Take an extra pair of pants

10/17/2006

If you ever have the good fortune to be in New Brunswick for Thanksgiving, take along an extra pair of pants—with an elastic waistband.


After spending Thanksgiving weekend in that fair province, I learned first hand why our Maritime friends are so well known for their hospitality. They throw the food and drink at you until your blood is basically a mixture of gin and gravy.


New Brunswick knows how to have a good time.


The cost of living is higher there than in most Canadian provinces, and the wages certainly are not, but it still doesn’t prevent anyone from enjoying life. The locals are happy; gravy or no gravy.


Away from the get-rich-or-die-trying pull of the United States, or major urban centres like Toronto, New Brunswick goes about things in its own way, in its own good time, and the good times are drawn to you as if the tide were pulling them right on in.


How much I enjoyed myself was easy to gauge, accurately measured by a simple bathroom scale.


Not accurately, perhaps, but the scale did spike by about three or four more pounds each day I was in New Brunswick. That’s a lot of gin and gravy.


At first, I felt the machine was malfunctioning, that I was heavier due to my proximity to sea level.


This was folly, and I quickly realized my weight gain was due entirely to my proximity to George the chef and Tracy the bartender. Great people. I think I will name my first heart attack after them.


George had two things he wanted to accomplish over the weekend. One was to test a new propane deep fryer, and the other was to check his on-line dating service, to see if anyone had sent him topless photographs. At least, the fryer was a success.


Saturday’s test run of chicken wings were some of the best I’ve ever had, and Sunday’s deep-fried turkey was beyond delicious, cooked to perfection; a real thing of beauty, unlike those on-line dates.


Toss in gobs of mashed potatoes with herb and garlic cream cheese, baby carrots with cinnamon, mustard pickles, stuffing and blackberry wine, and you had a feast fit for the finest of magazines.


Once again, unlike most of those on-line dates.


Tracy had some skills of her own, and served up a zingy, little pink concoction she called the pantini.


From the basic martini, the drink evolved into a cranberry cocktail known as the crantini. When the cranberry ran out, Tracy switched over to passion fruit, and her pantini was born. When the vodka ran out, leaving only that dastardly gin, the drink was quickly renamed the pantini remover.


Another popular New Brunswick treat was the deep fried pickle, and I suggest you give it a try.


It got to the point where I wanted to try a deep fried pine cone. It gets a little bitter, but at least it’s good for scouring out your last unclogged artery.