Amrikko's Indian Cuisine, View Royal

If Paneer Poutine doesn't exist as a thing yet , please can someone make it exist on Vancouver Island.  A quick search suggests I am not the first to think of it, though, so I have hope. Paneer is the cheese used in Indian cuisine, made quickly by adding an acid to milk, which separates it into curds and whey.  Instead of taking this mixture to a tuffet, the curds are separated, drained and chilled, making a simple cheese.  I guess the whey is used to make terrible tasting protein drinks for body builders.  The resulting cheese is simple, tasting not unlike a cottage cheese with no watery run off. And it works very well with a curry sauce.

In the case at Amrikko's, the curry sauce was a creamy sauce made with peas, ginger and garlic.  And a combination of Indian spices with some bite, but not enough to draw blood.  A little nip or two to remind you it was there.  This Mattar Paneer was the highlight of the dinner we had.  And it made me think it would do well draped over a bed of hand cut, fresh fried potatoes.

Though it went just as well with a pile of a naan breads (Garlic and Plain).  Cooked thin, with doughy centre and crisp, bubbly outer layer, the bread was a throw back to my twenties. The cheap, fast and good curries after hours in various places in the United Kingdom.  The Lovely Brunette of my Acquaintance even had a bottle of Kingfisher beer to seal the image in my mind.  This curry though was at a more stately 6pm, after a day digging in an allotment garden.  Not after five pints and an argument about whether the Madchester scene was better or worse than the new wave of Britpop.

At the junction of Helmecken and the Old Island Highway, Amrikko's is unassuming from the outside, and functional inside.  Neat and tidy booths and tables.  No flock wall paper, just clean paint, simple decoration and big octagonal windows.  A light space, not dingy.  It's for feeding the family not for boozed up students.  The smiling owner seated us and talked much about his association with the UK.  A place he seemed to have a lot of time for, though he'd never visited his relations there.

We ordered drinks and a round of Onion Bhaji's to start.  The bhaji was chips of onion, battered bright orange and a flavoured with turmeric.  Not the small round balls I was expecting.  But damn fine, with a yoghurty mint sauce, the initial hunger pangs were staved off.

We went vegetarian for the main courses, sharing naan, some basmati rice (done how it should be, so not much to say about it... it's rice, a food I love and can only really say much about when it's wrong), above mentioned Mattar Paneer and Navrattan Korma.  The last dish was disappointing.  Partly, I suspect, ordering two creamy dishes was a mistake, but also because it lacked the same punch of flavours, or the snap of the vegetables. Lumps of potato were mixed in with carrots and mini corn and yam.  It wasn't bad, it just didn't inspire me, and was really all about the mouth feel, rather than the mix of flavours and aromas I love about a curry.  The Brunette liked the korma more than me, but was the one who suggested two creamy dishes might not have been the best choice.

However, I miss a good curry. And considering the good sides, the excellent Paneer and the overall ambiance, I will be going back for some meat based curry, and more half remembered nostalgia of breaking naan bread after nights dancing to jangly guitars records.

Fluid Bar and Grill, Courtenay

Driving South again from a trip to the North End of the Island, food was needed by occupants of my car. Not least the driver who was starting to see hot-dogs and not trees at the side of the road.  And there's a lot of trees up that end of the island.  So that's many hot-dogs, and that's just a bit weird.  So, my passengers looked up places to eat in Courtenay and we pulled off the highway into Fluid, just outside the centre of town, hoping for easy, fast diner-style food.

You've been inside Fluid, probably.  Not this one, but in a bar and grill just like it.  Maybe it was Earl's in down-town Victoria, or the Rugby Club in Vancouver, or a Cactus Club somewhere else.  The decor is brown stained wood, glass and stone work walls.  There's high definition flat screen TVs showing the sport channels.  The bar area is wide and open and full of backlit liquor bottles.  The servers are young, pretty and wearing black dresses that they might wear out on a girls night out.  It's that sort of place.

It sells Caesars as a special.  This one came with a half a pepperoni stick, an olive, a pepper, a Kinder egg, a small bracelet, a hammock and a life time subscription to the Reader's Digest. Among other things.  It was a big glass of spicy tomato-based booze.  And went down well with the drinker, which was not me. I was driving and stuck to diet coke to keep focused and water to keep hydrated.

Food choices were many, but simple variations on a theme : salad, sandwiches and pizza.  The baked Mac and Cheese with bacon also falls into the theme of comfort food, I guess.  And was cheesey, bacony and hot.  It would have been much improved with a little bit of spicy sausage to pep it up, but it worked.

On the burger/sandwich list there was a Quinoa burger (aka the Birkenstock burger) with added black beans and cumin.  I love a veggie burger that isn't made from fake meat.  I also love one with added bacon.  So I ordered it. And though my friends laugh at this choice often, this waitress understood me.  I liked our waitress, she seemed a little more competent at food service than most servers at these sorts of places.  Or may I just liked she understood that sometimes you want the flavour and goodness of vegetables with the added power of bacon grease.

The burger was served in a Pretzel bun with a good pile of salad and chipotle mayo.  And no skimping on the bacon.  A decent, wholesome veggie burger, with a rough cut, earthy taste and the soft, slightly mushy texture of cooked black beans.  The mouth feel of beans is something I like about pulses.  The slight grain in the flesh of the bean, wrapped with the light resistance of the bean skin.  It just feels right.  And if it feels right, it might just be good for you.

The fries on the side were just so-so.  I wouldn't write much more about them.  I also forget what the owner of the Caesar had to eat.  I think he was too busy reading the newspaper that came with the cocktail and playing with the small kitten they lend you when you order it.  He'd have kept it, but I have a strict no pets policy in my car, so it was regretfully returned to the smiling server.

We headed back south, with food in our bellies, and the stop had served it's purpose.  The roadside scenery looked much more like the Pacific North-west again.

Sue's Place, Campbell River

About twenty kilometres north of Campbell River on Highway 19 is a sign, brightly advertisings Sue's Place for coffee and baked goods.  Plenty of those sorts of places on the highway, and you'll drive past most of them.  But, having been there once before, two years ago on my way south with my parents, I pulled off the road again for a snack on my way north.  I knew there'd be a good welcome and good food.  Or at least I hoped nothing had changed.

Open from 5am till 3pm, I caught the last half hour of service, but Sue seemed as cheerful as the last time I'd been in.  I ordered a grilled ham and cheese and sidled up to the counter to eat.  The restaurant has two sections: a dining room sized nook at back, and a small counter with a booth at the front.  And a sliding window to sling coffee and baked goods out to those not stopping for long.  You look right into the kitchen, with a big aluminium grill, organized Tupperware and racks of baked goods.  The cinnamon buns are big, and glisten with sugary icing, cake slices are generous and the cheese top rolls (from past experience) are a rich, savoury bun with plenty of sharpness in the cheddar.

Sue was running the place on her own, and got busy with my order while making a couple of cappuccino's for another order.  These were met with much happiness from the lounge on delivery.  I assumed that they'd also ordered a grilled ham sandwich too given by the heaping tong full of meat placed onto the grill... but no.. that was all mine.  A veritable doorstop of a sarnie.  Melted cheese oozing just-so over the hot meat, encased in a thick brown bread wrapper.  Fresh bread, that has that bite when toasted, that crunches and crackles and you chomp through it. That warm, grilled and browned flavour you only get from being on the grill itself.  Perfect road fuel to get you going again and through to the Ports (McNeill, Hardy and Alice).

I chatted quickly to hard working Sue who apologized for not recognizing me from two years ago.  Which seemed like nothing to apologize for... apart from my English accent, I don't think I really stand out that much, and given the number of truckers, tourists and locals who stop by, I am quite happy to be called 'honey' like everyone else.  Such a bright, happy welcome after a ten hour shift, though I think she has help in at other times.  Still, this retirement project seems to be a lot of work, but I am thankful it's there.

My only complaint was Sue takes Sundays off.  So, no coffee and sandwich on the way back south.  Otherwise, avoid Campbell Rover if going all the way north, and stop here for food.

Camping - Gordon Bay, Cowichan Valley

This weekend, it was time to camp for the first time this year.  May Long Weekend but we got it booked up nice and early, with four sites all walking distance apart at Gordon's Bay Provincial Park.  That's on the south side of Lake Cowichan, with is forested hills and steep cliffs sitting over a deep, clear lake.  Very nice views in many places along the road out there.

The camp-site is typical Vancouver Island government... small little clearings surrounded by huge trees and a windy gravel road.  You are separate from your neighbours, but can walk quickly between sites to share beer, coffee or sugar.  You can get a good fire going, for cooking, light or heating, a picnic bench for food prep and eating, water near by and proper toilets in the middle.  The worst problem with these camp-sites is for campers... the flooring is gravel, meaning several layers of padding between you and the ground is essential for a good nights sleep, and getting tent pegs in and out is tricky.  Perfect though for parking up the RV and making a home for the weekend.

I just don't have an RV.  Or a Fifth Wheel... one of those on the site was bigger than most apartments and loomed over the driveways like the Starship Enterprise had landed a shuttle from space to investigate West Coasters.  I swear it had two stories, a garage and patio deck out back.  My little two man tent was the opposite end of the spectrum (though not quite the other end, the hammocks were the real back to nature choice), but suits me well enough. No one quite believes me you can sleep two in there, and the Attractive Brunette of my Acquaintance quite sensible brought along her own neat tent to accommodate her.

So, much Vichyssoise soup was consumed, provided by aforementioned Brunette. Damn fine soup for a warm spring day, washed down with a nice can of Thirsty Beaver from Tree.  A nice warm comfy night.  Except for the perennial problem I have with camping.  Somehow, my bladder -knows- when I have gotten zipped up and ready to sleep. No matter if I have made a pit stop before bed.  No matter if I've not drunk in five hours.  As soon as I am horizontal, and wrapped up, the bladder needs to be emptied.  And no walking barefoot into the woods to relieve myself... that gravel means every step is accompanied by a few choice swear words, waking the rest of your site (and several others).

Damn bladder.

We had plenty of small children running around the site, so to amuse them, there was a 'Go Fish' demonstration by the Freshwater Fish society of BC.  Kids could learn to cast, a little about the biology of fish and the work the society is doing to restock lakes.  Including the use of helicopters and rucksacks to bring fish into remote lakes.  Neat stuff, and I love how the parks seem to put on these activities for the children and add an activity for them to enjoy beyond running around the woods and getting muddy.  Though parents seem to think the latter is character building too.

The evening entertainment for me included several more beers (Bowen Island IPA, Lighthouse Switch Back IPA), smores, bean stew, Fentimann's and Gin for the Palazzo camp-site three of my friends were running (A-Class set up) and fire.  Fire is it's own entertainment, to watch the embers and flames burn, crackle and dance.  Everyone is entranced or just likes to watch things burn...

A warm cosy feeling inside me was with me as we left the next day.  Camping with friends is good for the soul and the shared memories it generates  Though the warm shower afterwards was almost as good a feeling, just not likely to be something I keep with me when I am seventy-five and in my dotage.

Cheers, Camping Friends!

A Tale of Two Coffees

It was best of brews, it was the worst of brews.
It was the age of smooth, fresh java, and it was the age of old coffee grinds.
It was the epoch of belief in something
It was the epoch of incredulity of what yout go.
It was the season of light, well prepared beans.
It was the season of dark, sour rough Americanos.
It was Bubby Rose's Cafe.
It was the Cornerstone Cafe.

In the Cook Street area, we have the well respected Bubby Rose's Bakery Cafe.  Friends of mine rate their bread and bread product very highly.  While the egg salad sandwich I had there probably didn't do the bread justice, the coffee was excellent.  Smooth and well (but not over) roasted, prepared well just to get that punch of a caffiene you want, but not so fast and furious your conversations turn into mad gabbled words. And when one sits down to Coffee with Andrea, one needs to have your wits, least you be found wanting.

The cafe is just a few steps away from Fort Street's antique row.  A a few blocks from Cook Street Village. But close enough if you know where it is, and friendly enough it's worth the visit on a sunny day for a slow coffee on their street front seating.  I also like the dresser which hides the milk, cream and sugar.



Fernwood.  Once the low rent area of Victoria, or so people tell me.  Full of young people renting small garrets from landlords who barely kept their places free from the rain and snow.  At least thats the tale I've been told.  I have no idea, I've not lived in Victoria when Fernwood gained a reputation, that I am sure is undeserved.  Now, it has the Fernwood Inn, Stages, two hugely active resident's associations and the Cornerstone Cafe, a hub for community arts.  A real coffee shop serving the locals, providing space for someone outside to do tarot readings for their friends, and inside for one eccentric old boy to take a nap between the frantic scrawls he's sketching out.

On that score, it's a great place.  I've been down for an open mike night in the past, and a Elvis themed night, where people sang or talked about the icon.  Arts and culture on the low, easy going scale.  Brilliant, except their coffee was terrible when I went in again this past weekend.  Dark, rough and tasting like it was made with grounds recycled, or over used.  It was nasty.

Still, I got to sit outside again, in the sun, and have a pleasant conversation with the aforementioned Andrea.  She likes to be mentioned, so I did it twice.  Hopefully this means she'll link back to me now...



The coffee crawl will probably return this summer... so any suggestions to try out that I've not been to before, fire it away.