Meatballs make me laugh! You have to be "of a certain age" to laugh at meatballs. So I wish I didn't laugh out loud at the thought of Chicken Meatballs with Artichokes & Carrots because I hate it when I date myself.

But damnit I miss Bill Murray.

And I don't mean the middle-aged Bill Murray, who has enjoyed a career renaissance playing forlorn cool characters in meaty independent films. Nope I mean the laugh-out-loud Bill Murray. The Saturday Night Live Bill Murray. The iconic comic genius who brightened my world from 1979 to 1993 in a string of movies that Hollywood just wouldn't find funny anymore.

For those of you who don't remember 1979, it was a very good year. Sure I was struggling through an awkward adolescence. But so was Bill Murray and he was nearly 30! That certainly made a geek like me feel like the world wouldn't end. Because 1979 was a year that launched Murray's film career with the movie, Meatballs. In it Murray plays Tripper, the zany head counselor at Camp North Star. Basically, the movie revolves around the pernicious Tripper putting the moves on a curvy fellow counselor, harassing the camp's boss, and befriending a lonesome boy. There's also some shenanigans involving the teen-aged counselors in training and some spirited pranks with a neighboring, well-to-do camp. But for all of its ribald fun, Meatballs at its heart is a sweet movie that warms the heart without being disingenuous, saccharine, or just plain stupid.

Movies can't seem to do that anymore and I don't know why.

So here I am stuck at home laughing into a plate of Chicken Meatballs with Artichokes & Carrots missing Bill Murray.

Move aside quiche there a a new super food in town and men love it.

Real men like Napoleon Bonaparte and (yep) Sippity Sup! And we're not the only super-dudes in love with this peppery green bite. It’s said that Hippocrates, the father of medicine, built an entire hospital next to a patch of the stuff because he recognized early on the health benefits it could provide to his patients. Gruff Greek soldiers ate watercress to increase their masculine vigor. Even Roman Emperors said it enabled them to make “bold decisions”. I can vouch for that. I ate Creamy Watercress Soup with Sage and decided to write this super-charged tribute.

In Victorian times elegant ladies jumped on the watercress bandwagon too. It could be purchased in parks and street corners, gathered into posey-style bundles. These daintly little nosegays could be nibbled upon, like an ice cream cone while strolling.

And what a nibble watercress seems to be. It's said to have more vitamin C than oranges, more calcium than milk, more folate than bananas, and more iron than spinach.

But its real attribute is that manly men like it. The Romans even believed it could prevent baldness. Now I ask you what man wouldn't eat watercress with that kind of information available to him? Still, even if you have a full head of hair (or are in fact a lady) eating watercress still has delicious benefits. Most notably it has a peppery crunch that elivens this vibrantly colored creamy soup made with leeks, and potatoes called potage au cresson. My version is a simple (but manly) take on the classic. GREG

There is a quote from Robert Brault that I love. It goes: "In childhood, we press our nose to the pane, looking out. In memories of childhood, we press our nose to the pane, looking in". It's a sweet image. One to which we can all relate. But today, Mardi Michels reminds us that there is more than one way to turn the tables on on youth. And some of them are seasonal. Here is eat. live. travel. write. in a cross-hemispheric tribute to the Christmas' of summers long past. GREG

 I am 8 years old. It's Christmas Eve. I'm at Nana (on mum's side)'s annual Christmas Eve dinner. And there it is. In all its gelatinous glory. The custard tart.  The tart I despise. The tart we will all eat despite despising it because someone, somewhere back in time told Nana they loved it, just to be polite. So there it is on the table in pride of place. Every year.  And every year we all have a slice and pretend to love it but it's just not that nice.  I don't know if Nana made it (I doubt it) but it was just the most cardboard crust you have ever eaten with a solid, you-so-know-this-has-a-ton-of-gelatin insipidly flavoured yellow filling. With a sprinkle of nutmeg on top. Delightful. Not.