Tag: food

Still Waters

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excerpt

It snowed during the night, a good two inches which prompted
Cam to say when he came down to breakfast, “Is our skating party
off then? The lake will be covered with snow.”
“Heck, no.” Jeremy slapped butter onto his toast and glanced at
the clock on the kitchen wall. “Some of the guys’ll be out there already
clearing it off. We’d better hurry up and go help them.”
“Really?” Cam pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.
“What do you clear the ice with?”
“We put our skates on and push homemade snow ploughs along
the ice. Someone usually comes with a tractor and pushes the snow
to the side of the lake.” Jeremy helped himself to another dollop of
butter.
Tyne reached across the table and slapped her brother’s hand.
“Enough,” she scolded, thinking she sounded very much like their
dad. More gently she said, “You already have more butter than you
need on one slice of toast. Leave some for Cam.”
Cam grinned as he stirred his coffee. “Leave him alone, big sister.
He’s a growing boy.”
And one who’s used to having butter only when we have company,
Tyne thought. Usually, they had margarine which, until recently, had
been purchased in white unappetizing blocks that had to be mixed
with a capsule of orange colouring. Cam, she was sure, would have
no knowledge of such things. Nor would Morley, of course, since he
had always lived on the farm and had fresh cream and butter year
round.
Why does Morley always have to come to mind, even for the most
mundane things? I’m sure he never thinks about me.
They finished their breakfast and the young men went to their
rooms to change into their outdoor clothes. As Tyne began to clear
the table, her mother appeared at the pantry door, carrying a wicker
picnic basket.
“Leave the dishes, Tyne, and run along. I’ve packed you a little
lunch because I know you won’t think of coming home…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763068

The Circle

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excerpt

“Come on, sweetheart, you need to see all this; don’t forget you won’t have
this opportunity again anytime soon.”
She perks up a bit and looks at the immense horizon on her right side with all
the sand and light; the brightness blinds her. The sun is definitely something they
have plenty of in this part of the world.
“Everything looks so bright, honey. I can’t look at this for too long because
my eyes get tired, even though I’m wearing sunglasses.”
“I know, Emily, yet you must try to see all you can,” he insists.
They’ve driven halfway to their destination when Rassan stops the car at a
small town where they’ll have lunch and the chance to stretch their legs before
they carry on. They find a small restaurant. Rassan and Abdul go inside and
check things out; when they come back appear pleased the place looks good, the
women and Ibrahim with Talal go inside. The small restaurant is filled with
travelers and there are a few other women.
Ibrahim lets Rassan order food and wine from the menu. The food will be
shared by everyone as they don’t order individual plates. Emily likes this way of
ordering as she doesn’t have to ask Talal to order things for her.
They are served on big platters and the wine comes in a carafe; Rassan fills
their glasses and they toast the health of everyone.
To Emily’s surprise, the food is very tasty, although she doesn’t know what
everything she eats is. Talal leans closer to her and asks, “Do you like the food,
sweetheart?”
She smiles at him and nods with her mouth full of delicious, creamy pate,
and her wine glass raised, ready to take a sip.
They arrive in Basra by mid afternoon when the heat of the day is at its peak.
Basra is the second largest city in Iraq with a population of 1,700,000; it’s the center
of the oil-exporting facilities in the south. There are substantial petroleum resources
and many oil wells in the area. They pump out about 150,000 barrels a day. The
fertile land around the periphery of the city produces a variety of grains, such as rice,
wheat, barley and corn. They also produce many meat and dairy products here.
During the war, the British stationed themselves in Basra and the city experienced
few effects from the war. Now, the city is completely rebuilt and in full swing with
the export of oil. In fact, most Iraqi oil wealth passes through this city.
Basra was first built thousands of years ago and was considered the cradle of
the Sumerian civilization. These days it’s called the Venice of Iraq because of its
elaborate system of canals and waterways leading to the open waters of the
Persian Gulf. The canal system is a lot more visible and functional during the
high tide, than at low tide.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562817

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0978186524

Ken Kirkby – Warrior Painter

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excerpt

is this illusion…you and I can go for a walk wherever you choose and
I challenge you to show me where money grows. It is a man-made
convenience, but we have turned it into God and the almighty banks
into the churches.
Money in itself is a nonentity, a paper mirage. But if you understand
how it functions you realise currency can be artificially created—
MasterCard and Visa are good examples. It no longer needs to be
printed by the Mint. I wish people would realise it is only a tool, to be
used like any other implement, and no more mysterious.
As the two men worked, Harris proposed assorted schemes to make money.
These were discussed, dissected and for one reason or another, discarded
at the end of the workday. Perhaps, like crossword puzzles or Sudoku, they
served to keep the workers’ mental juices flowing.
~~
Ken Kirkby is a particularly fine cook and, having been raised in
Francisco’s kitchen, can turn the simplest ingredients into a dish to be
savoured and praised. As his circle of friends expanded, he resurrected his
long-dormant culinary skills.
Portuguese meals would not be complete without a bottle of fullbodied
red or crisp white on the table. When Ken left Portugal, he had been
selective as to what he took with him, but one of his prized possessions
then and now, is the family wine recipe dating back several centuries. He
continually has a batch on the go although he is a moderate drinker himself.
It was likely a day or so after a well-spiced supper of clams, shrimp and
prawns cooked in Kirkby’s special fish stock prepared from flounder, too
small in themselves to eat. While spreading topsoil for the eventual seeding
of the lawn, Harris says, “You know, Kenny, that’s a damn fine wine you
make. You could probably make a pile of money if you set yourself up to
produce and sell it.”
“Probably,” says Kirkby.
Harris does some mental calculations. “How much do you think you
could make?”
“Money, or wine?” Kirkby quips.
“You’ve got a few racks there—how much do you usually make?”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562902

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CB8W4CG

Swamped

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Excerpt

“We’ll get some. It has the sweetener of the warrant, a two-year
warrant. It could mean some good profit down the road.”
They discussed the details until Yannis was satisfied. Business
over, he led Eteo to his garden and with a proud voice described this
year’s crop. He still had a lot of greens—arugula, spinach, Swiss chard,
and beets—but he was proudest of this year’s tomatoes. He grew three
varieties: Roma, Early Girl, and Beefsteak, the last of which produced
huge fruits that took a longer time to ripen. Yannis would use these
late tomatoes to dice and put in the freezer for cooking while the others
were for present use in salads. Eteo had many of the same things
in his much smaller garden. Growing his own beautiful, tasty vegetables
was a practice from his earliest years in Vancouver. He recalled
his first house in Richmond and the tiny vegetable patch there
that he still managed to get plenty of fresh produce from.
They walked around the gardens chatting about old times until
they reached Yannis’s fig trees. e fruits were finished by this time
of the year, but Eteo knew that Yannis had a very good crop of figs
every year. A little later he le for North Vancouver where he would
reach just in time for his aernoon walk at Ambleside Park.
A few minutes before he reached his house, his mobile phone
rang and Eteo pulled to the side of the road.
“Hi Eteo, it’s Spiro.”
“Spiro, what’s up?”
“Did you buy me some of the new shares?”
“Yes, I got you twelve thousand, and it ended up 40 cents for the
week. I expect it to gain a little more this coming week.”
“Should we get a few more before it moves higher?” Spiro’s voice
sounded anxious.
“No, not from the market. I’ll allot a few more to you from the
financing they do at 40 cents and we get a two-year warrant.”
“How many more do you suggest?” Spiro’s voice was calmer now.
He had always trusted Eteo and always passed the recommendations
to his brother Mike, who would follow him and purchase the same
amount of shares in each of Eteo’s recommendations.
“I’ll put aside another eight thousand so you end up with twenty.
What do you think? Can you afford that many?”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX

Swamped

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Excerpt

He switched over to the local news: a serious accident on the road
down to the Second Narrows Bridge. He had better take Lions Gate
Bridge this morning. The pileup on the approach to Second Narrows
would make it impossible for traffic to resume for at least two hours,
according to the news anchor.
The phone rang. It was Herb on the other end. After the briefest
of greetings, he brought up today’s buy order. He told him that a man
he knew, someone who seemed to have good connections in Europe
and other places, had assured him this was a good one, Platinum
Properties Inc, to play with for the next few months. Eteo listened to
Herbert Swanson attentively, but when he expressed some skepticism,
Herb said he would pass by the office around ten to talk about
it. He smiled. Herb always had a link to someone with information,
and in the Vancouver Stock Exchange in those days, with its mining
fliers and dubious promoters, information was of great value. Even
if the information was often questionable at best, decisions were
based on it, and today’s bet that Herb had placed on this new company,
Platinum Properties, wasn’t any different from many others. For
years, Herb had worked his way around each and every regulation in
order to survive the debacle called investing in V.S.E. listed companies.
In most cases, they lacked anything of substance, yet they could
fly high for a few days, even a few months, before sinking into nothingness
or simply going out of fashion. Sometimes they were still at
the reorganizing stage, a lengthy process that provided a second
chance for companies that had been unsuccessful in proving the
value of their first mining asset and raising funds on that basis. This
involved a reverse split of their shares, or consolidation, in other
words, issuing new shares to raise new capital. It was usually an opportunity
to turn their focus to a new asset, sometimes even to
change course and concentrate on a new line of business. When a
company was in that reorganizing stage, it wasn’t unusual for it to
take a good twelve months to achieve its goal, and investors who
didn’t like to wait that long rarely invested in such a company.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX