best kept secret in the produce department

i have never been a big apple person. when i feel snacky the last thing that comes to mind is to reach for a crunchy pomme. probably because i find they don't subdue pangs of hunger but rather awaken and enhance them.

but all of this has recently been turned on it's head.

it was when sitting in the kitchen at a cottage this fall when my companion bit into a honeycrisp and stopped. she looked at the fruit in her hand and exclaimed "that has to be one of the best apples i have had". and then bit in again.

period.
no "this week" or "this season" qualifier for the compliment. simply "i have had".

of course i had one crazy!
and i agreed instantly. the sweet crunch and juicy flesh dissolved all previous conceptions or passive disinterest.
and the honeycrisp became the mascot of my fall 2009.



visits to the market in kensington doubled as my fruit intake increased exponentially.
it was on one such recent visit that i found out i am not alone.

a b-line to the back of the produce section where the source of my addiction is stocked, only to find that their regular bin was filled with a mound of measly cortlands left me spinning in shock.
confused i did a lap of the fruit aisle assuming that some new stockhand who had mistakenly switched the two kinds. but i ended up back where i started right in front of their usual compartment.

my disappointed gaze met with a man at the end of the aisle who asked what i was looking for.
"honeycrisp?" i replied.
his head tilted (much like the way a terriers does when you blow air on its nose) before he responded.
"so is she" he said, pointing across the aisle at a forlorn woman hopelessly scanning the bin labels for the words to fulfill her fix.

"what's with those apples?" he said to no one in particular. and before waiting for a response "well we are out. but we do have galas"

i felt like laughing. "no thanks" we said in unison before walking out - both empty handed.

my disappointment was sugar coated in the knowledge that i wasn't alone.
since then i have heard the praises of this almost twenty year old strain in grocery stores and markets across the city.

it was on the phone with a friend the other day, long after my addiction has been under control, that i heard the sound of teeth breaking that familiar skin.
i salivated recalling the taste on my tongue and interrupted with "what kind of apple is that? a honeycrisp?"
"a gala" she replied.
clearly it had been too long and i was losing touch with my senses.

i shrugged to myself before the silence was broken with her saying "but i wish it was a honeycrisp. i tell ya, those have to be the best apples i've had".

clearly it's unanimous.
way to go ontario.
you sure know apples.

you speak my gospel sister.

reading NOW this morning i stumbled across this piece by Tayna Grout (I Shop, therefore I am) and thought i would spread her wise words

essentially it's just a little pat on the back for those of us practicing non-responsible spending habits during this tough economic time. referring to us as
'fiscal firestarters' (read: fashionable and awesome women aged 20 to 40) she provides justification for our guilty habits and suggests that if we all just put on our shopping hats we can get outta this robot revolution together and essentially unscathed (or at the very least, well dressed).

i feel a particularly intimate connection when reading this bit about focusing on consumption in the form of material goods but moderation on consumption in food form:

"Impossible! Just when I’m about to eat carrot sticks, I mistakenly scarf down a couple of Krispy Kremes."

i know that mistake sister!

fortunately we have the fashionable bandaids for those kinds of slipups. bulky cable knit sweaters, mens plaid flannel work shirts and boyfriend jeans...

happy holidays $$$

how I came to be a décor refurbisher (garbage picker)

a few short months ago I moved into a new apartment. new neighbourhood, new roommate, new beginnings, etc. and in the spirit of all things new, i brought nothing from my previous existence and thus, didn’t have anything to furnish the place with. Literally nothing.

this new, materially barren existence was the enabler to what would be a life changing discovery of the treasures that line our streets one magical night a week, and the myriad of design opportunities that they hold.

as I lay on my air mattress, alongside the impossibly small suitcase that contained all of my worldly possessions (green snakeskin, a steal from the Lachute flea market - merci bien) night after night I imagined what furnishings would inevitably fill this new space and in turn transform my barren abode into my home.

after the predictable, fruitless trips to IKEA, EQ3, west elm, etc. two things became abundantly clear.

1.
these trips were unnecessary as i discovered that i already had an IKEA catalogue at my disposal in my head.
and upon discussion with friends, i discovered that we, nay, everyone in the western world has an IKEA catalogue occupying some otherwise valuable space in their brain.

which can come in handy. like when you know that you need fish shaped ice cubes, or when playing pictionary and your partner starts drawing that familiar and simple easy chair (POANG obviously).
but outside of setting up your dorm or first apartment, when ease of construction and value are the purchase drivers, do you really want people to come into your home and be able to not only identify your furniture by name but also point out that your kitchen trolley was only $59? What a steal.

And 2.
most of the furniture in these stores (rant now includes the aforementioned) would fulfill my immediate furnishing needs but would make this new space my own. A reflection of me and my taste.

the furnishings all looked the same. Seemingly mocking the sterile and bland nature of the space I currently occupied - replicated in furniture form. Function but not my fashion.

although the design savy swedes clearly know what they are doing (proven by the ability to fit a complete kitchen into a few boxes and then turn any incapable partner into an accomplished carpenter in a short afternoon)i beg us all to consider the piles and piles of BILLY bookcases in landfills somewhere, before making the simple and mindless decision to fulfill your immediate needs with these mass produced, dime a dozen, templated pieces...
And instead consider keeping a closer eye on your neighbours on GBE (garbage day eve).

it was a fateful night on Palmerston Avenue when i put my two conclusions together. and the decision to create a sustainable furniture filled apartment was reached.

a huge old front door just laying there on the lawn.
my soon to be dining table begun busily constructing itself in my head. easy. saddle horse legs and this old front door providing the surface upon which friends and family could gather to break bread.

only problem, and something think about when contemplating the sidewalk shop, transport.
a PROUD zip car card holder, i rarely activate this luxury outside of desperation and instead rely on my treads for transit whenever possible.
but this was a particular conundrum. the large door was too awkward to fit in most cars, but solid wood and too heavy for any woman who doesn't professionally weightlift to carry. coincidentally, it was upon realization of my predicament, that my best guy friend's phone starting ringing...

it seems once this door was opened, the ideas flooded in. i started thinking of ways to use objects that i hadn't found and then going out looking for them.
today my walls are adorned with framed photos once left for dead on a curb found, collages of hotel coasters, and my newest addition, old REDHOT jars stuffed with branches. all thanks to a watchful eye on my neighbours.

now almost complete, this once echoing chamber has become my home. a place where my character is reflected in every room and where comrades and loved ones can come and relax and comment on the interesting furniture.