MoF-19

This recipe takes 6 hours and 15 minutes to complete, so start early in the day. Six hours is waiting for the boar to be done, the other 15 minutes is in the preparation time. Preheat your oven to 225° F.

Mix together the salt, pepper, cumin, brown sugar, chipotle powder, and marjoram or oregano and rub the blend onto your boar shoulder. Set aside for a few minutes. Peel the onions and chop them roughly. Peel the garlic and chop the cloves in half. Add the onions and garlic to a Dutch oven or other ovenproof pot. Add ½ cup of blueberries to the Dutch oven and pour in the zinfandel. Take your well-seasoned boar shoulder and put it on top of the onions, garlic, blueberries, and zinfandel. Put a lid on it, pop it in your oven, and dream of boar tacos for the next six hours.

Making the salsa is really simple. I usually do this right before I pull the boar out of the oven, but you can do it ahead of time and chill the salsa in the fridge. Use a big bowl because there will be a fair amount of stirring going on. Pour the berries into the bowl. Cut the pepper in half. Remove the seeds and then dice. Add the pepper to the bowl of berries. Slice the jalapeño in half, lengthwise, and scrape the seeds out. Then dice the jalapeño and toss into the bowl with the berries and pepper. Stop what you’re doing and go and wash your hands again. I mean it. Touching your eyes, which you’ll probably do in a couple of minutes from now when you start chopping the onions, is a really bad idea if you have jalapeño oil on your hands. Dice the onions and chop the cilantro, then add them to the bowl too. Sprinkle in the salt. Give the whole thing a gentle stir—more of a folding action, really—to get all of the ingredients mixed together.

In a separate bowl, combine the oil, vinegar, and lemon juice. Whisk them up and pour over the salsa, again stirring gently and making sure all the ingredients are nicely coated.

Open the oven door and carefully remove the Dutch oven. Lift the lid and take a long, full sniff. I have no idea what the Otherworld smells like, but I imagine it smells like slow-roasted boar. Grab a meat thermometer and check the internal temperature. You want the boar to be at 200° F to ensure that the meat is tender and all of the connective tissue has broken down. The boar should be completely tender and shred easily as you run a fork through it. With a fork or a pair of tongs, pull the boar apart and let it mix with the onions, garlic, zinfandel, and pan juices. Remove the shredded boar into a serving dish and grab some warmed tortillas (I prefer corn over flour) and the salsa.

Think of Bacchus, make a plate for him first, pour a glass of zinfandel for him, and then feast. Feast like you’re Bacchus. When you’ve satiated yourself on boar tacos, berry salsa, and red wine, put your feet up for fifteen minutes and then get another taco. Bacchus would approve.

Each witchcraft or Pagan tradition has its own way of marking the important days that make up a year. Food magick fits nicely with the calendar too, as certain ingredients ripen and come into season, are plentiful (or on sale), and then disappear again.

Beyond the choices of ingredients, the time of year influences the types of meals we prepare too. The idea of a light picnic spread out on a blanket and eaten by the lake doesn’t resonate quite as much in the dead of winter as it might at the height of summer.

Here are eight of my go-to seasonal recipes. If you live in the southern hemisphere you might have to do a little adjusting to make the seasons line up with the recipes, but my guess is that you’re quite adept with that sort of translation magick.

2 cups milk	For the whiskey sauce:
1/4 cup butter	1/2 cup butter
2 eggs	1/2 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons vanilla extract	1/4 cup whiskey
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 cups bread, torn into rough cubes
1/2 cup raisins

Preheat your oven to 350° F. Pour the milk into a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the butter and stir until the butter is melted. You want the milk to be hot, but don’t let it boil. In a separate bowl, mix the eggs, vanilla extract, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Tear the bread into rough cubes and place it in a lightly greased 9” x 13” pan.

A quick note about the bread: I’ll pretty much use any white bread for my bread pudding. My preference is brioche, but French bread is great, and so is plain ol’ sliced bread.

Sprinkle the raisins over the bread, then pour the milk mixture over everything, making sure to soak all the bread. Pop the pan in the oven for approximately 45 minutes. You’ll know your bread pudding is done when you can insert a knife in the middle and pull it out clean. Just before the bread pudding is done, combine the butter, cream, and whiskey in a saucepan over low heat. Keep stirring until the sauce is just boiling. Pour it over the finished bread pudding and serve.

This is a dense, sumptuous dessert, so I recommend eating smaller portions. Who am I kidding? Sometimes my bread pudding never makes it out of the pan and into a dish. Enjoy it however it makes you feel good!

Equinox Eggs: Fresh Vegetable Frittata

Eggs and the vernal equinox go together like, well, eggs and the vernal equinox. In many Pagan traditions, the spring equinox is celebrated as Ostara. Eggs are decorated, and the return of the spring is heralded. There’s really very little information on the roots of the goddess Eostre, and there’s an incredible amount of terrible information circulating that links Eostre, Easter, and the Akkadian goddess Ishtar together.

One potential link to the tradition of colouring eggs does come to us through the Persian celebration of Nowruz, a thirteen-day New Year’s festival that spans the spring equinox. The festival reaches back into Persia’s ancient history and the rites connected to Zoroastrianism. Nowruz is still celebrated today all throughout the world. Coloured eggs represent fertility, coins bring wealth, and mirrors give one a reason to reflect on the coming year.

Celebrating the spring and the coming abundance seems like a good idea to me. Spring vegetables like asparagus and new potatoes easily combine with eggs to make a tantalizing, simple-to-prepare dish, with about a zillion variations depending on what your tastes are. The recipe I’ve included below is more of a template than a full recipe. I’ve given you the basics and you get to develop it from there. One note about the vegetables, though. If you choose veggies with a lot of moisture, like zucchini for instance, slice them, salt them, and let them sit for 10 minutes. Then dry them on a paper towel before adding them to the skillet. The salt will draw out the excess water. Too much liquid being released will make everything else you’re putting in the dish too mushy.

Serves 4

Prep Time:
10 minutes

Cooking Time:
10 minutes

8 eggs	Any of the following: Spinach, arugula, asparagus, chives, celery root, mushrooms, potatoes, bacon, sausage, ham, beef
Salt
1 cup cheese, shredded or crumbled

Preheat the broiler, if you have one, to 400° F. You can also cook this in the oven at the same temperature. It might just take another 5 minutes or so to get good and firm. Crack eight eggs into a bowl and whisk until smooth. Add a pinch of salt. Set aside. If you’re using meat, cook it in an eight- to ten-inch ovenproof skillet over medium heat until it’s done. Set aside.

Add any firm vegetables, like celery root or potatoes, into the same skillet over medium heat and cook until just underdone. Put the meat back into the skillet, along with any softer vegetables like mushrooms, asparagus, or leafy greens. Cook over medium heat and stir everything together.

Add the whisked eggs, making sure that the eggs reach the outside edges of the skillet. Sprinkle the cheese over the eggs, meat, and vegetables.

Quick tips: For eight eggs, I find an eight-inch skillet to work the best. If I’m making this dish for two people and using only three eggs, I use a six-inch skillet. Don’t stir the eggs at all. Don’t shake the pan. Just pour the eggs in on top of the meat and/or veggies and leave it well alone.

Cook the eggs for 3 to 5 minutes until they form a solid edge. The top will likely be runny still. This is perfectly okay. Carefully transfer the hot skillet into the oven and cook for 10 minutes or until the egg mixture is fluffy and firm. You can put a toothpick into the eggs and if it comes out clean, your frittata is done.

Some ovens have a broiler tray or a grill. It’s best if you put the skillet under the broiler or grill, as it turns the top a lovely golden brown. If you do use the broiler or grill, you only need a couple of minutes at most to finish the cooking and don’t need to put the mixture in the oven for 10 minutes at all. Keep an eye on the skillet, because it can go from tasty frittata to burnt offerings in about 10 seconds!

I recommend eating Equinox Eggs in bed. If there’s someone next to you, ask them to feed you (if you like that sort of thing) or chat about what you’ll do together throughout the spring and coming summer months. The spring is the perfect time to plan for long days and long meals to come. If you’re by yourself, take your time. Eat breakfast in bed slowly. Think about what is coming back to life or just beginning to sprout for you. Oh! And have seconds. It’s okay.

Summer Passion: A Flummery of Fresh Fruit

You might be asking, “What on earth is a flummery?” The simple answer is that a flummery is a little like pudding or a stiffened smoothie. A flummery is either sweet or savoury, which is not uncommon with many British desserts. Flummeries were particularly popular in the British Isles in the seventeenth century. The first recorded usage of the word flummery appears in 1615 in Gervase Markham’s book The English Huswife: Containing the Inward and Outward Virtues Which Ought to Be in a Complete Woman. Allegedly, the name derives from the Welsh word llymru which is approximately pronounced phonetically as lum-ra, except that in Welsh, the LL sound is made by placing your tongue up behind your two front teeth, exhaling, and saying “Lah.” However, according to my Welsh dictionary, llymru means stomach in modern Welsh, so clearly there’s a linguistic mystery to solve there.

The summer, in most regions, is a time of activity. Flowers are blooming, fruits and vegetables are growing and being harvested, meals are eaten outdoors as the evenings stay brighter, longer. In many Pagan traditions, especially those influenced by the Wheel of the Year, Beltane is celebrated in May, which might be the late spring or early summer depending on exactly where you live. Nothing speaks of summer quite like a dessert of fresh berries. There’s something deliciously sensual about eating berries and freshly made whipped cream on a warm summer’s afternoon and taking in the breathtaking beauty that is life in full bloom. And to that end, the flummery is the perfect dessert.

Serves 4

Prep Time:
10 minutes

Cooking Time:
30 minutes,
plus 12 hours in the fridge

2 cups + 3 tablespoons water	1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons butter	2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 pound mix of fresh berries (blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, blueberries)	1 egg yolk
	1 teaspoon lemon juice
	1 egg white

Place your mixed berries in a medium saucepan with three tablespoons of water, and cook over medium heat until they are soft (or about 7 minutes). Stir frequently, but gently. The fruit will begin to give up their juices just a little bit. Remove from the heat and puree the berries in a blender for about fifteen seconds, just enough to get everything good and sloppy, but still have a few chunky bits. Set the puree in the freezer while you’re making the rest of the flummery.

Add the other two cups of water and the butter to a saucepan (it can totally be the saucepan you just used to soften the berries). Heat until hot, but not quite boiling. The butter should be melted. Remove from the heat and mix in the sugar and the flour immediately. Whisk until the water, butter, sugar, and flour make a smooth slurry, making sure there aren’t any bits of unincorporated flour floating about. Put the saucepan back on medium heat and whisk in the egg yolk. Whisk this mixture for approximately 5 minutes, keeping the heat even. It’s important not to let the mixture boil, so you may need to lower the heat or lift the saucepan up from the heat from time to time. Remember to keep whisking. After the 5 minutes are up, remove the saucepan from the heat.

The next step is fun. Well, I think it is. Grab the chilled berries from the freezer. Add the lemon juice to the berry puree and pour the puree into the hot slurry mix. I like to use a folding motion here rather than a stirring motion, but the idea is to incorporate the slurry and the puree into one pot of purple-red goodness.

Now it’s time to whisk your egg white for a few minutes until it just begins to form soft peaks. Fold the whisked egg white into the berry mixture. The trick here is to fold the egg white in gently and slowly, because you want to maintain as much of the air you just whisked into it as possible. You might notice little trails of foamy egg white running through the mixture. That’s totally okay.

Lastly, pour the berry mixture into a shallow serving dish and chill it in the fridge overnight (at least 12 hours, but maybe 24) until it sets. The flummery will firm up. It won’t be solid exactly, but it shouldn’t be runny either. Right before you serve it, top with fresh berries and healthy-sized dollops of fresh whipped cream. If you’re feeling extra special and fancy, you can pipe whipped cream on the flummery and make the dessert all pretty like.

Grab spoons. Savour the tart and sweet summer berries. Put whipped cream on someone’s nose. If you are by yourself, still put whipped cream on your own nose. Maybe ask to lick the whipped cream off someone’s nose. You never know what eating a good flummery might lead to.

A Slow Solstice Supper: Slow-Braised Pork
with Fruit and Onion-Bacon Jam

Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year. A time, in an ideal world, when we languidly wile away the entire day and long evening with nothing to do but simply enjoy the company of friends, family, and beloveds. A slow, long, laid-back affair honouring the very apex of summer and all that’s good about life. A platter of food appears, seemingly out of nowhere, wine is poured, a solstice bonfire is lit, and folks tuck into a meal with full abandon, using their fingers for cutlery and their jeans for napkins.

I love slow meals. I mean meals that last a long time. Not because there’s so much food that it takes forever to cook, serve, and consume, but because there’s absolutely no hurry to eat everything and get anywhere else. I adore dining without a time limit, when conversation and laughter are equally important ingredients as salt and pepper. I like meals that tiptoe right to the edge of gluttony, consider whether less is in fact more, and then decide without haste that more is more and more is better.

And this recipe typifies summer solstice, slow eating, and great company. It is best to cook this recipe early in the day, hours before you’ll want to eat it. There’s no cookery reason for making the dishes early, but there is a magickal reason. Preparing everything ahead of time gives you the ability to laze about, participate in conversations, and enjoy the solstice with your guests. Time is a precious commodity, and this is a meal to be enjoyed slowly with others.

Serves 8

Prep Time:
30 minutes

Cooking Time:
2 hours

For the pork:	3 tablespoons flour
2 teaspoons salt	1 cup vegetable broth or water
5 pounds pork shoulder (pork butt is the same thing)	3 firm pears, cored but not peeled; sliced
2 teaspoons allspice	1 12-ounce bottle of crisp, hard cider (apple or pear) or apple juice if you prefer
3 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons honey
2 teaspoons pepper
3 firm apples, cored but not peeled; sliced

For the jam:	2 cups red wine
2 slices platter bacon (I like cherrywood smoked bacon, but whatever you have is good)	1/2 cup honey
	1/2 cup red wine vinegar
4 medium red onions, peeled and diced	3 tablespoons brown sugar

It’s time to cook some pork butt! Preheat your oven to 400° F. Combine the salt, pepper, allspice, oil, and honey in a bowl. Paint the pork shoulder on all sides with the honey, oil, and spice mixture. Then place the pork shoulder on a wire rack in a roasting pan, and put it in the oven for 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, reduce the heat to 350° and roast the pork shoulder for another hour.

Pull the roasting pan out of the oven, place the pork on a plate, and pour any cooking juices into a bowl for later use. Add the cored and sliced apples and pears to the roasting pan, underneath the rack, and pour in half of the cider (or apple juice). Reserve three tablespoons of the remaining cider for later use, and drink the rest, because cooking is thirsty work. Place the pork shoulder back on the rack and pop it into the oven for another 30 minutes or until the internal temperature reaches 160° F. Get your favourite big serving platter. Put the pork slap-dab in the middle and use a slotted spoon to arrange the apples and pears all around it. There should be some juices on the bottom of the roasting pan (cider, liquid from the fruit, and maybe some pork drippings). Pour these juices into a saucepan. Add the vegetable broth or water. Whisk in the reserved pan juices (from earlier), and the three reserved tablespoons of cider. Once the liquid is hot but not boiling, remove a couple of tablespoons to a bowl and stir in the flour, making a roux (a thin paste). Add the roux back into the saucepan and set over medium heat until the liquids come to a boil. Turn the heat down and simmer for 2 more minutes. Pour the sauce over the pork roast. Depending on when your meal begins, cover the roast and leave it alone until you’re ready to eat it. Now let’s make the onion-bacon jam.

Technically speaking, you could make the onion-bacon jam way ahead of time. I’ll often make a batch and keep it in the fridge for up to a week. Okay, that’s a total fib. I do make it ahead of time, but it never lasts a week. I eat it on everything, so the onion-bacon jam might last for two days if I’m lucky!

Start with your favourite skillet and the platter bacon. Cook the bacon until it’s done but not overdone. In fact, you can undercook your bacon a little because it’s going back into the skillet in a little bit. Remove the cooked bacon from the skillet to a paper towel. Peel the four onions and then halve them. Dice the onions and toss them into the skillet with the bacon drippings, on high heat. Stir for 5 to 7 minutes, coating the onions, until the onions start to give up their juices.

Next pour two cups of red wine (minus a sip or two for the cook, of course) into the skillet with the onions. Let the wine reduce for 20 minutes, stirring the onion and wine mixture frequently. Slice the cooked bacon into small strips and combine again with
the onions. Add the honey, red wine vinegar, and brown sugar and stir until incorporated into the onion mixture. Turn the heat down to medium-low or simmer and cook for 30 minutes. Every 5 minutes or so, give the mixture a good stirring, folding everything over itself. You’ll start to notice the difference in colour and consistency, as the onions, bacon, honey, wine, and vinegar all meld together and form a sweet, sticky jam. Remove from the heat. Scoop the jammy goodness into a sealable container and pop it into the fridge until cooled. The onion jam can stay in the fridge for up to a week.

When your guests have arrived and you’ve chatted for a bit and it’s getting to be time for food, dash into the kitchen and uncover your platter of pork, pears, and apples. Pull your onion jam out of the fridge and scoop it into your favourite serving bowl. Bring everything outside, or wherever you’re eating. Get your biggest carving knife, some spoons, small plates, napkins if you’re delicate, a little bread, some cheese maybe, bottles of your desired beverage, and your appetite all ready. Be the first person to cut a chunk of the pork and greedily eat it, making sure to lick up the juices that are running down your fingers. Next hunk of pork gets a huge dollop of onion jam on it. Eat, drink, talk, and laugh until the solstice sun goes down, the platters are empty, and everyone is full.

High Summer’s Bread: Garlic and Herb Focaccia

Baking bread is a magickal process, and generally a long process too. This recipe is quick, tasty, and you make it your own by adding your favourite herbs, spices, and toppings to the mix. Also, it’s wicked easy to make for your Lammas celebrations.

When I think of Lammas, I think of bread and sharing a bountiful harvest with friends. In Anglo-Saxon times, loaf mass commemorated the wheat harvest. Bread was shared, and some say the loaf was imbued with magick and that the magick was spread about the community either by breaking pieces of the loaf off and secreting them about the village or by eating the bread and sharing the magick, quite literally.

As you gather the ingredients, focus on your own harvests, literal and spiritual, and how you send that magick out into the world. And then rip this thin loaf into pieces, dip it in olive oil or balsamic vinegar or even ranch dressing, and rejoice in your creation. Share it if you have any left.

Serves 4

Prep Time:
30 minutes

Cooking Time:
30 minutes

1/3 cup warm water	4 teaspoons garlic, minced
1 package dry active yeast	1 tablespoon fresh sage, chopped
1 tablespoon sugar or honey	1 tablespoon fresh oregano, chopped
3 cups flour (all-purpose or bread flour)	2 heaping tablespoons parmesan, pecorion Romano, or other hard cheese
1 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons olive oil

Combine the water, yeast, and sugar (or honey) in a small bowl. Let the yeast activate for about 10 minutes. You’ll know the yeast it doing its microbial thing because the water will start to look frothy. You’ll want the water to be about 100° F; any hotter and you can damage the yeast.

The next step is to combine the flour and salt in large bowl and add the yeast mixture. Using your hands (you know I’m a big fan of using hands to cook), combine the water, yeast, sugar, flour, and salt until you have a nice dough. What you’re looking for is to have all the flour incorporated. You might need to add a little more water. If you do, add a teaspoon at a time. When you’ve got your dough, plop it out onto a floured surface and knead it for a couple of minutes. You don’t want to overwork this dough.

Oil a bowl with 1 tablespoon of olive oil, get it right up to the edges and all around, and put your dough in it. Turn the dough over once to make sure there’s oil all over it. Cover the dough with a tea towel and leave it in a warm place for 30 minutes or until it has doubled in size. My trick here is to turn the oven on and preheat it to 475° F. I put the bowl of dough on the stovetop for 15 minutes and then set it next to the stove for the last 15 minutes.

Once the dough has risen, punch it down and place it on a lightly floured surface. Take the garlic and herbs and knead them into the dough. Again, don’t overwork the dough, just knead it enough to get the herbs and garlic distributed evenly. Now roll the dough out into a rectangle and place it on a baking sheet. Using the butt end of a wooden spoon, make dimples in the dough. I do this in nice even lines, like 4 dimples across by 5 dimples long, but your dimpling numbers may vary. Brush the dough with the remining olive oil and top with the cheese. Pop the baking sheet in the oven for 10 minutes. If you like crunchier focaccia, bake it for 15 minutes.

When it’s done, cut the bread into 2-inch-wide strips or use a pizza wheel and cut into 2-inch squares. Eat. Dip. Do that again and again until the bread is all gone.

A Bowl Full of Autumn: Butternut Squash and Ginger Soup

The autumn equinox is often referred to as the second harvest. Early summer fruits and vegetables are slowly giving way to autumnal delicacies like squashes and gourds. The equinox is another one of those balance points in the magickal year, a space between summer and winter. Depending where you live, the warmth of the sun still blesses your bones and the heat clings about you, reminding you of the full summer sun. On the wind though, there’s a certain chill, a sense that winter is just around the corner. The oncoming winter might not have the same “You’ll freeze, starve, and die” imperative that it may have had for our ancestors of just a few generations ago, but there’s always uncertainty and risk and, perhaps, a deep-seated memory that it’s possible the sun won’t come back for us after all. And that’s where this recipe really comes in handy. When I eat a huge bowl of autumn soup, I can taste the heat and sweetness of summer and my belly knows that there will be warmth when I’m cold.

Serves 4

Prep Time:
15 minutes

Cooking Time:
30 minutes

2 pounds butternut squash	Big pinch of salt
3 tablespoons butter	1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 medium yellow onion, sliced into half-moons	3 cups vegetable stock
1 medium yellow onion, sliced into half-moons	1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram
2 cloves garlic	1 1/4 cups milk
1 teaspoon ground ginger	Pepper
1 bay leaf	Several snips of fresh chives

Peel the butternut squash and scoop out the seeds. Here’s a good tip for peeling butternut squash: Slice the squash in half lengthwise, scoop out the seeds, and place the flat side of the squash on a cutting board or other flat surface. This keeps the squash really stable as you peel it. Use a vegetable peeler or sharp knife and peel away from yourself. Alternatively, some grocery shops sell peeled and cubed squash, which makes this dish even easier to cook. Once you’ve peeled your squash, cut it into 1-inch cubes.

Grab your biggest saucepan or an eight-quart stock pot. The eight-quart pot is a little too big really, but I like it because I can stir the ingredients without worrying about splashing stuff over the sides of the pot and onto the stove. Melt the butter over medium heat and add the sliced onion and crushed garlic. Give the onions and garlic a good 3 to 5 minutes to cook so they get soft, but don’t let them brown. Then add the cubed butternut squash. Stir everything together. Add the ginger, bay leaf, and a good pinch of salt. Give a quick stir so the spices get distributed about. Add the lemon juice and the vegetable stock and bring everything to a boil. Once the soup has come to a boil, cover the pot, reduce to a simmer, and go do something fun for 20 minutes, like setting the table with red and orange fabrics and finding those handmade soup bowls you bought last year and haven’t used yet.

The next bit is a little tricky. Discard the bay leaf and pour the soup mixture into a food processor. If you don’t have a food processor or blender, strain the mixture by pouring it through a sieve over another saucepan and use a wooden spoon to push everything through. Whichever way you do it, what you’re looking for is a smooth puree. Pour the puree into a saucepan. Add the marjoram and the milk and heat the soup until it’s the temperature you like.

Ladle the soup into your bowls or one big bowl if you want to be fancy about it. Add a little pepper if you like, as well as the fresh chives. Serve with crusty bread and do remember to lick the bowl clean. I know some people would frown on this last step, but really, give it a try. There’s something deliciously decadent about bringing the bowl up to your mouth and getting the very last drops of soup all over your tongue and lips. Encourage anyone eating with you to do the same. It’s fun. Give it a whirl.

Samhain Pot Roast for One

Without a doubt, this is one of my all-time favourite recipes. There’s enough food to feed four people, but sometimes I make this just to eat all by myself. I’ll eat pot roast for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a few days. When it comes time to scrape the last few precious morsels out of bowl, I’ve been known to cut a slab of sourdough bread and pile on whatever is left for an open-faced sandwich fit for the gods.

I associate pot roast with Samhain because it reminds me of the foods my grandparents made. This is an ancestor meal, of sorts. There’s nothing “officially” Pagan about this meal, except that a witch is cooking it and at least three witches besides me will be eating it. Whenever possible, the ingredients are locally and ethically sourced. I prefer knowing that the cow led a lovely life right up to the moment that it didn’t (which is a spell I hope we can all say about our own lives!). And the national chain supermarkets often have chuck roast on sale, so buy the best meat you can, wherever you can get it. Remember, all food is sacred, and sacredness has precious little to do with the price tag.

Serves 4 (or one)

Prep Time:
20 minutes

Cooking Time:
4 hours

5-pound chuck roast	2 sprigs fresh thyme
Kosher salt and ground black pepper	1 cup red wine for the deglazing + 1 extra cup for drinking
3 tablespoons olive oil	1 tablespoon dried savoury
2 medium onions, peeled and cut into large chunks	3 cups beef stock, mushroom stock, or veggie stock
6 medium carrots, cut into chunks (you can throw in three cups of baby carrots if you don't have whole carrots)	12 small Yukon gold potatoes (red bliss will work too), unpeeled
3 celery stalks, cut into chunks	5 dashes Worcestershire sauce (that's about a tablespoon)
2 rutabagas or turnips, peeled and with the hard end bits cut off	1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 bay leaf (remove before serving)	Salt and pepper to taste

I get started by heating my oven to 275° F. Then I pour a glass of red wine for me, because, you know, standards!

Liberally season the chuck roast with salt and pepper. I like kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper, but whatever you have will work. I set it aside and explain to the dogs that pot roast is not for them, no matter how much they stare at me. Sip wine.

Next, it’s time to heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a cast iron skillet or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. I roughly chop the onions and toss them into the hot oil. Is there anything better than the immediate sizzle of onions in a hot pan? I don’t think so, and the aroma is a magick all of its own. This is the perfect time to send a quick note of appreciation to whichever god, goddess, or mysterious entity created Amaryllidaceae, and to our brilliant great-great ancestors who first foraged for onions and proclaimed “these we will eat with everything!” Leave the onions for about 5 minutes, giving them time to brown. After the 5 minutes are up, scoop the onions into a bowl or plate and set aside.

While the onions are in the pot browning away, start chopping the carrots and celery into nice chunks. I always split my celery stalks down the middle and then cut them crosswise. There’s no real reason for this, except that it makes it look like there’s even more celery. Throw the carrots and celery into the Dutch oven for just a few minutes—5 minutes is just about enough. You might need to add a little more oil, just to keep everything moving. Once they are done, they might have just a bit of browning around the edges, which is what you are looking for.

Next, take the Yukon gold potatoes (skin on if you like that sort of thing; I certainly do) and toss them into the same hot pot that you just cooked the onions, carrots, and celery in. Peel and cut up two turnips or rutabagas. I usually quarter them, depending on the size. Again, give them about 5 minutes, just to get some heat and colour on them. Remove them to a bowl and set aside.

Now, grab the well-seasoned meat and add it to the pot. Sear it on all sides for about a minute per side. Once seared, remove it to a plate. Once you’ve got your chuck roast resting, pour a cup of red wine, or a cup of broth if alcohol is something you choose not to cook with, and deglaze the pan. Deglaze is one of those very cheffy terms for getting the sticky bits of food off of the bottom of the pot.

Pick up the chuck roast and put it back into the pot. I hear you saying, “But I just took the meat out of the pan. What’s up with that?” I’m always tempted just to leave the roast in the pan and skip the deglazing, but just trust me and do the extra step. It does really add to the flavour. Pour in the rest of the stock, with a couple dashes of Worcestershire, just enough to cover about half of the meat. Put the onions, celery, carrots, potatoes, and rutabagas back into the pot too, and arrange them around the meat. I like to sort of dunk the veggies under the broth as much as possible. Add whatever herbs you’d like. I’ve listed my favourites in the recipe list.

Place the lid on top of the Dutch oven or ovenproof stew pot. Carefully put it in your oven and leave it alone for the next 4 hours. No really … don’t peek. Don’t taste. Just leave it there. The internal temperature should hit 200° F. When you do finally take it out, be prepared to thank Edesia, the Roman goddess of food and feasting, because you are about to enjoy one delicious feast!

The last step, when the cooking time is done and while everything is still in the pot, is to take a couple of forks and pull apart the meat. The chuck roast should pretty much fall away as you pull on it. Serve in the same pot you cooked it in or ladle the contents into your favourite serving dish. Optional: Enjoy the meal with someone else or just fill your own bowl and pour another glass of red wine. Either way, you might want to set a plate for your ancestors to enjoy.

A Winter’s Feast: Shepherd’s Pie to Live For

Let me start by answering the two most common questions I get about this shepherd’s pie recipe: “What is a shepherd’s pie?” and “Why is it to live for?” To be called a shepherd’s pie properly, the mince mixture must include lamb. Anything other than lamb and it’s really a cottage pie. Now, truth be told, I’ve made this dish with all vegetables, with meat substitutes, or with beef, and I still called it shepherd’s pie. It’s called “shepherd’s pie to live for” because I dislike the expression “to die for.” There may be causes I’d be willing to die for, but shepherd’s pie isn’t one of them and I believe that cooking, eating, and sharing food is best done when we’re as fully engaged and present as possible. Live for the food you love. It will taste better.

Shepherd’s pie is a winter staple in my house. Truth be told, it’s been a constant food throughout my entire life, partly because it’s completely scrumptious and filling and partly because if you have a few potatoes, a little meat, some leftover veggies, and a little time, you can turn some pretty meagre ingredients into a piping hot plate of hearth-warming goodness. Depending on your budget, this can be a lifesaver when funds are low or a gourmet experience when times are better. Imagine this dish with venison or slow-cooked boar and exquisite cheeses mixed through the potatoes. It’s worth experimenting! But here’s my basic shepherd’s pie recipe, the version I’ve shared with my children, which harkens back to my grandmother’s kitchen, where I first began to cook.

Serves 6-8

Prep Time:
20 minutes

Cooking Time:
60 minutes

15 medium Yukon gold potatoes (that's about 2 pounds), peeled	1 cup beef stock (use 2 cups of beef stock if you are not using the red wine)
Pinch of salt	1 teaspoon pepper
1 pound ground beef	5 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 pound ground lamb	1/2 cup red wine
2 medium yellow onions, diced	4 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons ketchup (the secret is out. I do use ketchup!)	1/4 cup milk or cream
4 cloves of garlic, minced	1 large carrot, diced
1 cup frozen peas (those 8.5-ounce cans of peas work well too)	3/4 cup grated cheese (I like strong English cheddar, but use what you have)
1 tablespoon fresh thyme	1 tablespoon fresh sage

I start by preheating the oven to 400° F on the broiler setting. Next, I place a pot about three-quarters full of water on a burner and get it to a near boil. Take the potatoes, wash them, and cut them into quarters. Put them in the pot of water, making sure the water covers the potatoes. Add a pinch of salt and cook for about 15 minutes.

While the potatoes are boiling, it’s time to start working on the mince. Mince is a typically English term. I don’t hear it often elsewhere. Basically, mince is the mixture of meats, veggies, spices, and flavourings, all simmered together.

Add the beef and lamb to a large skillet on fairly high heat. I don’t add oil to the skillet, but plenty of folks do. If you use oil, maybe add 1 tablespoon. The key here is to move the meat about the pan, slowly breaking it down to crumble-sized pieces. Once the lamb and beef are no longer pink, remove from the heat, drain off any excess grease, and then return the meat to the heat. (Some use a colander for this; I usually just use a saucepan lid.)

Immediately add the diced onion, carrots, and garlic. Stir everything around for 5 to 7 minutes. Then add the peas, thyme, sage, pepper, Worcestershire sauce, and ketchup all at once and stir for another minute or so until everything is incorporated.

A quick note: Many people struggle with the word Worcestershire. In the United States people tend to want to pronounce it “Wer-sester-shy-er” which is a right mouthful indeed. In England, it’s typically just referred to as “woosta” or “woosta-sheer.” Much simpler!

Add the half cup of wine and let it simmer for several minutes until it’s well reduced and almost gone. If you are not using red wine, add half of the stock and let it reduce down too. Really do let the wine (or stock) reduce down. You might think the mince will be too dry, but there’s a lot of liquid still to add. The idea of adding the wine or broth is to deepen the flavours of your shepherd’s pie, not just about increasing the liquid. Add the stock (or the rest of the stock) and simmer until the sauce has thickened up. This may take up to 10 minutes. Transfer the mince into a deep casserole dish.

By now, the potatoes should be cooked. Strain off the water and add the milk (or cream), butter, salt and pepper, and grated cheese, and mash the potatoes until smooth and creamy. Spoon the mashed potatoes onto the mince mixture, covering the entire surface. I like to take a fork and make little lines and peaks in the mash—when you broil the dish it makes nice crunchy bits. Sprinkle a little cheese on top of the mash too. I love the way the cheese turns the top of the dish a lovely golden brown (or slightly darker brown). Put the casserole dish in the oven for 25 to 30 minutes or until the top of the mash is the golden brown. Usually, I do one last step here, but this is really optional. I transfer the casserole dish to the broiler for just a couple of minutes to get the peaks of the potatoes and cheese a little crunchier and darker. Truth be told, I kind of like the potatoes to be just a little burned … er … I mean well done. It’s the way I learned to cook.

The hardest part of this recipe? Once you’ve pulled the steaming dish of potatoey, meaty, cheesy goodness out of the oven, let it sit for 10 minutes. The sauce will set just a wee bit. If there are leftovers, which is highly doubtful, pop everything into the fridge and eat for breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, brunch, or for an in-between meal snack the next day. It’s usually even better.

Four Ridiculously Good Aphrodisiacs

While there’s evidence that foods rich in certain minerals can boost the libido, aphrodisiacs are, by and large, what you make of them. The recipes in this section certainly contain ingredients often associated with stimulating the, ahem, senses, but there’s more to an aphrodisiac than just the ingredients. As you’ll find out when you make these dishes, they’re hot, sticky, salty, sweet, and best enjoyed in bed (or the kitchen table, no judgement here).

A word about the serving sizes. Generally speaking, these recipes serve two. In this case, that’s a matter of practical cookery instructions, not an endorsement of the dominant relationship paradigm. Need three, make three. Aphrodisiac for one? Make two servings anyway. You never know, it might be so good you might want seconds!

Breakfast in Bed: New York Strip, Arugula, and a Poached Egg

It’s the egg that gets me every time. The moment my fork pricks the poached egg and thick, golden yolk oozes over a bed of spicy arugula, making its tantalizing journey toward a perfectly seared, medium-rare New York strip, I start to … perhaps I should just share the recipe and let you experience this for yourself.

Serves 2

Prep Time:
5 minutes

Cooking Time:
20 minutes

For the steaks:	For the salad:
1 tablespoon olive oil	2 poached eggs
2 10-ounce New York strip steaks	2 cups arugula
Big pinch of salt	2 teaspoons olive oil
Several cracks of fresh, black pepper	1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 sprig of rosemary	2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
2 tablespoons salted butter	Salt and pepper

This dish takes about 20 minutes to make, which leaves you plenty of time to savour it. If you have time, it’s best to take the steaks out of the fridge and let them come up to room temperature for 30 minutes before you cook them, but it’s not super critical if you are raring to get going.

Heat a cast iron skillet on high heat for a minute. Coat the hot skillet with one tablespoon of olive oil and leave it for a minute or until you see just the faintest wisps of smoke. While you’re waiting for the oil to heat up, season the steaks with the salt and pepper. Add the seasoned steaks to the hot pan and cook for 3 minutes. Turn the steaks over just once and cook for an additional 3 minutes. Turn the heat down to low and add the rosemary sprig to the skillet. Immediately add 2 tablespoons of butter. As the butter melts, baste the steaks using a spoon. The best way to do this is to tilt the skillet towards you and scoop the butter over the top of the steaks. Remember, if you’re using a cast iron skillet, it’s going to be hot, so use an oven mitt. Baste the steaks for 1 minute and then remove the steaks to a plate to rest for 10 minutes. The steaks will be medium to medium rare. Cook a little longer and use a meat thermometer if you like your steak medium well or well done.

Now it’s time to poach the eggs. I have a quick method for this. I use silicone egg poaching molds. Heat half an inch of water in a saucepan until it’s bubbling. Add one drip of oil to the bottom of each mold and spread around with your fingers. The oil helps the eggs slide out really easily. Crack each egg into the mold, add a pinch of salt, place in the bubbling water, cover the saucepan so the steam stays in, and leave for 3 minutes.

While the eggs are poaching, add 2 cups of arugula to a bowl. Mix the olive oil, lemon juice, and vinegar in a separate small bowl and drizzle over the arugula. Dress the arugula by gently tossing the salad greens with your hands, coating everything lightly. Be careful not to get the arugula soggy or let it become overdressed. Evenly divide the arugula on plates. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Remove the eggs. Tip the molds ever so slightly so any excess water drains out, and then gently upend each egg onto a waiting mound of barely dressed arugula. Slice each New York strip, against the grain, surround the greens and the egg with the steak, and enjoy. Really, really enjoy it.

Aphrodite on the Half Shell: Oysters with Fennel

It’s the aphrodisiac section. There had to be at least one oyster recipe, right?

Jonathan Swift, a satirist from the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries wrote an entire poem about oysters and their purported effects.54 Here’s a snippet:

“Your stomach they settle,

And rouse up your mettle:

They’ll make you a dad

Of a lass or a lad;

And madam your wife

They’ll please to the life.”

Serves 2

Prep Time:
45 minutes

Crushed ice	4 tablespoons white wine or champagne vinegar
1 small fennel bulb with fronds	2 dozen oysters
2 lemons	Pepper

Start by crushing ice. My favourite technique is to fill a large freezer bag with ice cubes and bash it with a rolling pin. You’ll want enough crushed ice to cover a serving platter that can accommodate 24 oysters. The next step is dicing the fennel bulb. You’ll want to dice the fennel quite small, as it will be spooned onto each oyster. The fennel adds a delicate, anise flavour, so big chunks of fennel are way too overpowering. Place the diced fennel in a bowl. You’ll only need 2 tablespoons of diced fennel. I never save the leftover fennel; I just eat it while I’m finishing the dish. But if you have leftovers, you can store it in an air-tight container in the fridge for 3 days. The fennel stalks are covered in fine, green fronds. Take one of the stalks and pull the fronds off. You’ll garnish each oyster with these later.

Cut the lemons in half and squeeze the juice into the bowl with the fennel. A quick tip here: Squeeze the lemon halves with one hand and let the juices run over your other hand, positioned over the bowl. This way you catch any of the lemon pips in your hand and you don’t have to fish them out of the bowl. Add the wine or vinegar to the lemon and fennel and stir gently, just making sure that the fennel is coated with the lemon and wine or vinegar. Set the bowl aside and begin shucking the oysters.

There are three things you need to shuck oysters easily: A kitchen towel, a firm surface, and an oyster knife. Oyster knives can be found in almost any store that sells kitchen wares. In a pinch, while camping, or when oysters need to be shucked unexpectedly, you can substitute a good penknife blade or even a flathead screwdriver. If you’re able to, though, buy an oyster knife.

Place your kitchen towel on a flat, firm surface. Put one oyster on the towel and fold the towel over the oyster. Doing this protects your hands in case the knife slips. Take the oyster knife and insert it in the valve or hinge. This is where the two halves of the shell meet. Pry the shell in a twisting motion, using a fair amount of pressure. As the oyster shell begins to open, gently slide the knife into the oyster, detaching it from the top shell. Place the lower shell and oyster on the crushed ice. Repeat 23 more times. You’ll be an expert by the time you’re finished.

Spoon your fennel, lemon, and vinegar or wine mix onto each oyster, crack a little pepper, top with fennel fronds, and then bring this silky smooth, briny, anise-infused delicacy to your lips. Toss your head back, open your mouth, and let the oyster slide past your teeth. It’s entirely possible that nakedness may ensue sometime after the third oyster.

A quick food safety note here: This recipe calls for raw oysters. Raw oysters need to be bought fresh, used right away, stored on ice, and the shells need to be unbroken. Most importantly, the shells need to be tightly closed. If the shells are open, the oyster is dead. Dead oysters are dangerous to eat. Consuming raw seafood can cause severe stomach issues.

Hot and Sweet: Chocolate Pots

Chocolate contains phenylethylamine. That’s a very sexy fact, right? Phenylethylamine, also known as PEA, helps release other chemicals in your body that make you feel good and maybe even a little amorous. The science shows that there’s just not enough PEA in chocolate to stimulate a lot of sexual desire, but that’s where these hot and sweet chocolate pots come into play. If you like chocolate and you have a special someone (or someones) in your life that also likes chocolate, then this is the recipe for you. But be prepared, this dish is hot and sweet and oh so very messy.

Serves 2

Prep Time:
10 minutes

Cooking Time:
30 minutes

1 tablespoon butter	1 egg yolk
2 teaspoons cocoa powder (carob powder works here too)	1 whole egg (minus the shell, of course!)
2 teaspoons cocoa powder (carob powder works here too)	4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 ounces chocolate (get the best you can. I prefer dark and bitter. If you like spicy heat, omit the cinnamon and use your favourite chocolate and chili bar)	1 tablespoon brandy (totally omit this if alcohol isn't for you.—the dessert is just as delicious without, but I like it with)
	1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
5 tablespoons unsalted butter	4 tablespoons superfine sugar

Preheat your oven to 325° F. Take 1 tablespoon of butter and liberally apply inside two 3-inch ramekins. Add one teaspoon of cocoa powder to each ramekin. Rub the powder on the bottom of the ramekin and on the sides. Then set aside.

Add ½ cup of water to an uncovered medium saucepan and heat on medium high. Place a glass bowl on top of the saucepan and add the chocolate and butter. Break the chocolate into pieces so it will melt more easily. Once the butter and chocolate are melted together, take the bowl off the heat. In a separate bowl, add the egg yolk, whole egg, and sugar. Whisk these ingredients by hand for about 8 minutes, or until thick and pale yellow. Alternatively, use a hand mixer for about 3 minutes.

Pour the chocolate and butter into the eggs and sugar. Add the cinnamon and brandy and gently stir them together. Lastly, carefully add the flour to the mixture, folding it in rather than stirring it in. Fold just until there’s no visible unincorporated flour. Place the greased ramekins on a baking sheet, then fill them equally with the chocolate mixture. Cook in the preheated oven for 18 minutes.

Technically, the next step is to turn the ramekins out onto a serving plate, loosening the chocolate pot with a butter knife. The dessert does look better if you do this. I, however, am partial to putting the ramekins directly on a plate, grabbing spoons, and tucking right in to the ever-so-ooey-gooey, chocolatey decadence sitting right there in front of me. The center of the dessert should be filled with hot, sweet, molten chocolate. Lick the spoon. If you are with another person, feed them a big, delicious spoonful and let them return the favour (if you both agree to that). Oh my! This really is so decadent.

A cooking note: My oven takes 18 minutes. I’ve cooked in others that only took 15 minutes or as long as 20. A good guidepost to keep an eye out for is that the top of the chocolate pots will appear a wee bit wobbly. If the top is set firm, it’s probably overdone. If you’ve overbaked it, you’ll have a delicious brownie, so unless you burn the chocolate pots altogether, practically any result is a good result.

The Platter of Seduction: A New Way to Look at Finger Foods

There’s no actual recipe here, rather a suggestion for a seductive meal and a list of foods that might help facilitate that. Here’s how it works. Get plates, platters, bowls, and glasses, and find a place to eat. Chop, dice, slice, and peel; open jars, scoop dollops, and generally prepare a feast of raw, pickled, cured, and/or cultured items. This meal is all about your senses, about how certain foods feel in your hands and in your mouth. The coolness of cucumber on your lips, the sweet tang of chutney exploding on your taste buds, the saltiness of olives, the taste of the ocean in anchovies, and how those sumptuous flavours and textures excite and tantalize you.

Try this by yourself or with others you have an intimate, consensual connection with. It’s exquisite. It’s silly. It’s sexy. It’s fun.

Create a platter of any of the following, or whatever else comes to your mind:

Lemon	Cucumber	Carrots
Red Bell Peppers	Avocados	Oyster Mushrooms
Radishes	Pickled Kohlrabi	Black Olives
Kalamata Olives	Honeydew Melon	Watermelon
Cherries	Strawberries	Bananas
Figs	Dates	Honey
Honey Pecan Cream Cheese	Hummus	Yogurt
Whipped Cream	Feta Cheese	Triple Cream Brie
Dolce Gorgonzola	Cockles	Smoked Salmon
Prosciutto	Champagne	Prosecco
Sparkling Non- Alcoholic Drinks	Chocolate

This list is a good starting place. Let your imagination run wild. What would you add? Where will you do this? Where do you really want to do this? What will you wear or not wear? A blindfold? Dare to be fed? Dare to feed? Maybe you are the plate. Who knows how this sensual feast will end.

[contents]

53. Pieter Paul Rubens. “Bacchus.” https://www.arthermitage.org/Pieter-Paul-Rubens/Bacchus.html.

54. Jonathan Swift. Poetical Works of Jonathan Swift: With a Life (Classic Reprint). Forgotten Books, 2016.

For the polenta cakes:	For the lamb:
3 cups water	1 pound cubed lamb
1/2 teaspoon salt	1 small yellow onion, diced
2/3 cup polenta	2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon olive oil	1/2 teaspoon coriander
	1/2 teaspoon cumin
	1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
	Pinch of salt
	1 cup red wine (I like to use tawny port)
	1/3 cup water
	Salt and pepper to taste

1 goat leg (about 3 pounds)	1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon olive oil
2 teaspoons salt	1 teaspoon cumin
2 teaspoons black pepper	4 tablespoons grape molasses
2 cloves garlic, minced	1 teaspoon coriander
2 sprigs fresh rosemary	1 cup white wine + one glass for sipping and toasting while cooking (use mead if you're cooking this for Thor)
1 bay leaf
2 large carrots, chopped into 1" chunks
1 celery root, peeled and chopped into 1" cubes

For the cabbage and carrot slaw:	For the lentils:
1 tablespoon olive oil	2 cups black lentils
Salt and pepper to taste	4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 medium cucumber, diced	1 medium red onion, diced
3 tablespoons olive oil	1 cup finely chopped mint
1 carrot, cut into thin medallions and then sliced into thin sticks	1/2 cup kalamata olives, chopped
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar (or any other vinegar, like red wine, rice wine, or white wine)
4 cups cabbage, chopped thinly (I stick to green cabbage, but a combination of red and green cabbage is nice too)
1 tablespoon vinegar (I like apple cider, but balsamic, white, or rice wine vinegar also work)

1/2 cup feta cheese (for something a little more decadent, try a gorgonzola dolce)

1 tablespoon salt	For the Spicy Berry Salsa:
1 tablespoon pepper	2 cups blueberries
1 tablespoon cumin	1 cup raspberries
1 tablespoon brown sugar	1 small yellow bell pepper
1/2 tablespoon dried chipotle powder (this has a kick, so adjust the amount as you like)	1 jalapeño
1 tablespoon marjoram or oregano	1/2 cup red onion, chopped/diced
3 pounds boar shoulder	1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
2 large yellow onions, chopped roughly	Salt to taste (I use about 1/2 teaspoon)
3 garlic cloves, peeled and halved	1 tablespoon olive oil
1/2 cup blueberries	1 tablespoon vinegar (white or apple cider)
1/2 cup zinfandel wine (or cabernet sauvignon)	1/4 cup lemon juice
Tortillas