Cakes

My dear children Moineau and Georges have both been home sick for days up till yesterday with fevers, chills coughs… As any mother, I’ve had sleepless nights. Between checking their temperature, giving meds and hearing their poor coughing and cries, its been hard to have a good nights sleep for the whole family. It’s Friday December 1st now and I’m two blogs behind, Christmas shopping still not done, and now sick as a dog.

Yet I don’t feel stressed. At least not compared to when I had my flower shop. This time of year was hell for me in the past. It was non-stop starting November 1st until Christmas eve. It felt like the phone never stopped ringing, my inbox was always full and my fingers were permanently black from all the various evergreen saps. There was never enough hours in the day. I remember arranging client outdoor planters before the crack of dawn, using my truck head lights as makeshift lighting since the sun had not yet risen.

This year will be my third Christmas without the business. Being behind on a bit of shopping doesn’t concern me. But I have to admit, skipping a couple blogs does. So last night when the kids were sleeping, I began to bake. I decided ricotta cheesecake with white chocolate and pine nuts because its a cake that needs to be refrigerated for a few hours and still tastes great a few days later. Perfect for later when we’re all feeling better. 

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Everyday I’m inundated with images and news stories about women’s rights violations, racial discrimination, totalitarianism, hate crimes and the degradation of civil liberties that has befallen on our neighbours to the south. My heart pounds most days with thunderous anger and empathy for those countless marginalized groups and individuals that have become victimized in America. How did a world-leading civilized nation end up on such a slippery slope of unraveling decades of progress in basic human rights?

Until recently, I felt proud of Canada more than ever. I believed that for the most part, Canadians were all about celebrating differences and diversity. I almost felt smug, thinking that we were immune to the atrocities happening in America.

I’m of Korean ethnicity but have been a Canadian citizen since I was an infant. I simultaneously feel connected to being both Canadian and Korean on a racial and cultural level. I don’t think about being “more Canadian” or “more Korean.” Nor is it something that’s discussed amongst my friends or peers. Rarely do I question my nationality or if I’m visibly different from other humans surrounding me. I’m a human being, period. And those around me are human beings too. However, every now and then, I’m reminded that not everyone shares this view. There are still the token few even in our great country of Canada who’s ignorance is blaring.

I had an encounter recently (which was not anywhere near the intensity of some of the horror stories out there), but it was a snapshot of some of the ignorance that lies quietly amongst us.

Last week I headed to my local grocer to pick up the black plums I needed for this recipe. They always have hand-picked fresh and rare fruits and vegetables. Like Buddha’s hand lemon or blood oranges and heirloom carrots. As I selected my black plums, a lady came up to me and asked me if we carried any milk. I can see why she thought I worked there. I’m Korean and the shop was owned by a Chinese family so she probably made a quick assumption that I worked there. 

“No. There’s no milk here. But there’s a Shoppers Drug Mart about 10 shops north of here. And if I’m not mistaken…the milk is on the main floor towards the back.”

I didn’t mind being asked…it was a conceivable mistake to think I worked there and I was happy to help.

But then…

“Thank you. Your English is amazing!” She replied. 

“You’re English is amazing too!” I snapped back.

She gave me the most bewildered look and left. I paid for my plums, walked home and started baking.

I normally would have shrugged this off but in light of what is happening out there, I felt a sting. I don’t think the lady meant any malice or ill-intent in her patronizing comment. What angered me was that I didn’t speak up to help her to understand the weight of her ignorant “compliment.” I have had enough. What I took away from this encounter was that I am just as responsible to dispel stereotypes whenever I’m faced with them, no matter how big or small. I have a voice and have as much right to use it as the next person. I’ve decided from this day forward, to always speak up and not to be that stereotypical sheepish and polite “Canadian”. Rather a strong, vocal and visible human being. To me, that is truly Canadian.

Bon app! (I think all this fury made this cake so delicious)