Category Archives: barbecue

Happy Canada Day

national-flag-canada-lge2

The true north, strong and free

Today is Canada Day, the 149th anniversary of the enactment of the Canadian constitution, Canada’s Birthday.

For those unfamiliar with our history, you can catch the whole thing on Wikipedia . The short version is that unlike countries that were former colonies that threw off the yoke of the oppressor through conflict, Canada did not go through war to become what it is. We actually just sort of happened when we smooshed up the former British colonies of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick with Upper and Lower Canada (now called Ontario and Quebec) into a Dominion.

dominion

Image courtesy edmaps.com

We weren’t quite a country of our own at that time, more a semi-independent kingdom still partly ruled through British parliament and the Cabinet, but in typical Canadian fashion we didn’t get too worried about it for the next century, but rather slowly shed the Queen’s oversight until 1982 when the Blessed Saint Pierre Trudeau (my the gods rest his soul) repatriated our constitution (by literally taking it from England back to Canada, no less).

As a country we’re a parliamentary democracy, although still nominally under the control of the British Crown: the head of our government is actually the Governor General, the Queen’s representative, who actually has the real, legal power to dissolve our democratically elected government should the situation arise.

johnson

The head of the Canadian government, The Governor General of Canada; His Excellency the Right Honourable David Johnston.

But that would be un-Canadian. Not the done thing, at all.

I got to musing on this as I was designated driver for a group this week, and one of the people there was on the verge of getting his Canadian citizenship as a recent immigrant. Fueled by a festive sense of the impending holiday (and several hours of an open bar at a wedding) he asked, ‘What is Canada day about, anyway? What does it mean to Canadians?’

sorry

Sorry for the ridiculous stereotype

It’s a fair question, and one that’s simultaneously easy, and yet impossible to answer. On the surface, Canadians take the day off and hang out at the cottage or the beach or at home. We grill (Americans, don’t listen to Canadians who say they barbecue: 99% of them are grilling. They mean well, but we have a long way to go to catch up to American ‘Q) and have a few beers, spend time with our family and generally don’t think too deeply about the greater meaning of the holiday, although we’ll wave a flag or wear a temporary Maple Leaf tattoo, and later we’ll go down to the park and watch some fireworks.

sparkler

Ooooh, aaaaah

Our fireworks are rarely as intense as American 4th of July pyrotechnics. I’ve always thought that it was partly because we’re more cautious, and partly because we’re like the guy on the cul-de-sac who lives next door to the house that has 100,000 Christmas lights that sync up to music and can be seen from outer space. You don’t compete with that, but you do show up and do your best.

If you pinned down a Canadian, however, and really got them to think about what it means to be a citizen of our country, you’d get an amazing array of answers, from the profoundly moving stories of people who came here are refugees from oppression, to the deeply nostalgic ones of people who fought for our country, both in wars and in the battle for social justice and inclusiveness that are part of our national identity, and even fiercely patriotic ones who see a shining light in the accomplishments of Canada as a nation and friend of nations.

amigos

I can hear theme music playing . . . image credit Reuters.

Here’s the thing: Canada doesn’t get a tonne of press, unless it’s people admiring our sleek new Prime Minister. A friend of mine coined a phrase that resonates deeply with me: Canada is the designated driver of North America. That’s a wee bit passive-aggressive, but the image of duty and a sober hand at the controls is accurate in many ways.

We’ve played important roles in both world wars, but  then we invented the concept of modern peacekeeping. Although it took a long time, we have recognised the wrongs we did to our Aboriginal populations and apologised, deeply and fully, and we’re now working on our reconciliation. We welcome immigrants from all over the world, but rather than demanding that they assimilate, we celebrate their diversity and culture, more like a tossed salad than a melting pot. We established the Division for Human Rights at the UN, and have been part of ever UN mission since 1957, and when America suffered a great tragedy on 9/11 our country took in hundreds of airplanes and opened our homes to American travelers.

I could go on, but that would be bragging, and that’s not the Canadian way. But I can tell you two things that summarise the way Canada really is.

rmc-flag

Nice enough, but a bit armor-y

First, the Maple Leaf flag was not the product of war, colonies uniting, or a struggle for independence. Instead, it was cribbed from the Royal Military’s college flag, that was red-white-red, but had a mailed fist clutching green maple leaves. Rather than the martial symbol, a single maple leaf was substituted.

american_travellers_posing_as_canadians

Go ahead, we’re cool with that.

It was then tacked up on a wall among other flag designs and in a classic Canadian move people were consulted, committees were formed and votes were taken, until it was finally adopted in 1964, to be stitched to the backpacks of Canadians travelling around the world. It’s a product of thoughtfulness, inclusiveness, compromise and, eventually, quiet pride.

Second, Canada’s national broadcaster, the excellent CBC Radio, held a contest to come up with a Canadian phrase to mirror the proudly American qualifier, “As American as apple pie”.

The winner? “As Canadian as . . . possible, under the circumstances”.

That’s my country. See you at the fireworks, let me know if you need a designated driver.

Catching Up, Up, and Awaaaay!

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Bueller?

It’s been a long radio silence from me for reasons varied and sundry, the principle of which is that I’ve been rascally busy for the last two months, with matters professional and personal. I know that professional technically includes ‘keeping my blog updated’, but that’s one of those important-but-not-urgent things that gets pushed back enough that it sometimes disappears altogether.

A few berries short of a sundae

A few berries short of a sundae

Part of my occupation was my community garden plot. We’ve had an extraordinarily good spring and summer–come to think of it, we basically skipped winter as well, with a long, warm period extending from November through to the middle of April, when suddenly it was summer–no spring, no tentative sprouting of plants, just a drop-kick right into full-on heat and sunshine.

That'd be a pretty short elephant

That’d be a pretty short elephant

This is a pretty big contrast to past years when we were joking about ‘Juneuary’, and bemoaning the endless grey rains, conveniently forgetting the fact that we choose to live in an actual rainforest. Normally I’d plant my garden on the May long weekend (the Monday before May 25th) but this year I had a lot of work to do and got it in on the last week of April.

Part of the work was building five new boxes. I have a community garden located on the site of a reclaimed marsh. While it may have been fertile one hundred years ago, the soil is pretty much hardpan clay, with a few inches of topsoil to cover. For a decade I rototilled, added sand, peat moss, compost and other amendments, but the soil quickly ate that up and returned to its peevish ways.

Two years ago I gave up and built some garden boxes. I make them deeper than is usual, and it seemed to work out really well–the results have been beyond what I could have expected. I expanded from three big boxes and three smaller ones, adding four big boxes and one broad but shallow one for vines like zucchini and squash.

Pay no mind to the man behind the kilt

Pay no mind to the man behind the kilt

It was quite a bit of work, between pounding stakes, screwing boxes together and then filling them, wheelbarrow by back-breaking wheelbarrow with soil. As I usually claim, I’m in it for the fresh air and exercise: tasty vegetables are just a by-product. But what a by-product! Between top-quality soil and an early, hot and extended growing season, things have been going crazy.

Gardens gone wild

Gardens gone wild

Unfortunately, the garden is a bit disruptive: it’s on an old farm site, but it borders a nesting sanctuary and a marsh. As such, there are marshy-type creatures there, including some that love fresh garden produce. The worst are beavers: you wouldn’t believe the damage a couple of beavers can do to a garden in only a few hours, especially to grape vines (I’ve lost four over the years) and fruit trees–a decade of growing and poof! It’s part of a dam.

Download these raspberries

Download these raspberries

When the beavers get bad, the wildlife service comes and hauls them away, relocating them. One doesn’t bother beavers without the help of a professional. First, they’re protected and only licensed hunters and trappers can harvest beavers. Second, they’re incredibly dangerous, and routinely kill people who try to interfere with them.

Beavers aren’t the worst, though, as they’re a once in a while animal. I save most of my ire for rats. Sadly, it’s my fault they’re trouble. If you think about it, the average rat is a timid riverbank rodent eating seeds and the occasional bird’s egg. Plunk down eighty or a hundred garden plots next to that riparian paradise and all the rats see is about a trillion calories of easy-to-get deliciousness. They multiply out of proportion to the natural landscape and start raiding. This year I finally took action, netting my corn and setting traps for them. While it worked, I’m not happy with having to murder rodents whose only crime was to recognise an easy meal. Thus is ever the life of an ethical omnivore.

Aside from the garden, I’ve been busy other ways. The building next to me (as in, right up against my suite) burnt to the ground.

fire

Gelato is not supposed to be served hot

That was exciting, especially the part where the flames shot up over the garden wall and incinerated my magnolia tree.

Ashes are good for trees, right?

Ashes are good for trees, right?

Sheesh. Not something you want to see out your bedroom window.

Also, there was the Winemaker Magazine conference in Portland, a delight as always.

workin the booth

Master Vintner! The best winemaking stuff ever!

This year I did a day long boot camp seminar, teaching a class full of people advanced techniques for making wine, demo’ing equipment and doing things like post-fermentation elevage, as well as four other lectures, an author’s round table, and a couple more.

The folks at Winemaker Portland were a happy bunch.

The folks at Winemaker Portland were a happy bunch.

The earlybird winemakers get the wormy old teacher.

The early bird winemakers get the wormy old teacher.

Those people at Winemaker beat me like the family mule sometimes.

Catching up with Gi--always a delight

Catching up with Gi–always a delight

Fortunately there was time to hang out with old friends, enjoy a few noshes

If you're in Portland, I recommend Ox. They have meat.

If you’re in Portland, I recommend Ox. They have meat.

Winemaker was fun, if a bit of a whirlwind. It was really nice to catch up with my pal Wes Hagen. We just don’t get to see each other often enough. As a consequence, we tend to act like ninnies when we do, which is always fun.

In which I corrupt Wes' palate with hoppy hopulence.

In which I corrupt Wes with hoppy hopulence. Photo courtesy of the delightful JT Matherly, a fine new Portland friend.

After Winemaker it was time to gear up for the AHA national conference in San Diego. I’ve wanted to go to an AHA conference for at least 20 years, but always had some corporate drudgery that made it impossible to attend. This year I went under the auspices of my good friends at Northern Brewer, which got me in everywhere and helped me make some new friends.

Yes, that's Wil Wheaton: Tabletop, Titansgrave, Star Trek, Stand By Me and zounds of other things. I felt pretty cool

Yes, that’s Wil Wheaton: Tabletop, Titansgrave, Star Trek, Stand By Me and zounds of other things. I felt pretty cool, hanging with such a chill dude.

Not only did I get to hang out at the NB booth, I got to do some backstagey stuff, like drink a whole keg of Russian Imperial Stout at an afterparty, plus hang out with a thousand-odd homebrewers and taste some of the best dang beers in the whole world, all in one convenient place.

Sessioning the Woot Stout. Whose idea was that?

Sessioning the Woot Stout. Whose idea was that?

Hanging at the Northern Brewer booth with Todd and Chris. Good times!

Hanging at the Northern Brewer booth with Todd and Chris. Good times!

Pro night at the AHA--so much good beer, so little liver capacity!

Pro night at the AHA–so much good beer, so little liver capacity!

As part of the trip I rented a car and drove down the Pacific Coast Highway. If you’ve never done this, I highly recommend it. It’s the most beautiful drive you can imagine–and just when you think it can’t possibly get any more gorgeous, it does.

Yawn. Yet another spectacular view.

Yawn. Yet another spectacular view.

I even got in a little whale-watching, when I decided to pull over for the first time in 2 hours and picked the only spot on the coast with a deceased mammal washed up.

Not very lively, but it was easy to keep track of.

Not very lively, but it was easy to keep track of.

I also made my traditional stop at the Tonga Room. It’s the finest Tiki Bar on earth, located in the basement of the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. There’s something about a restaurant that serves drinks the size of punchbowls, and has a boat floating in the middle of the room, the better to facilitate the occasional indoor rainstorm.

tonga room

Great drinks, excellent food–that really floats my boat.

Returning home, I had a load of projects to get to. First up, a 4th of July barbecue. No, not grilling: a real barbecue.

home barbecue

Ribs, for your pleasure. Along with brisket, chicken and sausage.

Also, there was a seafood boil.

Spot prawns, dungeness crab, white prawns, chorizo, with corn and potatoes from my garden.

Spot prawns, dungeness crab, white prawns, chorizo, with corn and potatoes from my garden.

I was also part of the Tri-Cities Cask Festival, and we really had a great time doing our first beers-from-outside-of-Vancouver-city tasting. I was media man, but managed to get in on the keg tapping action (note: all pictures courtesy of Vancouver Photoworks).

First, drive in the spile.

First, drive in the spile.

Next, drive in the tap.

Next, drive in the tap.

. . . and then the gushing and the shouting and the glayvin!

. . . and then the gushing and the shouting and the glayvin!

I did a little brewing as well, trying to keep my skills sharp.

My ISA with Caliente hops. Fruity yum-yums.

My ISA with Caliente hops. Fruity yum-yums.

Let’s see, what else have I been doing . . . oh yes, I conducted a Scotch tasting.

Scotchy Scotch Scotch

Scotchy Scotch Scotch

Made some epic sandwiches . . .

Garden tomato, home-smoked pork belly, Muenster cheese, double-grilled.

Garden tomato, home-smoked pork belly, Muenster cheese, double-grilled.

Spent some time with my now very old gentleman cat.

He's a very good boy.

He’s a very good boy.

And I worked on my winemaking.

Beards help you taste.

Beards help you taste.

Speaking of which, lots of good things coming up in the Master Vintner winemaking world! But this post is long enough with the catching up already. Tune in soon yet more will be revealed.

Road Trip

Houston skyline

Nice little place . . .

After a relatively quiet summer at Chaos Manor it’s back on the road for a bit. I’m in Houston today, a city I’ve only been through once before. I’m giving a presentation on wine retailing here and I’m really looking forward to it. Not only do I get to meet Texas homebrew shop retailers (some of the friendliest folks you’ll ever meet) but also, Mexican food!

texmex

Come to Papa

If you’ve never been to Texas but you have been to Mexico, the food is different. It’s even called ‘Tex-Mex’. But it’s ridiculously good, and I’m looking forward to digging into some of it.

I’m only here for one day: tomorrow at o-dark thirty I’m off to Atlanta to catch up with some more retailers there. Just like Houston, I’m looking forward to meeting up with a great bunch of people and having a really detailed discussion of wine retailing in the USA.

My lunch strategy might have to change there, but I’ve got a plan: barbecue. Canadians are woefully ignorant of real barbecue. Shamefully, we use that word to describe grilled food, which isn’t actually anything like barbecue, which actually centers around low-heat, long time cooking over smoky wood fires.

franklin-bbq-brisket-6

Now that’s a pit!

Before I started travelling in the USA I had no idea that there was so much regional variation–Texas does beef best while the Carolinas do pork but have fierce regional loyalties to different sauces. Memphis does chopped pork and fabulous ribs, while Kansas City barbecues any animal that holds still too long (barbecued lamb ribs are to die for). It was all confusing and I didn’t know what to order.

But I put in action a clever strategy: any place I go that has good barbecue, I ask for help, with a little twist. If I’m in Carolina I say, ‘I’ve had Texas barbecue–is this anything like that?’. Local pride swells like thunderheads, and folks are quick to guide the poor, misguided Canadian to ‘the good stuff’. Sure it’s  a wee bit of a fib, but I’ve had so much good barbecue from it that I can’t help myself.

Which reminds me of something my favorite food anthropologist, Margaret Visser put in her book, Much Depends On Dinner: people are the same everywhere: the only thing that changes is the dinner.

But it’s a long time until dinner–work first!

 Edited to Add . . .

barbecue

Ribs, brisket, spicy sausage, jalapeno corn muffin, heart-attack potatoes and dirty rice. Even the salad had barbecued meat in it.

That was some pretty good barbecue.