Cindy Lou’s Poutine

Tobermory, ON, CA – Wiarton, ON, CA

Since the Ominous Ghost Cloud our riding has really been pretty nice and easy. Wind generally at our back. Fair skies. Fun riding. So good, in fact, that we decided to throw in a ride on a mountain bike trail along the way. We took the green route – but still . . . See the pics and videos.

Great day of riding for us, but none of the drama that makes for a good story for all of you . . .

So I may take today to comment on a few Canada-isms.

First off, and big on our minds right now after a little bit of a dinner bust, is it too much to ask to have a small grate over the fire pit? We literally have not seen a fire grate since Wisconsin. Not one in Da U.P. Not one in the Algoma or Sudbury districts of Ontario. (Still don’t know where the name Algoma comes from, but I guess it refers to the region around Sault St. Marie – and I’m really proud of myself for sounding like I know what I’m talking about . . .) And definitely no fire grate the last few days.

Now, my Mom told me I needed to be open minded and try poutine one of these days. I guess it’s a Canadian specialty. I’m not a huge french fry person, so I was a bit skeptical. But today’s lunch place – Cindy Lou’s in Lion’s Head – seemed to specialize in poutine. At least that’s what April, who was apparently in charge of the restaurant place today, was telling me. She says it’s the cheese curds that make poutine poutine.

“Some places,” she confided, “do not use real curds.” And she looked at me with a horrified expression. “And then we put brown gravy over the top.”

“Okay, I’ll have a large I guess. If there is any left I can just throw it away,” I said casually.

Another horrified expression. I read the unspoken Canadian here: “You can’t throw away our poutine. That would be sacrilege!”

I took this as another good sign. Anyone who takes that much pride in their cooking is going to whip me up something good.

Sure enough, I was pretty impressed. The fries were good. The gravy was good. The cheese curds were really good. And the three together were scrumptious.

The only small issue I had with lunch really wasn’t Cindy Lou’s fault. You see, Cindy Lou’s sits only a block or two from Lake Huron. And the wind coming off the big lake was freezing. You know how in Minneapolis the weather people say things like: “We’ll have a northwest wind today – it’s going to be cold because it’s coming straight out of Canada.”?

Well, it turns out it’s even worse when you are getting a northwest wind and you are already in Canada. I mean it doesn’t even have time to warm up as it blows through International Falls and Bemidji on the way to Minneapolis. It’s just a full-on, unbridled, unwarmed , Canadian wind, with all it’s arctic-ness.

But you know what’s worse than eating poutine at lunch with a Canadian wind blowing in? Sitting in a tent on the shores of Lake Huron with the sun and its little bit of warmth having long since set, trying to write a blog post with your bare hands exposed. That’s what!

Diana just talked to a lady who told her she thought it was going to get down into the single digits tonight.

Wait. Just wait now! There is no need to call the authorities. Or to fly out and pick us up. Remember, single digits in Canada is single digits Celsius. So there is no problem. It will definitely be above freezing. It could be a high as, like 47 or something . . .

Super unlikely that we’ll freeze to death before we have a chance to post this. As long as the IPAD continues to work at those temperatures I’m sure you’ll get your report. Don’t worry about us. They say you can recover from severe frost bite eventually.

We’re going to be fine.

Probably.

Okay – on a more positive note . . .

I never learned much about Johnny Appleseed – and I know it might seem like I’m obsessed with apples – but I am now convinced that Johnny Appleseed spent considerable time in Ontario and basically skipped over Minnesota entirely.

I mean, we had to stop playing the spot apples game because there are basically apple trees everywhere here. Red apples. Pink apples. White apples. Yellow apples. Small apples. Big apples. Crabapples. There are just endless apples here.

And I say this is more positive, but I will admit that I am a little disappointed, really. Because Johnny Appleseed, for all his seeding apple trees, was also a bit of an explorer. And I’m pretty sure he was an American because his name was Johnny – kind of an all-American name – and he was kind of important. And we all know that all important people in history were American – isn’t that what our last President told us?

I was really hoping we would be the first American explorers of note in this part of the world. To be beaten out by a guy with the last name of Appleseed – well, it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

The last Canadianism I’ll relate has to do with their gas stations. Now, obviously biking we’re not buying a lot of gas. But we have passed a bunch, and I did have one opportunity to purchase gas back in Sault St. Marie.

So the thing is, the gas stations are called Gas Bars. Today we saw Hoppy’s Gas Bar. But there have been lots of Gas Bars. Bob’s Gas Bar. Lara’s Gas Bar. Doesn’t matter. What’s the deal with Gas Bars?

“I’ll have two bottles of unleaded and a liter of premium.”

I’m sure there’s some logic here, but it’s lost on us.

Okay, but here’s the other thing. In Canada you can’t just buy whatever amount of gas you need to fill your tank. You have to buy the gas in increments of like $20.

Which was almost a problem for us the one time we bought gas. We figured out that we could use regular gas station gas for our camp stove. Having run out of white gas – our usual fuel – we went to re-fill our half-liter bottle with gas station gas – thinking that it would cost like $1.35 – even with more expensive Canadian gas – only to realize that the options were $20, $40, $60, etc. There was no option for as-much-as-you-need-even-if-it’s-only-$1.35.

Fortunately – and this brings us back to our most common Canadian theme – a nice guy who was pumping gas nearby saw that I was going to fill a small container and offered to just fill my container as part of his purchase. Super cool of him. And a great introduction to Canadians in general.

When I explained what I was doing – that is, hoping to use regular gas instead of white gas for our camp stove, his only comment was: “Don’t blow yourself up!”

Full disclosure – we tested the stove out behind the gas station and it seemed to work. But it would probably be alarming to many of you to learn that “working” means flames shooting up uncontrollably for a minute or so – until the stove is primed and hot. Then it hums along almost like a normal stove . . .

So that’s the news from Lake Huron.

Where all the children are at Tim Horton’s – and the adults are freezing in a tent somewhere not too far from Toronto!

Postscript . . .

We did survive the night. But that only because it was so cold. You see, it was another one of those super humid nights where our tent turned into a terrarium. It was so bad that the dripping started early. Drip. Drip. I could hear it splatting on the sleeping bag as I lay there trying to sleep. (Diana is spared this issue because she wears ear plugs.)

But the good news was that it was so cold that eventually stalagmites formed on the top of the tent – so that most of the moisture froze before it fell down on us. Honest to gosh, swear on my poutine, and my fingers are totally not crossed right now. See my 100% accurate, totally real, absolutely true drawing.