When one of BC’s most respected shellfish farming collectives exists only a fifteen minute ferry ride away, it’s no surprise that here in CR we get a lot of opportunities to eat pristine, local seafood. Sometimes it’s at a well-connected cafe-bistro or a shellfish festival or maybe you just know a guy who knows a guy… And that guy is Dave Ritchie. Read More
Summer’s run aground and once again the cold winds whistle an autumn tune. It’s time for us West coasters to throw on long pants, switch over to red wines and make plans for the weekend’s mushroom hunt. But wait! Before all that fun stuff the garden needs to be cleaned up: Herbs trimmed, squash exhumed, Peas and tomatoes plucked.
This year’s tomato plants (once again courtesy of the “Tomato People” at the farmer’s market) equalled the mighty bushes of years past in height, but the amount of fruit they yielded doubled! I ‘dunno whether its global warming, different fertilizer, or the sacrifices we offered to Demeter but we’ve got barrel’s full of heirloom Roma and cherry tomatoes in every colour you can imagine. Even if I get around to canning and pickling and eating salad through to October we’ll still have leftovers.
And so. Gazpacho. Read More
Nestled in the pine beetle-infested cockles of south-central BC, along the Cariboo Highway waaaaaay past the mountains is a sleepy little valley with a really strange name:
108 Mile House (along with a handful of other stops along this route) were once inns for American prospectors back in the 1850s providing a chance to rest and avoid bear attacks between civilization and the big Barkerville mines up North. Nowadays it’s a quiet little spot with a museum, clean public restrooms, poorly marked mountain biking trails, pissed-off looking cows and acres of wild raspberry bushes.
I’d never seen raspberries in the ‘ol wide open before! There my wife and I were, only a quarter mile from the highway, turning the map ‘round and ‘round in the dwindling light wondering if the local farmers would ever find our bodies when Crystal, surveying the endless meadow says, “Well, at least we won’t starve…” The bushes we’d been riding by for the last couple ‘o hours were all exploding with tiny red miracles of flavour. Read More
I’ve spent the last decade on this rock doing two things related to birthdays: Spending them in kitchens and denying they exist. This has worked pretty well for me as I don’t like fuss or obligation or having to admit that I’m getting old. Win freakin win.
This year was a bit different. My chef Matt MacDonald offered me not only a day off, but an invitation to one of the Comox Valley’s most celebrated and exclusive parties; The BC Shellfish Gowers Association Gala Dinner! Six of the raddest chefs in BC (hell, in all of Canada!) were converging on Filberg Park to showcase local seafood paired with local wine. I couldn’t refuse! Read More
It all happened so fast.
One minute my wife Crystal is explaining what “Family Day” is, and the next she’s outlining her plan; two days off together, score a cheap hotel room over on the Pacific Rim, weekend of adventure with our mutual friends Jen and Sean and the kicker… She already nabbed four seats at The Wolf in The Fog, Canada’s best new restaurant.
“Jen and Sean have already gone over and will text us the road conditions,” she explains whiles stuffing a shopping bag full of toiletries, “They’re predicting a hurricane on Friday, but it should all be cleared up before we get there! Adventure right?”
I’m standing there in my bike pants, still soggy from my ride home from work, face squidged up in shock/concentration/confusion.
“Uhhhhhh, okay… I’m in. But ummm… What’s Family Day again?”