Over the last two weeks, I’ve been traveling around the
island of Newfoundland, Canada, in my museum persona, facilitating a series of workshops for heritage
organizations—but of course, finding time to eat and think about food along the
way. The traditional foods are still found in many places here—both in
restaurants for visitors like me,
but also for everyday people—in the same way that many Ukrainians still eat
borscht almost every day.
Newfoundland is the easternmost province of Canada—but in
fact, only became a part of Canada in 1949 and maintains a distinct identity. Newfoundlanders mostly perch on the
outer rim of this rocky island, with only half a million residents in the
entire province; 60,000 in the
provincial capital, St. John’s.
Aboriginal peoples have lived here for thousands of years, while Leif
Erikson and a band of Vikings landed at L’Anse aux Meadows in the year
1000. Irish, English, French and
Scottish immigrants shaped the province and its traditions.
I was struck by the ways in which scarcity and abundance,
two facets of food in Ukraine, also operate here. Almost anything from the sea was freely and easily
available, gained by your own labor.
One woman told me her family ate lobster easily once a week! Cod was king here, until overfishing
lead to the cod moratorium of the 1990s,
bringing drastic change to many fishing villages. I picked up a
reproduction of the 1958 cookbook,
The Treasury of Newfoundland
Dishes, composed of recipes
sent in by women from all over the island to a flour company sponsored radio
show. The variety of seafood
recipes is astounding: baked
flippers (seal) with vegetables, fish and tomato scallop, baked cod tongues,
fried cod heads, stewed grilse,
herring fried in oatmeal, fried squid, matelote of eel, fried capelin,
fried smelt, fried clams, fried
mussels, oyster stew, lobster
cutlets…the list goes on and on.
One night in Twillingate I tried fish and brewis, a dish that
exemplifies the simple, resourceful eating. It can be made with either salt cod or fresh fish and is
just hardtack or hard bread soaked overnight in cold water (as the salt cod
would be as well) and then both boiled separately and combined, and served with
scrunchions, small cubes of salt
pork fried golden brown, and the fat and cubes poured over the dish like
gravy.
Amazingly, I heard a radio program where local chefs and
others were discussing how hard it is to get local fish for restaurants here in
the province because of various regulations. And in St. Alban’s, a local radio
station read out the various opening and closing seasons for a host of
seafood: whelks, scallops, sea
urchins and more, many of which are now shipped to Japan and other places.
The forests also provide sustenance. Although moose were not introduced onto
the island until the 19th century, there are now thousands, and moose stew appears on many
menus. Berries grow in
abundance, although this year’s dry, hot season has produced fewer than usual,
said one gatherer. The
berries have their own particular Newfoundland names: what Scandanavians refer to as cloudberries are known as
bakeapples, and partridgeberries are better known as lingonberries. Crisps and crumbles, jam and jellies,
pies and even a partridgeberry cocktail make sure that the gifts of the short
season last throughout the year.
Old-fashioned root cellars still dot the landscape and those
crops that last through the winter are most commonly grown here. Those
traditional food preservation methods find their great expression in the Jiggs
Dinner, named after the mid-20th
comic book character in Molly and Jiggs, for reasons that are now lost in
time. A Jiggs Dinner (served
at what we call lunchtime) includes several variations, but the one I had at
the Cozy Tea Room in Twillingate(highly recommended by several locals) included salted beef (corned beef), pease pudding (dried split peas boiled
down into a stiff paste), boiled
potato, carrots and cabbage, pumpkin
pickle, a dumpling, and an onion bread pudding. Delicious! And
sure to sustain you in a long day’s physical work at home or on the boat.
At one workshop we began talking about food, and one
participant remembered her mother “bottling” everything: flippers, turr (a shore bird), capelin (a small fish), herring and
more, ensuring that the family would have enough to get through the long
winters. The Treasury
cookbook has a recipe for preserved moose:
Wash moose meat and
cut in small pieces. Place meat in
jars, add 2 teasppons salt and enough boiling water to fill jars within one
ince of top. Seal jars and loosen
slightly. Process in boiling water
for 4 hours or in a pressure cooker for 1 ¾ hours at 10 pounds pressure. [No instructions provided for getting
that moose in the first place].
When we talked about seminal events in the 20th
century lives of Newfoundlanders,
many workshop participants remarked that the Great Depression had little
effect on their families’ lives here—because people lived on what they could
catch, gather or raise, and had little other money; they could manage in the same way they had often had. (Above, moose stew).
But managing with what they had didn’t mean doing without
sweets. I discovered the English
and Irish traditions of great desserts still in force here, including many
types of steamed puddings.
Here’s one recipe from the cookbook for a cranberry pudding (as I assume
cranberries might be easier for Pickle Project readers to find than bakeapples
or partridgeberries).
1 cup fresh chopped
cranberries
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup boiling water
½ cup granulated sugar
½ light molasses
1 egg, well-beaten
1 ½ cups sifted Cream
of the West (the cookbook sponsor) flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
Put cranberries and
butter in a mixing bowl; add
boiling water. Then add the sugar,
molasses and beaten egg. Stir
until well mixed. Add the sifted
dry ingredients. Pour into a
well-greased one-quart pudding bowl,
Cover tightly. Steam for 2
hours. Serve with a foamy sauce.
Partridgeberry Crisp
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