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Hope, pie and we-haul
A while back, Ruth happened to mention she was looking for another driver to help her move her stuff across this chain of Tim Horton’s we call Canada. And so I stepped forward as co-pilot, co-driver, menu scrutineer and chief gastro-whinger.
Before leaving I enjoyed a pleasant Victoria Saturday with Judy and Peg, drooling over the baked goods at Moss Street Market
and then being treated to a quartet of Ferris‘ finest rockefeller oysters…
Have left Anton, who has been doing a good impersonation of a living vacuum cleaner at mealtimes, to convalesce from his (successful) eye op in Sidney.
It’s all started well. Ruth left the lot this morning with the U-Haul van; my mission was to drive her car to her house; only her car refused to start for me (I think it was suffering some separation and relocation anxiety and plain just didn’t like me, as it later started willingly for Ruth). Not a problem though; the car needed to be hitched to the van once it was packed anyway, so I was able to just leave it in the lot and wander around while Ruth’s burly men packed her earthlies into a compact space. Which they did with alarming speed!
Then, ready to head off, there were some more fraught moments in the lot while the cheerful attendant could not find a database listing for the car model we wanted to hitch to the van (which would have meant we would have had to haul a longer, heavier car trailer instead of a dolly). But the heroic general manager finally sussed it out and gave us the all clear, and off we lumbered to the ferry, which we made in plenty of time.
We managed to get to Hope, where the mountains are wreathed in fog, so it was lucky we meant to stop here. After some veggie burger and spinach salad
a good ol’ meat loaf dinner
and a shared piece of lemon meringue
from the Home Restaurant’s justly famous pie case, we had a stroll round the local supermarket where they had proudly flagged Local Products (the cashier explained this meant products that had been packed in Burnaby, rather than in China or Mexico or someplace – hence you could buy “Local” almonds, dates, raisins and escargot seasoning!), and soon we will tumble into dreams, resting up for tomorrow’s haul through the mountains.
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GM food labelling – the debate
At last, I thought, some coverage of the bill c-517 debate on national radio! But no, I later realised I was tuned to Village 900 which was broadcasting a May 22 episode of an excellent program from Kootenay Co-op Radio called Deconstructing Dinner.
It was fascinating to hear the politicians who voted down the bill try to explain why they had done so. Listen for yourself; despite numerous polls which show Canadians want to know what they’re eating, too many politicians doggedly maintain they think it would be harmful to Canadians to be able to distinguish between GM and non GM foods.
You can read the debates in the Hansard: April 3 and May 5. See for yourself who said what, and who said nothing. Pretty interesting reading. As was the email I received from my MP who assures me he believes “in using a precautionary principle with regards to genetic engineering”. Apparently this precaution does not extend to labelling those precaution-worthy food items, since he voted against the bill.
Anyone in the neighbourhood wanting to talk more about this issue should come to the Slow Food Vancouver Island discussion on July 9.
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Clam spotting
A pleasant afternoon in Maple Bay today.
Had an enlightening walk on the beach at low tide revisiting some of the bivalves of my youth, and a newcomer.
When I were a lass, the Manila clam (Venerupis philippinarum) was everywhere we poked our shovels; I remember chasing their spouts to gather a bucketful. They are colourful, with gradations of colour on the outside of their shells, and a line of purple on the inside. Gloriously tender when fresh, but not really that native: accidental immigrants from Japan in the 1930s who hitched a ride into our waters on oyster seed.
The unimaginatively named and rather pale cousin to the Manila, the good and hefty Native clam (aka Littleneck or Steamer or Protothaca staminea) has a healthy presence in ‘my’ bay.
Another you don’t see much is the Cockle, Clinocardium nuttallii.
Butter clams – surprisingly large, their size reflected in their Latin name: Saxidomus giganteus – tend to live deeper than Native and Manilas.
A newcomer from Japan, another freeloader (arriving in BC in the 1980s, in the ballast water of ships), the Mahogany (aka Purple Varnish or Nuttallia obscurata) is more fragile and therefore takes a beating in winter storms. The purple of the inner shell is more prominent the more freshly departed the clam. Lots of shells on the beach.
And then there were the starfish,
the sunfish,
and the flowers.
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In her latest collection, Rhona McAdam navigates the dark places of human movement through the earth and the exquisite intricacies lingering in backyard gardens and farmlands populated by insects and pollinators, all the while returning to the body, to the tune of staccato beats and the newly discovered symmetries within the human heart.
“…A beautiful, filling collection, Larder is a set of poems to read at the change of the seasons, to appreciate alongside a good meal, and to remind yourself of the beauty in everything, even the things you may not appreciate before opening McAdam’s collection….”
Rhona McAdam is a writer, poet, editor, and Registered Holistic Nutritionist with a Master’s in Food Culture from Italy and a deep-rooted passion for ecology and urban agriculture. Her work spans corporate and technical writing to poetry and creative nonfiction, often exploring the vital links between what we eat and how we live. Based in Victoria, BC, and available via Zoom, Rhona is always open to new writing commissions, readings, or workshops on nutrition and the culinary arts.
