http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/grand-prix-nouvelles-aujourdhui.html

La grande importance du Grand Prix: il y a des nouvelles qu'il y aura des nouvelles, avec une heure de tombée en plus: 15h cet après-midi.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/trains-menaces-par-une-greve-chez-cn.html

Si les ingénieurs de CN votent pour la grève, on va perdre deux lignes de train AMT, celles de Deux-Montagnes et Mont-Saint-Hilaire.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/cafes-italiens-une-photo-du-suspect.html

La police a émis une photo de l'un des suspects dans les attaques sur des cafés italiens. Kristian Gravenor va au source et en trouve beaucoup sur la page Facebook et une autre page web du suspect. Toutefois, les média sont incertains si son nom est Mickendy Démosthène ou Démosthène Mickendy.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/quebec-dit-oui-au-projet-marianopolis.html

Québec a dit oui au projet de transformation de l'ancien site de Marianopolis, alors maintenant c'est au maire Tremblay de trancher.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/nouvel-transport-plus-cher.html

La STM songe à hausser ses tarifs encore pour 2010: le coût de recharger son Opus grimpant de 68,50 $ à 70 $.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/erreur-sur-la-personne-et-excuses-de-la.html

Une viellle dame a reçu les excuses de la police après qu'ils l'ont livré les mauvaises nouvelles que sa fille a suicidé dans le métro. Une heure plus tard, sa fille est arrivée visiter la dame: c'était une autre femme qui s'est suicidée.

More pictures, tips, and recipe at my blog HERE

As always, recipe behind cut as well.
( Read more... )

Hi everyone!
I was wondering if anyone had a good coconut ice recipe they were willing to share.
Thanks!!

This is my first time posting here, so let me know if I do something wrong!

I made these oreo truffles for Thanksgiving. They were a huge hit, and I will definitely make them again soon. Only warning: do NOT eat one all in one bite!



( Recipe )

And now I have another lad!
No longer need you tell
How all my nights are slow and sad
For loving you too well.

His ways are not your wicked ways,
He's not the like of you.
He treads his path of reckoned days,
A sober man, and true.

They'll never see him in the town,
Another on his knee.
He'd cut his laden orchards down,
If that would pleasure me.

He'd give his blood to paint my lips
If I should wish them red.
He prays to touch my finger-tips
Or stroke my prideful head.

He never weaves a glinting lie,
Or brags the hearts he'll keep.
I have forgotten how to sigh-
Remembered how to sleep.

He's none to kiss away my mind-
A slower way is his.
Oh, Lord! On reading this, I find
A silly lot he is.

- Dorothy Parker

"It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies but a great deal more to stand up to your friends, I award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom".

- Professor Dumbledore.

"That Sunday, I was faced by a philosophical dilemma: I had chosen to respect the institution rather than the words on which that institution was based.

I'm getting old now, and God could take me at any time. I've remained faithful to my religion and believe that, for all its errors, it really is trying to put things right. This will take decades, possibly centuries, but one day, all that will matter is love and Christ's words: 'Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' I've devoted my entire life to the priesthood and I don't regret my decision for one second. However, there are times, like that Sunday, when, although I didn't doubt my faith, I did doubt men.

I know now what happened to Athena, and I wonder: Did it all start there, or was it already in her soul? I think of the many Athenas and Lukases in the world who are divorced and because of that can no longer receive the sacrament of the Eucharist; all they can do is contemplate the suffering, crucified Christ and listen to his words, words that are not always in accord with the laws of the Vatican.

[...]

I like to imagine that, when she left the church, Athena met Jesus. Weeping and confused, she would have thrown herself into his arms, asking him to explain why she was being excluded just because of a piece of paper she'd signed, something of no importance on the spiritual plane, and which was of interest only to registry offices and the tax man.

And, looking at Athena, Jesus might have replied:

'My child, I've been excluded too. It's a very long time since they've allowed me in there.'"


Paulo Coehlo, The Witch of Portobello

"For every evil there are two remedies: time and silence."

Howdy!

Has anyone seen any mason jars for sale recently anywhere on island (west island or within like... one bus from a metro)? I checked Walmart, but they aren't carrying them any more since the canning season is done.

Or: are YOU selling mason jars?

Basically, anyone know where I could get my hands on some? They're perfect for storing pasta and couscous and lentils and spices and stuff.

THANKS! <3

tonight was a supper where i "wanted certain flavours and threw them all together" kind of dish.



( pics and recipe this way )

I have a ton of Reeses Pieces candies leftover from Hallowe'en that I don't want to waste, so I was thinking of making some sort of baked treat for my friends. I've seen tons of different kinds of recipes on the net but don't know which is the best. I was thinking of a recipe that isn't too buttery or sickly sweet, but the kind that is a nice treat with coffee. I'm open to any kind of baked good!

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/bonaventure-plans-and-pictures.html

Spacing presents an interesting image of the buildings planned for the redesign of the Bonaventure Autoroute rethink, with news about the public consultations under way.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/olympic-torch-to-touch-down-here.html

The Olympic torch will pass through Montreal December 9 and 10 and there's supposed to be a big party in Old Montreal.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/busiest-vaccination-day-yesterday.html

Yesterday was the busiest vaccination day so far in Quebec; 2.3 million Quebecers have had the shot so far.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/another-italian-address-targeted.html

An Italian establishment on Fleury escaped damage today although a Molotov cocktail was found on its terrasse. This makes 13 Italian cafés targeted in two months. And now two suspects have been named in connection with the Café Bar Ferrari bombing earlier this week.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/transit-cops-collecting-hefty-fines.html

STM transit cops have been tightening up on ticketing infractions, helped by the new technology used for paying fares. If you can't produce a valid Opus or ticket card, you can face a hefty fine.

So my Boyfriend, being awesome went and bought the sweet potatoes we needed for the pie I'm making for tonight. Well, he brought home this white fleshed tuber, versus the orange fleshed ones I'm used to.

The stores are closed, so I can't go out and buy orange sweet potatoes.

How do I turn this white sweet potato into a tasty pie? Will the following recipie work? What will I need to change?

This is the recipe:


Ingredients

* 1 (1 pound) sweet potato
* 1/2 cup butter, softened
* 1 cup white sugar
* 1/2 cup milk
* 2 eggs
* 1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
* 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
* 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 1 (9 inch) unbaked pie crust

Directions

1. Boil sweet potato whole in skin for 40 to 50 minutes, or until done. Run cold water over the sweet potato, and remove the skin.
2. Break apart sweet potato in a bowl. Add butter, and mix well with mixer. Stir in sugar, milk, eggs, nutmeg, cinnamon and vanilla. Beat on medium speed until mixture is smooth. Pour filling into an unbaked pie crust.
3. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for 55 to 60 minutes, or until knife inserted in center comes out clean. Pie will puff up like a souffle, and then will sink down as it cools.

Thanks Everyone!!

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/cinema-lamour-to-fete-40-years.html

Cinéma l'Amour, the Plateau's last porn cinema, will soon celebrate 40 years, although the building it's in is much older, dating back to 1914. I've never seen the interior, but arguably porn has preserved it; another of the Plateau's vintage cinemas, later a palais de porn, was gutted to turn into the Théâtre d'Aujourd'hui on Saint-Denis.

For sale is a like new DELL Vostro 200 desktop PC. The computer was purchased roughly two years ago for my company but has been hardly used as we switched to an all-Mac environment shortly.

( Detailed Description and More Pictures... )

I thought I'd share this experience since, in a time when everyone is concerned about saving energy (either to save the planet or to save money) this is a rather brilliant way to cook a turkey.

Usually we don't have turkey in my house for Thanksgiving because it's just a huge pain in the butt. Why eat a turkey that will take hours to cook when we can pop a roast in and be done in an hour? This year, though, Mom was reading M.S. Living which had an article about cooking a Spatchcocked (butterflied) Turkey. So we thought... 70 minutes, really? Let's try it!

The turkey was the last thing to go into the oven and it came out perfectly about an hour later. No need to cover it or worry the skin will burn. It was still very moist.



( How to... )
X-Posted to bakebakebake

We are going to be moving in the near future, and unfortunately we will not have a stove/oven/or fridge for probably about 2 months. We will have a mini fridge for items like milk, etc but really no storage space. We have a grill, electric griddle, microwave, and a deep freeze. I was thinking of making up some individually portioned meals to stick in the freezer so that we are not completely living off of take out and commercially frozen dinners. They would need to be pretty simple to make since we are busy preparing for the move and would also need to be able to be reheated in the microwave - preferably from a frozen state since there's not much room in the mini fridge. Does anyone have any TNT freezer friendly recipies? Thank you!

Hello Montreal,

two questions. First, my boyfriend lost his health card at the hospital after they perscribed him something. He now has a photocopy of his birth certificate/Ontario health card (we've just moved here). He doesn't have any photo ID and only his SIN card. We'd love to fill out this perscription but aren't sure what to do.

Which leads me to the second question, is there a place that can make ID for you quickly? A travel place, something. Maybe we can show Shoppers his photocopied ID, but we still need a photo identification, right?

Thanks for your help.

Let them not forget us, the weak souls among the asphodels
Seferis — 'Mythistorema'

For J.G. Farrell


Even now there are places where a thought might grow —
Peruvian mines, worked out and abandoned
To a slow clock of condensation,
An echo trapped forever, and a flutter
Of wildflowers in the lift-shaft,
Indian compounds where the wind dances
And a door bangs with diminished confidence,
Lime crevices behind rippling rainbarrels,
Dog corners for bone burials;
And a disused shed in Co. Wexford,

Deep in the grounds of a burnt-out hotel,
Among the bathtubs and the washbasins
A thousand mushrooms crowd to a keyhole.
This is the one star in their firmament
Or frames a star within a star.
What should they do there but desire?
So many days beyond the rhododendrons
With the world waltzing in its bowl of cloud,
They have learnt patience and silence
Listening to the rooks querulous in the high wood.

They have been waiting for us in a foetor
Of vegetable sweat since civil war days,
Since the gravel-crunching, interminable departure
of the expropriated mycologist.
He never came back, and light since then
Is a keyhole rusting gently after rain.
Spiders have spun, flies dusted to mildew
And once a day, perhaps, they have heard something —
A trickle of masonry, a shout from the blue
Or a lorry changing gear at the end of the lane.

There have been deaths, the pale flesh flaking
Into the earth that nourished it;
And nightmares, born of these and the grim
Dominion of stale air and rank moisture.
Those nearest the door growing strong —
'Elbow room! Elbow room!'
The rest, dim in a twilight of crumbling
Utensils and broken flower-pots, groaning
For their deliverance, have been so long
Expectant that there is left only the posture.

A half century, without visitors, in the dark —
Poor preparation for the cracking lock
And creak of hinges. Magi, moonmen,
Powdery prisoners of the old regime,
Web-throated, stalked like triffids, racked by drought
And insomnia, only the ghost of a scream
At the flashbulb firing squad we wake them with
Shows there is life yet in their feverish forms.
Grown beyond nature now, soft food for worms,
They lift frail heads in gravity and good faith.

They are begging us, you see, in their wordless way,
To do something, to speak on their behalf
Or at least not to close the door again.
Lost people of Treblinka and Pompeii!
'Save us, save us,' they seem to say,
'Let the god not abandon us
Who have come so far in darkness and in pain.
We too had our lives to live.
You with your light meter and relaxed itinerary,
Let not our naive labours have been in vain!'

Now they are no longer
any trouble to each other

he can turn things over, get down to that list
of things that never happened, all of the lost

unfinishable business.
For instance… for instance,

how he never clipped and kept her hair, or drew a hairbrush
through that style of hers, and never knew how not to blush

at the fall of her name in close company.
How they never slept like buried cutlery –

two spoons or forks cupped perfectly together,
or made the most of some heavy weather –

walked out into hard rain under sheet lightning,
or did the gears while the other was driving.

How he never raised his fingertips
to stop the segments of her lips

from breaking the news,
or tasted the fruit

or picked for himself the pear of her heart,
or lifted her hand to where his own heart

was a small, dark, terrified bird
in her grip. Where it hurt.

Or said the right thing,
or put it in writing.

And never fled the black mile back to his house
before midnight, or coaxed another button of her blouse,

the another,
or knew her

favourite colour,
her taste, her flavour,

and never ran a bath or held a towel for her,
or soft-soaped her, or whipped her hair

into an ice-cream cornet or a beehive
of lather, or acted out of turn, or misbehaved

when he might have, or worked a comb
where no comb had been, or walked back home

through a black mile hugging a punctured heart,
where it hurt, where it hurt, or helped her hand

to his butterfly heart
in its two blue halves.

And never almost cried,
and never once described

an attack of the heart,
or under a silk shirt

nursed in his hand her breast,
her left, like a tear of flesh

wept by the heart,
where it hurts,

or brushed with his thumb the nut of her nipple,
or drank intoxicating liquors from her navel.

Or christened the Pole Star in her name,
or shielded the mask of her face like a flame,

a pilot light,
or stayed the night,

or steered her back to that house of his,
or said “Don’t ask me how it is

I like you.
I just might do.”

How he never figured out a fireproof plan,
or unravelled her hand, as if her hand

were a solid ball
of silver foil

and discovered a lifeline hiding inside it,
and measured the trace of his own alongside it.

But said some things and never meant them –
sweet nothings anybody could have mentioned.

And left unsaid some things he should have spoken,
about the heart, where it hurt exactly, and how often.

SAQ is having an online sale. If you buy $350 worth of alcohol, you get a free $62 bottle of champagne. I don't normally spend that much (in one shot) at the SAQ but I'm thinking about stocking myself a nice little bar for the winter next month Holidays and having some champagne to boot.

CATCH: You must order today or tomorrow!

That was when I cut my arms with a razor blade as a means of creative expression. I only did it lightly, just grazing the skin, to see the way the blood would bleed out, to make myself look tougher. Not like some of those kids who keep going deeper and deeper, wondering what they look like down to the bone, because it's a world that's so close and yet so far and so dangerous and so much their own. The only world that is their own.

Happy Thanksgiving. A toast:

Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the "good life", whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.

-Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway

Hey everyone! I have a quick question. Does anyone know where i could get an Asian tea set? I tried Stokes and their set is ok but not something that'll knock my friends socks off when she see's it.

Thanks a bunch!

I had promised to bring a lemon pound cake to my aunt's house for dessert. While taking it out the oven I was surprised to find that one of my cats had decided to follow me and lay down right behind me. So while trying to not step on him and simultaneously keep myself from face planting into the wall, I ended up dropping my cake on the floor (wahh!). I'm out of eggs and the lemon pudding I use for the cake, and I have no way to get to the store right now (not to mention there's no time for the butter to soften).

I have approximately 2 ~ 2.5 hours of available time before I need to get myself ready. Anyone have simple dessert recipes that don't take too long to whip up?

To mark the first anniversary of the terrorist attacks on the city of Mumbai.

Land

Swear by the olive in the God-kissed land—
There is no sugar in the promised land.

Why must the bars turn neon now when, Love,
I’m already drunk in your capitalist land?

If home is found on both sides of the globe,
home is of course here—and always a missed land.

The hour’s come to redeem the pledge (not wholly?)
in Fate’s "Long years ago we made a tryst" land.

Clearly, these men were here only to destroy,
a mosque now the dust of a prejudiced land.

Will the Doomsayers die, bitten with envy,
when springtime returns to our dismissed land?

The prisons fill with the cries of children.
Then how do you subsist, how do you persist, Land?

“Is my love nothing for I’ve borne no children?”
I’m with you, Sappho, in that anarchist land.

A hurricane is born when the wings flutter ...
Where will the butterfly, on my wrist, land?

You made me wait for one who wasn’t even there
though summer had finished in that tourist land.

Do the blind hold temples close to their eyes
when we steal their gods for our atheist land?

Abandoned bride, Night throws down her jewels
so Rome—on our descent—is an amethyst land.

At the moment the heart turns terrorist,
are Shahid’s arms broken, O Promised Land?

I tried to live small.
I took a narrow bed.
I held my elbows to my sides.
I tried to step carefully And to think softly
And to breathe shallowly
In my portion of air
And to disturb no one.

Yet see how I spread out and
I cannot help it.
I take to myself more and more,
and I take nothing
That I do not need, but
my needs grow like weeds.
All over and invading,
I clutter this place
With all the apparatus
of living.
You stumble over it daily.

And then my lungs
take their fill.
And then you gasp for air.
Excuse me for living.
But, since I am living,
Given inches, I take yards,
Taking yards, dream of miles
And a landscape, unbound
And vast in abandon.

And, you dreaming the same.

They Call It Attempted Suicide
by Jack Gilbert

My brother's girlfriend was not prepared for how much blood
splashed out. He got home in time, but was angry
about the mess she had made of his room. I stood behind,
watching them turn into something manageable. Thinking
how frightening it must have been before things had names.
We say peony and make a flower out of that slow writhing.
Deal with the horror of recurrence by calling it
a million years. The death everywhere is no trouble
once you see it as nature, landscape, or botany.

--from Monolithos Poems, 1962 and 1982
( +request )

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/grey-cup-game-leads-to-silly-bets.html

The Grey Cup game traditionally leads to silly bets between the mayors of the participating cities, and now also a wager between navy ships named after the cities as well.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/la-presse-all-unions-have-signed.html

La Presse made a deal with its distribution workers, the last of its unions holding out for a new contract, meaning that the city's best daily will not have to shut down as threatened.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/etat-durgence-not-just-stunt.html

More today on the launch of this year's État d'Urgence and the right to sleep in Place Émilie-Gamelin for the duration.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/boroughs-ask-for-more-snow-money.html

Boroughs want more money for snow removal.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/critique-of-experimental-bac-sac.html

The experimental recycling bac-sac isn't holding up too well to use, and hasn't even faced winter conditions yet. The quest for a recycling container light enough to carry but resistant to wind may have to resume.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/daycares-and-identity-fraud.html

Police busted a ring of identity forgers yesterday here and elsewhere and arrested 30 people. Notoriously, some of the work was done in daycare centres in off hours.

http://w5.montreal.com/mtlweblog/2009/11/bit-more-on-taxi-ads.html

Radio-Canada says there's huge competition to do taxi advertising, but then says that 90% of the business is already sewn up by one firm. But people do seem really keen to add to the visual chaos of the city.

Do you fear to be my wife, do you fear the prose? Do you not know that I own the magic staff that beats water out of the cliff - that I can take the poetry out of the dirt if need be. I will mill a coffeegrinder and make it sound like music - I will go to the market and buy potatoes and put a flower on top - I will dress up a table as van Huysum would of painted a still life and oh what I will work - and then - then I will have the composure to in my worried restless - re-read all my letters - do you not hear how it trembles for love to you, my queen.
("Han och Hon" - Correspondence between Strindberg och Siri von Essen 1875-76)

When I was in Spain this summer I ate a lot of tortillas. They were our go-to when we were sick of fish in Cabo de Palos (didn't happen to me, but to other members of my family), when we didn't feel like eating heavy meat in Madrid, or when we wanted something to nosh on between lunch and dinner while drinking a lovely Alhambra beer. And now that winter is rapidly approaching, I think about sunny Spain a lot. Like, a REAL WHOLE LOT.

( Recipe under here! )

See more at The Cast-Iron Darling!

Another sort of baking related question. For Thanksgiving, I made ahead a pan of green bean casserole and sweet potato casserole. Neither are baked; both have dairy products (and an egg for the sweet potatoe) incorporated into the mixture. Should I refrigerate or freeze for the night?


(I really hope a mod is awake to put this through, lol.)

In preparation for tomorrow, I have two pumpkin pahs in the oven, to bring to a pot-luck dinner a friend and neighbor is hosting. I also am bringing mashed 'taters, but obviously I won't be making them until right before I leave!

Here's a recipe I've been making since I was a kid, since I grew up on the cranberry bogs in Massachusetts!

Cranberry Sauce:
1 bag whole dry cranberries (fresh)
1 cp orange juice
1.5 tsp orange zest
2 cinnamon sticks
Sugar to taste.

In a saucepan, combine berries and orange juice, bring to simmer over medium heat. Snap cinnamon sticks in half, float in simmering sauce, add orange zest. Simmer until most of the berries have burst, releasing red goodness.

Add sugar to taste, depending on how tart or sweet you like it, as well as how tart the berries are (believe it or not, different cranberry varieties -do- taste different!). Keep in mind, this can be a LOT of sugar, so be prepared.

Chill if you so wish (or serve hot!), removing the cinnamon sticks before serving and giving it a good stir.

If you would like your sauce a bit thicker, you can add a little bit of cornstarch and water. Mix 1tsp cornstarch with 1 tsp of water, and mix well, then add to simmering berries. Blend well until just thickened.

I am hoping that (by some miracle) someone with wonton experience will read this before tomorrow afternoon. Sooooo ... I want to make sweet won-tons for a dessert. I have a few different fillings I plan to use and most of them (ok, almost all of them) will be gooey (yogurt, cream cheese, etc). I did two test runs tonight:

Test 1: sprayed a little butter on the won-ton , dolloped in a filling, sealed in a triangle shape, sprayed with a little more butter and sprinkled on a little brown sugar, than baked.
-- Failed: Baked fine but the outside was just too dry and pasta-tasting, even with a little brown sugar on the top. (and a little powdered sugar on one)

Test 2: Boiled oil, made the same type of wonton and popped it into the oil (I omitted the outer butter).
-- Failed - all the outside squeezed out somewhere and I ended up with a fluffy, empty, crispy won-ton.

SOOO! My question is ... how can I either make the shell taste better when baked, or keep the gooey filling in the fried won-ton? help!!!!
HEEELLLPPP!!!
Thank you :-D