Writing: It's Actually as Simple as...Anyday Anytime Frittata

Sometimes I feel like this lost soul at sea.  My sea is not of a nautical form, but rather, a sea of words.  Words forming themselves into sentences & paragraphs in my mind; recipes formulating, from last night's supper, into recipe cards of thought, blogs & journal entries that never make it to the page.  It's not as if the encouragement to write doesn't exist for me.  Just this morning, my husband pretty much insisted that I sit down & write as I rambled off my twisted & turning thoughts to him.  I have a drawer full of journals with lovely insistence from friends & family to write.  Sometimes, in my boldest moments of thought, I think I have a book up there in the conclaves of my mind.   Today, crazy as it may seem, it was the simple request, from a friend, for a recipe that sat me down.

I had just returned from another eye-filling, bodily-enriched hike along my much-loved Okanagan shoreline.  Neither my husband or I had eaten more than the mouthful of banana that is, so often, the start to our day.  I loaded up Shaq, the white-haired dog in the Raviator (the affectionate name of our aging Toyota Rav 4) & set off to our little corner store.  That lovely little nook just blocks away in our residential area, that saves my bacon, on a regular basis.  And it is just that which I was after this morning…turkey bacon to complete the frittata that was, of course, formulating as words in my mind, & would soon be scrambled into a pan atop my stove.  Unfortunately, I can't brag it up to be much of a recipe but below I shall try…

Anyday Anytime Frittata

Olive oil - 1 tbsp or so
Cooked Potato - 1 1/2 - 2 C (I used whatever I have on hand whether that is leftover potatoes or sweet potatoes (or both!) or a tumble of frozen shredded hashbrowns that I keep in the freezer for days such as this)
Red (or any color of bell) Pepper - 1/2 C, chopped
Grape tomatoes - 3/4 C, sliced in half (I use these cs I always have them on hand - any tomato will do)
Green onions - 1 - 2, chopped
Turkey (or regular) Bacon - 5 slices, chopped  I always pre-cook a whole lb while I am at it.  Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Put parchment on a baking sheet(s).  Cook for 5-6 mins per side.  Is really a great method if you have an convection oven cs you are done in a snap & bacon turns out flat & crisp! X 3 baking sheets at a time!
Feta or Goat Cheese - 1/4 - 1/2 C, crumbled (or this cow/goat feta that we recently stumbled on at the above-mentioned little local store) *any cheddar cheese is fine too
*Eggs - 5 (Please buy the most ethically raised eggs that you can afford - that plea will need more explanation in another blog…)
**You can pretty much adapt your frittata to use up any cooked veg, you may have in your fridge, too. It is def our norm to add a palmful of cauliflower, broccoli, asparagus, or fresh spinach.
Salt & Pepper

Heat non-stick pan over high heat briefly!  Reduce heat to medium, once your pan is nice & hot, & add oil.  Begin with your chopped peppers, & cook for just a min or two.  Then, add your potatoes & cook until they are heating thru, especially if you are using frozen hashbrowns.  (You may need to add a drop or two of water here & put the lid on your pan, for just a bit)  Then add bacon, onion, tomatoes & any other chopped veg you have decided on.  Continue to heat for a min or two.  Crack eggs over top, starting with one in the center of pan.  Then, poke yolks & make sure egg is distributed evenly over potato mixture.  Sprinkle with a dash of salt & pepper. And, last but not least, sprinkle on your cheese.  Now, the magic!!! Pour a tsp or two of water into the sides of your frypan, in a couple of spots, & cover.   Leave the lid on while your toast cooks or for just a min or two.  Keep an eye on it & cook to a desired doneness.  Finally, lift the lid to find a nice, big, fluffy frittata.  There you go - simple as that!

Enjoy alongside some lovely, fresh tomatoes & a spoon of creamy cottage cheese.

*We use 5 eggs - 2 for me, 2 for Darrell & 1 for Shaq, the white-haired (& very spoiled) dog :)  If you are cooking for a crowd, I suggest using more than one pan.  If you have a very large fry pan, you can adjust your quantities up.  Try not to get your frittata too thick.  You will be happier with the outcome!*

A Sparrow's Message

Last night, after arriving home late from a wedding, I quickly had a look at my Facebook.  There, I found that I had been nominated, by my cousin, to share a Bible verse per day, for a week.  These nominations are now quite common with social media & I don't always comply.  I went to sleep knowing that I would, however, partake in this one.

I was awakened early this morning by the birds, sparrows to be exact, briskly chirp-chirping outside my bedroom window.  And it is only now, as I type this, that I realize how fitting that is.  God is magic.  I couldn't fall back to sleep because closely followed by the chirp-chirping of the sparrows was the less pleasant, & much more bothersome, caw-cawing of Mr. Crow.  The latter & incessant annoyance led me to compose this blog repeatedly, in my head, so I eventually gave in to the fight & just got up to begin.

I lay there pondering what scripture verse to begin with.  It crossed my mind to use my favorite verse, & then for whatever reason, it came to me to start at the very beginning.  Julie Andrews says, "that's a very good place to start."  It's very early & who am I to argue with Julie, so here goes:

Matthew 10: 29  "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father's care."

My faith story began in my farm home & in my small-town, Saskatchewan, United Church.  It is very sad that the little church no longer exists.  I cannot remember if it was moved or torn down. However, the corner where it once stood, with its shiny steeple pointed toward heaven, now sits vacant.  At least it did, the last time I passed by.

It's funny how big & ostentatious buildings seem to you when you are a child.  I remember the stairs up to the main doors being so many & so high.  The vestibule that greeted you was large & always inviting with a fluffy-handed grandma or grandpa waiting there to shake hands or invariably squeeze your chubby cheek.  If you only arrived a little early, or on time, the church bells pealed loudly, as you entered, with Mr. Cowles manning the rope.  The gold-colored wooden pews stood at attention lining both sides of the sanctuary.  The plush red carpet ushered you in over the squeaky wooden floors beneath.  In front, was all that seemed the "business" of the place; the pulpit, the piano, the communion table, what I thought was a big wooden throne for the minister...and on the walls; the large cross hanging front & center, the slotted frame filled with numbers representing the hymns we would sing that week, & on the side wall, a photo of Christ in a gilded frame.  That photo, the iconic vision that is still Jesus, in my mind's eye, to this day.  But...that which is most important, from my vivid childhood memory, is what sat on the corner of that communion table.  A simple plastic piggy bank moulded into the shape of a church. I thought, it then, to be a replica of the very church in which I sat.  And...on your birthday, you got to go up to the front & drop pennies into the slot, equal to your years, while the congregants sang. It was a special birthday song too, something about pennies dropping, if memory serves me.  In all reality...the stairs were few & the vestibule small, but to the best of my recollection, the rest is fact.

It wasn't long after the birthday ritual that the children got to go downstairs to Sunday School.  I began as a very shy & timid little girl & this was cause for much anxiety for me.  Were it not for one lovely lady, I would have never ventured beneath, without my mother.  Her name was Mrs. Beaunice or Beauller - oh how I wish I could remember for sure.  She came to our pew, & coaxed me out from under my mother's wing with her smile & her kind authenticity.  Honestly, I didn't even know she had a snack for us til much later!  She led me down those frighteningly narrow stairs to what seemed the cavernous basement below. The smells of wax crayons, Sunday School papers & coffee, for later, overwhelmed my little senses.  I sat down with a few other children, of whom I have no recollection, & heard this sweet story of the sparrows & of God's love for the birdies & for me.  It was a simple message, followed by a snack of a purple plum.

I have never forgotten her (though of her name, I am unsure) the sparrows, or the plums.  My Mom often sang a little song to me about the sparrows, after I told her what I had learned that day.  It went: "God sees the little sparrow fall, it meets His tender view,
If God so loves the little things, I know He loves me too."
You say, "How can one Bible verse awaken so many memories?"  I say, "It's just how I'm hard-wired."
I'm wired for words.  You see a recipe, I see a completed dish shared with friends & memories made. You hear a familiar song, I hear words that shape a treasured memory & board me on a mind train to events both recent & past.  You read a scripture & are moved, motivated or convicted - as am I, but those "words" are fortified with the memories attached.

I am not alone.  I know there are many others like me.  Others, who know the God of the universe, the God who sees the sparrow fall & sees you & me...

Best-ever Little Brown Sugar Cookies

This is a quick little post for my niece!!

These cookies have been a long-standing staple in the Christmas offerings, at our house.  They are simple, not too sweet, & can be a bit festive too!

And like so many recipes, they are not without their own story.  This recipe was handed down to me by Flo.  When I was newly married in Regina & prepping for my first Christmas, away from home, she (& her recipes) lightened the way.  She was like the "Mom" around the corner, & in those days, she saved me a "lot" of long-distance charges!  In the same way that I think of my own mother repeatedly, at Christmas, I remember Flo.  The tattered recipes & simple ingredients that take us back to tender places of the heart…

Maybe this simple cookie dough will become a memory for you, now, Carmellie!! Enjoy!!

Flo's Brown Sugar Cookies

1 C brown sugar
1 C butter
2 1/2 C white flour
1 egg
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cream of tartar
2 tsp vanilla

Cream together sugar & butter until light in color.  Add in egg & vanilla & combine. Sift together dry ingredients & mix in until smooth.  Roll into small balls.  Place on a cookie sheet & do not press down. You can put a coloured Smartie, in the center, to make the funny little reindeer as posted.  Bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 10 - 12 mins.  Don't be tempted to overbake,

even if cookies look quite pale.  You will be happier with the overall outcome :)

*This recipe is pretty forgiving & you can add a wee bit more flour, at end of mixing, if you think the cookies are not going to form into balls*

Bake, eat, enjoy!!

Today was Golden

Our kids have a saying that whenever something is really nearing perfection "that's golden!"  Today was a "golden" kind of fall day.  By the calendar, it isn't even truly fall yet, but that "fall" feeling is definitely showing itself.

I always kind of mourn the onset of fall.  Not because I dislike fall itself.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  I love the changing of the seasons, as it makes a Canadian girl appreciate the summers even more, when we distinctly go through winter, spring, summer and fall.  I love the beautiful, rich colours of fall, pumpkins & everything pumpkin, the evolution of the fall kitchen to now include soups, roasting and stewing. And without omission, the overwhelming bounty at the Farmer's Markets; every fruit & vegetable of the Okangan Valley, available in all of their splendour, in magnificent proportions!  It is what fall suggests that somehow saddens me…that the blue skies & sweet sunshine are fading & winter & her cold flakes of white may soon be upon us…they have already made their appearance in Calgary!

The mornings are crisper now.  A jacket feels good as I stride my way along the Gellatly path that courses its way along Lake Okanagan, over to The Cove, through Gellatly Nut Farm & back over the same stretch to return to where we are parked. Today, Shaq, my ever-faithful 4-legged friend, managed to get himself completely swallowed up by burrs.  Burrs such as I have never seen, large & gnarly & twisted into his fluffy paws, in a way most unpleasant for both he & I.  After a picnic table comb-out, complicated by the ensuing blackbirds - that Shaq insisted on leaping constantly from the table to protect me from - we were on our way to do our few errands.

Today our walk & all of the shopping detours were only incidental to what I was actually eager to get home to.  I have been wanting to roast some root vegetables every since being gifted with some beautiful beets from a friend's garden.  To those, I gathered & added some rainbow carrots, new baby potatoes, & yams.  It was a roaster's cornucopia of roots.  The beets were so lusciously large that I had to do a little google search to see just what would be the right approach to roasting them.

Roasting Large Beets:

Turns out, you wash & dry thoroughly, trim the ends, cut into desired sized pieces, rub with oil, sprinkle with salt & pepper, place on parchment-lined baking sheet & cover tightly with foil.  Bake in a 400 degree oven for appx 50 mins.  Cool a wee bit & remove the skins, preferably with silicon gloves on to save you from red fingers! Mine needed a wee bit longer to cook.

When roasting veg, I always like to do the beets separate because their juices always like to mingle with the colours of the other roots & I much prefer a plate of many colours to one of blended maroon…

Tonight's offerings did not disappoint.  The veggies were perfectly tender & reeked of the fresh flavour that needs very little accompaniment.  I simply toss the veg in a little EVOO & steak spice.  Then,  spread out in a single layer on parchment-lined baking sheets & bake for 30-40 mins at 400 degrees.  I keep an eye on them & remove them from oven when just tender. They were really a feast unto themselves, but we added a little grilled chicken.  Tenders from Sterling Springs Farm, where the owner of the farm brings her truck & freezer & sells her cage-free "happy chicken" meat at the Kelowna Farmer's Market.

The other "golden" moment occurred today when I, once again, had to replenish the supply of the seventh food group.  Darrell & I affectionately call that group "hummus."  We insist that we could not survive, in this life, without that elemental part of our diet.  I was dumbfounded to find that I had not blogged the recipe for this delicious golden accent to cracker & veggie alike.  I have perfected this middle eastern treat to our family's specifications, over the years - and I might add - we eat a LOT of it. It's golden!!

*Let it be duly noted that I cannot imagine how you would make hummus without a food processor.  My sincere apologies to those of you that don't have one.  If I ever hear of another method, I will instantly do an update to this blog.*

Hummus:

1 large can chick peas
3 - 4 gloves of garlic minced or microplaned (my very fave kitchen gadget!)
2 tsp. cumin
1/3 C Tahini
1 tsp salt
juice of 1 fresh lemon
a tbsp of water if needed to loosen the spread in processor, all brands of chick peas are so different in consistency - believe me, I know!

Put all of the above into the bin of your processor.  Pulse a couple of times just to get started incorporating.  Then, process to the consistency you desire.  In our home, we do not like the lovely granular nature of the golden pulses to be completely processed into the gluey substance that is available in the grocery store.  But, you decide - that consistency can be reached if you but process away…

At times, we have added a handful of fresh corn kernels, jalapeño, roasted red peppers, or small amounts of garam masala.  All have added a different dimension to the golden spread, jewel of the east!

Recently I have become acquainted with Duqqa (as pictured below.)  We sometimes like a little of that sprinkled on top as we serve.  But most often, we top our hummus with a thick stream of our favourite balsamic drizzle.  And right now that is Tangerine Balsamic from Oliv.  If you don't have an Oliv store near you, you may find a simple balsamic drizzle in the salad dressing aisle of your grocery store - or it seems the oil & vinegar shops are popping up all around - you may find you have one, of another name, in your area.

Easy Peasy, as my friend Jamie O would say.  Give it a try!  You may never visit the hummus aisle again :)

Lions, Tiger & Bears…Oh My!!

…or maybe it should be simply stated…Humans, Dogs & Zebras…Oh My!!

Let me explain.

There are those kind of days you should have just stayed in bed.  This was not one of those days, but rather, the kind of day that, try as you might to control it, just unravels piece by piece before you…

I got what I thought was a fabulous start to the day.  I had been longing for a morning, on my bedroom deck, basking in the early morning Okanagan sun & going slow enough to enjoy my devotional time.  Today, I had succeeded in that very thing. I had opened up to a piece of scripture which I thought had absolutely nothing to do with my present state of affairs until I decided to stick with it. Then, as is often the case with things of faith, I realized I was gravely mistaken & took in a lot from Psalm 69.  Just as I was finishing up & enjoying the gentlest of breezes, my new umbrella, which was making this deck devotional time so sweet, caught that breeze & collapsed headlong onto me & my poor unsuspecting pooch.  We clambered out of our dilemma, stood the umbrella back into submission & picked up the pieces of our rude encounter.  Really, I thought this to be nothing but an unfortunate mishap & not the beginnings of "something in the air," as Mary Poppins would have put it.

There was a nasty job awaiting me in the garage, so filled with the vigour of my enriched start, I set out to undertake it.  A wall stacked high with cardboard boxes that needed collapsing, styrofoam removed from & dropped at the recycling depot was my plight.  It was a warm job, even attired as I was, in my swim gear, thinking I would go for a dip, as my reward, after loading the truck with my efforts.  Having said thought may have been my demise because as I loaded the truck, I heard a small voice from the top of the driveway seeking, "hello, hello…," followed closely by the crackpot barking of Shaquille the guard dog. Shaquille, the guard dog, who has once let you know that you are in his kingdom is then jumping at your legs in search of the affection that is rightly his, you know…  I turned to find Tracy, at least that's who she presented herself as.  Tracy was having car trouble so had decided to walk to her job at Green Bay Bible Camp.  She was looking for the vineyard path that was going to get her down to the camp.  I ensured her that I could, indeed, show her the path, but that it was, in no way, going to get her to Green Bay.  That was still a fair journey further than she had suspected.  Feeling quite the Samaritan, I thought I should offer her a ride in the 30+ degree summer heat.  She was more than grateful for the offer & hopped in the truck with no encouragement at all.  Shaq had to stay home, as our new friend seemed allowed on his property, but maybe not in his truck…I went in, told Darrell my plan, & got the suspicious look of "you have no idea who you are giving a ride to…???"  These thoughts don't always occur to me.  I assured him I didn't think she was an axe murderer, grabbed my purse, & we were off.  I had a fleeting moment of heart-race brought on by Darrell's wariness, but pressed on, & dropped her happily at her destination.  The fare was not entirely free because she left me with the knowledge of the two "m's" women must bear in life - menstration & menopause & how the latter "m" was going to have made that a long & weary walk for her.  She quickly thanked me, bounded off into the camp kitchen &, I think,  proceeded in her day's work…I happen to know the camp managers, so I can't wait to see if I was completely duped or if Tracy does truthfully work kitchen duty at Green Bay Bible Camp.

I "thought" I would come directly home & proceed with the cool dip in the pool I longed for, now more than ever.  I was quickly going to empty the dishwasher first when, once again, Shaquille the guard dog  burst forth toward the front door.  Such a calamity he had not made in quite some time.  I went to investigate & found friend nor foe, but this gentle four-legged fellow wanting nothing more that a drink & to be our very own, if only we would let him indoors & out of the heat.

He was a bit of a formidable looking guy, & had it not been for his tender eyes & wagging tail, I may have been less charitable.  My mornings' fresh start was getting a little shaky now… what was I going to do with this wayward character wearing no collar.  He seemed, though, vaguely familiar to us both.  Darrell thought he had seen him before on the street above us, so hopped in the truck & went on a reconnaissance of sorts.  He returned shortly sadly saying there was no one in search of our friend that he could find.  I had to take a run at the effort too as I was certain my Spidy sense was leading me to a certain area up above our home.  I sped off, well intentioned as ever to get this guy back to his loving home.  My first stop was a house so obvious the possible home of such an escapee.  The garage was open, the front door was open & only a fireplace screen blocked the possible departure of a lonely or bored canine.  I knocked, I rang, I waited…I turned my back to leave when I heard a muffled hello, hello coming from under a mop of curly teenage hair & a tank top being pulled onto a near naked frame.  "Oh, hello" I queried "you wouldn't happen to be missing a dog, would you? or be willing to look at a picture of a dog to see if you may recognize him."  The answer came only as, "maybe…"  I showed him the picture & he said, "Yup, that's our dog…" He grabbed a leash & made his way on foot down to our home & had "Brubaker" halfway back up the hill toward home as I waved coming around the corner.

Now, I shall finally take in & drop off that squeaky styrofoam from the back of my truck, do my few errands & get a Starbucks latte as my just reward.  It shall come as no surprise to you that while in the drive thru, I get the keen sense that I should pay for the folks behind me.  So, based on the way my day is playing out, I just go with that feeling & pay up.  I shall never know if they enjoyed it, needed it, or were thankful.  I am just glad to drive slowly home, sipping my beverage & reflecting on what a day it has been so far.

Now, for that swim!!

As the evening cooled, Darrell, the guard dog, Shaq, & I decided to go down & walk along the flat & beautiful path on Gellatly.  We were having an ever so uneventful walk when I spotted it…the Zebra floatie...perched there so innocently on the hood of the car waiting to be packed up.  I nearly accosted the poor mother with my query into where she had found this striped floating creature.   That's when it happened. All in an instant, the way it is with toddling children, the mother's little boy escaped her grasp & burst out on to Gellatly.  Thank God, literally!! that there were no cars coming & that the young mother had enough grace to realize that it was not entirely my fault that this near dreadful mishap had happened.  She calmly scooped up the naked infant, (they had been at the beach you see) said it wasn't the first time & proceeded to tell me cheerfully that the Zebra floatie was from Walmart.

And now for the significance of the Zebra floatie & why it would even be of interest to me.  We were given a very funny "Liski Pool Rules" sign from some friends as a housewarming gift & one of the rules is that the Zebra floatie is for the kids.  We have, from that day forward, been in search of a Zebra floatie to seal the deal. Today, guess who was at Walmart, & despite the grim lack of encouragement from the young sales representative in the floatie department, found & purchased their very last Zebra floatie!!

I wish I had some real moral virtue to leave you with after taking the time to read this long & rambling post, but I am afraid that all I can chalk this adventure up to is availability.  Sometimes, all we are is just available & willing.  We put forth the effort to intercede in someone's day, never knowing if it made a stitch of difference.  Only the hope remains that when you are the "Tracy, Brubaker, Starbucks girl, or Zebra floatie Mom" that someone might be there & "available" for you...

Summer & Santa Fe Salad

It must be duly noted that we are coming down off of our daughter's wedding, of which we prepared for, within 6 months and had a real shin-dig of - and - before leaving Saskatchewan, decided to list our home there, so "edited" for the 3 days directly following the wedding, to get the house & garage into a shape we were somewhat proud of.  We have a serious offer already, so I guess you could say we succeeded in our efforts.  The wedding, in & of itself, is for another blog.  I am not in the right place to get all of my many moods & emotions down on paper about such a significant & beautiful day (& 6 months preceding) as that was.  Nope, today, I am just pleased to sit at the keys & offer up a rare recipe, that although is a copycat from Earls restaurant, I can call my own, after much trial & error.

We have not had a moment's rest since our wedding/house-listing marathon because we arrived back, to our beautiful Okanagan home, with company in tow.  I am not complaining, exactly, just stating the facts.  And the fact, in this very rare case, is that I am tired.  And if Reg, the screaming extrovert, admits a need to be free of house guests, then the very real writing on the wall is that I am indeed in need of a bit of rest.  It will come…

I am relaxed & rested, to some degree, by gathering, prepping & cooking for our visitors.  Right at this given moment, however, even that has come up a wee bit tiring.  So tonight, after yesterday's delicious birthday event of grilled salmon & shrimp, cabbage salad, roasted broccoli & new potatoes with a finale of double chocolate layer cake - I told everyone, with no apology, that tonight would be salad. But that salad would be none other than the delicious Santa Fe Salad.  I don't think you will be disappointed in the recipe that follows:

Dressing:

1/4 C olive oil
the juice of 2 limes
the zest of 1 lime
1/4 C fresh mint
2 tbsp soy sauce
a pinch of salt & pepper
1 tsp cumin
1 tbsp peanut butter
2 tbsp agave nectar
2 cloves fresh garlic, minced

Place all ingredients in a blender & whir until smooth & creamy - *Dressing can easily be doubled if you are cooking for a crowd*

Salad:

3 romaine hearts, or 1 large head of romaine, rinsed, spun & torn
1/2 - 1 can of black beans, well drained (black beans are very hard to keep - when contained, they gain momentum in the aroma department!)
1 C frozen corn, thawed but not cooked
1/2 to 3/4 C crumbled feta
6 - 8 pitted dates, halved & sliced
2 tbsp chopped peanuts (optional)
a handful of tortilla chip salad toppers - I have used wonton salad toppers too
1 or 2 fresh avocados pitted & cubed

Grilled boneless, skinless chicken breasts brushed with olive oil & sprinkled with cajun seasoning.
Appx 10 mins per side at a BBQ temp of about 350 (depending on thickness) seems to work for us.  Bring in, let rest a few mins (if you can!) & slice into thin strips.

Toss the salad ingredients with dressing - be careful!! you may not need all the dressing.  Refrigerate the remainder in a sealed container & make yourself another rendition of this salad later in the week, if you can wait that long…Serve in large salad bowls topped with a few strips of the grilled chicken annnnnd eat up - even if you are pooped!! :)

A "Rare" Coffee Shop Find

"It was a pleasant cafe, warm and clean and friendly, and I hung up my old waterproof on the coat rack to dry and put my worn and weathered felt hat on the rack above the bench and ordered a cafe au lait.  The waiter brought it and I took out a notebook from the pocket of the coat and a pencil and started to write."    …   A Moveable Feast  …  Ernest Hemingway ...

Today, I am pleasantly posed on a little padded bench on the corner of Pandosy & Lawrence Street, in downtown Kelowna.  No worries, I have not taken up residence with the few other less fortunate souls who frequent just one block over.  I am indoors.  Indoors, at Pulp Fiction, the quaint, if not somewhat quirky, coffee shop whose address is actually 1598 Pandosy Street.

I don't always frequent this coffee shop per say.  And I am not a coffee purist.  I do like to support local merchants & small businesses in the valley.  However, I would be first to admit that I really enjoy a cup of Starbucks, on occasion, too.  I do have my fave coffee house in Kelowna, & they who shan't be named, know who they are…

Today, however, while my hubby is across the street at his newly trusted barber, who, by the way, is female, I sit happily in the sunny window of Pulp Fiction Coffee House.  (The word "barber,"  by the way, is a common gender noun, & therefore, has no masculine or feminine forms.  Bet you didn't think you would get a grammar lesson along with the blog today, huh!!)

Among all the delightful quirks of this place is the fact that they have a resident guard dog.  I think that "guard dog" would be taking the description abruptly too far. Robbie sits/lays obediently across the entrance to Robbie Rare Books, which is his namesake - or viceversa.  He is so well-trained that he, never once, crosses the line into what is the coffee shop area of the business.  If you stop, for but a minute, as any dog-lover would, & pay him some attention, he, at once, assumes the belly-rubbing pose.  What a delight!  And, if you venture past the guard dog, you will find yourself swallowed up by a book collection so magnificent that Earnest Hemingway would surely find himself in repose.  Max Sloan, the owner, will take any time you have, to show you around or elaborate on any of the works he has acquired & collected, over the years.  The collection, so extensive, that only a small part of it takes residence here, at Pulp Fiction.  He has two offsite storage locations to house his complete & vast collection.  There are first edition copies behind glass, old & rare hard covers, shelves & shelves of rare & eclectic paperbacks, but, the crowning jewel of the place would be the zealous array of Pulp Fiction novels dating back to the 40 & 50's.  I am not savvy, at all, on this genre, but I can feast & fill my eyes with the shear art of it all.  What a magnificent collection, lacking subtlety of any kind - the colours so diverse & the titles unapologetic!  The regular fiction collection dates back to books from the 1880's & only includes ones as new as 1965.

And if one is willing to touch on art as a subject matter of the house, you will be wowed!  Art deco & nouveau are the primary focus of this committed collector, spanning 1880 - 1950.  And framed, enlarged paperback book-covers, wow the walls hung alongside the odd pop of gutsy magazine pages…nostalgia in immeasurable quantities.  The bookstore boasts antique statuary, clocks, busts, dishes, tins…wares from so many different eras.  The statues & ornaments alone date 1820 - 1940.

While sitting, writing & enjoying the stimulating environment of Pulp Fiction, I have also been sipping on a most-enjoyable Soy Americano Misto.  The beverages are not the least of which reason you would stop in here.  The coffee is locally sourced, & rates to me, above average.  The take-out cup, most artistic and ubiquitous, as is the whole store.  Darrell enjoyed a cup of the Metropolitan brand tea, alongside me, when he showed up all newly groomed, as I tried to finish up.

The clientele are as varied as the themes in the shop.  Some in suits, others in laid-back Saturday apparel, some are the young trendseekers & others, like me, so obviously suburban.  All are seeking the same coffee shop offerings; camaraderie, community, friendship, reunion, the deal - only here can you also qualify for a shopping experience so surreal you would think you wandered in off a New York side street.

The decor fits perfectly well and only adds to the ambiance at Pulp.  The chrome chairs & small diner-style tables fill the main floor.  Black leather benches fitted in under the windows make room for more seating & natural light for reading.  A big, eclectic brick fireplace is the focal point, in the room, strangely, not competing with the rest of the show.  A neat little feature appreciated, by more female patrons than myself, I am sure, is the quaint addition of a purse shelf, at the counter, where you order & pay.  Many little nooks are carved out, in the small shop, where 1 or 2 could sit, surrounded with the timeless shelves of words.  Antique couches, chairs & benches are the furniture in Robbie Rare Books, of course.  Every square inch of the shop is well appointed & tasteful.  Even in all of its apparent impossibility, the antiques & bookstore is known, in its entirety, by Mr. Sloan, who could seek out anything available, instantaneously.

The staff are all dressed in their Pulp Fiction attire.  Nothing of trendy schtick, but rather, crisply pressed, colourful button downs, silkscreened with the same paperback art aforementioned.  Even the business cards for the different facets, of the marketplace, that exist here, have the same unique artwork on them.  Come for the friendly staff, the delicious coffee & light food-fare and receive an experience so rare that even Robbie would approve.