These little treats taste like a delightful cross between a scone and a cookie — tender, buttery, and lightly sweet with a hint of warm spice. The outside has a delicate golden crust from being cooked on a griddle, while the inside stays soft and slightly crumbly. The bits of currants or raisins add bursts of sweetness and texture. Unlike scones, they’re thinner and don’t need jam or cream (though a pat of butter never hurts).  

Welsh cakes — sometimes called picau ar y maen (literally “cakes on the stone”) — originated in Wales in the 19th century. They were developed as a convenient, nourishing treat for working families during the rise of the coal mining and industrial era. Women would bake them on a flat iron griddle (maen) placed over an open fire, which gave the cakes their distinct golden-brown crust and soft middle. 

Noël Keag-Strong is a well-known figure in Thunder Bay’s arts and crafts community. For over two decades, her studio, Stone Circle Pottery, has been active and thriving. If you’re lucky enough to own one of her pieces or have attended one of Noël’s workshops or pottery classes, you’ve no doubt experienced the joy and passion she pours into her craft. That same creative energy carries into her kitchen, where she’s known for baking professional-level cakes and breads and sweets often shared at family gatherings and with friends. Here, Noël shares her own story about Welsh cakes — a cherished family favourite. 

Welsh Cakes

My parents immigrated to Canada in the 50’s. They brought my Mum’s youngest sister with them which meant they came from large families to a very small family. As a result, as they met people and became friends, these folks became our extended family. As was respectful in the day, my Aunties and Uncles. My godparents were one such couple. My Auntie Jeanne and Uncle Bert came from Wales and my Auntie carried this treasured recipe with her in the move.

They were very close to my parents, and they visited for weekends monthly and even more if there were fancy dances. My Auntie Jeanne always made Welsh Cakes as a treat every time we went there. It was her go-to as it were. And they had to be fresh.

When I walked into the house that is all you could smell and she would leave a few under a tea towel so they would still be warm off the griddle for us. I can see her to this moment taking off her apron, as she extended her arms to give us all big hugs.  She, over the years taught me all the nuances of making these delicious little bites of heaven and it has become a family favourite in my home with my own children. Every time I make them I think of her and all the joy that she brought to all our lives and how through this recipe she has created a legacy for generations to come.

This recipe came from my Auntie Jeanne’s great grandmother. In those days there were few ovens, so bakestones in the fire were a daily way of cooking. I remember the stories of her grandmother making these every other day for her husband and sons to take to work. So they could have a little “sweet” during their work day.

In our family, these little cakes represent pure and simple love. I make them because I love my family. I know my children will make them for their family for the same reason  and I hope they remember the fond memories of making them with me as they do. 

Food is a powerful connector. This recipe links us to the generations who came before—those who lovingly prepared it for their families, just as we do now. With each batch, we honour their memory, their care, and the timeless tradition of expressing love through something warm and homemade.

Aunt Jeanne’s Welsh Cakes

4 cups Flour

1 cup sugar

Pinch of salt

1 ½ cups butter

2 tsp nutmeg

4 eggs

1 tsp baking powder

Raisins or currents

6 tablespoons of marmalade or milk

Method:

Rub butter into flour

Add salt, spice, sugar and currents 

Beat eggs 

Add eggs and milk or marmalade to dry ingredients 

Mix to make a stiff dough 

Roll out ¼ inch thick and cut into rounds

Bake lightly on a griddle 300-350 until golden brown and flip 

Cool and sprinkle with sugar

Every Thanksgiving table seems to come with at least one lively debate. In some homes it’s about how to make the stuffing or whether canned cranberry sauce counts as “homemade.” In ours, it’s always been about pie — specifically, apple or pumpkin.

My grandmother swore you could tell a person’s nature by their pie of choice. Apple pie lovers, she said, were grounded and loyal, the ones who liked a crisp fall day and a good walk after supper. Pumpkin pie fans were dreamers — people who preferred warmth, spice, and the comfort of something that felt like a hug. She baked both, of course, but never admitted which she liked best. “Why choose,” she’d grin, “when you can have a slice of each?”

The rivalry runs deeper than you might think — and it’s woven right into our country’s food story.

Apple pie came to Canada with settlers from England, Scotland, and France, who brought their recipes and orchards with them. Early Nova Scotians and Loyalist farmers planted apple trees that still bear fruit today, turning their harvest into pies sweetened with maple syrup or brown sugar. By the late 1800s, no church supper or fall fair was complete without one. It’s no wonder apple pie has become a fixture at nearly every holiday table — a simple, fragrant reminder of home.

Pumpkin pie, meanwhile, is pure harvest comfort. Indigenous peoples were baking and roasting pumpkins long before settlers arrived, often filling the hollowed shells with milk and honey — the earliest version of the silky custard we know now. By the time Thanksgiving became a national holiday in Canada in 1957, pumpkin pie had earned its rightful place beside the turkey and stuffing as a symbol of the season’s abundance.

And so every year, when dessert time rolls around, the same question hangs in the air: will it be the cinnamon-laced crunch of apple, or the velvety spice of pumpkin?

Every year, we make both, apple and pumpkin, one perfectly Canadian compromise. The family laughs, and every year the same lively and heated debate begins as soon as the last plate is cleared.  Pumpkin or Apple, ice cream or whipped cream?  “It’s not Thanksgiving without”: insert your pie.   It’s all in fun and usually plates are served with a small slice of both.  Thanksgiving isn’t about taking sides — it’s about sharing what we have and being grateful for it.  And maybe, just maybe, it’s about realizing that when it comes to pie, we don’t have to choose at all. 

Check out Dee’s amazing Apple pie recipe on this page and I’ve added an amazingly simple pumpkin to try out for the first time pie makers out there. 

• 1 (9 inch) unbaked pie crust
• 1 (16 ounce) can pumpkin puree
• 1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

Combine pumpkin puree, condensed milk, eggs, and pumpkin pie spice in a large bowl; mix until combined.

Pour mixture into a pre-made pie shell and bake at 350 for 45 – 55 min until moisture is set.  

Serve with whipped cream. Enjoy! 

I began the Flavour journey during Covid, inviting people to share the rich stories and traditions that connect family, food, and heritage. Many of the stories are filled with cherished memories of loved ones gathering, sharing meals, and passing down culture through food. Others carry a note of regret—memories of being too young or distracted to notice the language spoken at home or the care put into preparing meals. There are also stories that reflect the struggles of immigration, where families felt pressure to set aside their language and traditions in order to fit in, even as they helped shape the fabric of our city.

Stacey Cham Klein is a lifelong Thunder Bay resident whose grandparents came from different regions of Ukraine. She recalls gatherings with her maternal grandmother, surrounded by friends speaking Ukrainian. Until the age of 12, Stacey attended Ukrainian school, where she learned the language and cultural traditions. Outside of school, however, English was spoken at home and with friends, reflecting the sentiment of the time that viewed newcomers as “less than.” As she grew older, some of the language and traditions gradually faded from her life.

Stacey has chosen to embrace her heritage by becoming actively involved in a variety of cultural groups. From singing ensembles to fundraising and support efforts for refugees arriving from Ukraine, her commitment runs deep. Together with her two daughters, she is part of the Chaban Dance Group, a local organization that has been preserving Ukrainian culture for more than 40 years. Stacey describes the group as a close-knit community built on compassion and trust. Beyond being a source of fun and a great workout, dancing has opened the door to other ways of celebrating Ukrainian art. She has taken part in Easter egg–decorating workshops with the League of Ukrainian Canadians and in the Koravai collective, which uses food art to adorn weddings and other special occasions. The dance group brings together participants both young and old, creating a living bridge across generations.

She shared her recipe for Pampyshky and described it as kid friendly and perfect for special occasions and gatherings.   Enjoy!

This makes approx. 12 donuts

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, divided, plus more for dusting*

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1/4 tsp salt

2 1/4 tsp instant yeast, quick acting, (1 packet = 7 grams)

2/3 cup warm milk, 110˚F – microwave 35 sec.

4 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted, divided

2 egg yolks

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1/3 cup jelly or jam, (mashed so there is no large fruit pieces)

1/3 cup granulated sugar with an optional amount of cinnamon , to roll donuts

Instructions:

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together 1 cup flour, 1/4 cup sugar, 2 1/4 tsp (1 packet) instant yeast and 1/4 tsp salt.

Add warm milk, 3 Tbsp melted butter, 2 egg yolks and 1/2 tsp vanilla extract, and whisk vigorously to combine well.

Cover with plastic wrap and rest at room temperature 10 minutes, until some bubbles form on the surface.

Add remaining 1 1/2 cups flour, adding just enough until dough holds together and no longer sticks to the sides of the bowl (Add the last 2 Tbsp of flour only if needed) and knead in the bowl 5 minutes. If dough is really sticking to your hands, dust lightly with flour then continue kneading with clean dry hands. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let rise in a 100˚F oven for 45 min or at room temperature for 1 1/2 hours, or until doubled in size.

Turn dough out onto a floured surface and roll the dough out to just under 1/2” thick. Cut circles using a 2 1/2 inch round cookie cutter. Re-roll scraps if needed to make 12 donuts total. Place donuts on parchment prepared baking sheet, cover with a tea towel and let rise in a 100˚F oven for 20 min or at room temperature 45 min, or until puffed. 

Bake uncovered in the center of a preheated oven at 375˚F for 10-12 minutes or until lightly golden on top.

Right out of the oven, brush a hot bun all over with remaining 1 Tbsp melted butter and roll in a bowl of sugar to coat lightly with sugar. 

Cut a deep slit in the side of each donut and pipe jam with a pastry bag into each one.   

Badanai Theatre is a treasured part of our community and holds a very special place in my heart. Over the years, this incredible group of people inspired my daughter and helped shape the path that ultimately led her to film school. If you’ve ever had the chance to attend one of their productions, you’ll know they consistently deliver first-class performances—showcasing outstanding local talent while capturing the warmth and intimacy that only community theatre can offer. This week’s announcement that Cabaret will be the winter show has already sparked excitement, with eager performers rushing to claim audition spots.

Leigh Wood has become a beloved and familiar presence on the Badanai stage, lighting up countless productions with her talent and energy. From Mamma Mia! and The Addams Family to Sister Act and more, her performances have delighted audiences time and again. With Badanai, Leigh has also collaborated with the Thunder Bay Symphony Orchestra and on her own, taken on directing roles with Magnus Theatre’s 10×10 Showcase, cementing her place as one of the true treasures of the local arts scene.

Candi Badanai, who runs Badanai Theatre with her husband Lawrence, summed it up beautifully in a recent tribute: “The one and only Leigh—actress, mom of the group, party planner, friend, and our biggest cheerleader—bringing heart and joy to everything she does.”

If you’ve ever had the opportunity to meet this wonderful, warm hearted Mom, wife and educator, you won’t ever forget her.   She and her husband are also great home cooks and provided this week’s recipe and story. 

We’d love to share your favourite recipe & story!  Send any questions or comments:  tbayflavourfiles@gmail.com.   

(Travel-Inspired Cuisine – From Local Food Carts to Home Kitchen) – Leigh Wood

Mexico holds a special place in our hearts; in particular, Isla Mujeres, located just northeast of Cancun. From the colourful, vibrant neighbourhoods, to the welcoming locals and the delicious cuisine, we keep returning for more! This small island boasts many incredible restaurants; however, what we truly love is discovering amazing local food carts that are set up all around the island. We tend to gravitate towards the food carts that have a long line of locals and fellow foodies. You can be guaranteed sumptuous slow-roasted meats, homemade salsas and guacamole, and pillowy corn tortillas made from scratch. 

This is a cuisine that we gravitate towards when at home cooking in our kitchen, and one of our favourite recipes is pork carnita, cooked low and slow in the slow cooker.  It’s  a great dish to throw together for a larger group, or you can easily freeze leftovers for later use. The juicy, marinated pork can be shredded and nestled on a warm tortilla with pico de gallo, sauces (we love Heartbeat Hot Sauces!), guacamole, diced pineapple, and pickled onion.

While the pictures and the souvenirs are a lovely way to remember our trips to Mexico, it is the delicious food and wonderful people that give us inspiration to recreate amazing meals to satiate our appetites, until we can return to the beautiful shores of Isla Mujeres! 

Pork Carnitas

8 lbs boneless pork shoulder

Salt and pepper to season

8 tsp dried oregano

5 tsp ground cumin

4 Tbsp olive oil

4 onions, coarsely chopped 

16 cloves garlic, minced

4 jalapenos, seeded and ribs removed, chopped

4 navel oranges, cut in half 

12 Tbsp vegetable oil

Directions

• Rinse and dry the pork shoulder. Salt and pepper liberally. Mix the oregano, cumin and olive oil together and rub all over the pork. 
• Place the pork in a slow cooker and top with the onion, garlic and jalapeno. Squeeze the juice of two halves of oranges over the pork and tuck the other two halves of orange in with the pork shoulder.
• Cover and cook on low for 8 to 10 hours, or on high for 4 hours (we prefer low and slow).
• Once the meat is tender, remove from slow cooker and let rest, cooling slightly. Using two forks, pull apart the pork into shreds.
•  In a large saute pan, heat the vegetable oil over high heat. Press the shredded carnitas into the oil and fry until crispy on one side. 
• Season with more salt and pepper to taste. Serve with toppings of your choice (fresh pico de gallo, shredded cheese, quick pickled onion (or fresh diced white onion), cilantro, diced pineapple (or pineapple salsa), and your favourite hot sauces.  Enjoy!

We love cookies because they are more than just a sweet bite — they are little bundles of comfort. A tray coming out of the oven carries the scent of childhood, of after-school snacks, of sneaking one more when no one was looking. Cookies remind us of snow days and bake sales, of grandma’s kitchen and holiday tins wrapped in ribbon. They’re quick to share, easy to tuck into a lunch bag, and simple enough for even the smallest hands to help make.

Perhaps most of all, we love cookies because they’re humble and generous all at once. Just a few ingredients, mixed with care, can turn into something that makes people smile. One cookie may be small, but it has a way of holding together tradition, love, and memory in every bite.

It’s hard to believe that the very first cookies began as nothing more than little test bites of cake batter. Yet here we are, centuries later, still pulling trays of them from our ovens, filling kitchens with the same sweet, comforting aroma. From those humble beginnings in ancient Persia to the cookie jars of today, these small treats have always carried something bigger than themselves—warmth, welcome, and the joy of sharing.

Long before the cookie jar sat on the counter, before chocolate chips and candies found their way into dough, the very first cookies were born out of practicality. In ancient Persian kitchens, more than a thousand years ago, bakers would scoop off a small bit of cake batter and slip it into the oven to test the heat before committing the whole cake. Those little “test cakes” baked quickly, turned sweet and crisp, and became too delightful to be thrown away. Soon, they weren’t just testers—they were treats in their own right.

As sugar spread through trade routes, so did the idea of these small, sweet bites. They traveled from Persia into Spain, across Europe, and eventually across oceans. In medieval marketplaces, a handful of coins could buy spiced cookies filled with cinnamon or ginger, while in grand kitchens they were shaped and decorated for royalty. Dutch settlers later carried their koekjes—“little cakes”—to the New World, where the word “cookie” took hold in America.

Through the centuries, cookies have shifted and changed—becoming tea cakes, shortbreads, biscotti, and eventually the chewy chocolate-studded circles we know today. But at their heart, they’ve always carried the same charm: a small, sweet comfort, made to be shared. From test bites in ancient ovens to the warm scent of home kitchens now, cookies have always been proof that sometimes the simplest things are the most enduring.

Monster cookies first came out of the oven in the kind of kitchen where nothing went to waste. Somewhere in the Midwest, in the late 1970s, a clever home baker pulled together oats, peanut butter, and the odds and ends of sweets left in the pantry—chocolate chips, raisins, and a handful of brightly colored candies. What emerged was a cookie so big, so generous, and so full of surprises that it earned the name “monster.”

From that day on, the recipe traveled quietly, carried in the pages of church cookbooks and scribbled onto notecards passed between friends. Soon monster cookies were turning up at bake sales, potluck suppers, and holiday tins, each batch just a little different, but always hearty, chewy, and packed with love.

We’d love to share your favourite recipe & story!  Send any questions or comments:  tbayflavourfiles@gmail.com.   

Monster Cookies

4 eggs

1 cup white sugar

1 cup brown sugar

3 tsp baking soda

1 cup soft butter 

2 cups peanut butter 

4 cups quick oats 

2 cups flour

1 cup chocolate chips

2 cups M&Ms

Mix room butter with both sugars

Add eggs and mix 

Add soda and peanut butter and mix

Add oats and flour-  mix 

Fold in chocolate chips and m&ms

Bake 350 10 – 12 min

I use a ⅓ cup measure and it makes 24 cookies 

¼ cup measure makes about 36.  To make gluten free: remove flour and replace with two more cups of oats and 1 tbsp caro syrup

In the kitchens of Southern Italy, especially around Naples, there was a dish that appeared on countless humble tables: pasta e piselli—pasta with peas. At first glance, it may seem too simple to be memorable, but for generations it carried the warmth of home, thrift, and tradition.

The roots of this dish lie in cucina povera—the “cooking of the poor”—where Italian families relied on what they had in their pantries and gardens. Pasta was always on hand, and peas, whether fresh from the spring harvest or kept preserved for leaner months, were a natural pairing. The result was a meal that was affordable, filling, and nourishing.

In many homes, pasta piselle became a Friday dish, when meat was set aside for religious reasons. Some families enriched it with a little pancetta or a piece of prosciutto rind if they were lucky enough to have it, while others kept it purely vegetarian, letting the sweetness of the peas shine.

For Italian immigrants who crossed the ocean to North America, the dish traveled with them. It was easy to recreate with pantry staples, so it became a weeknight favorite in new homelands too. A bowl of pasta piselle carried with it the memories of small village kitchens, of grandmothers stirring pots with wooden spoons, of resourcefulness turned into comfort.

Growing up, this dish was a favourite.  We knew that after Sunday dinner at Nana’s house, this would be served in the days that followed.  She used leftover chopped spaghetti, including the sauce,  so ours was tomato based.  Meatballs were crumbled and of course the namesake peas added to finish it all.   Heaven.   Here’s an actual recipe, but modify it to make it your own. 

Pasta Piselle (Pasta e Piselli)

A classic Neapolitan comfort dish, made from pantry staples with the sweetness of peas at its heart.

Ingredients (serves 4):

• 3 tablespoons olive oil
  
• 1 small onion, finely chopped
  
• 1 garlic clove, minced (optional, traditional recipes often skip it)
  
• 1 cup peas (fresh, frozen, or canned – whatever you have on hand)
  
• 1 ½ cups small pasta (ditalini, tubetti, or elbows work well)
  
• 4 cups water or light broth (plus more as needed)
  
• ½ teaspoon salt (to taste)
  
• ¼ teaspoon black pepper
  
• A pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)
  
• ¼ cup grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese
  

Optional tradition: A small piece of pancetta, prosciutto rind, or bacon sautéed with the onion for extra flavor.

Instructions:

1. In a large saucepan, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion (and pancetta if using) and cook until soft and fragrant, about 5 minutes.
   
2. Stir in the peas and cook for another 2 minutes, letting them soak up the flavor.
   
3. Pour in the water or broth and bring to a gentle boil.
   
4. Add the pasta directly into the pot. Stir often so it doesn’t stick, and simmer until the pasta is cooked al dente, about 10–12 minutes. The starch from the pasta will thicken the broth slightly.
   
5. Season with salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes. If it gets too thick, splash in a little more hot water or broth.
   
6. Ladle into bowls and top with plenty of grated cheese and a drizzle of good olive oil.
   

To serve: This dish can be enjoyed soupy or thick, depending on your preference. Pair with crusty bread for dipping—it’s exactly how Nonna would have stretched it into a hearty family meal.

We’d love to share your favourite recipe & story!  Send any questions or comments:  tbayflavourfiles@gmail.com. 

Kenora holds many lovely memories for me. My mother, Harriet, was born and raised in Dryden, and we often visited this beautiful neighbouring lake city to see cousins and enjoy all it had to offer. So when I received the email about the new Kenora website, the first food memory that came to mind wasn’t about the dish itself, but about the laughter and conversation that surrounded its making.

I tend to focus on my Italian heritage when I think about the food of my youth—partly because I love it, and partly because my Nana always kept us well-fed.  My Norwegian grandmother, Nora Nymark, lived in Dryden, a four hour train or car- ride away, so her traditional dishes were more of a rare treat. My grandfather Harry was Swedish, but since he passed away when I was only three, my only memory of him comes from a photograph of me sitting on his lap.

I immediately thought of a dish my Grandmother called Pult.  Shredded potato dumplings mixed with flour and salt, boiled in water with pork and eaten with butter.   The stories would start while the strange gray balls were boiling, usually about how many Pult were eaten by some uncle and how amazed and impressed the family was of him.  I learned that there is an actual word ‘Paltkoma’.  This is what happens to you after you eat a bunch of these dumplings, you go into a palt-coma.   

Doing a little digging into the dish that I know as Pult, I realize that our names for these items, may not be correct.   Here’s a little google research for those of you that are insisting as you read this article that the potato dumplings are called Pult,  Palt or Klubb.   

Norwegian pult is a thick porridge, a cross between oatmeal and soft dough.  Swedish palt is a dumpling made with potatoes and flour, sometimes stuffed with bacon or pork and served with lingonberry jam and butter.  Klubb is the Norwegian word for pult, potatoes dumplings sometimes stuffed with meat and served with butter.   

No matter what your family calls these dense, comforting dumplings, they share one thing in common: humble grains or potatoes transformed into hearty food that could sustain a family through long, cold winters. Along the way, they became more than just nourishment—they carried with them traditions, laughter, and nights of togetherness. Try them yourself and see who will be the first to slip into a paltkoma.

Palt/Klubb

4 large potatoes peeled and shredded (russet is best)

3 cups flour

1 tsp salt

1 large egg

Butter

Salt and pepper

Directions:

1. Mix potatoes, flour, salt and egg in a large bowl well
2. Form into tennis ball sized balls
3. Drop into pot of simmering water and cook for 45 min- stir gently at first so they don’t stick to the bottom
4. Eat with butter, salt and pepper 
5. If you have leftovers the next day, slice them into pieces and fry them in a pan with lots of butter- this was my favourite. 

We’d love to share your favourite recipe & story!  Send any questions or comments:  tbayflavourfiles@gmail.com. 

Across Canada, many minimum-wage jobs—especially in fast food, retail, warehouses, cleaning, and delivery—are filled by international students striving to support themselves while studying.   These students contribute significantly to keeping businesses running smoothly, often taking shifts that are hard to fill. Yet, they frequently face financial strain due to high tuition, living costs, and limited work hours under student visa rules. Their presence reflects both the diversity and the economic realities of Canada’s labour market, where newcomers’ determination and resilience quietly sustain many everyday services.

This week’s article focuses on one of these fantastic young women whom I’ve had the pleasure of working beside for over two years.  Jashandeep made the trip to Canada from Karah, a small village of 1500 people in the Punjab State of Northwest India.   She left a home that held 30 people.  Her Mother and Father, grandparents, three uncles and all of their wives and children.   She hasn’t been home since she left and misses her family terribly.   

Families are sending their young adults to North America in the hope of a better future, higher income, and, most surprisingly to me, their safety.   While it’s essential to approach the topic with cultural sensitivity and avoid generalizations, some families in India—concerned about the safety, freedom, and opportunities available to their daughters—choose to send them abroad, including to Canada, for education and a more independent life. In certain regions, systemic gender inequality and threats to women’s safety remain pressing issues, and studying overseas can be seen as a way to provide young women with access to environments that offer stronger protections, gender equality, and personal growth. Canada, with its emphasis on human rights and multiculturalism, often represents a place where these young women can pursue their ambitions while living in a society that upholds their right to safety and dignity.

Coming together to share food is what every culture shares around the four corners of the earth.   Jashan shared a favourite memory of her and her family that happens in their winter season on a weekly basis.   A special dish is prepared by the moms and grandmoms that takes over 5 hours.   

Sarson da saag te makki di roti is a classic Punjabi comfort meal.  Sarson da saag is a thick, richly flavoured stew made from mustard greens (and often a mix of spinach or other leafy greens), slow-cooked with onions, garlic, ginger, and spices until it becomes soft, earthy, and slightly peppery. It’s finished with a dollop of butter or ghee for a silky, indulgent touch. Makki di roti is a flatbread made from cornmeal, with a rustic, slightly sweet flavour and a hearty, crumbly texture. Served together—usually with a side of pickles and buttermilk—they create a warming, satisfying, and deeply traditional meal that feels like a hug from a Punjabi grandmother.  

Jashan remembers with fondness the weekly winter dinners, sitting around the pot of stew, simmering over an open flame.   The entire family would gather to enjoy stories, laughter, and the warmth that came with the special meal.   

Jashan has studied business accounting, and her goal is to continue her CPA studies in the near future.  She is also excited to explore other parts of Canada and enjoy travel and the freedom that her new home provides.  In the meantime, Fox on the Run continues to benefit from her unwavering work ethic, quiet optimism and unwavering dedication to our small family business.  

Sarson da Saag te makki di roti

-500g mustard or sarson leaves

-250g bathua or chenopodium leaves

-250g spinach leaves

-1 tbsp ginger

-8-9 cloves garlic

-4-5 green chilli

-1 onion

-½ tsp cumin seeds

-1 red chilli, whole or powder

-Salt- to taste

-2 tbsp Clarified butter

-½ tsp Turmeric powder

-2-3 pinches asafoitida

-1 tsp Coriander seeds

-3-4 tbsp Corn flour

Clean, wash, and chop all of your greens and add them to the pressure cooker with a bit of water, salt, and turmeric powder. Pound the ginger and the green chillies together and add to the greens. Pressure cook until 3-4 whistles, then lower the flame and cook for a few more minutes. Let the cooker cool down and mash the mixture (do not blend the greens together), add the corn flour and mix well. Let it cook on low heat until it reaches the desired consistency, then turn off the gas. Then season, and store in the fridge for future use. Heat butter in a pan, then add asafoetida, cumin seeds and coriander seeds. When they crackle, add red chilli and chopped garlic, fry until they brown, then add chopped onions and cook until translucent, adding some chopped ginger. Cook on low for some time, then turn off the stove. Keep it covered until you serve.

We’d love to share your favourite recipe & story!  Send any questions or comments:  tbayflavourfiles@gmail.com.   

“Lisa Lemarquand (Laudadio – the Italian half) is the owner of Fox On The Run lunch and coffee bar, a mom, a wife, and a passionate home cook who believes that food is love—and every recipe has a story.”

Cousins are like the built-in best friends you didn’t have to search for—they’ve just always been there, sharing family stories, holiday dinners, and a little bit of mischief along the way. They’re the ones who understand the quirks of your family because they share them too, and they make every gathering brighter with inside jokes and shared memories. Whether you see them every week or only on special occasions, cousins remind us that family can also be fun, and that love often comes wrapped in laughter.

Joanne McNicol is a local mom and home cook who runs the Northwest Funeral Alternative with her husband Travis.  She is also my first cousin who shares the constant drive to try and recreate the food that we remember with great nostalgia and very few instructions from our Nana Laudadio.  

Joanne had another great influence in her early years on her Mom’s side.   Great- Aunt Olga Nordal (nee Baryski) was the second youngest of ten,  born on a farm in rural Manitoba close to Fraserwood.  Her family came to Canada in 1915 from Western Ukraine.   

She remembers the ladies gathering, always with hairnets, babushkas and carefully laid tea towels on every flat surface.   Aunt Olga would always make sure Joanne was a part of the bustle with her own small balls of dough.   She treated her with kindness and patience when the other ladies thought kids were more of an annoyance.  

Joanne loves to be in her kitchen, cooking for her husband and two boys, calling it her sanctuary.  When life throws the giant, never asked for, but almost certain curveballs, having a passion to turn to can be a lifesaver.  One of her favourite recipes is Chrustiky, a Ukrainian treat.  It’s special to her because it was reserved for very special occasions, she has wonderful memories making it as a child and she likes the comparisons to the Italian version, Crostoli.   To this day, she has the giant wooden board that was used by her aunts to make this special dessert.  

Another fun memory for her is that during the chats that had Ukrainian and English words interspersed, the aunts would laugh when they remembered adding moonshine to the dough to make it a little crispy. It prevents the oil from absorbing-  so a lot of recipes for this item include a splash of vodka or other liquor.   Смачного! (Smachnoho!)

Chrustiky-Ukrainian 

Ingredients: 

3 egg yolks

2 whole eggs

1 tbsp sour cream

1 tbsp sugar

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp vanilla

Enough flour to make a soft dough 

Directions: 

1) Mix together and roll about a quarter inch thick

2) cut into strips about one and a half to 2 inches wide-it doesn’t really matter what size they are

3) cut a small hole in the middle and twist one of the ends through the hole with the pointed side and give a twist 

4) fry in lard or oil until golden brown 

5) top generously with powdered sugar

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