Cross-country skiing, drawing and some sourdough starter.

I gave Grue his weekly feed today.

Grue is a bubbling, fruity or acidic or bready smelling (depending on the time of day and mood), occasionally slightly slimy surfaced sourdough starter. I haven’t had the courage yet to turn this brooding, alive, fridge-living monster into bread. I’ve just been feeding the little tyke once a week and sticking him back into cold storage until I a) get a digital scale, essential for accurate measurements of flour, starter etc etc. and b) have figured out how to transform the grommet into something we can eat. There’s a plethora of information on nurturing your starter and how to make bread, I just need to find enough time to study it as it does seem to require in-depth observation and dedication. I’m not adverse to the investment in educational time, quite the opposite, but I want to do justice to Grue and his tenacious will to live by being at least moderately informed when I begin the alchemical and essence-of-life process of baking bread.

sourdough starter

Grue, our bubbling monster. The elastic band shows how much he’s grown. Ah, bless!

In other news I just swallowed an advil with a great gob of red wine, which I’m sure is verboten but it was the liquid I happened to have in my hand as I reached for a painkiller. I was bent over double with a sudden and excruciating stab of sciatic nerve pain so severe that I felt like I might throw up. The advil and a quick hot bath seemed to do the trick. I had gone for a run yesterday and decided that to shake things up a bit I might try sprinting every other block. A few times doing that and I was soaked in sweat and felt great. I was also stiff as a board later and spent the rest of the day sitting on my backside drawing. Cue sciatic purgatory.

The drawing has been coming along though. Sometimes I feel horribly slow but I grab what time I can and am gradually building up a stock of images, some of which I’ve started to make into greeting cards. It’s deeply satisfying and at some point I will start to sell the cards online.

Illustration of daffodils

Working on a daffodil composition

And after a very delayed start, we’re finally seeing a decent dump of snow here on the west coast. Essential for a healthy snow pack during the summer months of course but also great for snow sports. A few days ago I was out cross-country skiing. Just so beautiful and so good to be out in the sparkling, squeaky snow. The (mostly) blue sky was a lovely bonus.

Hope everyone’s week is going well!

snowy forest

Snowy forest

snow, trees and blue sky

Snow, trees and blue skies

cross country trails

Perfect cross-country conditions

 

Discovering new mountain bike trails, Part three: Powell River

Bridge crossing a stream

Cooling stream on a steaming hot day

From the depths of a bottomless sleep, I slowly became aware of Scott’s muffled voice: ‘Are you awake? Can you hear that?’

As I surfaced consciousness, not entirely sure of where I was in the dense darkness of the forested campground, I pulled out my ear plugs (an essential defence against Scott’s snoring) and was immediately assaulted with an almighty cacophony of shouts, screams, singing and laughter.

‘It’s those kids’ I mumbled. I yawned widely.

‘What kids?’

‘The ones in the group campsite, they arrived this afternoon, I mean yesterday’. It was already after midnight.

‘Oh’.

Apparently Scott hadn’t noticed the group after we rode back into the campground after a full day of mountain biking; perplexed by both the level of noise and my unconscious state (I normally wake at the slightest sound) he momentarily wondered if there was some kind of crisis unfolding. That’s probably another reason I love outdoor sports so much, the combination of fresh air and exercise conks me out at night.

For three nights at Haywire Regional campground, tucked way behind Powell River down a forestry road and edged by the refreshing water of Powell Lake, it had been stunningly quiet at night – apart from the whisper of a breeze in the evenings rustling the branches of trees circling each site. But now we were into the weekend and slightly different, unwritten rules applied. Popular with the locals, this was the campground to come to for a family and friends get together. Lots of drinking, music and letting off steam. Nothing got too out of hand though, good-natured (if noisy) fun seemed to predominate. Just go during the week if you want to avoid the party atmosphere, or to the quieter, nearby Inland Lake Provincial campground.

Powell Lake

Powell Lake in the evening light

Powell River on the Sunshine Coast was the third and final new area of mountain biking for us last summer. Now a historic and cultural site – the city sits on the traditional territory of the Tla’ Amin Nation and the pulp and paper mill was once the largest in the world – the area is increasingly a playground for outdoor enthusiasts; some of the trails we were riding around the Duck Lake area had been custom-built for the BC Bike Race.

We already felt spoilt with our trips to Quadra Island and Cumberland and weren’t necessarily planning another break, but I shifted things around a bit at work and we headed out for a few days mid August. Not the smartest move; a hot and busy time of year and I hadn’t made any campsite reservations. Not sure what we were thinking really, it was very much a ‘go and see how it works out’ situation, if we had to we’d just come home. In a way, it was a choice made out of desperation; as the smoke from wildfires rolled in yet again, I obsessively looked up the air quality index to see where we might escape to and Powell River on the Sunshine Coast popped up. Two ferry rides away and some driving to be sure, but not that great a distance from Vancouver. Surely they’d have smoke too? And by the end of our visit they did, but not before we got in some gorgeous cross-country riding for five or so days. We had no problem bagging a camping spot either. Lucky.

And it was gorgeous; long, winding trails snaking through forest – aromatic with the scent of fir and pine. Sporadically the trails flirted here and there with the shores of Mud, Stewart, Haslam or Duck Lake. Every route seemed brilliantly maintained, obviously ridden a lot, but we barely saw a soul.

MTB trails, Duck Lake area

Scott, Duck Lake area

Map of Duck Lake trails

Map of Duck Lake trails

Each day we barrelled down gravelled roads towards Duck Lake, parked and picked our route. It was hot, but the forest protected us. We rode for hours, exploring the myriad byways. When we started to overheat, we sloshed water over our heads from streams and sat in the shade, guzzling the copious amounts of water we’d brought with us. And in the evenings back at the campground we threw ourselves into Powell Lake. A forested path close to the tent led us out to a smaller, less busy beach. Around dinner time it was often deserted and we lingered as the sun slid away, picking our way back by torchlight to our campsite for a glass of wine and hastily thrown together meal.

Mini waterfall

Mini waterfall

MTB trails, Powell River

Me taking a snap of trail signs

How does it go? Eat, sleep, ride, repeat? Check.

Illustration: Holly and ivy (oh, and some vegan chocolate cupcakes)

 

Illustration of holly and ivy

Holly and ivy

A seasonal illustration: holly and ivy drawn with coloured pencils – I decided to use this illustration for Christmas cards.

If you happen to be looking for a vegan chocolate cupcake recipe (and why wouldn’t you be?!) look no further. I stumbled over this one and it’s perfect, and oh so easy. I’ve made it twice now in the space of three days, both for vegan and non-vegan friends, and they seemed to go down well.

Enjoy!

Autumnal cake

Almond and Plum Cake

Almond and Plum Cake

It’s been a busy but good summer. Lots of camping, discovering new mountain bike trails (more on that to come), extra work (pays the bills), a new creative venture (more on that to come too) and entering some writing competitions (so far without success) hasn’t left a lot of time to catch up on blogging. Phew! Time to sit down for some cake and coffee.

Slice of almond and plum cake

Slice of cake

I ever so slightly adjusted this excellent Almond and Plum Cake recipe from a lovely blog (with a cute whimsical name to match), Mrs.Twinkle.

Instead of dairy milk I used almond milk, instead of orange zest I used lemon zest (it’s all I had in the fridge), and instead of regular sugar I used coconut sugar. I did still use icing sugar on the top to decorate. You could probably go full on vegan by replacing the butter and eggs and I bet it would taste fantastic but I haven’t tried that yet, so don’t quote me on it.

And of course I used those gorgeously wine-dark prune plums that have been around lately.

Fall leaves, a chill in the air but still enough daylight and late season sunshine for cycling or hiking. And when the wind and rain blows in, as it inevitably does, then hunkering down to read novels, magazines and blogs follows. With cake. And coffee.

Slice of almond and plum cake

The cake even worked for a birthday; simple but effective (more of an adult cake than a child’s cake admittedly).

Almond/plum cake as a birthday cake

A simple, but stylish birthday cake

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
   Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
   With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
   And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
      To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
   With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
      For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.
(To Autumn: John Keats)

Indeed, There Is No Planet B

In support of the upcoming climate strikes, a post from last summer……

“Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.” (The Road, Cormack McCarthy)

Sea to Sky Highway, British Columbia

Sea to Sky Highway, a distant ribbon below the Howe Sound Crest Trail.

I went for a great hike with my sister the other day, a roughly four to five-hour round trip to St.Mark’s Summit along the Howe Sound Crest trail on Cypress mountain outside of Vancouver. I used to hike it fairly frequently but it’s been a few years since I was last up there, mostly Scott and I are on the bikes. Woof, it was hard! It’s a challenging trail and clambering up roots and rocks isn’t quite the same as spinning circles, even on a mountain bike.

I was dismayed though at the utter disregard by some for this stunning spot, I don’t recall garbage being an issue before. Quite a few people seemed to be using the trail as an outdoor stairmaster; they appeared oblivious to the spectacular views surrounding them. Wet wipes, tissue, and bits of packaging were scattered here and there (I admit I was grossed out at the first two items and didn’t feel like picking up other people’s garbage on that day. Shame on me, I should carry a bag or something specifically for collecting trash). Some carried radios and music blared out as they stormed up the trail. It was enough to temporarily sully this glorious area. I was looking forward to a quiet picnic at St.Mark’s Summit, but the incessant sound of a drone buzzing around put paid to that. Once the group using it left, taking their toy with them, a sublime quietness descended and we were able to watch peacefully as a bald eagle rode a thermal, the Sea to Sky highway a distant ribbon below.

It was a similar story a week or two ago. I plunged into the sea water off Porteau Cove for a swim after a hot and sweaty mountain bike ride in Squamish, and watched as one, then several more orcas passed by in the distance. Astonishing. As I swam back to shore I noticed bits and pieces of garbage that I grabbed: a pen – it’s not bad, we’re using it at home – a half open plastic packet of something chocolatey, and an elastic band (that might have ended up getting tangled around a flipper, a fin or a beak) both of which I threw into the garbage. A girl paddling on her air mattress grabbed a floating beer can. Compared to many areas of the globe, it’s a minor amount of trash, but it’s depressing to see it all the same. We all drop the ball (and accidentally garbage sometimes), but mindlessly tossing trash, leaving wet wipes and tissue after utilizing the outdoors as a dumping ground is incomprehensible behaviour as the world around us burns and pollutants pile up.

For the first time in a very long time I cried the other day. I’d been reading recently about the struggles of the orcas in these waters known as J pod and I felt overwhelmed by the wrecking ball that we as a species seem to personify. When I sent an email to the David Suzuki Foundation to ask what we could do, the reply was direct and specific:

‘Thanks for your note. Reversing the decline of southern resident orcas is indeed complex, but there are straightforward ways that we could regulate a safer environment that would give a better chance for recovery.

Those include reducing the chinook fishery, improving upstream habitat, reducing shipping traffic speeds, creating marine refuges and protected areas, reducing pollution, among others.

As far as something that each and every person can do in their daily lives, reducing our carbon footprint, reducing consumption, etc. will also help to improve the environment in the long-term, and raise awareness. However, these elements will not lift orcas out of their current crisis.

Keeping decision makers focussed on these issues in the short and long-term are the best likely target to enacting remedies for southern resident orcas. So, what each and every person could do is contact their elected officials and fisheries and oceans staff to let them know their deep concern’.

Grieving over the environmental degradation we’re responsible for is one thing, but we have to act too. So pick up your garbage, better still, don’t drop it in the first place. Pick up other people’s garbage when you can. We need to be more aware of our impact. We should do better, we need to do better, we have to do better.

Howe Sound Crest Trail

View of the ‘Lions’, Howe Sound Crest Trail, Cypress Mountain

Our daily impact on the planet

What can we do to lessen the detrimental impact of our consumer based lives on this small blue planet hurtling through space, our sole source of nourishment and life?

It seems like a reasonable question to ask on Earth Day and one I’m almost constantly pondering lately. It’s basically a rabbit hole. The more you look, the deeper you go, the more there is to do, or undo. It’s overwhelming, but it seems pretty clear that we don’t really have a choice. I love to explore new places, but what’s the environmental cost of that indulgence? I appreciate two skiers/filmmakers who attempt to confront the question in this thought-provoking short film:

Another huge issue: plastic. As if large plastics in oceans, rivers and streams choking the wildlife weren’t bad enough (bottles, nets, toys etc) disturbing studies also reveal high levels of plastic microfibers, including in our drinking water. As it turns out my good ol’ fleece jacket  – which keeps me warm on cold nights sitting by a campfire as I listen to the wind in the trees – sheds a significant amount of microfiber each time I wash it. I’ve bought a Guppyfriend bag in an effort to address this problem, use only cold water and less detergent (mitigating the wear on fabric) and wash my synthetics less often – but that’s only a tiny part of the solution. I look for fair-trade, pesticide-free, natural fiber clothing, but apart from a few select suppliers and stores – which are often quite expensive – it isn’t always that easy, for now at any rate. I think I may have to learn to knit.

Back to the bigger plastics, such as packaging. We’ve been sourcing stores and markets where we can refill our containers. This has been somewhat successful as we haven’t bought bags or containers of rice, oats, flour, body lotion and laundry soap for a few weeks now. We’ve bought glass jars for dried food and have been using the original containers for laundry, dish soap and body lotion – at least it delays recycling the containers for longer.

I’m not sure how much good I’m doing, it feels like a drop in the ocean – so to speak – but you have to start somewhere.

Time we planted a tree.

Happy Earth Day.

I Took a Snowball to the Face Today

Snowy forests, snowshoeing

Snowy delight

It wasn’t a soft, fluffy, floating gently away on a gossamer breeze snowball either – that would have been funny. It was a compact, hard, icy, mean one thrown with force.

It happened last Friday. I was on my way to catch my bus home after work, absorbed in  thought – or oblivious to my surroundings – when I felt something hit the left side of my face. I doubled over in pain, clutching my face with both hands. It’s weird when you have no idea what just happened but your brain is already trying to put the pieces together. Wet, cold, pain. An image of two young guys, twentyish, laughing. One throwing his arm back and forward, another swerving away at the last minute. And then bam!

Once I’d realized what had happened, I turned around and yelled. ‘Are you ****ing kidding me!?’ (not my finest moment). As they gathered more lumps of wet icy snow to throw at each other I yelled again: ‘don’t do it, it really hurt!’. I must admit, I sounded very Bridget Jonesy. In moments of stress my Englishness seeps out a bit more.

‘Sorry, sorry, hahahah!’.

They weren’t malicious guys, just oblivious, everyone loves a snowball fight/game, but still! Infuriatingly I had to put an ice pack on my throbbing face when I got home – by then my lower eyelid had started to swell up. I should’ve just rolled around face down in the snow outside our home.

Random stuff.

I was sick for nearly a month from mid-January into February. A whole month with the flu. This foul bug landed in my throat and sinuses and took up residence. A headache every night for two weeks, fever and chills – I could barely move. I felt decrepit, and weak. Missing playing in the snow, feeling any conditioning I had seeping away. I was a bit tentative on the first day back to any real activity since getting sick– snowshoeing last week on Hollyburn Mountain, a great spot for both cross country skiing and snow shoeing at Cypress Mountain Resort– but it felt good to move. And again yesterday in Cypress Provincial Park, a greyer day but still wonderful to feel myself puffing up a hill, pushing my body to work, breathing in snow scented air. It’s a great area to explore; quiet on the trails, stunning viewpoints with (at the moment) perfect snow conditions.

Hollyburn Mountain, cross country trails

Looking across cross country trails, Hollyburn Mountain

Snowshoeing Cypress Mountain

Happy to be snowshoeing, Cypress Provincial Park

Gray jay

A cheeky gray jay perched on a snowshoe pole

Steller's jay begging for food

Steller’s jay

snowy tree

Frozen needles

snow crystals

Snow crystals

snowy winter snow shoe scene

Fell over in the snow, this time the impact was fun!

Tofino, British Columbia

‘One touch of nature makes the whole world kin’-William Shakespeare.

Photo album of a two night visit to Tofino, on the West Coast of British Columbia.

This is just a small selection of photos from far too many I took. We just got back from Tofino and I’m already missing the rhythmic sound of ocean waves at night, the cool damp air, the mulchy squish of forest floor underfoot. No traffic (I realized the constant sound of traffic makes me angry). Surfers braving the frigid water. A fireplace to read by as we sprawled out on the sofa in our cosy suite. Spray from blowholes off the shoreline indicating the presence of whales. Wolf and bear territory. Nature.

Kelp on Long Beach, Tofino

Kelp on Long Beach

Sea vegetation, Mackenzie Beach, Tofino

Sea vegetation, Mackenzie Beach

Sea anemone, Mackenzie Beach, Tofino

Sea anemone, Mackenzie Beach

Tree lichen, Tofino

Tree lichen

Driftwood, Chesterman Beach, Tofino

Washed up tree rolling around in the waves at Chesterman Beach

Author at work taking photos

Sneaky shot of me by Scott

photo of photograher poring over camera

And I took a sneaky one of him!

shorebirds on Long Beach

Shorebirds on Long Beach

Seagull flying, Long Beach

Seagull in flight, Long Beach

Beach and sky merge, Long Beach, Tofino

In the other direction beach meets sky, Long Beach

Evening sun at Long Beach, Tofino

Late afternoon at Long Beach

surfers, Long Beach, Tofino

Low-key surfing as the sun sinks, Long Beach

Taking photos of waves at Florencia Beach, Tofino

Taking photos at Florencia Beach. Photo by Scott

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Wild Camping (sort of) in the Nicola Valley

mountain biking near Merritt

Autumnal riding

‘Can you hear the coyotes yipping?’ Scott asked. I turned my head slightly from where it was buried in his warm shoulder, freeing my left ear from the sleeping bag pulled up to nearly the top of my head.

‘Yes, wow, there’s so many’.

Not only were the coyotes out in full force, but an owl kept up a consistent ‘whoo whoo’; good hunting I guess by the light of the three-quarter full moon. Or perhaps the wild creatures were less hesitant to make themselves heard, claiming back more of their territory as the camping season died down with the approach of late autumn. I snuggled deeper into the layers of sleeping bag, old duvet and mounds of clothes we’d thrown on top of ourselves in the freezing night. Dressed in fleece pants, thermal tops and socks we were just about warm enough in our tiny lightweight tent. The moon lighting up the flimsy grey nylon made it seem as if it was permanently twilight.

tent and bikes camping outside Merritt

Our tiny tent, and bikes, with loo roll attached! Biodegradable and burnable!

Earlier, as dusk started to fall, we’d heard what sounded like a curious cross between a grunt and a rasping cough. Spooked, we’d all looked around sharply at where the noise came from, just behind us in a small grove of trees. Images of bears and mountain lions padded through our minds but the odd sound came from high off the ground. Later we heard it from treetops on the opposite side from where we’d camped. Perhaps another owl?

We hadn’t expected it to be so cold, but it was beautiful. Looking out of the tent in the early dawn the creeping light glistened off a hard frost. I was glad of all the warm clothing we’d brought for wild camping in the backcountry, in mid autumn near Lundbom Lake outside of Merritt in the Nicola Valley of British Columbia. In an area significantly higher than sea level, I knew it would be chilly during the night at the very least.

We’d arrived early the morning before, following detailed instructions, and found my sister, brother-in-law and their two dogs warming themselves around a robust fire. Tucked up an innocuous dirt road away from a nearby forestry campground, we revelled in the space and quiet away from others. There was no rush to change into mountain bike gear – part of the reason we were out here was to discover flowy trails in more open country, very different from the coastal riding we’re used to. Eventually though, after chomping through some mammoth sandwiches and donning all the cold weather gear we’d brought with us, we set off on a thoroughly leisurely ride.

open grasslands, near Merritt

Sun peeking out

Gorgeous autumnal colours drenched the landscape – all browns, yellows and fading greens. We rode through soft dirt and stones, loosened by horses hooves throughout the year, the sun chasing the clouds. I could feel my lungs working a little harder, that above sea level thing again, plus we were both getting over a bad cold, but it was worth the raspy breathing and constant nose blowing we had to endure. I’d never been to this area before and I loved it. We rode for three hours, not long really but enough to give us a taste of this open country.

mountain bike trails, Merritt

Interesting mountain bike trail names

Huddled around a huge fire later as dark fell we ate far too much, washing the food down with a good bottle of red (natch) wine and several beers. Even with the moon we could see the Milky Way; we sat craning our necks for ages staring at the night sky, one of my favourite pastimes.

fire at night, camping

Relaxing around the fire

It was only one night away, but enough to fill up with the freshest of air. And good timing too, the evening after we left it started to snow.

 

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Raspberry Rhubarb Pie with Coffee Ice Cream

raspberry rhubarb pie and coffee ice cream

Sometimes, shit happens.

Last weekend we rode to Victoria on Vancouver Island for an overnight visit with a good friend. It was great; we spent time chatting, drinking excellent wine, eating delicious food. Had a lovely ride out and back on the Lochside Trail. The ferry ride is always stunning– I even saw what I’m pretty sure were porpoises carving through the water. I was thrilled, I’d made a point of not looking at my iPhone, it’s amazing how much you miss when you look at a screen instead of looking around.

The day after getting back into town we decided to take a run up to Squamish and fit in a quick mountain bike ride. It was a stunning day, a hint of chill air tempered by the autumn sun. A chipmunk bounced up to my feet and stood on its back legs peering up at me as I threw on my camelbak. I smiled, its nice to feel connected in even the smallest way to the natural world and its inhabitants.

After an hour or so of riding, muscles and joints warmed up, we started down an area called Rob’s Corners. Fully in the flow Scott suddenly, with a screech of brakes and flurry of dust, slid to a halt hacking and coughing. Turns out some kind of wasp or bee had flown in his mouth, stung him on the inside of his throat and most likely ended up being swallowed. It was freaky how quickly he felt his throat swell up on one side. I was about to call for help but Scott managed to swallow two antihistamines and we made our way gingerly back to the car. Luckily he doesn’t have allergies to bees or wasps (he carries antihistamines for hayfever) but we were ready to duck off to a surgery if there was even the slightest hint that he was having difficulty breathing.

Maybe the chipmunk had been trying to tell me something. ‘Don’t go up there!’ (in chipmunk speak it was probably more like ‘nuts, nuts, I like nuts, do you have nuts?’).

It took Scott a day or two for his throat to feel back to normal. Obviously for the bee or wasp it was a significantly worse encounter. I’m aware that in the scheme of things all this was small potatoes but it’s still a bit of jolt to realize how fast a day can change. Oh, and apparently it’s always a good idea to carry antihistamines biking, camping, riding etc.

None of this really has much to do with raspberry rhubarb pie and coffee ice cream, except that maybe it does. You have to appreciate the small things, a sunny day, rain, being with people you love, good food, good friends, a walk, a ride. Simple stuff.

The season is over for both raspberries and rhubarb (I’ve been meaning to post this recipe for a while but never got around to it) but it’s really just as good with frozen fruit.

raspberry rhubarb pie

Raspberry Rhubarb Pie

I leaned on my usual go-to for pastry. Once I’ve lined a buttered pie dish with half of the pastry I fill it with about two cups of raspberries and the same of washed and chopped rhubarb. Sprinkle over approximately two tablespoons of coconut sugar (add more or less according to your taste) and pour about 1/2 cup of orange juice over the fruit. Cover the fruit with the pastry, cutting off any extra hanging over the sides and pressing down on the edge of the pastry dish to seal. I’ll usually whisk together one egg and a little milk and brush the mixture onto the pastry so it gets that lovely golden colour and sheen when it’s cooked.

On a side note, I’m enjoying organic coconut sugar. It’s supposed to be on the lower side of the glycemic index and has a delicious caramel taste. It is a bit more granular than refined sugar so bear that in mind. I actually like the texture and am using it for pretty much anything I add sugar to. And it is still sugar, so best used sparingly.

I couldn’t resist throwing some coffee ice cream into the mix based on Nigella Lawson’s recipe. I’ve figured out my happy place with the ice cream after a few tries. I did have what you might call mixed results before when I used ground coffee. Not my finest hour, although loyal friends did finish it off for me. I made the effort to track down some espresso powder this time and it worked like a charm. I also reduced the amount of powder and coffee liqueur from two tablespoons to one tablespoon each as I was finding it a bit strong. Perfect!

It’s the little things…..

Raspberry rhubarb pie and coffee ice cream

Pie and ice cream

 

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