Monday Morning Musings

Posted on August 17, 2020 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Food, glorious food!

 

Can man survive on bread alone?

Can man survive for two weeks on banana pancakes and miniature carrots?

The first reference comes from the bible. The second comes from first- hand experience.

This biblical reference has popped into my head several times in recent days. Those of us who live alone understand the challenges of cooking for one person. It’s hard to prepare a meal that’s designed for one unless you opt to go to KFC for a “dinner for one”. Meal preparation results in the inevitable. You will be eating leftovers for a few days.

A few… and a few more.

Knowing that I would be in isolation for 14 days upon my return to the north, I placed an online grocery order in hopes that my food would arrive around the same time that I did. I was extremely grateful to a colleague who left a few food items at my apartment door, realizing that my groceries might not come and that I wouldn’t be able to go to either of our two grocery stores. This turned out to be a godsend. Included in this gesture of goodwill was a bag of baby carrots. My grocery order did arrive later that day.

Stay with me here.

As I unpacked my suitcases, I popped a frozen lasgana into the oven. I would become well acquainted with this Italian delicacy over the next five days. I ate egg salad sandwiches for endless days. I didn’t take me quite two weeks to polish off 32 homemade oatmeal and coconut cookies.

I initially thought that I would have plenty of food to do me during self-isolation. In fact, I did, but the variety left something to be desired. For a few days, I watched a bunch of bananas wither and die. I used a few of them to make a fruit salad. I had a choice of either making a banana bread or pancakes with the rest of them. I chose the pancakes.

When I placed my grocery order in the south, I asked for a large bag of carrots. I should have been more specific and asked for a bag of large carrots. I received the biggest bag of baby carrots that I had ever laid eyes on. Combined with the bag I had received from my friend, I had enough small carrots to possibly last a lifetime.

Well into week 2 of quarantine, my fridge was virtually bare except for a large steel bowl of banana pancake batter and a million miniature carrots. A recipe for a single batch of pancakes would have sufficed but rather than toss out some bananas, I decided to double the recipe. The result was impressive. However, there was enough batter for a pancake breakfast for a big family reunion or a church hall pancake supper.

Here’s a question for you foodies out there. Are baby carrots real? These runt sized, perfectly symmetrical vegetables, taste something like the cross between recycled cardboard and uncooked, dry lentils. I have come to believe that their real purpose is to staunch the flow of blood during a nosebleed by inserting one of them in your nostril. Alternatively, they would be an adequate substitute for ear plugs. The other thing I noticed about these small, bullet shaped root vegetables is that they have the life span of a mayfly once you open the bag. In case you’re wondering, mayflies live on average, 24 hours. Man, if you’re a mayfly you definitely need to make hay while the sun shines. Carpe diem takes on a whole new meaning.I have noticed that exposed to fresh air, seeing that they’ve probably been a vacuum sealed bag for months if not years, baby carrots turn slimy. Ok. Enough. You get my drift.

Because my quarantine ended on the weekend, I was able to restock my fridge. Oh yes. When I placed my second grocery order from down south, I used very descriptive language to indicate the size of carrots I wanted.

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The Inuit people are the friendliest people I’ve ever met. Despite being in self isolation, I have been able to go for daily walks on the tundra and the back roads leading into the countryside. I get stopped routinely by local people welcoming me back. Their smiles could light the night sky.

I have become intimately acquainted with two truck drivers. They have been hauling truck loads of huge rocks to town from a nearby quarry for the foundation for a new warehouse. On my long walks out to the landfill, they pass me numerous times. The road on which I’m walking is a dirt road and at this time of the year is quite dusty. When they see me coming off in the distance, they immediately gear down to avoid me getting choked with dust. They always give me a big wave and a smile.

One day last week as I walked this road, I could hear the distinct sound of an eagle overhead. It swooped and soared, passing over me with some regularity. Around this time, one of the trucks approached me. The driver slowed down as he usually does but this time he came to a complete stop. From his cab high above the road, he pointed to the sky and the mountains nearby. “Eagles nest,” was all he said as he headed into town. All the squawking made sense now.

The other day, I was walking to the water plant to refill my water container. To get there and stay off the main street, I walked across the tundra which, among other things, is home to a five- hole golf course. Running adjacent to the course are burial grounds, the pipeline which carries oil from the tankers to the oil terminal and a pack of sled dogs. It is without doubt, the most unique location for a golf course. There was a man on one of the synthetic putting greens practicing. He waved and asked me if I wanted to play a bit of golf. Some of you know that I was a pretty keen golfer for a long time. I was sorely tempted to join him but wanted to adhere to the strict protocol of my self- isolation. I took a rain check!

We did, however have a splendid, socially distance chat. We first talked golf and he told me that he was a 9- time local champion. Watching his putting stroke, I wasn’t surprised. We moved on to other subjects. He told me that he was a hunter and a fisher. He told me about his ever-growing family. He had a lovely spirit about him. He told me that Kangiqsujuaq was the most beautiful place in the world. I paused and reflected on this last statement. I certainly haven’t seen a lot of the world, but I have seen some. I agreed with him.

As it turned out, the water plant outdoor spigot wasn’t working on this day. I headed back home but not before stopping by the putting green again. My new friend pointed at a nearby mountain about one kilometer away. He said that there was a spot at the base of the mountain to get the purest water on earth.

I walked over the tundra, past the dog sled team and around one of the burial grounds. I filled my jug with cold, pristine water. Passing by the graveyard again, I stopped and removed my hat. I stood there in silence looking at the rows of simple white crosses.

Surrounded by mountains and the bay, I was quite moved by the experience.

Have a great week.