chromedome

I have many family who live/have lived in Baie Verte, La Scie or Seal Cove, but I myself lived on the opposite side of White Bay, in a little place called Sop's Arm. When I lived there in the 70s the roads were dirt and power was supplied by diesel generators, as we weren't yet on the provincial grid. Sop's Arm itself supported three small stores and a fish plant, while the nearby communities (Pollard's Point, Schooner Cove, Jackson's Arm) tallied another fish plant, a store each, a small hotel and a pool hall/takeout. My mom just got back from visiting there, and says the place is a shell. The fish plants closed years ago, the stores and other businesses are gone, and all the young people have moved away. As for the "small world" moments, I've seen a couple of those at my restaurant. Two German couples overheard each other in my small dining room and got talking, only to learn that they lived on adjoining streets in their hometown. An older couple and a younger couple from (IIRC) North Carolina, of all places, discovered that their grandson and son, respectively, played on the same minor ice-hockey team and that they'd been to several of the same games without actually meeting. Go figure. My own best story of that nature came when I was hitchhiking from Regina to Calgary in December of '82. It was the coldest December on the Prairies in 50 years or so (trains were held up at Winnipeg because of a couple of rails failing due to the cold, IIRC). I'd spent several hours waiting for a ride at Medicine Hat, which is not a happy memory. Most of you will never have been to Medicine Hat, so for context...there's the bulk of the town itself, and a cluster of gas stations and suchlike, then you descend into a steep river valley. When you come up the other side there is (or was, at that time) a small patch of light industrial (welding services, body shops and such) and residential, but no place to warm up, grab a soup or coffee, that sort of thing. That's where I was. So rather than face the trudge back down into the river valley and up the other side, a matter of probably 3 km, I stayed put. After a couple of hours I really regretted that (it was -45 or so without the wind chill) and all the more so when I saw the lights starting to go out in the gas stations as they closed for the night. I don't think I would have died of exposure, because I would have just gone and knocked doors until I found someone to take pity on me, but it was certainly a high-risk scenario. To get back to the point of my story, I did finally get a lift from one of two gents ferrying pickup trucks from a dealer elsewhere to one in Calgary. It took just a few words to know that the driver was from Newfoundland, so we had the inevitable discussion of where my "people" were from. Turned out that's the same area he was from as well, and he asked my last name. I told him, and he asked was I any relation to old Elias, who was in fact my grandfather. Turned out the driver was one of my father's cousins.

I haven't used sea salt myself, but the theoretical position is that coarse salt (whether kosher or "pickling") is more or less pure, whereas the (random, unpredictable) trace elements in sea salt may make your brine murky or alter the appearance of your pickles.

Jam-jams are a soft, jam-filled cookie made by Purity. They're sold in the small "Newfoundland" section found in many Walmart Supercenters and other Canadian supermarkets. They look like this: They're not bad for what they are, but certainly don't measure up to fresh-made toutons.

Alternatively, paint is cheap...

Unfortunately, overcooked fish and soft fries is a common (and somewhat traditional) combination throughout the region. At my restaurant, I've had customers look me in the eye and tell me my fish wasn't cooked because it was visibly moist. I trained the regulars to tell me they like theirs "old school," and I'd cook it longer for them. Some people are just suspicious of fish that isn't dry, just as others have the same inability to choke down a piece of pork that shows the slightest hint of pink. All you can do is accept it, take their money, and move on.

The recall has been expanded to include Edam slices. https://www.inspection.gc.ca/about-the-cfia/newsroom/food-recall-warnings/complete-listing/2019-07-29/eng/1564439806089/1564439806354

Most younger Newfoundlanders, especially urban dwellers, have a relatively mild accent. The RD who consults out of the supermarket where I give cooking lessons is a prime example. She's from St. John's, and only the most practiced of ears would detect a hint of "the Rock" on her speech. In outlying areas, of course, the distinctive local idioms are alive and well. In the days before radio and television began their homogenizing work, there were hundreds of distinctive regional dialects across the island. Part of longtime premier Joey Smallwood's political appeal was his ability to place anyone by their accent by the time they'd spoken half a sentence. The man had his flaws, God knows, but that finely tuned ear served him well and helped keep him in power for decades. People felt that he really "heard" them in a meaningful way, despite the frequently high-handed and autocratic actions of his government.

This morning's Facebook offerings:

LOL Sounds like something I'd do...I've owned a lot of half-melted appliances and utensils over the years. I've never done something as egregious as my former neighbour in Newfoundland, though (not overly bright and I suspect just a bit inbred...the kind of Newfie who gives rise to Newfie jokes). He kept a pig, as many of us did in that time and place, and on one particularly cold morning he decided - being a good-hearted soul, whatever his intellectual limitations - that they might appreciate a warm breakfast. So he put their (plastic) bucket of slop on top of the wood stove to warm up a bit, and went out to stand on the porch and enjoy an early-morning smoke. We heard the sudden shriek from next door as his wife entered the kitchen, and heard the door close as poor Truman went in to see what she was upset about. A few seconds later the door burst open again as he flew across the porch and onto the ground on the far side, already making top speed as he landed and fled with his wife in hot pursuit, flinging kettle and frying pan with malice aforethought. It must have been pretty smelly in the house, because it was three days before she let him back in.

So what do you think of the behemoth beans? Flavor? Texture? Would you/will you grow 'em again?

One of the greatest of all, in fact, the "Pirate Admiral" Peter Easton. He was handsome and well-connected, more or less born to be played onscreen by someone like Errol Flynn. On one occasion a French fleet trapped Easton and his vessels in Harbour Grace, but despite the wind being against him Easton succeeded in winning the engagement, capturing a few of the French ships and driving off the rest. He even blockaded Bristol, one of Britain's most important trading points, until he was bought off with a ransom. In the end he bought a pardon, a title and a grand estate with his ill-gotten gains, married a noblewoman, and retired to a life of wealth and ease.

I guess the advantage of settling into the whole "stocky, balding, bearded" thing at a young age is being able to rock the same look for 30+ years without anyone really noticing my slow deterioration...

Further to my previous, similar post about Google (and driving home the point that this is inherent, not vendor-specific): https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2019/07/siri-records-fights-doctors-appointments-and-sex-and-contractors-hear-it/

A farmer's market vendor of my acquaintance used short lengths of PVC pipe as a makeshift extender for his folding table's legs. Worked quite well.

Yeah, I buy most of my bananas from the clearance rack. I like 'em dead ripe and leopard-spotted. Today was a red-letter day...omw home from dropping grandkids, I passed by a produce wholesaler and saw a stack of banana boxes in the parking lot, with a sign that said "free bananas - help yourself." So I got a big bunch of the least-overripe ones for myself, and another for my neighbour who runs a day home, and one for grandkids. Then when I got home I thought "well that was stupid..." so I went back and grabbed a whole case. The ones that haven't gone to neighbours (there are a lot kids, and a lot of single moms, in my building) will go into my deep freeze and be used for a summer's worth of banana "ice cream" and baked goods.

Hmm. The "patio chips" they speak of in that article are similar to something offered by one of our local chip-makers, Covered Bridge. They were originally marketed as "storm chips" after anchors on a popular regional news program sheepishly confessed that "picking up a few things at the store before the storm hits" meant, basically, potato chips. In the summer they're called "weekend chips."

I like that idea. My two existing canisters are a bit over-full, and a graduated set would probably fit nicely in the same space. Something to keep an eye open for...

I had a cab driver once tell me "Screw that organic stuff, I WANT my veggies sprayed. No bugs for me, thank you very much!" I told him "You don't get it...the bugs are always there, the sprays just kill them so they can't crawl back out." The look on his face was priceless.

The link you posted is mashed up with the link for this thread. Clean link is here: https://www.stltoday.com/entertainment/dining/restaurants/reviews/at-bulrush-rob-connoley-fashions-a-vital-modern-restaurant-from/article_3b65410d-fb08-5755-8191-14725471ef81.html

Listeria in Ryki brand gouda slices, affects Ontario only. https://www.inspection.gc.ca/about-the-cfia/newsroom/food-recall-warnings/complete-listing/2019-07-23/eng/1563935884356/1563935886615

My sister and my late wife were cut from the same cloth. We were all together in the same place on the occasion of my parents' 50th anniversary, and in a spirit of pure scientific curiosity I was keen to see who the bloodsuckers would favor when they were in close proximity. My wife "won" that particular popularity contest, if "won" is the correct word.

I will never again wander off for an hours' leisurely browse through Ars Technica immediately after putting mozza sticks in the oven for 15 minutes (my new oven has no timer so I went to my desk to get the phone, saw a new email in my inbox, got distracted....). On the upside, I can tell you that mozza sticks baked until hard and crunchy throughout and then dipped in marinara sauce taste surprisingly like the crunchy edges of the lasagna, though not enough so to merit repeating the experiment (they'd have been better if *only* cooked twice as long as necessary). Wasn't quite what my sweetie had been jonesing for, alas.

Salmonella in Gaia Garden Herbal Dispensary's "balancing tea," BC only. https://www.inspection.gc.ca/about-the-cfia/newsroom/food-recall-warnings/complete-listing/2019-07-23/eng/1563924738546/1563924740655

Yeah, that's not even a judgement call. Any chucklehead can make a lobster roll, but good fried clams are a rarity.