chromedome

I'll weigh in with the same opinion. I have two, one I bought from the restaurant where I worked when going to school (25 years at that restaurant, 15 years and two restaurants with me) and one I bought locally from the online classifieds. I bought the second one for the bowl and discs that came with it, because I honestly expect the first one to outlive me.

The Algonquin Resort, perhaps, in St. Andrew's? I used to live a couple of blocks from there, in a cottage at the edge of the grounds of another hotel. The back bedroom, which I used as my office, looked out onto forest...deer used to graze within a few feet of my desk, a weasel used to go past regularly in search of birds and squirrels (like a sleek, animated sine wave) and once I even saw a flock of wild turkeys who apparently were unaware that New Brunswick isn't thought to be part of their territory.

Yup. In my case it's the Bay of Fundy, which means that on any given day in mid-summer a cold fog can roll in and take the temperature down to 12 or 15 in the blink of an eye (for you Fahrenheit types, that's in the 50s or low 60s). Our waterfront pubs keep heaters on the patio year-round. The city's tourism department, in a spirit of making a virtue of necessity, refers to Saint John as "The Air-Conditioned City." That being said, I definitely prefer to live where there's an ocean, which is why I'm back here after stints in Alberta and Saskatchewan over the years (and probably won't ever move to Manitoba or Ontario, with no disrespect to residents of those provinces).

Yeah, you Southern Ontarians are lucky, too...my stuff's still just going in, and we had a frost warning last night.

LOL Maybe she meant "hopscotch." Yeah, that'd be it.

That's a parallel I thought of drawing, actually. In California they were mostly pounded to meal, and then used to make a bland but filling sort of porridge. I have a reference around here somewhere, but it's an actual book as opposed to an online (linkable) resource.

They've historically been a hugely important foodstuff, though as Rob says they take a deal of preparation. Oak trees generate a greater weight of edible nuts than just about any other tree, though, so in a subsistence economy they're worth the trouble. They were the staple food of the native peoples in one part of California, and even in Europe they've been a "famine food" off and on for most of history.

LOL Forget the fencing, and use snares. It still protects the beans, it's easier, and the quails make an entree to go with your garden veggies.

@Anna N your story put me in mind of a fine dark comedy from the UK that I saw many years ago. It was called "No Surrender," and it's set on a New Year's Eve. The main character is the new manager of a nightclub, who in the course of the evening discovers that a) his new bosses are gangsters, b) his predecessor has booked all of the worst acts known to man for NYE, c) his predecessor is currently being beaten to death in the stock room by the gangsters, d) that part of his clientele for the night is a group of former IRA people and their families from a Catholic retirement home, e) another part of his clientele is a group of former Protestant terrorists from another retirement home, and f) the remainder are dementia patients from a third home. It sounds grim, and it's certainly not a comedy of the knee-slapping variety, but it was done well and very funny. Mortality has been much on my mind the last few days, as I've just lost an uncle to a massive stroke. He died without regaining consciousness, so hospital food wasn't an issue. It wasn't last year with my father, either, since he had esophageal cancer and had to be on a feeding tube. As a result, that last good memory for me wasn't food related. Instead, I brought in his clippers and shaving gear from home and gave him his last shave and haircut, two days before he succumbed. It had never occurred to me that the hospital wouldn't have the means to groom their longer-term patients! It was an oddly intimate moment.

My mom's cousin and her husband found a large patch of morels growing at the edge of their lawn. They were going to gift me with a basket of them, but - alas - didn't realize I was driving straight home from the funeral (long story). I told them to saute 'em in a bit of butter and freeze them, and next time I'm down I'll do something with them.

Welcome, Hallabat. You'll find others here who are keen on the vintage gear, as well.

Several of the more active participants here, including me, are Canadians. Atlantic Canada, in my case.

Always post if you're interested, even if nobody else is actively participating for a while. Peoples' interests rise and fall, life intervenes...sometimes it's a while between posts. Just keep chronicling your journey, and some day that too will become gold for another reader who's following the same path. Also, those who might not otherwise have contributed to the thread will often do so in response to a post you've made. I follow the thread when there are posts, not because I have anything to add but because photography is on my "round tuit" list and someday, dammit, I'll carve out the time...

I'm not currently in a bug-heavy area, but my parents were for several years. They wore long sleeves to work in the garden, with a DEET-based repellent at the wrists and around their neck, ears, etc. On really bad days, they wore hats with bug veils on them. To guard against ticks, if they weren't wearing tall rubber boots, they'd tuck the cuffs of their pants into tall white athletic socks they'd bought for the purpose. The socks kept the ticks from having easy access up the pants leg, and because they were white it was easy to do a quick visual check before coming into the house.

I realized a couple of weeks ago that next summer will mark my 40th. That was a bit of a head-turner.

I had to laugh, in a somewhat spiteful way, at a blog I stumbled upon while researching an article. The breathless blogger led by describing Himalayan pink salt as "the purest you can buy"...and then went on for several paragraphs, extolling its high levels of trace minerals. I swear, sometimes they just don't listen mentally to the words coming out of their mouths (or their fingers). Either it's pure, or it contains trace minerals (ie, impurities). Make up your mind, dude! For the record, I do mostly use pink salt, because the coarse crystals look pretty in my clear-sided grinder and the fine crystals look pretty in my white salt pig. I have coarser pickling salt for brines and sauerkraut and suchlike, some smoked salt from some place or other, and a battered box of table salt somewhere in the bowels of the pantry to refill the shaker we keep on hand for guests.

It would work for me, especially with a bit of cucumber or tomato worked in their somewhere. YMMV (as may your guests').

I usually pull mine out when the grandkids are here, and it becomes a hands-on project/edible craft. They love it.

Took me a minute. Now I'll have that song stuck in my head all morning.

Traditionally, gardeners here don't plant outside until the May long weekend, which is upon us now (ours isn't quite in sync with yours). We had our (hypothetically) last night of frost a couple of days ago, so tradition in this case is pretty much spot-on.

In the study several years ago that refuted the apocryphal assumption that "90% of restaurants fail..." the authors noted that many of the restaurants (and startups in general) that do close are successful and profitable, but their owners simply can't keep up the pace. In my own case my restaurants closed involuntarily, but there was little prospect for me to grow past the point of working 100 hours/week all season long and in retrospect I'm not sure how much longer I'd have continued to do it.

I wrote about growing it for some publication or other. I don't remember who it was, just that I had a hell of a time getting paid. It grows fine in temperate climates, but it's terribly temperamental. http://www.bbc.com/news/business-29082091

Jeanne Calment, at 105 or so, told an interviewer "I only have one wrinkle...and I'm sitting on it!"

Seen on Facebook: "I was going to make a pun about herbs and fish, but there's a thyme and a plaice for everything."

I was never a fan of her vampire books, but if you have the chance by all means read Feast of All Saints. It's about the free people of color living in Louisiana before the war, and arguably the best thing she ever did.