How about that weather, eh?
How seasons affect food choices, creativity
An American I know recently said that Canadians seem obsessed with the weather. It was the kind of casual, harmless comment that I could have shrugged off, but then, just as I was about to protect our collective honour, I looked at him and said: “Isn’t it great? When the temperature is one of the major subjects of discussion, it means you live in a pretty good place.”
There’s a reason for all this weather talk, of course. Our country’s fourseason climate makes us loopy sometimes. From Arctic blizzards to subtropical humidity, we face a kind of annual endurance test. Whether you’re a farmer getting harvest-ready, a rush-hour commuter, or (ahem) someone who has to develop recipes two seasons in advance, the only way to survive the constant state of change is to come to some kind of uneasy peace with it. Or even better, embrace it.
I used to tolerate the roller-coaster ride of the seasons with little to no complaining. Now, largely because of the cooking show and magazine that I run, I cherish the benefits of our fourseason way of life. Sure, on days when bad weather messes with my plans, I grumble. But I truly think we’re blessed to live in a country where weather is a national preoccupation. Not only do the challenges of the seasons push us to be flexible, there’s always something exciting around the corner. I only have to think about where I live and how the late December holidays give way to sugar shack season, and then to gardening and backyard grilling in turn. There’s never a dull moment!
Of course, I can’t help but look at our weather patterns through the lens of food. It’s good that we’ve arrived at the point where we think it’s strange when a restaurant pushes an asparagus plate in January, or gazpacho in February. Our expectations have evolved as diners and home cooks, and that’s wonderful. After all, how boring would it be to eat the same thing all year long? I’ll pass on food Groundhog Day, thank you very much. Give me the promise of seasonal produce and products — corn! peaches! spot prawns! — every time.
This bounty gives us a huge reward to look forward to, especially at this time of year.
Now, I don’t necessarily want to eat stews and fondue all winter long, until the first radish pops up in my garden in late April (fingers crossed). So I appreciate how our seasons force me to think creatively in the kitchen. It’s not just about seasonal produce either, but the different techniques that the seasons demand from us (perfect my braises in January, up my salad game in July). These variations are something to be grateful for, despite the occasional — and perhaps all-toounderstandable — complaint about the weather.