A few weeks back, I became a Canadian, and to celebrate my first meal as a citizen, I went to the Blue Fox. Because it's a city favourite, and because there'd be no lineup. The line ups at the Fox are legendary in Victoria. So any chance to eat there with little or no wait should be taken.
The Brunette and I headed over after the citizenship ceremony. The ceremony was the end of a nine-year long process. I got to shake hands with a Mountie and a Judge and sing the anthem NOT at a hockey game, I think that made it official.
Right at the end of the ceremony, the usher announces that we were all going to get a special gift to commemorate the day. I half-expected the long arm of advertising to have reached this formal ceremony and end up with a $25 Timmies Card, or a fistful of Canadian Tire money. It wasn't. A cultural access pass, which gets me free entry to a bunch of places across Canada... a half-priced rail ticket. If anyone wants to sponsor a book....
So breaking fast at the Blue Fox I ordered up the HUGE 'Fox's Grill' and a mug of steaming hot coffee. The Brunette went for the less huge Huevos Rancheros. We chatted while we waited, sipping coffee that was as fresh as the water reserves in Canada... which holds one-fifth of the world's non-salinated H2O.
My plate arrived, piled as high as Mount William Logan. We had bacon, as crisp as a plastic twenty dollar bill. It was smoked with the scent of maple wood, reminiscent of a warm summers day in the New Brunswick forests. The eggs were fresh with yolks that bring back memories of ten gold medals won by Team Canada at the Sochi Winter Olympics. The toast was fresh and crisp, with oats and wheat that a Saskatchewan farmer would be proud of growing. The butter sat in its pores, melted and slightly salty. Salty like the sea breeze on a fresh day on the tip of Vancouver Island. The bread came with a homemade jam, tart but fruity. Not too sweet, which Sir Frederick Banting would approve of, I am sure.
The potatoes were pan-fried, but still retained the hale earthiness that Matthew Cuthbert would have been proud to grow. The sausage links had porky goodness throughout. Two links, reminding me of the two links across Canada forged by the Canadian Pacific and Canadian National railways. To round things out, there was some hot, sauteed mushrooms. Brown and black, like the thick tar sands of Northern Alberta.
Okay, that's one metaphor too far.
I also tried parts of the Huevos. The salsa was one of the best tasting ones I have ever tried.
It's a great meal. Fresh local produce, cooked well with the minimum of messing around with it, the minimum of ceremony. There's a reason the lines for this place at the weekend stretch longer than Wayne Gretzky's point scoring streak.
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