Pere Hugo

I was on a survey crew for the pipeline in Saskatchewan in the '70's. We would head for the bars at dusk--whatever the local economy could support. I still remember the bar in a three elevator town on the Trans-Canada Highway where we would down 4 plus martini's (usual fare was beer, but this place had the best martinis on the line) in order to be properly lubricated for the burger course. The burgs came heaped with fried onions in a always greasy bun, added relish etc. A real messy, greasy, gooey experience I remember to this day. (I'm sure they wouldn't have been at ll appetizing while in a sober state). They were so good in soaking up the martinis that I was able to walk the line for the Mounties later without a single mis-step. They didn't have breathalizers then, thank God

Other peoples' cooking keeps me grounded. It more than not makes free use of the grocery aisles--you could even make a six course "gourmet" dinner with various exotic frozen entrees. If left to my own desires, rather then my captive family audience, I would probably end up cooking some obscure mollusc with a rare distilled product. I would also probably be 50 pounds lighter. But I do appreciate others' cooking. I love the holiday and am not at all disappointed. I haven't had to be in intimate contact with the thing for minutes and hours previous. My father-in-law, on the other side, used to complain "Why can't we just have something ordinary?" after I had spent hours on basic roast chicken or beef stew. Still Hungry, Pere