After touring through here on our tour, Lauren was exuberant! We have to eat lunch here! Of course we do. It was definitely calling our name. Charlie Chaplin purchased it for his personal maid and she ran it for 50 years, but it is currently under new ownership. Who cares? With that kind of history, and the charm we just experienced as we traipsed through it at the end of our tour, let’s stop!

The entryway beackoned, though the huge bucket of lavendar also begged a stop just to enjoy the moment at the door. Inside, we sat directly in front of this little fountain. There were many, many, many little open garden spaces within this restaurant compound. We were pleased with out little spot.

Lauren had already noticed the bread sticks, tepanades, and salts waiting at the table for the guests. We were all engaged in the variety of textures and tastes immediately upon sitting. The dip on the cracker was a sundried tomato pesto with extra olive oil. So simple.

What will we have> Hmmm… Well, we must have the grilled artichoke. They are growing everywhere in this countryside and we were told to sample the fried baby ones. None on this menu, but we will get the grilled one. It was so fresh and fabulous that it renewed my love for this prickely plants!

The dip was citrusy and fatty just as it should be. Finger licking good. YUMMERS.

Then the mains. Vanja ordered pasta and it tasted even better than it looks!  Believe it!

Lauren got a roasted vegetable sandwhich with goat cheese and bacon. What a winning combo! The bread alone was to die for.

And I got the leek and potato soup. It was served in a rustic old pot, and I got at least two big bowl fulls! Too much, but fun to share. Take a look at the background behind Lauren. The festive garden lights twinkled everywhere in primary colours, and it white, depending upon the garden corner they were in.

Off to the next stop. This was too much fun!

He looks happy, doesn’t he?  I am going to be that happy, too, if I live to be 80! I know it is much more common these days, but dad has severe athsma and so do I. We both got it later in life, and I think what has kept dad healthy and strong is his amazing work ethic, and his tender sense of humor. He gets up every day, and has a project. Maybe his days would be longer without his projects, but there is always work to do for dad, and if there isn’t, he finds something that needs maintenance. I admire that. (But, don’t think this comment is encouragement to get up on the ladder and clean the roof again this year, dad!)

His sense of humor is what endears him to me. I was always so proud of him as a little girl as he would even tease the paper boy. My firends loved him, and still do. He was always warm, friendly, and funny. The perfect kind of dad you would want to bring your friends home to. Not exactly the kind of dad you would want to bring a guy home, to, though, later in life. His warm friendly humor would then turn into black sarcasm and none of the fellows I dated ever liked him. That is, if I ever let them meet him! Until Vanja, of course. By then, life had moved on and my dad was just thrilled someone was glad to take me off of his hands! (I was an independent woman then, and for years, I might add, but that is my dad!)

He and mom have been married almost 59 years, and she will be 80 in April 2010. What an example of commitment they have set for all of us. My dad’s humor has come in very handy in more ways than one, I might add! A young Saskatchewan farm boy born in 1929: just before the “dirty thirties”. His parents were Catholic Irish immigrants from the “Derry” area. He had three brothers, and one sister. His father had him working fulltime on the farm when he was thirteen. Maybe that is where he began to develop his incredible work ethic. He worked on the farm until he was 17, then tipped his hat to the rural community of Bengough, Saskatchewan, bid farewell to his not too pleased family, and took to the open road, kicking his heals together, jacket over one shoulder. He had really been independent since he was thirteen, but now he was free!

I am not sure how dad ended up in Red Deer, Alberta. It seems to me, it may be because there was someone he knew from the farm there, but that is where his road trip stopped. And, because he was such a hard worker, he didn’t have trouble getting a job. He immediately started working for Vern’s Taxi, and met mom shortly thereafter. Here he is, over sixty years later. It is only when you get a little older that you realize how fast life passes by. I remember, as a child, hearing that from elderly people so often that I wanted to slap them. It was completely meaningless to me then. But, not now. Not at fifty four with a father who just turned 80, and when I look at him, I still see the most handsome young man with the wavy dark hair and dimples in both cheeks grinning at me. I have such wonderful and happy memories with him, but most of them are during the time we were all in the family home. I guess that is “normal”. Is it? I have other vivid and important memories. They are not ”fun”, but they are profoound: working with my dad as he built my deck, or as we used an auger to did holes in the window wells of my first home to aviod basement flooding. And, yes, of course, the all too common trying to please him earlier in my adult life and never being satisfied I had. What’s that all about, anyway. It is such a waste of relationship time. When I just stopped trying to please him, and worked to please myself, the sun was really shining in the morning sky!

So, here we all are together, to celebrate the birthday of this important man’s life. To celebrate our years of knowing and loving him, and to remind us that each day we have is a gift. What a gift I have had to have George as my dad, and what a gift I still have to have both of my parents still married, healthy, and happy at this phase of my own life. Lots of reasons to party!

“And” and “but”, in true “George” fashion: no big celebration aloud! The family would go together to dinner. He was paying, or he wasn’t going. He has always been a hard fellow to give a gift to. He is generous to a fault, but when it comes to giving back, it is almost impossible to do this with my dad. So, it is his day, he can have his way. Besides, how hard is it to enjoy a dinner evening at La Ronde? I used to go often in the late eighties and early nineties in my “dating days”. It used to be fabulous. I was curious, for sure, to see how it had changed.

The entire space has had a facelift, but the feeling and presence was still the same: elegant and refined. Loved it. Mom and dad were really excited and mom was having such fun enjoying the view as the world turned around her.

While waiting for our meal we shared our cards and gifts with dad. Such a tiny symbol of what he means to each of us.

The food was really lovely. I think the prices are about the same as they were twenty years ago. Truly. Maybe a little more. The  menu is faily conservative in some ways, and very innovative, in others. I was charmed by the sage and apple sorbet with whiskey jelly, but didn’t taste it. I will be back! Our family, for the most part, is a fairly conservative bunch, so the main course selections were perfect. It was really nice to see that attention to our local farming community and our local producers is starting to be recognized by this restaurant. I did notice that still many of the main dishes do not disclose their source, and that means, megamarket, to me. But, hopefully, La Ronde will get the entire menu on track with local independent producers.

Our waiter praised the Casaer Salad as the dressing is made fresh in the kitchen daily. I have become so blinded by my expectations that I had expected nothing less! My sister is a Cesaer Salad fanatic, so that was her main course with the seafood on the side.  She figured out a way to give dad a little treat, that smartie! “It is just too much seafood for me!” she exclaimed convincingly as she pushed it over to dad. He loves anykind of seafood, particularly shellfish! He was complaining all the way home how he shouldn’t have eaten that last shrimp… but we are all glad you did, dad. It is such a pleasure to see both mom and dad enjoy an evening like they did this one.

And I had the Butternut Squash Soup with a Quail Egg Sunny Side Up… it was good. It was pleasant. It was satisfying. The presentation was fun.

Dad had the Cheese Crusted Roasted Chicken and loved it. We were all very surprised to see him slect chicken when he is definitely a steak or seafood man. But, he loved it.

Mom had the Spice Rubbed Strip Loin with the Herbed Butter. She thought it was the best steak she had eaten in her entire life. She asked me what the herbed butter was for, as she tried to rub it onto her vegetables and meat, and it wasn’t melting. Either it was frozen, or her meal wasn’t very hot. She was happy, so I didn’t point that out.

Ragan got the highly recommended (from our waiter) Arctic Char with a Creamy Broth under it. She did not enjoy it, but didn’t tell anyone until later. She said it was far too rich and fishy tasting. I did taste it and it was rich, but the flavours were as they should be, to me. Yummy.

Jason ordered the Pork Tenderloin and was so hungry that he practically inhaled it. He really doesn’t have a very big appetite, so it is unusual to see him so hungry. He was still hungry when we went home for Birthday Cake!

Vanja ordered the tenderloin and didn’t say another word until his plate was empty. I think he had a wonderful plate. I did sample all of the sauces, and none of the meat, except the fish. Each was excellent.

You can tell by the look on dad’s face how much he is enjoying his meal. That is the best part of any meal, for me, to watch the enjoyment of others. Particularly, when I am the cook. That is the only reason I love to do it. It was a lovely meal with a lot of laughs.

We had expected a sparkly something for dad at the end of the meal as we saw another table receive upon our arrival. I made sure they knew it was his 80th, and was assured all had been arranged by phone, but nothing happened. Probably just as well, as dad doesn’t like a lot of attention, but not a great compliment to the organizers of the floor, that evening. One only turns eighty, once, and it is an incredible rite of passage and a very important evening for all family members.

We all missed you Lauren, and Denver, and Sarah. You are always with us in our minds when you cannot be with us in person.

Now, we have some serious party preparations to get started on. Mom turns 80 in April, and she will let us do something for her. YAY! And, then the 60th Wedding Anniversary next November. We’ve been thinking about it. Good thing mom will let us cook and prepare. I love to do it, and this will be a really fun event to take on.

Thank you, dad, for the lovely meal, and the “Leave It To Beaver” homelife that I had growing up.

There is nothing that compares to the complexity of flavours infused into every pore of the skin and flesh of this succulent roasted chicken.

Vanja awoke to his doting parents already preparing his Birthday coffee and his midmorning birthday lunch.

Instead of the traditional chicken soup, Pava had once again splurged for the rich dark duck for her soup.

Petar had some special slanina (cured and double smoked bacon) and sunka (smoked meat) saved for this special meal and Pava had picked and frozen every wild strawberry that she could find for this day.

The powerful punch of sweet fruity perfume that this miniscule juicy ruby jewel delivers is unexpectedly enticing. I could not get enough.

Veal Goulash is the mid day “light lunch”. She had also made cheese pita, but we were too hot and too full to even cut into it. She also had two cakes. It is so sweet to see the little gummy hearts on the cake for Vanja. The main dinner celebration will be when it cools down outside. That scared me. This was huge. How much more is she making?

Today it was 42 degrees Celsius in the shade. I was drained and begging to be flung over the nearest bridge, and left there. Meanwhile, Pava was sweating in the smoke house, water dripping off of her nose as she diced the onions for the pljeskavica for the evening rostilj. She is one determined mommy.

Petar readied the grill. Pava seasoned and prepped the meat. Chicken first, then raznjici (kabob, in this case, cevapi with slanina), sausages, pork filets, pljeskavica, and lastly, the long green peppers.

Divine! All this with Pava’s cheese pita, Srbski salata, and bread: a meat lover’s feast.

Zoka and his family were invited to share in the celebration and the platters and platters and platters of meat. It was still so hot in the evening, but everyone seemed to be lost in the farewell feast. Tomorrow, we leave. And, it was so hot, I was eager to go. What a wonderful finale for us all.

And out tradition of celebrating growing older and wiser together continues as I have the privilege every year of hosting Cathy’s Birthday. I cannot remember how many years ago this started, or how it evolved that she and I always do one another’s Birthdays, but it has been many years. My first one was hosted by Marie in 1992. I remember that distinctly because I hadn’t celebrated my own birthday since I was 8  – with a party, anyway. So, through the years we have celebrated some 30ths, some 40ths, some 50ths, and some 60ths. We are a diverse, but close knit little group and we have evolved through the years. The hostess provides the main part of the main course. Everyone else brings a part of the meal. When we were younger, and our children were younger, we would just have a potluck and everything would work out. It didn’t really matter, anyway, as the children had to be fed, and so usually this was a later in the evening affair and not thought of as a meal. However, it very soon became the meal as it was clear there was always such a display of culinary delights that everyone didn’t eat all day to ensure the possibility of tasting it all. Now, we plan it. Appetizer, soup or salad or both, the veggies and whatever else with the main, and the dessert. I think it is just a coincidence that everyone in the group has always been on the cutting edge of what is happening foodwise and most are adventurous cooks. So, it is always a great experience to learn and share from one another and to get together to chat up a storm and laugh the night away.

I made the Meatball Lollipops with the Coconut Peanut Dipping Sauce for the early arrivals, and Dalene brought the sure-to-please-all Spinach Dip in the round loaf. Her recipe is the best I have had. I will have to get her to share it with us!

Angie brought the “Stone Soup Salad”. What is that? Well, she brought a big and beautiful variety of immaculately cleaned leaves from her garden. Then she asked if I had ingredients for the dressing. I asked her what she brought to go onto the salad. She giggled her addictive sly little giggle and answered, “nothing” in between her titters. Hmmm. Ok. I will make the dressing, and I have a purple onion. So, out came the purple onion and then Janet B arrived with a red pepper and a bag of caramelized pecans. Angie was elated. Apparently she and Janet had spoken on the phone about the salad, and everything Janet suggested to add to it, Angie didn’t have. So, Janet brought some ingredients for Angie to add to the salad. So, the red pepper was sliced up with the onion. Oh, I also have some cherry tomatoes. In they went.

Then the dressing:

All whizzed through my Thermomix, and voila: Stone Soup Salad! Everyone raved, so it must have been delish. Fairytales do come true.

After all arrived with a flurry of hugs and kisses and chatter, we sat in the dining room to toast the Birthday Girl and to eat the most amazing soup I have had in ages: a Pear and Watercress Soup that Janet H brought. I have asked her for the recipe and will make it and post it later. It is divine!

Then came the main: Salmon Mouse with Mango Sauce, Coconut Rice, and Steamed Vegetables with the Stone Soup Salad.

As this is a Food Blog, I am focusing on the food, but it is the friendships that are the main attraction of these special evenings.

There is Angie, the brilliant creator of the “Stone Soup Salad”! XOXOXOXOX!!

The dessert was not a Birthday Cake. Instead, I attempted Panna Cotta. Not successful. So, I did it again and decided to leave out the mould and just poured it over the berries instead. Another “to do” still on my list of Yet to Accomplish.

How blessed I am to have such amazing friendships. How blessed I am to share in the lives of each of these valiant women. How blessed I am to have a friend like Cathy. She gives me her time, her expertise, and whatever it is I need or ask –  unwaveringly – without a second to think about whether she can or not. She just does. So, Happy, Happy Birthday my dear friend. Thank you for enriching my life.

Look at meeeee! I’m fifty-threeeeee! Wheeee! Clearly, the birthday celebration is not unique to our Canadian culture, but the evolution of the “over the top” celebration is. The time of the childhood hot dog party with a couple of games of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey with a double layer frosted chocolate cake has truly passed. Children’s birthday parties have become “events” that need venues, carefully planned activities, and to be different (and hopefully better) than everyone else’s. And, possibly, in response to our baby boomer childhood and our desire to participate in the indulgence of the “now” generation, my girlfriends and I started to get together for one another’s birthdays.

Our small group of women friends that celebrate our lives with one another is not unique. However, the rituals that have evolved through time within our group are exclusive to our circle of friendship. We have lived through over twenty years of these festivities with one another (and some of us, our entire lives): through bouncing our tots on our knees; the trauma and dramas of our teens; marriage, divorce, and funerals, for some; and now, the marriages of our children. These woman are vibrant, valiant, and have become an essential element within the foundation of my life.

The gift of friendship that each offers is the ultimate gift; however, the trinkets, treasures and treats are holders of the memories. Cathy first made this cake for us ten years ago. That memory is so vivid as the richly satisfying and delicious texture and flavours of this cake aroused a sense of intense pleasure within each of us, and the first bite of this took us back to that day, as only food can do. That IS the Canadian experience. The sharing of food made with loving hands for dear friends.

The picture of this cake does NOT do it justice. It is deadly, delicious, divine and delectable.

Cathy’s ”To Die For” Pina Colada Cheesecake Recipe