I was reading an article not too long ago that said one of the key indicators of general well-being was knowing your history – in terms of family tree and ethnic background.

I know mine. My mom’s Chinese-Malay; my dad’s Hungarian. There were a few hiccups when I was younger, like when I asked my dad if he knew there was a country called Hungary and a country called Turkey, because if there were countries called I’m and For then you would have I’m Hung(a)ry For Turkey. Or when in grade 3 we had to colour flags of where our parents were from and I chose Japan because all I knew was that my mom was Asian and Japan had the easiest flag. But I’ve got it sorted now. I know how they got to Canada, and I’ve been back to Hungary and Malaysia multiple times and met all my grandparents and seen lots of old pictures.



And yet… I think that might all be wrong. I’ve figured out my secret identity.

I’m actually a Jewish Italian grandmother.


I think it’s my duty in life to feed everyone, and feed them well. I get offended when people don’t want to eat what I’ve prepared for them immediately after receiving it. If it weren’t generally considered rude to intensely stare at people and evaluate their level of enjoyment while they eat the food you’ve given them, I would be doing that.

So. Creepy.



The manfriend texted me the other day to ask what I was up to after work, and instead of taking that like a normal person, I responded “I have dance. But there’s leftover ribs and mashed potatoes, taco salad and hamburger soup in the fridge. There’s also some frozen homemade bagels that you could top with peanut butter and jam, some healthy cookies in the freezer, and all the ingredients you would need to make pasta if you don’t want any of the above.”

His response was a loving version of “okay, crazy lady… I was just wondering what you had planned.”

So, yeah. That.

But this is what’s on the table tonight… Eat up.


Blueberry Pie (vegan)



two and a half cups all-purpose flour
half teaspoon salt
three tablespoons sugar
half cup margarine, cold (I use Earth Balance)
half cup shortening, cold
three tablespoons cold water
three tablespoons vodka
one tablespoon apple cider vinegar


about seven cups of blueberries
two thirds cups sugar
two tablespoons tapioca flour
two tablespoons all-purpose flour
zest from one lemon
one tablespoon fresh lemon juice
pinch salt


Prepare crust first: sift dry ingredients into a large bowl. Using a pastry cutter (and/or a fork), cut in margarine and shortening. In a separate glass, stir together water, vodka and vinegar. Pour into flour/margarine and mix with a fork until the dough comes together into one big ball (you’ll probably need to get in there with your hands – proper Jewish Italian grandmother style). Cut your ball roughly in half and wrap each in Saran wrap. Throw in the fridge (or freezer, if you don’t want to make the pie right away).
Now for the filling! This one’s easy. Throw everything in a bowl together. Stir until it’s all mixed up.
Preheat your oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Grab a 9-inch pie plate.
Pull out one of the balls of dough. If you can, grab the larger one first. On top of parchment paper or a silpat, roll it out (use lots of flour so it doesn’t stick!) so it will cover the entire pie plate (don’t forget the sides slope down, so you’ll need to make it a bit larger than 9 inches). Flip it over (this is where the parchment comes in handy) onto the pie plate. Load it up with your filling.
Roll out the second half of the dough until it looks large enough to cover the pie plate (no slopes this time – 9 inches is about right). Flip it over on top of the pie and crimp the edges. I like to roll mine and then do a 3-finger pinch that my mom taught me. Do whatever you like or can.
Note: if you want to use cookie cutters to make shapes on your pie like I did, do this just before you flip it, and then pray and swear and squeal and hope while you’re flipping that they don’t stretch too much. Also be aware that you’ll probably get juice all up and over the top of your crust. Whatever.
Go stab crazy with a fork before putting it in the oven – steam needs to escape.
Bake for 30 minutes, lower the heat to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, and bake for another 30-40 minutes or until the filling (if you can see it) looks bubbly and the crust is browned.


3 thoughts on “self-psychoanalysis

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