Just finished reading Bill Gaston’s book by the same name, and while the ending was somewhat disappointing, the bulk of this historical fiction was a virtual banquet for the imagination.
Picture this: Samuel de Champlain and his men, having recently settled in Port Royale after a fatal run-in with scurvy, are waiting out winter in near-windowless huts, depressed and bored. Our man Sam comes up with the brilliant idea of hosting a feast of local finds: game meats, wild mushrooms, mystery herbs and good wine. There is music, there is poetry, there are sing-a-longs. The spectre of winter is chased away by this jovial gathering, if only for one night, once a month. The proverbial chalice is then passed on to the next host, who does his level best to out-do the previous party with his own.
Champlain was a century ahead of his time. Celebrations of 100-mile (or 100-metre) fare are de rigeur these days: day trips to local farms, walking tours of restaurants and locavore festivals abound from one end of the country to the other.
Just a few notes from Ottawa’s bursting-at-the-seams schedule of foodie fests: Savour Ottawa’s Harvest Table, Montebello’s Foire Gourmande, and a fundraiser for the Humane Society in memory of chef Kurt Waldele (all on Aug 28); Feast of Fields (Sept 11); Taste of Wellington West (Sept 17); Taste of Preston Street as part of La Vendemmia (Sept 25). Oh, and don’t forget the farmers’ markets, which will be rolling out the late-summer goods over the next couple of weeks.
Hopefully I can manage to fit all that into my calendar. In the meantime, I think I might need to reinstate Champlain’s monthly hoopla, to fend off the inevitable arrival of cold weather and bring together some of my nearest and dearest. But I think I’ll skip the moose nose entrĂ©e.
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