chromedome

The distillery is located in what was historically a blacksmith's shop in the old part of town (Lunenburg is a well-preserved example of 18th-century British colonial architecture, and a UNESCO World Heritage site).

They came up to the farmer's market in Wolfville when I lived there. I think it may have been my first market after moving to town, in fact. It was a special occasion of some sort, and the dozen or so local wineries were there, as well as a couple of microbreweries and Ironworks. I tasted their rum and one other thing, which eludes my recollection now...because I'd also tasted at a dozen wineries and two microbreweries. I remember it as a full-flavored rum, but I'm no Ed Hamilton to begin with and my recollection is a bit fuzzy. I didn't get much work done, that day.

That's the best kind of "traditional."

http://business.financialpost.com/pmn/business-pmn/nova-scotia-distiller-sending-four-barrels-of-rum-on-round-the-world-voyage

The XL has a larger cooking surface but isn't as deep as the large, so you might find it a bit problematic for long cooks.

One year, for Canada Day, I served moose curry over couscous. Just 'cause.

No green beans here in Canada, and I'm not sure when they started offering biscuits and mashed but those certainly weren't available when I was growing up. The only sides I recall are fries and the three vile salads.

I usually eat breakfast before 8, lunch between noon and 1 and then dinner around 6. My GF will nibble a few bites all day, be ready for an actual (light) meal between 6 and 8, and then devour twice her bodyweight sometime between 10 and midnight. For me as the cook, this creates a few logistical issues.

I've actually found a varietal that grows well here in Atlantic Canada. I think I'm gonna give it a shot this year.

That probably *is* what's going to happen, though it galls me to pay over $10/lb for lobster.

My sweetie is (sigh) doing a keto diet, so every Tuesday is Fat Tuesday.

You say that like it's a bad thing...

I have no idea what it might be, unless it's a clone of Montreal Steak Spice (which I abominate, just for the record) and they're trying to differentiate themselves. It's hard to say. Maybe it's one of those things like "Canadian" bacon, a term used by Americans and mysterious to Canadians. Up here we call that back bacon, or peameal bacon if it's rolled in cornmeal, but it's eaten a lot less than the conventional variety.

I can't claim credit, my daughter sent me a link to a Facebook page (it was a different but equally geeky meme) and I found this one when I scrolled down a few screens' worth. I just knew it belonged in this thread...

It was a heck of a game, for sure. It really followed the script, right up to that last couple of minutes. Seriously...almost to the 2-minute warning, the ball is in Brady's hands, and if you score the touchdown you win the game. Doesn't that always seem to be the way it shakes out? Win or lose, the Pats' Superbowls always seem to hang on that one play, and last night it was the strip-sack. To the extent that I invest in NFL football (the CFL is a more entertaining product IMO) I started following the Pats when they were the underdogs in '85, making their unlikely run to the big game only to run into the juggernaut that was "Dose Bears." I figure getting in before Bledsoe - never mind Brady - gives me the right to root for them unblushingly. That said, I like the Eagles and was perfectly happy to seem them bring off the upset.

LOL Rather you than me. That's about 10F higher than my personal comfort level. Right here along the Bay of Fundy, I get that a couple of times per summer.

I use coarse salt for brines, I just dissolve it in warmed water and then chill it before I add the meat. Of course, in my neck of the woods that just means putting the bucket out on my back step (yesterday the wind chill was -29C).

Pink salt isn't iodized. The issue I see with the recipe is that the brown sugar is all you've got for acidity to react with the soda. I'd use baking powder instead, with maybe a tiny pinch of soda to aid browning. I'm also very sensitive to the taste of baking soda, and seldom use it in cookies unless there's molasses or something to counter it.

I'm the only one in the household who will have an eye on the game, so my SB blowout will consist of something along the lines of one beer and a half-dozen crackers with cheese. Perhaps a few slices of garlic sausage.

I like all the cooked greens. I've been eating kale for decades, much longer than it's been fashionable, and I'm happy that its current moment makes it easier to find. I'm not that keen on it raw, except for baby kale in salads, so I usually eat it cooked. I like the sturdier texture. I'm partial to chard as well, though I find its earthiness sometimes doesn't work as well in a given dish. I appreciate dandelion greens, rapini and many of the Asian greens for their bitter and/or peppery flavors, but spinach (for when I don't want texture) and kale (for when I do) are my two mainstays.

It'll work, the issue is that if the concentration is too high there can be health repercussions.

It was sold at auction, so someone else got the benefit. My late wife was a chef's daughter, so she (like me) grew up with an unsentimental attitude. Her parents used to buy a lamb every spring, for lawn care and culinary purposes. She would play with it all spring, loving on it, feeding it flowers and putting ribbons around its neck, then come inside and ask her mother "Is Lamb Chop ready to eat yet?" At one point when I was a child my father decided to supplement his snaring of wild hares by picking up a breeding pair of domesticated rabbits. My sister and I decided, logically enough, that she would name the doe and I would name the buck. As I was deliberating, my father came by and overheard what was going on. "Call him Stew" was his suggestion. My best friend's name was Stewart, so I went with that quite happily. It took a month or two for the penny to drop.

A thing I used to do far too regularly was set my knife down on the counter, then brush little bits of debris from my cutting board with my hand. Of course, very often that meant thwacking my "brushing hand" against the blade of my knife, conveniently adjacent. Duh.