The RoadSide Cafe

It was one of those days. We needed some machinery parts and headed to town. The dogs and I went along with my husband for the ride - the dogs because they love being with their people, and me, well I had the promise of a lunch out! We went to every parts place in our market town but they didn’t carry what we needed. Feeling rather deflated we motored on to the next town to try our luck, with partial success. We were getting pretty hungry by then so we decided to try out the RoadSide Cafe on the west end. We could barely find a parking place in the tiny lot so we figured it must have the locals’ stamp of approval.

“Take a seat over there,” said the proprietor (a young man anywhere from 30 to 50 - everyone looks young when you’re over 70). “I’ll get to you in about 10 minutes if that’s okay.” We sat in the middle and on the side wall, each of us having a different view, me north, husband south. Folks around us were chatting away, some eating, some finished, some waiting for their meal. We filled our wait time with people watching.

The place was humming and the waiter/cook/owner was all on his own. I had a good view of the kitchen and he was practically flying! An elderly woman began wandering around, gathering a plate here, a spoon there. I was quite sure she was the “Mom”, or the owner, helping her son out, but it turned out she was a helpful customer who rightly figured Mr. RoadSide could use some assistance (no pun intended), though she accomplished very little. Across the way sat a slender, fitter version of Colonel Sanders. Ever since we sat down I’d been watching this fellow carry on lively conversation accented with expansive gestures. He must have been telling a good story!

Mr. RoadSide began to bring out meals. “Here you go, Maggie. Fred, that’s right isn’t it? Fries with gravy on the side? Flo, for you, sorry for the wait!” Back and fourth he went, cooking, serving, taking our order, chatting with a fencing crew seated near the entry (they looked like a biker gang - bald heads, matching jackets with a raptor on the back, a gal with blue hair).

The elderly self appointed bus-girl finished her rounds then carried a carton containing a burger and fries to her husband out in their car, explaining as she passed by us that she had to take his food out because he was unable to come in. On her return she was shivering and hugging her sweater close. “God awful windy and cold out there,” she said. I agreed.

The large group behind me got up to leave, all carrying on about their plans for the remainder of the day, saying they’d be back for breakfast. “I’m feeling a bit scattered today,” the cook told them. “Most of the time I have no problem but it’s been hard to concentrate the last few days. A friend of mine got Covid and he also has COPD so I’ve been really worried, but he’s doing okay now. I hope you enjoyed your meals?” Assurances were passed around, bills paid, things got quieter.

The man-of-all-tasks brought our order then grabbed an arm full of empty plates and bussed them to the back. We dug into our senior menu specials and he stopped by our table. “How’s your meals, I hope the wait wasn’t too long,” he said. “I usually have just a few couples in here and it’s not hard to manage, but that big group showed up just before you and I had to get their order out.” 

We were the last customers to leave and the restaurant closed. Apparently it is only open for breakfast and lunch. Butterscotch pudding was a nice topper to our hearty and  much enjoyed meal. I headed for the rest room and Mr. RoadSide was wandering around the now empty restaurant with a cell phone recording what needed to be done and how the day had gone. He looked at me and said, “The meals are only the beginning, now it’s all the cleaning and preparation for tomorrow. Guess you gotta make a dollar though! It was a good day today.”

We left the RoadSide Cafe feeling relaxed with a decent meal in our bellies. It was like we had just had dinner with a big happy family, well worth our decision to pass on a fast food outlet.

mltipton.blogspot.com, 

https://www.facebook.com/Northof543/, 

abcentre54

May 4, 2022

Beets

I’m sooo excited, never thought they were mature enough but look, my own beet seeds!!!

Can We Afford to Eat Anymore?

Can We Afford to Eat Anymore?

I went shopping for a few groceries yesterday. What a demoralizing experience! 

I’m curious, how does the government calculate its inflation rate? Food prices have increased, it seems to me, at a much higher rate than the current figure I found on the web. Most basic food products seem to be up one-two dollars or more per item. Many are 50% to 100 % higher than they were just a few months ago.

According to Statistics Canada,  “Canada’s annual inflation rate quickened to 5.7% in February of 2022, the highest since August of 1991…. Prices rose faster in six of the eight major components, notably for shelter (6.6% vs 6.2% in January), which rose at the steepest pace since August 1983. Sharp price increases were also seen in transportation (8.7% vs 8.3%), bolstered by a 32.3% surge in gasoline charges at the pump; costs of food (6.7% vs 5.7%), as prices of food in grocery stores rose at the fastest rate in 13 years.

I have no understanding of how the monetary system, the global market, or trade agreements work, or why shortages elsewhere raise prices where there is no shortage. I’ve found that prices vary, sometimes by a lot, from grocery store to grocery store. I’m sure grocers would be able to state many reasons why products are priced higher in their establishment than in another. I know volume buying and sourcing plays a big part in pricing - so does paying for fancy buildings, convenient location, better employee wages, good customer service, top quality products, more brand variety, expanded product choice, delis, eye-catching displays and reward programs - all of which are attractants for consumers and extra costs for proprietors. But I’ve never understood how a can of beans, a chicken, New Zealand lamb, any food stuff from anywhere overseas could cost less in a grocery store here than a similar item produced locally. Input costs may be less overseas - lower wages, subsidized fuel, substandard working conditions, longer growing seasons - but you would think transportation cost would eliminate the price advantage, especially if the environment is considered.

I sometimes feel robbed when I compare prices from one place to the next. I can’t help but think that there are some people & corporations out there getting much richer just because they can. For shopping I have a choice between two market towns, Amazon and other on-line retailers, and the city. The larger town has 2 big box chain grocery stores and the other has a Co-op and an independent grocer. When I need a lot of groceries I go where my dollar spreads the furthest. This usually leads me to the big box stores or Amazon where I have found price differentials as high as $5 on some items. If I need only a few items I pick them up wherever I happen to be. The cost of transportation does have to be considered.

I am lucky to live on a small farm. I can produce my own meat and grow a garden, keep bees. I get eggs from a neighbour. I cook from scratch. The woods around us are filled with wild meat and berries. And I don’t have a job outside my home taking up a huge chunk of my time. So, because we live where we do and are willing to do the work required, my family can still afford to eat well. But how will lower income families, seniors and others on fixed incomes who don’t have such advantages manage to cope? Even if they would prefer to support local, consumers with limited means in an inflationary marketplace have little choice but to seek out the best price for the products needed. And with big rises in gas, heating fuel, electricity, rents etc, people may be forced to make some hard choices. 

 I have a feeling the food banks are going to be very busy. 

There’s lots of ways to minimize costs. 

These are some kitchen savers I’ve made habitual… I suspect nearly everyone could add tips to this list.

• Cook from scratch including bread, cakes, cookies
• Select-a-size paper towels, substitute microfibre cloths
• Buy non-perishable items and cleaners in larger quantities or sizes
• Stock up on sale items
• Don't waste food, eat leftovers as is or incorporate into the next meal
• Know what’s in your fridge and use it before it’s too late
• Know what’s in your freezer and use within a reasonable time
• Keep a running grocery list, shop less frequently, avoid impulse buying 
• Know your prices, know your stores, check out flyers
• Can or freeze fruits, vegetables, meats when they are abundant and lower priced.
• Slow cook less expensive cuts of meat 
• Make stews, soups, and casseroles
• Best before, not rotten after

mltipton.blogspot.com

April 10, 2022

Toot Toot!

Toot, Toot!

My mother always told me, “You have to toot your own horn. If you don’t toot your own horn nobody’s going to toot it for you.” A wise woman, my mother. So, TOOT, TOOT, TOOT, MY CARROT SEEDS ARE GOOD! 🎶🎵

I’ve conducted a germination test on the carrot seeds I produced last summer (see blog Sept. 1, 2021) and they sprouted within about 5 days! I’m so excited! Three years I’ve been trying to produce carrot seeds - first year I only got flowers, the second year I got very tiny, obviously immature seeds, and now - WHOOPIE! Three times the charm! I knew they looked good, just like carrot seed… but until now I wasn’t sure they were viable.

My germination test consisted of placing a counted number of seeds inside the folds of a wet squeezed out paper towel and placing it in a plastic bag in a warm place. I checked on them every few days to make sure the paper towel didn’t dry out and when they began to sprout I counted the number that sprouted and the ones that didn’t to get a percentage. There was a high enough percentage of germination for me to be confident they’re good to plant in the garden. TOOT, TOOT, TOOT!

A friend told me it’s better to use newspaper to germinate seeds. With paper towels the tiny sprouts tend to grow right into the fibres and get tangled up. Then the delicate sprouts may break off when you remove the seeds to plant them into your starter pots. So I will try using newspaper this year when I start my bedding plants, but it’s not time yet, for me anyhow.

My seed carrot is the only thing I’ll be planting soon. I want to give it a good start. We don’t cut the tops off our carrots when we store them in peat in our cellar. We just cut off the greenery as close as possible without damaging the carrot, and we don’t wash them. So I’ll select a well preserved carrot of good size that’s beginning to set out a bit of greenery on its own and plant it in a deep pot. Hopefully it’ll mature to provide seeds for 2023! I won’t start my other bedding plants until mid April. My indoor growing area under a grow light is small so space is limited, especially when the little seedlings aren’t so little any more! First the lambs, then the garden. Everything in it’s time.

mltipton.blogspot.com

March 18, 2022

Winter’s Demise

Let’s Talk About the Weather

In 1998 I wrote this song. I envisioned people gathered around a campfire, relaxing, having a few beers, gabbing, and telling tales.

Talk About the Weather

Chorus:

When country folk all get together

They always talk about the weather

And if it’s dry they’ll wish it wetter 

And if it wet they’ll want sunshine.

They all remember years gone by

When it was cold, or wet, or dry,

When lightening creased the southern sky,

When snow lay thick among the pines.

Verses:

The blossoms came quite late this year,

There’s lots of twins among the deer,

The skies at night are crystal clear,

The beaver’s coats are thick, I hear.

The groundhog’s shadow failed to show,

The robins red stand in a row,

Sun dogs, moon beams, skies aglow, 

Read the signs and you will know.

Watch the critters, check the moon,

Expect late frost in early June,

The rains will come too late, too soon,

The scorching heat the crops will ruin.

Minus 20 in late September,

Colder yet by mid November.

New Year’s Eve, do you remember

The black ice and the fender benders?

A twister took Elijah’s shed

While he was fast asleep in bed.

“The weather’s strange these days,” he said,

And quietly he shook his head.

The neighbours came with boards and nails,

They worked all day ‘til light had paled 

Then settled down to drink some ale 

And share with friends their weather tales.

Twenty-four years ago I decided to write this little ditty to acknowledge what was clearly obvious. The weather is super important - to everyone. No one is exempt. Ranchers must be outdoors regardless of the season because critters need tending. The weather is critical for commercial vegetable growers, gardeners and those who grow cereal crops - it can create a make or break situation. Numerous people work outside, usually on projects that keep our infrastructure up and running. When services fail people can be in danger. Weather can create more than an inconvenience for townies and city folk. It can determine whether they get to work, go to school, drive safely, shop, keep warm or cool. Weather is an entity that cannot be ignored. It can be perfect, benign, inconvenient, or extreme.

This winter has been especially tough - heavy snow, freezing rain, flooding, sub-zero temperatures, tornadoes - often in places not accustomed to such extremes. When people are unfortunate enough to be caught in a catastrophic weather event they experience a major upheaval in their lives, for some life changing, for some deadly. 

Weather was once a safe topic, unlike religion or politics (or vaccines), something we all experience and can relate to. In the 21st century even weather has become controversial. Some talk of global warming, some say climate change, some say it’s no different than it’s always been but we hear about it more through today’s worldwide media. Some scoff at all the climate change rhetoric, some take it seriously, some say it’s just a natural cycle, some say human activity is pushing our planet toward a tipping point. 

Regardless of our views on the subject, we will always remember weather events, we will keep checking the forecast, and we will hope extremes don’t come our way. One thing I’m pretty sure is true - we will never, ever stop talking about the weather.

mltipton.blogspot.com, https://www.facebook.com/Northof543/, Jan. 9, 2022

Where is Mandy?

oh where, is Mandy? 

I lost my cousin Mandy. Her email box is full. Her cell phone no longer connects. I don’t have her address. I can’t find her!

Mandy is older than me but has always been quite lively, in good shape. She’s a horticulturist and was in charge of the herbal section of a botanical garden in her city until her somewhat recent retirement. She’s a traveller too, loves Ireland. She’s my only cousin on my Mom’s side of the family.

Every year Mandy writes a long Christmas letter/greeting, catching up on her comings and goings during the year. Not this year. Mandy is missing. I even searched obits for the last year in her city and came up with nothing. I wonder, has she gone into a retirement or nursing home? Where is she? Is she okay?

This situation has hit home. What if something happened to me or my husband, or both of us. Would acquaintances/distant family know? Would they wonder what happened to us if our Christmas greeting failed to come, if my Facebook page became inactive, my blog ceased to update? Would my son know who to contact? 

I almost missed the passing of another friend, a local who moved to the city, someone who was, in times past, often in my life. I’d tried to reach out to her with a Facebook message, with no response of course. She was well over 90 so I had my suspicions. Eventually the grape vine became my informant.

It’s respectful, I believe, to keep in touch now & then, not just with friends, but with acquaintances as well, and it’s an act of kindness to make a list (and give it to someone who will act on it) of who to contact and what information to pass onto them if you are no longer able to do so. Men I have talked to on this subject say, “So what, if I’m dead, I’m dead”. And maybe that’s the level of response that would be generated in many cases. But one thing I’ve discovered over my long life - you never really know how important you are to another person, or how deeply their memories go. One thing my search for Mandy has made clear - it’s better to know. I have written a note for my son to let him know who to contact should the need arise. 

So Mandy… I went to the search engine on my email account and searched her name for past messages. Nothing is ever really gone from your computer even if you trash it. I found one from a cousin of Mandy‘s on her Dad’s side, also looking for Mandy. What I had not seen was a reply from her with a new land line phone number for Mandy. Apparently this cousin did find her. Mandy joked with her about her worries. “All is fine”, she said, “Hungarians never have emergencies”. This email was sent in early November, 2021. Today, 2 months later, I tried this new phone number. Mandy did not answer but it was her voice on the message. Hopefully she will call back. Maybe Mandy isn’t really missing…

December 31st

Mandy called, and like the Mandy of old she talked and talked some more. I got her address. We plan to keep in touch often. It was good, in a way, this wake up call. People can get lost, sometimes they lose themselves.

Cousin Mandy, me, my sister Karen & an old friend

On my uncle’s boat on Lake Erie, summer 1958