A First Nations Potluck Feast and 200 posts

This is my 200th blog post on Victoria in Person.  I hope someone made a cake for me.  Ah, here it is... but is looks like it got mostly eaten on the way.

The above is a pretty awesome cake made with yoghurt by the Brunette of My Acquaintance. And it was not made for this blog, but instead for a potluck.  This was held outside the Mungo Martin house, next to the BC Museum, in honour of a visit from Kamloops by one of her friends. Forty of her friends and family gathered to meet up and share food from all sorts of places.

There was a massive pot of fish soup which was damn tasty.  Or the portion I had without Oolichan oil (aka Grease) was.  I was warned by the First Nations's folks who invited me to share the meal that it was a rather distinctive flavour and an acquired taste.  Super fishy, and strong, cloying smell.  Reading up on the fish itself, the smoked or fresh meat was a big part of the diet for the coastal peoples, and the oil was traded extensively into the interior. Creating the trade routes known as the 'Grease Trails'.

There was also Bannock.  Bannock was a Scottish way of prepping bread, mostly by frying the dough on hot stone. It was either taken up by the First Nations or very closely aligned to a way of preparing maize before the Scots brought their version over, and the two things became aligned.  In any case, the style here was plain but tasty.  If you took all the bad things on a Krispy Kreme donut away (the terrible sugary coating, the nasty oil taste), and squished them down in a flat patties about the size of your palm, you'd get this Bannock.  Except I'd probably eat it before you got it.

Finally, for dessert, there was Sxusem, more commonly known as Indian Ice cream.  This is a whipped mix of soap berries, water and sweetners.  It makes a big pink-orange frothy mousse, eaten with a spoon.  Soap berries are well, soapy tasty, and bitter. The soap flavour sort of fades after the first taste, and it's a pleasant sort of bitterness, not unlike the pleasant bittering of hops in beer.  What is neat is that berries are a source of saponins, that have the effect of creating the foamy mass to make the dessert.  The saponins might have some positive effects on digestion and reducing inflammation, though the research is still out.  The lady who gave me some of the juice left over swears by drinking some very day, diluted with water.  Though she also said harvesting the berries is not the easiest thing to do either.

I'm very grateful for being part of this gathering, even if my contribution was carrying some boxes, and chopping up a salad (which was not my finest pile of greens ever...).

So here's to number 300, I'm keeping at this, Andrea!

Fig Deli, Mount Tolmie

Fig is a purveyor of Mediterranean food, tied in with a café .  You can get a bout a dozen types of olives, cans of lentils, egg pasta's of brands I've never heard of, a 1001 tinned fish and a whole long wall of fresh from the deli salads, cheeses and meats.

Their café section is a little odd.  A bit like eating in the aisles of Thrifty's, diners are surrounded by piles of bread and cans of tomatoes.  The seating arrangements are small little tables, and all around you people are shopping for groceries or deciding on which baklava they want from the display.

So, when myself and the lovely Brunette visited last week, we didn't eat in.  Instead, we ordered a couple of manoushi to go, with a pair of small side salads.  Under $20 for a fresh, and big meal for two is a deal.  Manoushi is Syrian flat-bread topped with spices and cheeses and (may be) meats.  It's not unlike a pizza, but the dough is golden, softer and thicker.  The toppings are drier, complimenting the fresh baked, fluffy dough.  We had one topped with a pesto and sumac mix.  This was aromatic, slightly spice and full of flavour.  The other was topped with parmesan cheese and a mix of herbs.  This made for a slightly crisper top that cracked and broke in your mouth to release the savoury, salty flavours.

We also got a bright green tabbouleh salad and some fattoush. The former had a pungency to herbs, cut with the richness of the tomatoes and green onions.  The fattoush is a mix of lettuce, tomato, cucumber, roasted pita bread and olive oil dressing.  The oil is cut with mint, and soaks into the pita bread, to combine up some deep flavours, balancing the lightness of the greens.

Very impressed with this combination, and am thinking it might be something I try again when working from home.  A short work over to Fig will get the legs working, and let the brain rest for a bit.  I just have to try and avoid buying too much of the fantastic breads on offer as well.

The place is family run, having moved from a smaller location.  The owner, Yasser Youssef, has been in this trade for at least a long time, and knows how to source interesting and different food that you can't get on the shelves of Thrifty's or Save On.  And his son is taking on the family business too, as we chatted to him as paid up to leave.


Fig Delicatessen, 1551 Cedar Hill Cross Rd Victoria, BC V8P 2P3

Tourist in your Hometown - Day 1, Part 2

After hitting up the Bateman Centre, Miniature World, the Parliament Buildings and various sundry shops, I was ahead of my schedule for my Victoria vacation and sight seeing whirlwind.

I headed over to Market Square to use my ninth voucher from the play book, a free tour of Market Square, which promised 'Gamblers, Gold and Ghosts'.  Two hosts, Chris and Kit from a local walking tour company were giving a forty-five minute taster of their product.  Using Market Square as a base, Chris guided me and about fifteen others through the corners of the square, giving bits of the seedy history of the city and a few ghost stories mixed in.

I hadn't known that between Johnson and Pandora there once was the Johnson Street Ravine, which divided the European section of Victoria from Chinatown.  Nor did I know that there was a pub called the Drake on the corner of Johnson and Wharf in the 50's that was as disreputable as they come... a far cry from today's Drake Eatery. Chris related the importance of the Chinese immigrants into Victoria, as merchants, workers and traders during the Fraser Valley Gold rush.  And the subsequent heavy use of Chinese labour in building the trans-Canada railway. The various ghost stories were interesting but only in a the context of the history that surrounded them.  I don't believe in ghosts, but I quite like a good detective story or unsolved murder.  It was a good tour, with the one thing I didn't like was the slightly episodic nature of the stories rather than a central narrative.  For people who like to hear about the local level of history and see what the streets of Victoria were once like, worth going.

Walking out of Market Square, I headed over to Harbour Air.  50% of postcards and souvenirs led to more postcards for the veritable pile I've created to send home.  I didn't take them up on the 20% flight discount, but that's a great deal if you knew you were flying that weekend. Voucher ten torn out.

A quick walk to Roger's Chocolate in Government street and some Victoria Creams purchased in a two for one deal.  This shop is awesome for chocolate lovers, of course with rows and rows of locally made goods, displayed in racks like a old-time store, with old-time wooden shelves and an old-time hexagonally tiled floor.  Chocolates were given to the Brunette later.  Voucher eleven completed.

Voucher twelve is the rather boring free gym bag and four weeks membership of Good Life Fitness for $10.  I figure if I can hit two classes or sessions there I'll have got my value out of it. (The Brunette just commented on the bag that she's not quite sure where I got it from.  There's only four logos on it, so it might be a bit too subtle for her. I'll let Good Life know they need to make it a bit more obvious when creating promotional hand outs.)

Voucher thirteen was the one I'd really been waiting for, though.  Half-priced afternoon tea at the Empress. The Brunette and family had to cancel due to illness, to their dismay and mine. I had a reservation to the hottest deal in town and no-one to share it with!

However, I managed to convince Andrea to come for tea at the last minute.  Everyone I know whose visited Victoria talks about Afternoon Tea here as an option, served in the traditional style with plates of tiny sandwiches and little sweet desserts.  But at fifty bucks (plus) a time, I'd never been, preferring a $5 cuppa at Murchies or a $2 brew in a paper cup from Speciality Teas.

Okay, standing on the side of the street sipping an Earl Grey while watching the traffic pass by and the homeless guy panhandle for change is NOT the same experience as having a smartly dressed lady usher you to an over padded chair with a view of the harbour.  Tea here is not just about what you get, it is HOW you get it.

After being seated Yousef, our server, came over with a couple of bowls of Strawberries and Cream, and a tea menu. We went for the recommended Empress Tea, a mix of various leaves, and probably served here since the hotel was built.  Tea came out in two massive pots, and poured into some fine china tea cups by the extremely polite and effective Yousef.  Splash of milk and a big long sip.  Ahhh, that fine, fine feeling of good black tea.  It rushes up the tongue and into the brain and tells me that world is spinning in the right direction and I don't need to get off it, not today.

I tried to teach Andrea how to sip it with the pinkie properly extended, but that was didn't go so well, and we just supped and sipped as we cared.  Neither of us poured it into the saucer(*), so I think we passed the social etiquette test required.

Along with the tea came a stack of plates in a serving tower.  On the bottom rung we had a set of little sandwiches, including cucumber on white bread with the crusts cut off. Level two contained a large scone, cream and jam.  And on the top, some petit fours, little elegant little confectioneries.

The rolled salmon sandwich tasty, with fresh meat.  A thin slice of salmon rolled into a spiral with brown bread and butter, then thin slices served.  Like a very savoury Swiss roll.  The tiny egg-salad croissants were nice to, with lots of creamy, fresh flavour.  The cucumber sandwiches were indeed refreshing, as they should be.  The rye-bread and coronation chicken was not so enjoyable... not enough filling, rye bread was a little dry.  Plus it's rye bread, and I react badly to rye beer or rye liquor, so I associate it with moods swings, nausea and general mardiness.  I believe Andrea enjoyed all the sandwiches she tried, avoiding the ham and chicken.

The scone was fresh and soft and full of dried fruit. I experiemented having it both Cornish and Devon style.  Fruit first THEN cream (Cornish), or cream first THEN fruit (Devonshire style). My experiment came to the conclusion is that it doesn't matter, as long as you are feeding your face with good jam, fresh cream and crumbly, dense scones.  Which I was.  I know my tea partner enjoyed the scones as she was oddly silent for five minutes while she ate it, with a far away look her eye, like she was contemplating something.

Finally, the petit fours.  I avoid the coconut macaroon, as I dislike dessicated coconut.  I loved the tiny chocolate tea cup filled with a thick chocolate ganache and raspberry syrup. The lemon cup thing was super tart, and sharp.  The thin shortbread was shortbread, delicate and easy to digest with just a hint of biscuit and butter flavour.  If there was anything else up on that top level that I ate, it wasn't very memorable.

Overall, we had  a nice, relaxing long hour of tea and chat and good food.  The surroundings are elegant, with a mix of sofas, chairs and slightly more formal dining table chairs.  The staff are super effective, friendly but keeping out of the way to allow you to enjoy the experience.  For the $25.00 we paid (plus a generous tip) it was worth it.  I am not sure I can convince myself that the peak tourist season cost of $63 is worth it.  The line ups to get will of course tell you that many people think it's the thing to do in Victoria, and there's nowhere else quite like the Empress in the city.  And nowhere else that does afternoon tea to this scale.



I said my thanks and goodbyes to Andrea and headed back to the James Bay Inn for a sit down, write up the report and a night in the pub with some other friends.  And we'll leave that section for another post.

(*) Historical note: Iranians traditionally drank tea this way, and it was a common way to cool hot tea down in the past.  'We've' just all decided it's not the done thing any more.

Tourist in your Hometown - Day 1, Part 1

It was a grey and drizzly day as I left home to drive the shortest distance I have ever have for a holiday.  The James Bay Inn, just outside the downtown core had a cheap deal for the nights of 'Be a tourist in your own Hometown', so I decided to take a mini-break and take a look around Victoria with a slightly different perspective.

The side plan was also try to use as many vouchers from my Attractions Victoria 'playbook' as possible in two days.  Because it always has to be a challenge and a project.

Walking down from the JBI (voucher 1 used), I noticed on the corner of Superior and Government how many different styles of architecture I could see.  The 'free classical' of the legislature building, the art deco bulk of the rear side of the BC museum, the wooden west coast detached buildings next door to a very modern, angular wood and concrete house. Many parts of Victoria seem to have a melange of styles and ages, and there's very little identi-kit housing in the central area.  If you want that, head to Bear Mountain....

I walked into Tourism Victoria to use Voucher 2, a half-priced transit pass.  Not that I used it today, but it's a scratch off, so we can save them up for the future.  A quick trip downstairs, and I pick up some postcards from Oceanside Gifts, and a Canadian Flag patch. Getting 15% of with Voucher 3.  I've been sending cards home to the family in the UK on semi-regular basis recently, so stocking up seemed like a good plan.

Next up, Starbucks in the Steamship terminal.  A space that once had the stalwart of hometown tourism... the Waxworks. Now home to the Robert Bateman Gallery... who I always refer to as 'Lord Bateman' after the British folk song. Voucher 4 got me half-price entry.  I was prepared to be cynical and snarky.  I left being much less cynical and appreciative of the massive output of his.  While I still think his natural art is wonderfully detailed yet lacking in life, giving a mawkish and distance feel, I found his other works much more engaging.  He did a series of more impressionistic pieces in the 60's, and one of a short path in Toronto called the 'Belt Line' really grabbed my attention.  Enough to see if I can find a print.

They also have a display of parts of a forty year collection of letters between Robert and his wife Birgit.  These are lovely objects, collages of art and ideas and objects from places they've stayed, visited and memories they've made together and apart.  They set themselves the challenge to create a letter to each other every three months, and kept it going this long.  It reminded me of the Griffin and Sabine books and images from Nick Bantock.

Still, onwards to the Legislature to use Voucher 5 - a free tour and Voucher 6 - 10% of in the gift shop.  Voucher 5 is not worth the paper it's printed on, as all tours are free here, all the time.  Thanks, Attractions Victoria for the padding.  That said, the tour itself was a good use of forty five minutes.  It combined information about the building with history of the province.  The building is officially called the BC Parliament Buildings, as that was the act that paid for it in the 1890's.  The architect, Francis Mawston Rattenbury, looks like Matt Damon with a big moustache.  He was twenty five when he designed it, on the strength of a forged resume. There are some rather nice stained glass windows, especially the one of the twelve areas of study.  That, and the four traditional jobs of BC, have sparked off a couple of ideas.  We also got a background on how the legislative assembly works, both the ceremony and the business.

Next, I walked over to Miniature World, just as I learned the news about Leonard Nimoy's passing.  So it seemed appropriate to have a minute of silence in the space section.  Which is a delightfully camp corridor with strange models of space stations and asteroids, with a voice over talking about warp tunnels and holidays in space.  Voucher 7 got me free entrance.  The best part of this museum is the large display showing the Trans-Canadian railway from coast to coast, with the  sound track telling you all about how it got built.  The rest of the displays are an assortment of items, which if you like miniatures of stuff is interesting but otherwise not so much.

Most curious is the new section, with a series of models telling the tales of Camelot, King Arthur and the Round Table.  With a very annoyingly loud soundtrack.  I have no idea why this is here. The models aren't that exciting, the buttons to animate things are laughable and the 'history' lesson is based on multiple, bastardized version of the Arthurian legends.  Still, I am sure kids love it, so that might explain exactly why it's there...

Voucher 8 was lunch at Dog-Gone-It which  serves the finest in gourmet hot dogs. I think that is the claim. My voucher got me a free bag of chips.  I ordered the Labrador Dog.  Hot dog, maple bacon, grated cheese and crispy onions with hot sauce.  Something smelled weird about my food.  Or the place.  The staff were busy and friendly in that rushed sort of way. The eating area felt like a airport lounge, designed to serve people's needs but not their wants.  My hot dog was loaded with the extras, with a soft white bun and a huge strip of bacon, piled with cheese.

I unhinged my jaw, and took a bite.  It was sustenance, but still with this odd, cake-like smell.  I realized suddenly... it was the bacon.  It smelled sweet from the maple syrup.  Sickly sweet.  Poor bacon, it died in vain.  Otherwise, the hot dog was fresh and juicy... but Mr Tube Steak will do you better from a street car.  But for $5, I didn't go too wrong.

And that was my morning... I have more from the afternoon to report, but will leave it for another day.

10 Acres Bistro, Downtown Victoria

I was heading down to Las Vegas a couple of weeks back and the lovely Brunette of my Acquaintance deserved a fine meal for letting me go down solo.  The idea of farm-to-plate is appealing.  Knowing where the food comes from means that the chef can build menus that suit the food, get it in fresh and roll with the seasons.  Then again, I've always been told not to visit an abattoir, so maybe I don't want to know too much about where my food comes from.

At least my meat.  There's is nothing too bad about cuting down some Kale and Chard, or digging up potatoes.  Unless you are allergic to mud and grime under your fingernails.  But fresh veg that you've grown does seem to taste better.

Can 10 Acres capture that?

The location has been a few different places since I've been here. One memory of it was back when I first moved to Victoria. Some poor guy dressed in chef whites holding out menus for tourists at the lower end of Government street.  He looked desperate and tired. Tourist didn't want to be bother, however passionate he seemed. I have no idea if the food was any good, but I did feel sorry for him trying to drum up trade.

10 Acres doesn't seem to need this tactic to get them in.  When I got there at 4pm to book a table it was quiet.  When I got back two hours later, it was full, with guests being turned away, much to the chagrin of one local. He seemed to think that it was a terrible shame he couldn't get a seat, being local and all, and that was more important that tourists.  The bar area was full up at all the corners; the patio heaters were keeping the semi-outdoors space warm; and the warren of narrow rooms down into the back of the restaurant were all full.  Though parking the poor lady on crutches down two sets of stairs seemed a little unreasonable

We got a high, bench table near the bar. A highly enthusiastic server set us up with some drinks.  She made up a ginger beer and bitters combination for me, which sharpened up the taste buds.  The sharp, bittered ginger drink was fantastic and matched well with my meal.  Good move to cater to the driver well with something interesting but teetotal. The Brunette got a fancy Negroni cocktail, as I recall.  She liked it, and the wine with the meal got a big thumbs up too.

For my meal, I ordered the half-chicken from the rotisserie.  Mostly because I am a sucker for good roasted chicken, but partly because with an early flight the next day, I didn't want anything too heavy (fish and chips; or a creamy Tagliatelle were both consider).  I didn't want steak-frites, as I was expecting to eat steak on vacation (I didn't get any the end, but never mind).  And I didn't want to have the risk of a seafood stew with a clam gone rogue.

I ignored that risk though to try one of the Brunette's mussels on her big bowl of Salt Spring island bi-valves.  There were just done... like -just-.  Ten second less in the pot and they'd have been a warm mess.  But cooked to this point, they weren't tough, or beginning to mush up.  They quivered there in the white wine sauce, garlic filtering through the meat of the mussel.  Well worth it.

We also ordered a side of the seasonal vegetables, all from the farm.  A whole mix of veg, all roasted long enough so they were on first name terms with each other, but not yet overly friendly.  Carrots, parsnip, strings of green veg.  Tasted great, with that fresh picked flavour I've had from my own vegetables.

My chicken was juicy and moist with a rich glaze of sauce. The skin had got crispy in all the right places, while the interior was cooked through perfectly. The fresh roasted potatoes had that combination of a crisp skins and battered, soft insides.  The kale coleslaw was also fresh, and had a crisp bite to it.

It was a little -too- fresh though, and I had to send it back to the kitchen after over turning one leaf to find something that shouldn't have been there.  The server grabbed it straight away, apologized and whisked it off.  She offered us a free dessert after depositing the plate in the kitchen. A cook came out a few minutes later with a fresh dish, and profuse apologies for the problem.  They handled this very professionally.  I'd prefer not to have my farm fresh food that farm-like, but things happen.  They dealt with it... though I did toss over the coleslaw a lot on the second run, and probably should have asked for it without.  Just because it stuck in my head that I might get a repeat.

As an aside, I was a little unsure if I should relay the problem. I liked the food there. The Brunette loved it.  I like the locally sourced and cooked simply menu.  It is home-cooked kitchen table food. It's not fancy.  It's not pushing any bar into the exotic, or technical gastronomy.  But executing the simple concept itself is a challenge, to keep it simple and unfussy.  I was a big fan of the place up until that point.  And three minutes after getting my replacement dish, a big fan again. My goal is not the cheer-lead for restaurants in Victoria and write bland, happy reviews.  My goal is to write about what I thought, tasted and saw.  If it is an unfair reflection, I'm happy to discuss it.

So, they sorted us out a free dessert, with no problems... a rich chocolate zuccini brownie.  Moist, flavoursome and finished up a good meal.  We wandered out after settling the bill with happy stomachs and a wrapped up portion of chicken that, I'm told, went down a treat cold in sandwiches the next day.

The restaurant would suit a small group looking for a casual meal, or a couple looking for a relaxed meal out.  There's a good range of beers and wines, though the bar service was rather slow, as the Brunette pointed out as well.  But the food was a hit overall.  The space has a great feel.  Would visit again.

The Local Kitchen, Victoria

It was Times Colonist 10k weekend, and that meant I was doing my best wheezing pig impression at 8.45am, running along Dallas Road in a cloud burst, wondering why in the hell I got up at 6am for this.  But as usual when I am Dallas Road, I saw the sea, the cargo ships, the mountains of the Olympics and stopped caring about the wind whipping through my bones and started to enjoy myself again.  And I came home in a record time (for me, and that's all that I am running against), damp but uplifted.  I love my endorphins...

TC10K weekend also means not being able to get a breakfast reservation anywhere between 9 and 11.  But's that is just fine, as the Local Kitchen didn't open till 11.30 for Brunch, and we were first in line to get our table. Four of us, two of us on post run highs and two of us on post watching runner what-ever-you-call-its.  Only to discover brunch was off, and it was the normal lunch/dinner menu.  No steak and eggs for me.

Instead, I got a cheeseburger and bacon (no veggie burger either... my two post race staples, gone), along with hot, dark coffee and an eyeful of the European Rugby match.  The burger was great.  Juicy inside, with a chargrilled outside, lots of crispy flavourful bits around the tender meat.  There was just the right amount of salad, crispy bacon and a lovely soft chewy kaiser bun.  The cheese was a little light and probably could have been done away with, without making any changes to the meal.  This is no gourmet burger.  Just Canadian pub food done well.

The rest of the menu is the same sort of staples. Chicken burgers, tandoori wraps, huge salads and plates of poutine.  No truffle oils or goats cheese shavings with reductions of raspberry.  Big servings, minimum of fuss, decent price.  The same cannot be said for some of it's neighbours...

The location has had many changes in the years I have lived here, and I'd never been in before, never hearing anything good about the food, the service or the beer.  They seemed to cater for an after work drinking crowd when I worked downtown, and went through a couple of iterations as that, but the Local seems set in, and popular with some of the IT crowd.  The 'KixEye' wings being a sure sign that someone around there goes very regularly. With it's sunny patio, I may suggest it for an evening beverage sometime.

Two things to note, though. First, the men's toilet is a trap. There's a small step up to the porcelain throne, that almost led me to turning an ankle.  I suspect after a couple of beers more than one person has ended up flat out with new bruises.

Secondly, all the servers that day looked the same, except for the lady in the purple dress. I suspect the pod people are taking over, as I swear I saw the same server at Bubby's Cafe later.  Just be warned, the Victoria restaurant scene may be about to be taken over by 20-something brunettes with pony tails, nice smiles and pleasant demeanour.

Though, that doesn't seem like such a bad thing, really.

Crow and Gate, Cedar, BC

A couple of weeks back, it was time for the next race in the Vancouver Island series, and Andrea and I headed to Cedar.  Apparently, Nanaimo-ites make jokes about Cedar, like Victorians make jokes about Nanaimo.  I don't know why, this is just rural Vancouver Island to me.  Fields, forests, houses and firehalls about a kilometer from anything else.  Or so it seems.

So, we brave the cold weather (it was above freezing), I armed with my mother's knitted gloves, Andrea with all the coffee in Starbucks, and run 12 km.  It was tiring, but not exhausting, which is just how it should have been for me.   Trying to build distance and endurance, not trying to set personal bests.  Though I did beat last years time by a minute, so that shows good things are happening.  But I have plenty of room for improvement. But before we turn this into a running blog... food!  We warmed up after the race, got on extra layers and headed to the Crow and Gate.

The pub is in middle of the rural idyll, down a short track, next to a duck pond. All brick walls, wood beams, plaster walls and horse brasses.  It's styled on a South England country pub, so I felt right at home.  One big old fire, two small bars to order from (no floor service, just like the home country) and collections of wooden tables surrounded by benches and battered (rustic?) wooden chairs.  You'd think it was built in 1832, not 1972.  I've heard claims it was shipped piece-by-piece from the UK, but their website doesn't go into much detail on the construction.

British and Irish beers are on tap, but it's mostly nitro-kegged stuff that doesn't capture the flatter, warmer British bitters of my formative years.  Still, it's pretty realistic of the choice you'd get in a lot of places before the real ale revolution took place in the nineties.  Smithicks, Carlsberg, Guinness.  All good stuff, and a couple of local taps.  My tip, the local taps are better than the import ales.  But if they ever found a barrel of Greene King IPA or Bass in there, I'd be begging for a drive out there.

Food wise, it's a typical, but very extensive list of standard British pub food.  Instead of one pie, one ploughmans, a couple of sandwich choices and maybe fish and chips, you have your choice of several pies, several 'platters', scotch eggs and other delicacies.  Note, a scotch egg is not a egg cooked in single malt.  Which is just as well.

I went for the steak and kidney pie.  It's a pot pie rather than a enclosed pie, with a bowl of steaming stew topped with a square of puff pastry.  It was delicious.  The savory tang of the kidney mixed in with the well cooked braising steak took me back.  Some people hate kidneys, claiming they can taste the original function of the organ.  I love them in pie.  The mouth feel is different from everything else.  Slightly grainy, tender to bite into, but firm.  Joyful.  Served with a tennis ball sized scoop of potato salad and greens, this refilled all sorts of vital stores.

I had failed to explain to Andrea that the Smoked Salmon platter would be cold, not hot.  Not being familiar with the ploughman's, I am not sure what she expected, and my bad for not describing very well.  It was a huge chunk of cold smoked salmon, served with a pile of greens, the potato salad, some bread and I think cheese too.  Not necessarily cold winter's day fuel.  I tasted the salmon and it was well smoked, flaky and all salmon can be. But not warm.  At least it wasn't real British style and served sort of lukewarm...

For afters, we ordered Pecan Pie.  This was a hit.  Big chunk of pie, smothered in fresh whipped cream (or maybe out of a canister, who knows), garnished with a chocolate strand wafer.  Nutty, sugary with a buttery biscuit base.  The sugar high came fast.  Attenuated by my previous pie, thank goodness or we'd have had to sit and wait in the car while my glucose levels stopped spiking.  But in all forms, what was needed.

I really like this place.  It feels like the UK, but in that nostalgic way that never really existed in the first place.  I like the going to the bar to get service.  I like the low ceilings, random bar mats and brewery giveaways.  I love the variations in the art on the simple idea of a 'Crow' and a 'Gate'.  The downside it's too far away from here.  But then, memories are always best revisited not to often, lest the shine comes of them.

Evedar's, Langford

Back in December, I ran a 10 mile race over Stewart Mountain and came in last.  For my efforts, I got a $50 voucher for Evedar's Bistro in Langford.  My friends have commented it was very Canadian to give a prize to last place.  I almost gave it away to the lady four seconds in front of me, but thought again that it would be material for blogging, so why not head out to Langford for a change.

So invited the lovely Brunette of my acquaintance for a Tuesday night meal out Langford.  My first worry was that the answer phone message was still referencing the Christmas hours when I tried to call for a reservation.  But they called back, and booked me in for a 7pm seating.  Need not have worried, the place was empty, apart from a family finishing up their meal. Uh-oh... why so quiet? I've heard good things on Urbanspoon and about their lunch meals... then as I get seated, Billy-Ray Cyrus's 'Achey Breaky Heart' comes on.  What have I let myself in for?

A cracking good meal, as it turns out.  Best give the spoiler now, in case you only read so far, and think this will be a piece by piece deconstruction.

We ordered a sharing plate to start, which came with the world's biggest caper, some excellent tapenade, a beautiful smoked piece of salmon, creamy cheese, crisp apples and some bits of bread to spread 'em on.  Or you could use the pickled beans and asparagus. The down note on the spread was the slices of pepperoni, they seemed a little greasy and dry to me.

For mains, there's a decent spread of choices.  Just enough to be interesting, without being too many to decide on.  I went for the Parmesan Chicken.  I didn't need the starter.  It was a huge cut, crusted perfectly with cheese and breading, but still moist inside.  Presented on a big pile of risotto, that had a lovely silky texture, with just enough flavour to complement the chicken, and not over power it.

The Brunette (of my acquaintance) went for the beef short rib.  The chicken was good.  This was brilliant.  Cooked to that point of tenderness and flavour, it came apart in strings with a fork.  Covered in a thick, dark sauce which had a hint of BBQ that married it with the beef.  A good pile of mash and greens came with it, and there was tomorrows lunch left-overs sorted, even after I took a good three fork fulls to try it out.

The music choices faded away into the background, and lets us talk over the meal without being overheard, which is just how it should be. There's space for a date night meal or a larger family/friends gathering.  The service was good, and even though we were the only people there, no hurry to get us out so they could close up.  I appreciated that, as it'd would have been easy enough to rush us out and save on the lighting bill.

I'm not drinking this month, but why I decide O'Douls amber was a good compromise should lead my readers to question my sense in matters of taste.  Perhaps I shouldn't have admitted to it, but I won't be repeating that mistake. It was like someone had heard about the taste of beer, possibly by accident. They tried to make something that matched that misheard description, but not done a very good job.  Then decided to sell it anyway. My bad choice there is hardly the Bistro's fault.

The meal came to $80, with a glass of wine and a bottle beer, the taxes and a tip.

Day 21 - The Village Butcher, Oak Bay

Call me unobservant.  I thought the Village Butcher in Oak Bay had closed a couple of years ago.  I turned up to buy bacon (proper bacon, British-style rashers with the little medallion of meat, not the streak rashers beloved in North America) to find no-one there.  Right behind the (old) Blethering Place, this little shop of awesome sausages, bacon and prepared meats had disappeared.

I wasn't a regular, but when I did want top quality meat, I went there.  And it was gone.

Except, as the rest of Victoria probably knows, it just moved to the 2000 block of Oak Bay Avenue into premises twice the size, and twice as busy.  As I discovered today with a quick web search and prompting by the brunette of my acquaintance.

Piles of fresh meat in three counter displays.  Sausages of all types, herbed, unherbed, fancy or plain.. Fresh ground turkey mince, spatulas ready to serve as much or as little as you need. A chicken ready for my Christmas feast (now in the freezer).  Then the beef section.  I want to do another long run, so I can deserve one of the rib eye steaks.  You can see into the back where the butchers had a pig head, remains of a carcass being carved up for various dishes. Okay, not for the vegetarian or faint hearted, but it's great to see where the meat is prepared.  Another butcher was out front slicing up something else for the display cases.

The aim, apart from the chicken, was to get the ingredients for pie.  When someone offers pie, I immediately think of meat pie.  Thick gravy, juicy pieces of meat, piping hot, covered with a crust.  So when I realize they mean fruit pie, often served cold with ice cream, I feel this ever so slight let down.  Not because I don't like apple pie a la mode, but I love a good meat pie, and my expectations have to be readjusted from savoury to sweet.

I hope for steak and kidney pie, or chicken and mushroom pie with white sauce, or a luscious vegetable pie, baked into a short crust.  Instead, the person offering means a tart cherry pie, drizzled with icing, or a sugar coated peach pie with lattice work pastry. Both made with love, but a different sort of love.

Just a little oddity of culture expectations.  At least, I think the default is savoury pie in the UK and sweet pie in  North America.

Anyways, the butcher sold us some Andouille Beef sausage, and a pound of bright red beef stewing steak. The staff was so chatty and helpful to us, and laughed when I mentioned I thought they'd closed (oh no, we moved two years ago!).

So we have the ingredients, ready to cook up a fresh pie for just after Christmas.  And, no, I don't think we will be sharing.