Sunday
Today I awakened to a strange whiny sound. My aunt asked, “Did the geese wake you up?” We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Actually, I guess we ARE in Kansas. Newmarket, Ontario, Kansas to be exact.
My aunt’s grand-daughter, Catherine, had her confirmation today. I made it through the long ceremony by reading the entire missal, and was impressed by this quote:
The best prayers often contain more groans than words.
They finally found a way to get me into church:
If this were a calendar, I would have bought it:
The church requests that you don’t drink and drive! Who’s guzzling that much sacrificial wine?
For dinner we went straight to the Crow’s Nest pub where I was sated with a Killians.
My mom ordered the prawns to start. They were nicely charred with a flavorful homemade cocktail sauce. This is only half a serving, because certain people have very fast fingers.
One nice thing about Canada is that you can get peirogies anywhere, including an Irish pub. The creamy potato and cheese filling wasn’t too bland, and the pierogie were deep fried to a lovely crisp and sprinkled with bits of bacon. It was almost like a stuffed potato skin encased in pie dough and deep fried. With sour cream.
A thousand calories later, our main dishes of fish and chips and roast beef arrived. The haddock was dense in contrast to the light batter. The fish squares were more similar to English fish and chips than the American version. The chips were nice as well.
The prime rib was a little overcooked, but still tender. Mom forgot that Canadians cook the hell out of their meat.
It’s important to stay well-armed. The pierogies must be guarded at all costs.