg. I haven't tried it, but I can't see why it wouldn't work.

Of bread and grandmothers

"What Christmas gift did you always want and never get?" Asked the radio D.J. when I was driving to work one day last week. Alone in my car, I blurted out "Easy Bake Oven". Then I laughed, because the reason why I never got an Easy Bake Oven is the same reason I don't have one now. I was allowed to use the real oven.

Growing up on a rural Nova Scotia farm in the pre-wireless age (it's barely wired now), make your own fun was an essential component of childhood. Having grandparents living 14 feet away was an essential component in that.

My sister Jan and I had a stool when we started baking with Granny; we weren't tall enough to reach the counter without it. We started out with easy gear, like cookies and squares, before migrating to bread. Bread, by comparison, is labour intensive, especially when you have a grandmother intent on teaching it old school and you're four and a half feet tall. Granny was only a few inches taller full grown. Game on!

We started with a cup of very warm water, yeast and sugar in a small bowl, covered with a plate. After that, in a big bowl, really hot water to melt the lard, salt and sugar, with a bit of vinegar thrown in to make the bread keep longer. Once the lard was melted into a shiny slick across the top, we'd add flour until we had an easy to stir slurry. Then it was time to beat in the yeast, which had magically expanded to touch the top of the plate.

Then it was adding flour, flour, and more flour, 'til you couldn't mix it with a spoon any more, at which point, we'd dump it on the counter for kneading. I worked as a baker for a little while. I find kneading bread soothing. This is why.  The rhythmic smooshing of dough, pulling up the side to throw fresh flour underneath to be rolled in. Sprinkling flour into the bowl and rubbing the dough stuck to the sides so you can work in every last bit. Waste not, want not.

On to kneading till the dough squeaked. The dough had to squeak, because that meant that the yeast was working and we were crushing air bubbles. Air bubbles are critical to bread success. At the time, had I known the word "sadist" I would have used it for my grandmother. It takes a lot of kneading to make the bread squeak. I certainly don't work the dough for that long now, but I don't have to. The yeast is is better.

But my grandmother had to. Growing up, if I ruined a batch of bread we had Ben's sliced white waiting in the wings, we just didn't get the treat of homemade bread, served hot, with butter and brown sugar. In my depression-era grandmother's day, no homemade bread meant no bread, so you worked it till it you receive squeaks of confirmation. Perhaps even willed it so.

P.S. I have used quick-rise yeast ever since my stint as a baker in '96. I love it. There's no proofing (the small bowl and plate), with quick rise yeast and as with any restaurant employee, you follow the recipe. I didn't know until I was reading recipes today that folks are skipping their first rise with quick-rise yeast. I swear I felt my grandmother cringe inside me when I read about it. Granny had a standard, and that was to get as close to store bought as possible, from canned peas to white bread.  Unless you let your dough rise at least once (Granny's was twice, but that's too long), before you form loaves, you'll never work out all the big air bubbles and when it's sliced, there's holes in it. The dough needs to be refined with kneading so the bubbles are tiny throughout.  Now grocery stores sell Artisanal bread and a point of authenticity is that it's irregular. Like homemade. How rude.