It was supposed to be a quick hour or so in the kitchen, but it turned into a scavenger hunt. All this as I assembled the ingredients for a pie.
Not just any pie, of course. If you have been following the recent, odd path of my life (and I don't blame you if you have been focused on the Canadiens, the Canucks, Helena Geurgis or other issues of great import, instead), you know that I was offered the assignment of making a pie, to be sold at auction.
This is all in a good cause, of course -- it will raise money for the New Hamburg Interfaith Counselling Centre. It should also (vested interest is never far away, is it?) raise awareness of my campaign for mayor.
It's because of the latter that I was fingered as a pastry chef. Each of the candidates for Wilmot mayor was invited to bake a pie, to be sold in this event. Also on hand will be well-known piemen Mayor Wayne Roth and Harold Albrecht, MP.
I think the Silent Auction organizers figured the mayoral candidates would see
this as a bit of a competition, and urge their friends to rally around and bid. Which will, in the end, fatten the take for this worthwhile charity. Good thinking.
One cannot simply jump in and make a pie, though. It takes planning and forethought. I decided to make a "community minded pie", which is tough, since pies have neither community nor, come to think of it, a mind.
But I gave it my best shot, and this is where the scavenging bit comes in. After consulting with my sous-chef (she said it's okay if I call her that), I decided to make an apple pie. Nothing says "home" like an apple pie, in my opinion. So I wandered over to Pfennings and asked if I could get some organic apples. They were very kind, loading up a small box with organic spies, and then refusing payment because the cause is worthwhile. So I had my apples, from Wilmot township.
But in the spirit of "community", I wanted to add other touches of the township to the pie. So I was off to collect a couple of free range eggs from New Dundee area chickens -- I'm told I have a corner on the poultry vote, supported by chickens in Dundee and that rogue rooster in Baden I have defended in print. However, I'm also told that chickens can't actually vote, so this is a moral victory at best.
I adapted the recipe to include a splash of maple syrup -- not only is this as Canadian as rolling up a rim, this is maple syrup made from the trees along our very own Shade Street, and boiled up to perfection by my friend and neighbour Paul Mackie.
Finally, what is apple pie without cheese? So I dropped by Oak Grove Cheese and picked up a pound or so of their old Cheddar. Finer cheddar you won't find, anywhere. This is a nice dessert combo, but, to tell the truth, I was also covering my bets -- if no one thinks my pie is worth a bid, at least they will be willing to buy the cheese!
All the assembling completed, I started to peel and slice apples. A lot of apples. And to make the crust (using lard, on the rather insistent advice of my mother-in-law, who proclaimed that flaky crust demands lard). Nancy and I worked together to weave the pastry lattice atop the pie, and popped it into the oven.
Then, she had to make me stop opening the oven every three minutes to make sure it wasn't burning. Eventually, I left the kitchen for a while, to avoid that particular compulsion.
A few hours after I write this, it will be sold at auction, along with the pies made by the other guys. Tell you what... I'll report back after the fact, with an up to the minute comment about the proceeds from the pie.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
An exercise in obfuscation
Obfuscate.
That is a great word. It means, according to a readily accessible on-line dictionary, "to darken, make obscure, confuse."
It may also, although this did not come up in the brief web dictionary, mean "to be the Prime Minister of Canada."
Let me digress for a moment. A week ago, I was invited to appear on Brent Hanson's CTV debating program, "What's Your Point?" I've been on this show about four times, including during its previous incarnation as "Final Round."
"Final Round" was staged in a mock boxing ring; "What's Your Point" sees verbal war waged from comfortable leather couches. Apart from that, the premise is pretty much the same -- four people, clearly not expert on every topic, debate five issues of the day for up to about four minutes for each topic. That's not a lot of time to solve the problems of the world, but it is plenty of time to hurl epithets and accusations at one another, and a good time is had by all.
Except for the shy people, but Brent seems to weed them out pretty well before anybody of that ilk makes it onto the set.
One of our topics had to do with the currently notorious Helena Guergis -- the question was, "Should she quit or should she be fired?" This was taped about two days before she left cabinet and caucus; it aired a couple of days after her departure, so we either appeared prophetic or passé.
I took the position that Stephen Harper should turf her, and so show some much-needed commitment to integrity.
Instead... you knew I would get back to this, eventually... we have mostly seen obfuscation. She did leave cabinet, apparently asked to resign, a sort of terminal middle ground. And Harper kicked her out of the Conservative caucus.
But... you know this, too... he won't actually say why. And in the week since Helena's change of status, we the people have been handed obfuscation after obfuscation. Her lawyer says she hasn't even been told the reason for her ouster; Harper's office says, "has, too!"
The ethics commissioner says she hasn't the grounds to investigate Guergis.
Harper's people say she has all the information. The ethics commissioner then says she has not been asked to investigate. Harper's people say she has, sort of, but not entirely.
The RCMP has been asked to investigate, and have said very little. It has been pointed out that some such investigations can last for years.
The news media are digging and scavenging for scraps, and uncovering all manner
of rumours and hearsay about Guergis and her fallen-from-grace husband, former
Conservative MP Rahim Jaffer. The stories mention, among other things, cocaine,
alcohol and "busty hookers".
These reports raise a couple of questions for me; mainly, if this represents the night life of leading members of Stephen Harper's Conservative Party, what the heck are the Liberals, the Bloc, or those wild and crazy New Democrats up to, anyway? How nuts do those MPs get when Parliament is done for the day?
And second -- I merely muse about this for linguistic clarity -- isn't the phrase "busty hooker" by and large redundant?
In a strange way, Helena Guergis presented the Prime Minister with an unusually clear opportunity. This was his chance to be unequivocally ethical, to state what he is doing and why, to make clear the integrity of his party.
Instead, we have a fairly high level of obfuscation. Good word. Bad policy.
That is a great word. It means, according to a readily accessible on-line dictionary, "to darken, make obscure, confuse."
It may also, although this did not come up in the brief web dictionary, mean "to be the Prime Minister of Canada."
Let me digress for a moment. A week ago, I was invited to appear on Brent Hanson's CTV debating program, "What's Your Point?" I've been on this show about four times, including during its previous incarnation as "Final Round."
"Final Round" was staged in a mock boxing ring; "What's Your Point" sees verbal war waged from comfortable leather couches. Apart from that, the premise is pretty much the same -- four people, clearly not expert on every topic, debate five issues of the day for up to about four minutes for each topic. That's not a lot of time to solve the problems of the world, but it is plenty of time to hurl epithets and accusations at one another, and a good time is had by all.
Except for the shy people, but Brent seems to weed them out pretty well before anybody of that ilk makes it onto the set.
One of our topics had to do with the currently notorious Helena Guergis -- the question was, "Should she quit or should she be fired?" This was taped about two days before she left cabinet and caucus; it aired a couple of days after her departure, so we either appeared prophetic or passé.
I took the position that Stephen Harper should turf her, and so show some much-needed commitment to integrity.
Instead... you knew I would get back to this, eventually... we have mostly seen obfuscation. She did leave cabinet, apparently asked to resign, a sort of terminal middle ground. And Harper kicked her out of the Conservative caucus.
But... you know this, too... he won't actually say why. And in the week since Helena's change of status, we the people have been handed obfuscation after obfuscation. Her lawyer says she hasn't even been told the reason for her ouster; Harper's office says, "has, too!"
The ethics commissioner says she hasn't the grounds to investigate Guergis.
Harper's people say she has all the information. The ethics commissioner then says she has not been asked to investigate. Harper's people say she has, sort of, but not entirely.
The RCMP has been asked to investigate, and have said very little. It has been pointed out that some such investigations can last for years.
The news media are digging and scavenging for scraps, and uncovering all manner
of rumours and hearsay about Guergis and her fallen-from-grace husband, former
Conservative MP Rahim Jaffer. The stories mention, among other things, cocaine,
alcohol and "busty hookers".
These reports raise a couple of questions for me; mainly, if this represents the night life of leading members of Stephen Harper's Conservative Party, what the heck are the Liberals, the Bloc, or those wild and crazy New Democrats up to, anyway? How nuts do those MPs get when Parliament is done for the day?
And second -- I merely muse about this for linguistic clarity -- isn't the phrase "busty hooker" by and large redundant?
In a strange way, Helena Guergis presented the Prime Minister with an unusually clear opportunity. This was his chance to be unequivocally ethical, to state what he is doing and why, to make clear the integrity of his party.
Instead, we have a fairly high level of obfuscation. Good word. Bad policy.
Friday, April 9, 2010
When large garbage was a really big show
The innovation is probably an improvement, but I miss the old ways. Today is large garbage day on my street. That's the new policy here in Wilmot township -- the first week of the month means the collection of "large garbage", on whatever day your refuse is usually collected.
This is a welcome service, of course, and doing it once a month is undoubtedly a good idea. It may even be more efficient.
But once upon a time, not so many years ago, large garbage day was just a semi-annual event, and, boy, did that result in enormous piles of cast-offs sitting in front of homes all over town.
It was a bonanza for garbage pickers, metal scavengers, and anyone looking for a beat up old table for a work room, garage or potting shed. Trucks, vans and even wagons toured the town, salvaging hither and yon. Drivers and their passengers would prowl past, checking out the discarded junk. It actually hurt a bit when they didn't stop, and you realized that nothing in your pile was of interest, even to a junk collector. That cuts deep.
Those of us without larger vehicles would wander our own streets on foot, looking for overlooked and unwanted potential treasures. To this day, my front garden, in summer, is decorated with an antique push cultivator a neighbour had put out for collection. I would venture to guess that most people on our street have neighbourhood cast-offs somewhere in their garage or shed.
In fact, some of those items may have been recycled through local homes three or four times, because, let's face it, not everything that seems a good idea at the time turns out to be a positive, long-term strategy. I still wonder about the guy who took my canoe after the craft had been crushed to kindling by a higher-than-expected ice jam on the Nith. If he managed to restore it, I'm impressed. Or maybe he wanted it for a chaise longue, like Joey and Chandler on Friends.
It was fun to cruise the streets of town on large garbage night, "window shopping" the curbside detritus, commenting on the wisdom or lack thereof involved in throwing away such valuable stuff. "I can't believe they're throwing that out -- there are plenty of years left in that couch." Worse, "I can't believe anyone ever thought that colour was a good idea!"
Your foibles are revealed to the world, on large garbage day.
But now that this happens 12 times a year instead of only two, the critical mass has been lost. There may still be salvagers, but the sheer mass of the discards is no longer overwhelming. Gone are the days when a pile of large garage could completely block the view of the home involved, when removing an item meant you were risking a life-threatening avalanche of abandoned furniture and appliances.
Not every large garbage event was positive, mind you. Once upon a time, I put out an old barbecue, which we had replaced with a newer model. It immediately attracted salvagers... and I have no problem with that.
What I do have a problem with is, they took out all the greasy, ashy, rusty bits they didn't want, and dumped them willy nilly on my lawn, making off only with the parts they wanted. That, it seems to me, breaks the unwritten rule of large garbage, which is, "Take anything you want, but take the whole thing."
I'm going to stop writing now, and go outside to haul my large garbage to the street. I'm betting the rotting, wooden garden obelisk is gone within half an hour.
This is a welcome service, of course, and doing it once a month is undoubtedly a good idea. It may even be more efficient.
But once upon a time, not so many years ago, large garbage day was just a semi-annual event, and, boy, did that result in enormous piles of cast-offs sitting in front of homes all over town.
It was a bonanza for garbage pickers, metal scavengers, and anyone looking for a beat up old table for a work room, garage or potting shed. Trucks, vans and even wagons toured the town, salvaging hither and yon. Drivers and their passengers would prowl past, checking out the discarded junk. It actually hurt a bit when they didn't stop, and you realized that nothing in your pile was of interest, even to a junk collector. That cuts deep.
Those of us without larger vehicles would wander our own streets on foot, looking for overlooked and unwanted potential treasures. To this day, my front garden, in summer, is decorated with an antique push cultivator a neighbour had put out for collection. I would venture to guess that most people on our street have neighbourhood cast-offs somewhere in their garage or shed.
In fact, some of those items may have been recycled through local homes three or four times, because, let's face it, not everything that seems a good idea at the time turns out to be a positive, long-term strategy. I still wonder about the guy who took my canoe after the craft had been crushed to kindling by a higher-than-expected ice jam on the Nith. If he managed to restore it, I'm impressed. Or maybe he wanted it for a chaise longue, like Joey and Chandler on Friends.
It was fun to cruise the streets of town on large garbage night, "window shopping" the curbside detritus, commenting on the wisdom or lack thereof involved in throwing away such valuable stuff. "I can't believe they're throwing that out -- there are plenty of years left in that couch." Worse, "I can't believe anyone ever thought that colour was a good idea!"
Your foibles are revealed to the world, on large garbage day.
But now that this happens 12 times a year instead of only two, the critical mass has been lost. There may still be salvagers, but the sheer mass of the discards is no longer overwhelming. Gone are the days when a pile of large garage could completely block the view of the home involved, when removing an item meant you were risking a life-threatening avalanche of abandoned furniture and appliances.
Not every large garbage event was positive, mind you. Once upon a time, I put out an old barbecue, which we had replaced with a newer model. It immediately attracted salvagers... and I have no problem with that.
What I do have a problem with is, they took out all the greasy, ashy, rusty bits they didn't want, and dumped them willy nilly on my lawn, making off only with the parts they wanted. That, it seems to me, breaks the unwritten rule of large garbage, which is, "Take anything you want, but take the whole thing."
I'm going to stop writing now, and go outside to haul my large garbage to the street. I'm betting the rotting, wooden garden obelisk is gone within half an hour.
Friday, April 2, 2010
So, how's the campaign going?
"So," say folks I meet on the street, "How's the campaign going?"
"By the way," add friends and colleagues who email me about something totally
unrelated, "How's the election campaign going?"
My immediate reaction is to be self-deprecating, to say that I really don't know
how it is going, to point out that it's really early in the process that will
stretch nearly a year from first stirrings and private conversations to the
voting on October 25.
Self-deprecation, however, is apparently not an attribute in a candidate for
political office. So I could say, "Fabulous. I've got this thing in the bag."
However, over-confidence is also not an attribute in a candidate for political
office. Neither is stupidity, and the preceding response would fall well within
that category.
So my answer, for the time being, is that it seems to be going well. How do I
know this? All the evidence is anecdotal, of course, and based on interaction
with a a few hundred of the 19,000 residents of Wilmot, the township I hope to
lead as mayor in the next term.
But those interactions are really very positive. I'm getting a lot of supportive
comments, and not only from friends. Acquaintances and strangers are also
telling me that a) they're glad I am running; b) they hear other people saying
positive things about my campaign; and c) they have some issues they'd like to
see discussed. Often, they also ask how they can help.
This is all good news.
What they are not saying, because I don't ask, is that they will vote for me. I
don't ask because I really do believe our system is properly based on a secret
ballot, and what happens in the privacy of a polling booth is between a voter
and her or his personal convictions.
I hope that their positive comments translate into votes, of course. My campaign
will need a lot of them to win this thing.
The other answer to "how is the campaign going?" is, quite honestly, "it's going
in unexpected directions."
By this, I refer to events I had never dreamed of -- for instance, the
Interfaith Silent Auction, 2 p.m., April 24, where a pie I'm going to bake will
be auctioned off for charity, along with pies baked by my opponents and other
local politicians. I have been invited to participate, I said yes, I can bake a
pie. Type to be determined.
Also unexpected -- but very welcome -- are the phone calls and emails I am receiving about fascinating and very specific concerns ranging from turkey hunting to transportation for children. It is clear that a pre-packaged campaign will not do the job in the election... I have to be open and flexible, and willing to listen.
What other unexpected events or questions will arise mid-campaign? I can only wait and see.
I'm hoping for no dunks tanks.
In the meantime, I am talking to people and, more importantly, I am trying to
listen. I am frankly surprised that, at this relatively early date, residents
of Wilmot township are talking about the election. But they are, and a fair amount
from what I can determine. More and more of the comments I am hearing include
the statement, "I was talking to a group of friends about the election, the
other day, and they think..."
What they think varies, of course, but there is a lot about the need for
leadership, for an articulate voice to stand up for the interests of the
township, and for someone to care about the needs of our individual
communities, from flood control in New Hamburg, to good sports fields in
Petersburg and New Dundee, to maintaining the threatened sense of local spirit
in Baden.
These are all important things.
People also talk about the impact of bigger governments on our relatively small
township, especially the Region and the province. That's a major concern of mine,
too.
So when I'm asked, "How's the campaign going?" another good answer would be, "I
believe it's on the right track. People are concerned about things that I think
are important. I think we're on the road to some solutions."
If that sounds like political speechmaking, I don't apologize. Because politics,
at its best, is a means to find solutions for the problems facing the people.
And that's also where this campaign is going.
"By the way," add friends and colleagues who email me about something totally
unrelated, "How's the election campaign going?"
My immediate reaction is to be self-deprecating, to say that I really don't know
how it is going, to point out that it's really early in the process that will
stretch nearly a year from first stirrings and private conversations to the
voting on October 25.
Self-deprecation, however, is apparently not an attribute in a candidate for
political office. So I could say, "Fabulous. I've got this thing in the bag."
However, over-confidence is also not an attribute in a candidate for political
office. Neither is stupidity, and the preceding response would fall well within
that category.
So my answer, for the time being, is that it seems to be going well. How do I
know this? All the evidence is anecdotal, of course, and based on interaction
with a a few hundred of the 19,000 residents of Wilmot, the township I hope to
lead as mayor in the next term.
But those interactions are really very positive. I'm getting a lot of supportive
comments, and not only from friends. Acquaintances and strangers are also
telling me that a) they're glad I am running; b) they hear other people saying
positive things about my campaign; and c) they have some issues they'd like to
see discussed. Often, they also ask how they can help.
This is all good news.
What they are not saying, because I don't ask, is that they will vote for me. I
don't ask because I really do believe our system is properly based on a secret
ballot, and what happens in the privacy of a polling booth is between a voter
and her or his personal convictions.
I hope that their positive comments translate into votes, of course. My campaign
will need a lot of them to win this thing.
The other answer to "how is the campaign going?" is, quite honestly, "it's going
in unexpected directions."
By this, I refer to events I had never dreamed of -- for instance, the
Interfaith Silent Auction, 2 p.m., April 24, where a pie I'm going to bake will
be auctioned off for charity, along with pies baked by my opponents and other
local politicians. I have been invited to participate, I said yes, I can bake a
pie. Type to be determined.
Also unexpected -- but very welcome -- are the phone calls and emails I am receiving about fascinating and very specific concerns ranging from turkey hunting to transportation for children. It is clear that a pre-packaged campaign will not do the job in the election... I have to be open and flexible, and willing to listen.
What other unexpected events or questions will arise mid-campaign? I can only wait and see.
I'm hoping for no dunks tanks.
In the meantime, I am talking to people and, more importantly, I am trying to
listen. I am frankly surprised that, at this relatively early date, residents
of Wilmot township are talking about the election. But they are, and a fair amount
from what I can determine. More and more of the comments I am hearing include
the statement, "I was talking to a group of friends about the election, the
other day, and they think..."
What they think varies, of course, but there is a lot about the need for
leadership, for an articulate voice to stand up for the interests of the
township, and for someone to care about the needs of our individual
communities, from flood control in New Hamburg, to good sports fields in
Petersburg and New Dundee, to maintaining the threatened sense of local spirit
in Baden.
These are all important things.
People also talk about the impact of bigger governments on our relatively small
township, especially the Region and the province. That's a major concern of mine,
too.
So when I'm asked, "How's the campaign going?" another good answer would be, "I
believe it's on the right track. People are concerned about things that I think
are important. I think we're on the road to some solutions."
If that sounds like political speechmaking, I don't apologize. Because politics,
at its best, is a means to find solutions for the problems facing the people.
And that's also where this campaign is going.
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