Sweet Potato Sizzler and Poutine

“I really could use something to eat.” I said. It was sure past my suppertime! My wife and I had just left the museum talk. Down the street we walked. On the corner ahead was a place that a few people had gone into. We read the menu posted in the window. It looked interesting; an English style pub. “OK let’s go in.” She said. I was ready. In we went. On the back wall over the bar, I could see there was a board with a couple dozen draft beer and ale. The wood paneled room was deep and the light subdued. Tables along the walls lined the way to the bar in the back of the room. Two empty tables were near the bar. Most of the others were occupied. Several guys stood at the bar, drinking and talking quietly. “A table for two?” The young hostess took us past the bar and into the main room. There was a long wooden rail separating the long room lengthwise. “OK?” as she took us to a tall table in the middle of the room. The room was almost full. “This is fine.” I said. We hung our jackets over the chair backs and climbed onto high chairs. On the other side of the rail sat three young women at a regular table. It was odd looking down on them from our perch. Another couple came in and was escorted to the last empty tall table. “Looks like a full house.” “Hi. My name is Laurie. I’ll be your server tonight. Have you been here before?” “No.” “Well then, you are in for a treat. A favorite is our Sweet Sizzler appetizer.” She motioned to the plate on the table on the other side of the rail. “Sweet potato fries with cheese. We also have 23 drafts available.” She handed us the menus. We read and planned. “Looks like an appetizer and dessert night.” I said as I saw the bread pudding in the dessert list and the size of a delivered Sweet Sizzler to the adjoining table. This room was nearly full. Mixed groups or women were at the tables. They were mostly in their late 20s or 30s. A few tables had an older couples like us. Background music was there but it was not in the way of conversation. Comfortable and relaxed. “Are you ready to order?” Laurie asked. “I think so. We’ll share a Sweet Sizzler. I’ll have a draft Bass Ale and my wife will have Wachusetts Ale.” I said. The cold mugs arrived almost immediately. Soon I could see a pyramid of fries on a plate coming our way. Laurie put it between us and gave a winking nod. The golden mound was topped with sour cream and a green scallion garnish. The melted orange cheddar formed the base for the mound of sweet potato fries. It looked like Poutine. I recalled the first time. It was in a ferry terminal restaurant on the Labrador Straits. There was an hour to wait before boarding the ferry to Newfoundland. “Poutine” was on the menu board beside the other fast foods. We had never had it before. OK it had to be tried. Looking out over the dark blue water, we savored an order with a plate of fried cod and two beers. Now on every trip to the North, we search for it. Poutine, invented in the 50’s, is comfort food in Quebec. French fried potato with cheese curds and a sauce. The sauce is made from veal/chicken broth. The cheese curds, shaped like long thick fries, do not melt. The peppery sauce is absorbed into the cooling potato and coats the curds. With their high moisture content, the curds squeak on your teeth. In the 70’s, a version traveled south to New Jersey. This had cheddar cheese and gravy. Different than the Quebecoise version because the cheddar melts and then solidifies around the fries. American versions now use different cheeses and sauce/gravy; local color and inventiveness. This is not diet food. “This is upscale Poutine.” I said. Sweet potato and melted cheddar now consolidated formed the base of the pyramid. Oh, and a few pieces of bacon imbedded in the cheese. Sour cream coated the potato peaks. Green vegetables on top. The sweetness of the fried potato, a bite in the cheese, hhmmnn bacon pieces. The food pyramid. “I don’t think I’ll have room for the bread pudding.”

New Snow

The new snow was deep and fluffy. My skis broke new trail as I moved through the open woods. The path was an old rail bed abandoned decades ago. It lead straight north through the woods. On the left, a low ridge and away to the east, the frozen pond. Cloud shadows were moving across the pond. In the forest, shadows from the trees were shaded blue on the fresh surface. Push the ski up and over the snow. Sink ankle deep as my weight moves over the ski and gives me a short glide. The ski tip breaks a narrow line in the smooth snow. Bring the back ski up and over the new snow…sink into the snow and glide a little. Watch the new line from the ski tip. Behind me, Meg has a newly broken trail to ski. She doesn’t sink to her ankles. She packs the trail and has a longer glide. Her skis smooth the little hills in the track left by the weighting and unweighting of my skis. My ski poles have the wide baskets for soft snow. Still they go deep into the snow. They snow slides through the basket’s openings and layers up. It falls off in a pile as I lift the pole and move it forward. The end of a broken pine trunk is layered to look like a snow goose. Photographing on skis is contorting. If you remove your skis, you sink deep into the powder. You need to ski close but not show tracks or skis in the frame. Crouch low for an angle, frame the image, and don’t slide down the slope. Get it? Reshoot from another angle? Animal tracks in the snow. A single track leads off the ridge and down the gully toward the pond. They cross my intended path. The deep snow leaves a track that is hard for me to see what kind of animal it is. Soft snow falls back into the mark, covering the print. The distance between front and back legs suggests a body about a yard long. Occasionally, a foot would drag a thin line in the snow as it moved for the next foot fall. “What kind of animal is it, Jack?” She asked. “I can’t see a foot print…Oh here is one. It looks like a dog or a perhaps coyote.” I remembered the story in the newspaper from last autumn. A woman and her dog had been walking the path in the woods. Suddenly, a coyote appeared in front of them. It blocked their path. She said that the coyote “stared coldly” at them with its head low and forward. She hollered and whistled. Finally, the coyote broke the stare and moved off up the hill into the forest. She did not know if it was her or her dog that the coyote was threatening. We ski on. I can see black water along the pond edge where a small stream flows in. Twenty yards ahead there is another animal track crossing the path. These look like a deer. The track leads down to the open water of the stream. Snow falls from high branches. It glitters in the sunlight as it drifts with the light breeze. We ski on alone through the quiet woods.