A different kettle of fish

So, it was about time for me to "treat" myself to a meal I don't have to cook, which I only do about every 2-4 months. I enjoy cooking and I enjoy good food, but I like a little break now and again. I stopped in at my favourite fish and chips shop and ordered halibut and chips--my usual. The last time I had it there, it cost about $12, which I was already thinking is a bit much. This time, I paid $13.51. I won't be patronizing that shop (and perhaps any others) again.

I happened to notice for the first time (not sure if it was a new sign) that the portion of halibut they give is four ounces. Given that potatoes are virtually free compared to the price of halibut, this means that I paid about $50 a pound for the pleasure of enjoying enough fish that if placed in your shoes, and you unwittingly slipped them on, chances are you wouldn't notice.

When I was a mere lad of about six, growing up in downtown Toronto, there was a Chinese fish and chip shop a block and a half from our home. Whenever you were within half a block of the place, you'd get hungry as that wonderful aroma accented by malt vinegar wafted in every direction. They served your order in a firm paper cone, wrapped in a larger newspaper cone from the previous day's news, I guess, and you got a little wooden stick with one end sharpened with which to eat it. What a deal--free reading material while you eat your lunch!

The fries were easy to eat with that stick, but the fish was another kettle of fish. Being very poor at the time, it was almost never that I got to enjoy any of the fish the place served. Matter of fact, on those rare occasions that I even got to taste the fries, one order was usually split between me and a friend or my brother and I. The fish I got to enjoy was never anything more than a small piece from a charitable friend.

The price back then?-- .10 for fries and .25 for fish and chips. No, it wasn't the 18th century.
Getting back to the crux of the matter...they are driving me to produce my own food. And don't think I won't. I will be starting a vegetable garden next spring and I mean to grow every vegetable I like that I can coax to grow in my climate. That could mean as many as thirty varieties. I'll keep you posted.

I suggest you all consider doing the same. It's time we stopped being slaves to anyone who wants to charge 50 times what they paid for something. Oh, and you should also plant fruit trees/berry bushes, etc.


Next, I'll work on trying to get off the grid and any other municipal services I can.



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Mackerel! Fresh Mackerel!

One recent Friday, I was remarking to a friend that I was rushing off to buy some fresh fish at my favourite supermarket before it was picked over. Upon quick reflection, I caught myself and corrected it to "fresher" fish.

My arrival proved my point as I surveyed tag after tag indicating "Previously Frozen". We race to the supermarket in order to have the pick of "fresher" fish--previously frozen fish that isn't quite as gnarly as other fish that isn't fresh, either. It's a reflection of the times we live in, is it not? If you're over 40, you probably remember the ma and pa fish store that your mom would visit and get really fresh fish--only fresh fish. It was very recently that you could at least get fresh fish on Thursdays, the typical delivery day ahead of the traditional Friday Fresh Fish Fest. No longer.

"Fresh fish" reminds me of the birth (pun intended) of the term "safe sex" and the soon thereafter coining of "safer sex" as it became evident that we could no longer get "fresh" sex, either...especially if one were gay. Not that I am. And not that there's anything wrong with that.

Speaking of fruits...have you ever noticed that much of the fruit you buy today from peaches to melons are hard as rocks? In the never-ending quest for bigger and bigger profits, corporations, which now own just about the entire food retail market, are having produce picked before it is ripe so that wastage through spoilage is reduced. It seems we can't get much "fresh" fruit anymore, either.

On the bright side, we can now get fresh news thanks to the internet. However, since half a billion people are blogging their own brand of news, it tends to be watered down, these days, like drinks in many bars, these days...and like sports with the ever-increasing number of franchises, these days...and...

The Sound of Promise

Yesterday, I bought a watermelon. I never really appreciated this wonderful fruit. But in the first few moments that I was cutting this melon in half, the exquisiteness of it struck me. It came in the form of sound. That cracking sound you hear when the melon is so perfectly ripe that it seems like it's been deprived of air to breathe since it was a seed and now, finally makes a lovely gasp as it takes in the life-sustaining oxygen it has been waiting for. That sweet sound of promise. The promise of perfect "reddish" flesh--not exactly red and not really pink, either. It is some magical colour that nature seems to have reserved only for this delectable fruit. The colour, like the sound, holds the promise of sweet nectar suitable for even God. It is truly a magnificent food. Not a bad deal for $1.99 at Food Basics.