When I do get back to Toronto, I'll work on a recipe for those little beauties you see up there: my dad's Icelandic pancakes. They're sweet like cake, fluffy like air. I don't think I've ever seen a recipe for them --- my dad has never needed one. But I do know that many egg whites and sugar make them a close relative of meringues, if you can ever say that about a pancake.
But before I go, a few more bites I had this week, at the farm.
My mum's lamb liver and onions. I know! Maybe you don't like liver and onions. Well, too bad for you.
Venison steak-frites, from a doe my dad shot this fall. For the fries, the potatoes are from the world's best vegetable woman, Kelly Dubé, in LaBroquerie, ten miles away. And seasoned with this salt (which is decidedly not from ten miles away).
On Wednesday, my good friend Emma came over for dinner and brought this spice cake. Joy of Cooking!