Things I Did to My Little Sister

Last week my little sister, The Squirt, came to stay with me for her March Break.

Here are some of the fun things we got up to:

We waited around all morning for the telephone guy to come and hook my phone back up. Unfortunately, in a fit of misplaced nostalgia and complete idiocy, the telephone company had sent the engineer to my OLD ADDRESS. Fuck nuts. My sister learned the important lesson that phone companies are stupid all around the world.

We organized my recipe collection. Coloured coded and everything. My sister said "that was fun!" (she was serious. she's way less sarcastic and better adjusted than I am.) Bless.

We figured out which attributes we inherited from our dad. We have different moms see, and we both bear more than a passing resemblance to them, so it was a fun game to see what Dad had thrown into the mix. Plus there's added intrigue because my dad doesn't know very much (actually anything) about his biological family (we're good at making our own non-biological families in my family). Like even though my sister is skinny and I'm pretty curvy, we both are way more hippy than our moms. Must be from Dad's side. Isn't that interesting? We would also both like to thank our father for his gift of masculine ankles. Really, thanks. What a lovely thing to pass along to your daughters.

We went to Edinburgh and climbed an extinct volcano . My sister complained that her hips were hurting. I told her to suck it up. It was good for her. Doesn't she look pretty and exhilirated? She's actually thinking about what the windy damp climate is doing to her hair.

I made her wear makeup to look older so we could get into bars easier.

I also made her change her purple-striped socks to little fishnet ones so we could get into bars easier. My flatmate looked at her, laughed and said 'you're going to be soaked!'. I told him where he could go. It didn't rain that night and my sister didn't die of pneumonia. She was just a bit chilly. I lent her a scarf because grownups wear them and we would still be able to get into bars. I would have been very, very remorseful had she died, Dad and Ri. I promise.

We got into bars, easy. Not that we got drunk or anything. My sister is still an underage 17 and I am not that irresponsible. Besides, we are Canadian and outside of university settings we don't like to ever admit to being drunk. That our father will occasionally drink two (pretty) large martinis on a (pretty) empty stomach before dinner and then fall to his knees playing the air guitar is not a sign of his alcohol consumption. He's just happy.

We attended art openings where we watched experimental video art. Ha! We had to climb loads of stairs to get there, too. But there was free beer so The Squirt was fine. She decided that if she needed to comment on anything she saw she would say that the videos made her feel 'invigorated'. I thought that was an elegant solution.

We danced! My sister had never really gone before. She was understandably nervous, but once we got out there, she was on fire! The Squirt was such a trooper. Since dancing is pretty much one of my favourite things ever and since I don't tend to take drink or pee breaks once I get out on the floor, it was an incredible feat of endurance to keep up with me. She boogied with aplomb. I almost cried.

I pointed out every bursting bud and lovely flower that Scotland had to offer. "See?" I said, "It's already spring here. It won't be like this in Toronto for another month or two. Hahahahahaha. You little sucker." My sister appreciated my observations and insights.

And then we ate. On top of being force-fed a load of Tunnock's products, I made her pancakes and cheesy pasta and garlicky toast with greek salad. We shared a deep fried Mars bar. It was ridiculously good. I am not allowed to eat another one for three years. We visited the candy shop on Byres Road and sat on a sunny bench in the Botanic Gardens to eat our sweeties. We went for chips after our manic dancing, too. She and J laughed when I asked for cheese on my chips. Then they got jealous when my chips were more delicious than theirs. We had very buttery scrambled eggs on toast the next morning, since nothing is better after a late night. She ate BLTs whenever she got the chance.

I bought her steak at a really lovely new restaurant in Edinburgh called The Dogs because I am an excellent and generous sister. I couldn't believe our luck in finding this spot, really. This place was centrally located, almost perfectly decorated and featured a really interesting and affordable menu of British dishes. J and I both ordered the special of the day: braised ox cheeks with horseradish mash and pearl onions. It was so delicious and the really tart and bitter slivers of pickled walnut on top brightened and balanced the flavours perfectly. My very carnivorous sister left a pink-stained plate from her exceptionally rare steak and chips. She was pretty content. The staff were lovely, too. I would have liked a dark and bitter beer to go with my meal and unfortunately the beers on offer were a little boring. They probably care more about wine, but I didn't look at the list and stuck to ginger beer instead. Anyway, this place is good, and if you are ever playing tourist in Edinburgh and wandering around without a plan, you could not ask for a better place to stumble into for dinner.

For her last night I cooked a big British meal. I made my favourite Scottish soup, Cullen Skink, a rich and creamy smoked fish chowder. The recipe I used is here. The only thing I would change is perhaps using 1l of milk instead of 750 ml. I let it reduce a little more than the recipe recommended (you should too) and it wound up just a bit thick. It tasted wonderful, though. And it's so easy. I made a bunch of steamed purple-sprouting broccoli to go with it and a loaf of oatmeal bread. And while the jam roly poly I baked for dessert was, um, horizontally challenged, my custard was perfect. I've never made perfect custard before and I forced J and the Squirt to marvel at my talents for much longer than either of them cared to.

 

Before I kicked her back home we went and got the first ice cream cone of the season from Queen's Cafe on Victoria Road (we look stupid in the photo because we haven't adjusted to sunlight yet). We both got mint chip and sat on a sunny bench in the park once more. Awww. It'll be ages before she can do that back home. Ha.

I miss her already, too. Anytime she wants to come back and organize my recipes and drain my bank account, she is more than welcome.

Comments

[Anna]

that really was a great post.
i have family ties like you and experienced a similar story when my own "stinky" came to visit me in nyc.
you expressed it perfectly and with a lot more humour than i ever could have.
loved it.

[Jules]

so I wanted to make flapjacks because they are yummy and portable, two qualities I look for in food. I remember that katie had made some really nice ones once so I called her for help. Her advice was "loads of butter." but since I had added all these "good for me things" like almonds and sunflower seeds and flax, I just "canae" put in that much butter. so I only added a bit and threw in some honey to try to hold it together. as it turns out, I didn't make flapjacks, I made some sore of boring ass, crumbly, mess that reminded me a bit of gravel. so the moral of my story....Always take Katie's advice!

[Marcus Berns]

Your riff on the squirt's time with you was hilarious. I don't think her time here in London could compare.

[dad]

what is a father to say but i'm laughing out loud. and have not had any martini's tonight. have slept and slept and slept since the election and feeling like i have emerged on the other side, finally.
and the buttery eggs, and the ice cream and the garlicy toast and the ox cheeks all make me want to race back to glasgow. oh yes, and to catch a rare glimpse of those ankles....xxxooo