Monthly Archives: February 2012

It’s hard out there for a…fisherman.

27 Monday Feb 2012

Posted by in Culture, Discovery, Fish, History, Observations

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OK, if I was to start a new career, I don’t think it would be as a fisherman. No, that requires real work, long hours, danger, a tremendous amount of uncertainty, harsh weather, roiling seas, low wages, and oh, did I mention danger?

In a line from the film “The Shipping News”, Billy Pretty explains to the film’s protagonist Quoyle, “…there’s more people down under these waters than are killed on the roads.” True that! The life of a fisherman is dangerous. There are monuments to those lost at sea and they number quite a few. And their families left behind are sometimes not mute testimony to this. But still, when they can, they fish. There’s very little in commercial cod fishing, but in appropriate season, crabbing, lobstering, and shrimping have filled some of the void.

Still, trying to make such a living is difficult. In an interview I conducted with a fishing fleet owner, he described the hardships faced each year, getting harder with every passing year. For him, that life was more in the past than in the future. He did not feel hopeful of the future in the least and wondered how his grandchildren would get along were they to stay.

Yet, their culture, their love for their home and the life that went before them, holds them in an almost magical way. Many people with whom I spoke, had left Newfoundland for work or school only to come back as soon as they could. All too often, wherever I’ve traveled, people talk about getting out, to somewhere else, somewhere better; no saying home for me, nossir! Grass is always greener I guess. Not in Newfoundland. they know just how green their grass is and they like it just fine, thank you very much.

But they know they’re coming back to a different land. One where the fish are gone and where their culture is disappearing if they don’t act to preserve it: that culture that has been so informed by fishing for over five centuries.

“Arn? Narn.” Any fish? No fish. It is hard out there for a fisherman.

Newf-a-licious!

23 Thursday Feb 2012

Posted by in Culture, Food, Newfoundland, Observations

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Newf-a-licious – it sounds like it could be a TV show on Bravo, E!, or Oxygen. Happily, it’s not that at all. Instead, it’s a word just coined to describe native Newfoundland cuisine. Oh, all the expected dishes are available and there are some very fine restaurants pushing the envelope for the foodies out there. But it’s the ones that really define Newfoundland gastronomical culture I want to share.

It’s a rare person who doesn’t know what cod, a favorite of mine, is. Fish and chips is a ubiquitous dish in many places around the world. But it’s an even rarer (non-Newfoundlander) person who knows what cod cheeks are. I’ve already written about scruncheons, but how about seal flipper pie? Or brewis? Figgy duff?

Cod cheeks are pretty self-explanatory if not easily attainable in the lower 48. It’s the fleshy part of the head considered to be a delicacy when cooked. Great late at night with some local brew.

Brewis – why, that’s no more than than hard tack (a bread) soaked in water and then boiled with salt cod and/or fat pork. This could very well be on the American Heart Association’s list of foods to eat in moderation and it’s very popular. It’s often the main course.

Or seal flipper pie. Of course you would want it fresh, so you’d go down to the docks in St. John’s and buy fresh seal flippers from the trucks, right off the boats. For many, it’s considered a delicacy. It wasn’t my favorite.

And then there’s figgy duff, a dessert, which really is quite nice. It’s a boiled pudding with raisins and saturated with molasses and was in the past thought of as a luxury.

Lest you think everything is made from lesser ingredients, there is caribou and moose. Caribou sausage is really good. The moose burger to my tastes needed a lot of extras like cheese, onions, etc; but not bad.

But wait, one must wash this down with a beverage, right? And besides all the usual alcoholic suspects including Screech, there’s local beer from the Quidi Vidi Brewing Co. right in St. John’s. I’m happy to say, I’ve sampled most of them and quaffed even more of certain ones and enjoyed them all.

Beer is not the only beverage made in St. John’s. Vodka made from iceberg water is very popular. Dan Ackroyd, he of Saturday Night Live, Blues Brothers, and Ghostbuster fame has made a vodka distilled from very pure iceberg water. It comes in a crystal skull (don’t ask why) and is sold thoughout the US.

There’s more but that’s the idea. At the end of the day, it’s all Newf-a-licious. Just don’t forget the beer or vodka.

Inconvenience store.

20 Monday Feb 2012

Posted by in Discovery, Observations, Travel

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As I’ve written earlier, traveling by car in Newfoundland is quite different from the US. I learned earlier that there is a proclivity for really unique types of chips on that road. (See the “You want chips with that?” post from November, 2011.) I also learned that one won’t find coffee easily while traveling on the roads unless on the Trans Canadian Highway where Tim Horton’s usually reigns supreme.

And so it was I found myself in search of a much-needed jolt of caffeine to keep me from running off the road and making an unannounced visit to some moose’s abode. Once you get off the highway onto the less than beaten paths, you might run into a general store or a convenience-type store if you’re lucky and I use the word “convenience” guardedly.

One such emporium I found was called “Last Chance Convenience”. It appeared that it might have just what I was looking for. But the sign on the front made me think twice about that: “Last Chance” – probably; “Convenience” – questionable.

This is what the sign said:

LAST CHANCE CONVENIENCE

Store Hours

Mon-Tue: 1-5PM  7-10PM

Wed, 1-5, 6-8

Thurs-Fri, 1-5, 7-10

Sat, 10-12, 1-5, 7-10

Sun, 2-5, 7-9

Judging from the posted hours, meal breaks figured prominently into the work schedule, along with appeared to be a long and late breakfast. But that was not the only sign on the building. On the door was a “Sorry – We’re Closed” sign. It didn’t matter to that sign I was there during “open hours.” It hung there in mute defiance, mocking me and oblivious to my petty needs. It was obvious that this would not be my last chance at caffeinated happiness, but it wasn’t about to be a convenient one.

How did I get here?

17 Friday Feb 2012

Posted by in Discovery, History, Humor, Newfoundland, Photography

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Sometime during this, my second trip to Newfoundland, I mused upon the events that led me there. Having previously written about how this whole idea came about, this is not to be a rehashing of that. I’ll probably indulge myself to do so though at some future time begging one’s patience. It’s also not how I physically got here – wrote about that as well in length. No, this is about a seminal event that did ultimately lead to this point in time.

A long time ago, (in a part of the country far, far away), I was sharing drinks with some college friends up in Boston. We were talking about careers and what we wanted to do with our lives. You know, the typical 3:00 AM college discussion. I was also trying to impress a young woman, Darla D., with what I thought was cool. I was an art major which is really, when you think of it, pretty cool, if not a non-starter on the economic scale. I wanted to paint. The underlying problem with that was I wasn’t very good. Being young and full of myself, I wasn’t about to admit it. What to do?

I blurted out, “I’m thinking of getting into photography.” Whoa! Where did that come from? Yes, I was trying to impress Darla D. and that did do it, but I had never thought of photography before. I would look at my fellow students with their cameras going around taking pictures of nothing and think, “Glad I’m not them, what dorks.” Truth is that as a teenage art major (Hmmm, that might be a good idea for a B-movie), we were all dorks already, but the photographers didn’t seem to care and were cool with that.

The more I thought about it, the more attractive the idea became. I have to believe my painting professor was relieved about the decision. So, I took some classes, worked with a photographer to learn more, and then courageously set out to wow the world. Uh huh, yeah, right. It wasn’t at all different from any other artistic discipline or business for that matter. Ya gotta pay yer dues.

So many years later, with any number of missteps and mistakes behind me and yet to come, I found myself in Newfoundland photographing this book. The big difference is that I’m that dork now, taking pictures of “nothing.”

I’ll have the Shiraz de Fogo, please.

15 Wednesday Feb 2012

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If grapes grew in Newfoundland, this is what I imagine they would look like.

Indigenous to Newfoundland among other plants are the partridgeberry/lingonberry, bakeapple, elephanthead lousewort, mint, thistle, and pearly everlasting. Some of these I’d known of, well, maybe two or three. The others were new to me. But, nowhere on the island, not on any lists of flora, were there any grapes. And the same is true of Fogo Island on the north shore of Newfoundland.

So imagine my surprise when my hosts Glenn and Mathilda, while having me over for dinner, brought out a bottle of homemade wine. My experience with homemade wine has not been very good. Not that I’ve made it myself; I’m always too eager to open the bottle than wait for it to age properly. What I’ve had is mostly forgettable; some I’m still trying to forget. So it was with no small apprehension that I awaited it’s opening and subsequent decantation. What was it made from? I was already trying in advance to formulate a response to what I just knew was going to be horrible. These were genuinely nice, thoughtful people who wanted to share with me their craft and I did not want to hurt their feelings.

In anticipation of the dinner and as an early thanks to them, I had brought a bottle of wine as a gift to them. They opened it and we drank from that. It was a nice, unpretentious wine that certainly would not screw up our meal. It was a great dinner. We laughed, and talked about our families, etc. and went though the first bottle rather quickly.

Now, their bottle came out. Trapped! It had a nice label on it – Shiraz, it said with some information about its winemakers, Glenn and Mathilda. It looked OK; nice deep red color, it didn’t even smell bad. Actually, it smelled pretty good. I could not avoid this any longer, now came the moment of truth. I took a sip. I took a bigger sip. I then took a gulp. It was GOOD. I asked for another glass. My inner wino took over.

Now I don’t think Napa has much to worry about. Glenn and Mathilda’s production is rather small. But damn, it’s good. Who woulda thunk it? Newfoundland wine – yet another reason to go there. Not like I needed any more.

Bruce meets Bruce.

10 Friday Feb 2012

Posted by in Discovery, History, Newfoundland, Observations, Sea

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The Town Manager

Newfoundland is the kind of place that one can walk into the Town Manager’s office and ask to see him/her…and get an audience. And that’s just what I did based on the suggestion of my photographer friend Randy. Since I was going to be hanging around the town and the island of Fogo, I was told it would be a good idea to let the constabulary know what I was up to.

So, into the town hall I went and asked if I might meet the manager. “Why, yes. of course. One minute, he’ll be very happy to meet you. Let me tell him you’re here. Where did you say you were from?” No red tape, no bureaucracy, and no surly DMV types, just a warm, welcome. Wow.

I am then introduced to Bruce Pomeroy, the Fogo Town Manager. No pretense, frills, or trappings of office – just a Newfoundlander doing his job and part of that job was to deal with people like me. I expected a brief but friendly hi, hello, how are you. What I received was far beyond that. I got a tour of the office, a brief history of the town and island, a copy of that history and an island map, and a commemorative pin. Yet, we were not done, not by a long shot. I was then to be given a walking tour of the town by Bruce.

I was introduced to several people on our tour including the owner of a fishing fleet of which I will write soon. On this walk, by one of the coves on the island, I looked out and saw an amazing panorama. The sky was this rich and varied grey; the sea was a fluid and darker grey; and separating them was this brilliant white line. It glowed. I asked Bruce what was that. He replied that it was part of the arctic ice pack that breaks off every year and travels down to Newfoundland. Based on where it was, he thought that if the winds were right, it would surround the island by the next afternoon. That would be enough time for the few fisherman to get their boats safely to where they would not become ice-locked. Once there, the pack ice had to melt before any boats would break free.

By 2:30 that afternoon, the pack ice was already coming in and fast. The winds were so much stronger than originally thought. And with the winds came a large drop in temperature as they crossed over the ice. I was to spend the next four hours watching and photographing several fisherman attempting to get their boats free. It was incredible to see. There will be a series of photos in the book depicting this. It is a hard life.