Poutine

My poutine. 

I've been back in Australia for over a week now. I've been to the beach, eaten Oporto, heard the kookaburras and gotten seriously sunburnt. Now I'm missing Canada. And when I say I'm missing Canada, what I really mean is, I'm missing poutine.

This delicacy of hot chips, gravy and cheese curds was my favourite thing about Canada. I was desperate to bring it back to Australia with me. The chips aren't a problem. Hot chips, or 'fries' as they are known over there, are similar enough. The only difference would be that a lot of the fries used for poutine are double fried (genius right?). The gravy isn't so hard either. Most poutineries use powder for their gravy, so my last day in Canada was spent buying every type of powdered gravy I could find. The cheese curds are the problem.

I spent hours researching where to get cheese curds in Australia, but alas, none exist. I've read discussion after discussion, posted by poor Canadians who have found themselves out in the big, bad world, without poutine. The most responses recommend finding substitute cheeses, the most common being mozzarella. Although the texture of mozzarella is probably the closest, the flavour doesn't quite cut it, thus haloumi is often mentioned. A number of other curd like cheeses are said to be substitutes; cottage cheese, paneer, quark, queso blanco. Any self respecting poutine lover knows, none of these are going to cut it.

I found some places you can buy it online in America, but they don't ship internationally. I toyed with the idea of sending it to someone in the US and getting them to send it to me. However, it was going to work out about $80 for 100g of cheese curds. Not only that, but the chances of a) it surviving the trip and b) getting it through customs, seemed slim to none.

The other day I had a brainwave; what if I could make cheese curds. I would like to thank the Internet once again for knowing absolutely everything. I found an article entitled 'How to make cheese curds for poutine'.

My dear friend Lynne was up for the challenge. Although she had never tried poutine, she has been fascinated with the concept ever since I described it to her.

We spent 4 hours making cheese curds, researching dairy of laws of Canada vs. Australia and trying to figure out why on earth we can't get cheese curds here.

I think we got to the bottom of it. Australian agricultural laws are insanely strict. Raw (unpasteurized) milk and all raw milk dairy products are illegal in Australia. I'm talking people sell this stuff on the black market, it's so hard to come by. The only way I found to buy raw milk legitimately in Australia, was if it was being sold as a bath milk, and costs about $40 a litre. Not ideal. Raw milk is also illegal in Canada, so how come they get away with having these delicious cheeses? Well it turns out Canada permits the sale of raw milk cheeses that are aged over 60 days, and in 2009, the province of Quebec modified regulations to allow raw milk cheeses aged less than 60 days to be sold. This may or may not have anything to do with why we don't have cheese curds here. I just wanted to show y'all how much I learnt about dairy regulations.

So how did the home made cheese curds go? Surprisingly well actually. It had a nice flavour, and was wonderfully fresh. The texture was a bit too creamy, it didn't have that squeakiness that is so important. I think this was a combination of not letting the curd refrigerate for long enough and not using raw milk.

Next we made the gravy, pretty simple using the powder I'd bought from Canada. We put the hot gravy in a thermos, the cheese curds in a plastic bag and headed to the shops to hunt down some appropriate chips.

We ordered large chips from a fish and chip shop in the food court, and asked them to fry them a little longer than usual. They looked perfect. We carefully constructed our poutine, trying to ignore the strange looks from people walking by. The poutine was delicious. 5 hours well spent.

My Luncheon With An Ex-Con

Because when I asked if I could take a photo of him he said: "Should I take my shirt off?"

I spent the last few days with my cousin in Fresno, California, also known as 'the armpit of California'. I decided to check out the downtown, but being me, I began walking the wrong way. After a considerable amount of time I resolved to ask the next person I saw for directions. Minutes later I saw a young man wearing a wife beater and a whole lot of tattoos. He looked kind of scary so I decided to ask someone else. I asked a guy a little further down the road who told me I was going the wrong way.

On my way back I saw the tattoo guy again. He asked where I was going. I told him downtown. He asked if he could walk with me. Usually I'd be up for it, but I wasn't really in the mood.

"I'd kind of prefer walking on my own" I stuttered

"Aw, I'm not after nothin'. I got out of prison yesterday, I just want someone to talk to"

Man! How do they always know exactly what to say? This I couldn't resist.

"Sure" I said, now grinning goofily.

We began walking together down the street.

"So, yeah, I just got out of prison" he said

"Oh cool" Not exactly sure if that's the right thing to say. "You must be happy. Ummmm How long where you in, ummm there for?"

"10 months"

"Oh OK"

I know you're all wondering what he did. So was I, but I've been taught not to ask, so you're going to have to wait.

We made small talk for a while 'where are you from? family etc' then drifted into silence. I wasn't exactly sure what questions were appropriate. He said he wanted to talk, so I took the opportunity to find out all I could about prison.

"So how was the food?" I asked

"Not bad. I mean, like, you got pretty full of it, but it don't got a lot of flavour, ya know?"

I knew.

"But prison ain't that bad. I mean people bitch about it, but like, if you don't got any other place to go, it's alright"

"Mmmmm. What did did they feed you on a typical day? Did you get hot food?"

"Oh yeah, Monday we got hot cereal, Tuesday was eggs, Wednesday- waffles"

"Oh yum I love waffles" I chimed in

"Thursday, ummmm, Saturday was pancakes"

"Wow, sounds pretty good!"

"Yeah, man, we have it so good in the US. There was a guy in there called Russia. Well I think his name was Eugeney something, but he was from Russia, so.... yeah. He said that in Russia all you get is 4 slices of bread and water and some cold potato soup. Everyday. That's it."

"Wow. That sucks."

"Yeah, prison here isn't that bad. What's it like in Australia?"

I thought about it for a second. I had absolutely no idea. Why would I? I’ve never been to prison. I don’t even know anyone who’s been to prison in Australia. In fact, I’m not sure I know someone who knows someone who has been to prison in Australia.

“I’m not sure…” I confessed

“Oh, yeah, right. Guess you’ve never been?”

“No”

More silence

“So what did you do during the day?” I asked

“1124 crunches, 123 push ups; diamond or wide….”

A million other exercise things I’ve never heard of…

“I also read books on anatomy” he continued “some guys waste their time in there but I like to make the most of it. Learn stuff, ya know?”

I nodded

“Tibia, jugular, fibula…” he said pointing to various parts of his body.”clavicle, jaw”

There was no denying it; the guy loved to list things.

“mandible, palatine, scapula....”

I wondered if this information would come in handy for him someday.

"....sternum, humerus, cervical..."

Wait. was he still naming bones?

"...radius, ulna.."

Yep.

“Wow” I said genuinely impressed.

“Yeah, I know. I also learnt some Spanish in there.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I can say ‘I know a little Spanish’, and ‘I just got out of prison’ and ‘Would you like to buy this from me?’”

“Wow”

We were getting closer to downtown, but I didn’t want our conversation to end. I decided to take Mitchell out to lunch.

He ordered a beer, and when the woman asked for ID, Mitchell piped up, “I only have prison ID, is that OK? I just got out of prison see, so…. Yeah”

Sometime during lunch we got onto the topic of tattoos. He took of his shirt in the restaurant to show me. One was his name, one was his mother’s name and one was a picture of a jester in memory of his friend who got beaten to death with a chains and a baseball bat last year.

Here are some other things I learnt over our 2 hour luncheon:

• 23 year old Mitchell got 8 months because he stole a car
• Then he got in a fight in prison and they gave him another 2. And they put him in high security for a couple of months.
• You don’t call someone a ‘bitch’ in prison. If someone calls you a bitch you HAVE to fight them
• Faggot, mutha fucka, nigger is OK
• Being called Caucasian, Oriental, African American or Latin is an insult, it’s White, Black, Asian or Mexican
• Trades happen in prison. For example, Mitchell would often trade his Monday, Wednesday and Saturday lunch meat for peanut butter.
• He would even trade his bread because ‘bread holds water’ and he wanted to get an 8 pack.
• It sucks when your girlfriend of 4 years send you a letter breaking up with you while you’re in the slammer
• She was a good girlfriend though, when Mitchell got shot, she held him, her hands covered in his blood, all the while a gun was pointed at her head.
• It’s really easy to get medicinal weed in California

We continued walking after lunch. He said he was going to show me around the downtown.

“Hey do you want to split a bottle?” he asked

“What kind of bottle?”

“A bottle of gin… or something?”

“Ummmm no thanks, I’ve got to get back to my cousin…. Sober”

“Awww come on…”

“Mmmmm, not today”

“You sure? We could get a hotel room or something?” He asked hopefully

I was wondering when this would come up. I was almost insulted he hadn’t asked me sooner.

“Ah no thanks” I said

“We could get one for like, $40”

“Tempting, but no thanks”

As we fell into another awkward silence, I began to question whether walking down a deserted alley with this guy was the best idea.

“Going once….”

“Yeah, no. Sorry” I said

“Awwww come on. I just got out of prison, show me some love”

“Hmmmmm, nah, sorry.

“Well I had to try”

“Yeah….”

Suddenly he had to go. He was ditching me. He was ditching me. Ouch. Anyhoo, that was my lunch date with an ex con.

Screw the System

Here's the thing about the Greyhound; it's disorganised, unreliable and unpredictable. This suits me just fine. Usually.

I went to book my ticket to San Fransisco online because it's cheaper. Unfortunately, the website didn't like my Australian credit card, so I asked my cousin's hubby Jeremy if he could book it for me.

Greyhound charges an additional $18 if the credit card holder is not travelling, so I told Jeremy to print the ticket under his name.

"What if they check your ID?" he asked

I laughed 350+ hours on the greyhound and they'd never asked me for ID. Actually they had asked me once, but that was because minors aren't allowed to ride unaccompanied. They were checking that I wasn't under 16. Never anything to do with the ticket.

"I guarantee they won't ask for ID" I told Jeremy confidently.

"But it says you need to show ID with the ticket" he said.

"Trust me" I was being plain cocky now "I know the greyhound. There's no way they'll ask for ID."

"She knows what she's doing" piped in cousin Sharon.

"OK'" Jeremy said. He looked unconvinced.

I got to the greyhound station my usual 2 minutes early. I was at the back of the line. It was taking longer than usual. I finally made it to the front and handed the driver my ticket.

"ID?" he said

WHAAAAAT????? YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING!!!!

"Ummmmmm....." I faltered

"Are you Jeremy?"

Time to look sweet and innocent.

"No. That's my Dad's name" I said in my best 13 year old voice.

The impatient greyhound worker didn't care.

"Go to the ticket office and tell them the name on your ticket doesn't match your ID"

Bugger. I went to the ticket office. No one was there. this is greyhound, remember? The bus was due to leave any second. After being called on the PA system, a ticket officer eventually appeared.

"I can't re-issue this ticket" he told me "the name has to match the traveller"

"Oh. My Dad booked it."

"Well, I can't re-issue it."

"But why?" I asked innocently

"Because the name has to match the credit card name"

"Oh. But why?"

Yeah, I was playing the 'but why' game.

"It's a special promotion for internet fares"

"Oh."

"If you want to get on that bus you'll have to buy another ticket."

My eyes grew wide.

"But... but... but I.... I can't"

"I'm sorry, maybe your dad can get a refund. There's another bus that leaves in 5 hours, otherwise you'll just have to buy another ticket"

I can't fake cry, but I can make it look like I'm holding back tears. I did that now. My breathing was starting to get heavy, and occasional whimpering noises were escaping my mouth.

"Can't i just pay the $18?" I asked desperately. "I don't have enough for another ticket, but I can pay $18".

The man behind the counter looked at me somewhat sympathetically. I was giving him my best puppy dog eyes. He called his supervisor over and told him what was going on.

"You're Dad was trying to get out of paying the $18, wasn't he?" said the supervisor

I shrugged. "I dunno... maybe"

He looked at me. More puppy dog eyes.

"OK re-issue her a ticket and tell them to hold the bus"

BOO-YA!!!! VICTORY!!!!

The bus was 15 minutes late. Everyone hated me when I stepped on the bus. I didn't care; I just saved $18.

I Majored in Greyhound

Time I Spent on the Bus* vs. Time I Spent in Class** from June 30 2009 - June 30 2010

I caught the bus from Missoula, MT to Portland, OR yesterday. I began to reminisce about all the time I've spent on the bus this past year. In late June 2009, I purchased a 'Greyhound Discovery Pass' which allowed me to travel anywhere in North America for 60 days. I spent over 150 hours on the bus during those 2 months.

Months later, I bought another discovery pass- this time for 15 days. I went from Toronto to Vancouver and back. That's another 150+ hours. Over the past year I have spent over 350hours on the Greyhound, more than double the time I spent in class. Not surprisingly, I know a whole lot more about the Greyhound than I do about linguistics. Here are my tips on what to bring and why:

• Water- duh.
• Duct tape slippers- Waterproof and easy to slip on when you just want to get off the bus for a minute. Not great on ice.

My duct tape slippers

• Travel scrabble- in case I find a friend
• Knitting- in case I don’t
• Ipod- Not nearly as important as people seem to think. On a 76 hour bus trip, 7 hours of ipod battery doesn’t get you very far.
• Sleeping bag- every time I pull out my sleeping bag people look at me like I’m a genius (funny that). This isn’t rocket science folks, if you want to sleep on the bus- do it properly.
• Eye mask and ear plugs- KEY! Get in your own little bubble.
• Swiss army knife- This is greyhound, safety first.
• Food- Before every long bus trip, the most common question I get asked is ‘Do you have snacks?’ which is usually followed by them trying to give me some, even though I said yes. They always give me easy-to-eat snacks like chips, nuts, apples, candy etc. They mean well, but to be honest, it’s not what I want to eat on the bus. When you eat a muesli bar, you unwrap it, eat it, then throw away the wrapper. This will take 10 minutes at best. I want something that’s going to take me ages to eat and prepare.
• Boiled eggs are a favourite of mine. First you have to find something to put the egg in, then you have to peel it and find somewhere to put the shell. Next, you need something to mash it with and maybe something to mix it with ( I usually bring sachets of mayonnaise, salt and pepper). Then you might have to wait an hour til the next bus stop, at which time you can look for some kind of bread. Maybe it will be a hot dog bun, or perhaps you’ll get corn chips and use it as a dip. Get creative. Finally, it’s ready to eat, and you’ve killed close to 2 hours.
• If you do want some easy-to-eat foods, I recommend getting them at the bus station. I know it can be a little more expensive, but I can kill a good 40 minutes looking at a vending machine deciding what I want.
• Thermos- Greyhound stations don’t have much, but most of them have boiling water, and you can do almost anything with boiling water. Tea, cuppa soup, instant mash potatoes, 2 minute noodles, those awesome camping meals. You can have yourself a very satisfying 3 course meal right there on the bus.
• Toiletries- Sure it’ll make you feel fresher; whacking on some deodorant is pretty much the same as having a shower, but be warned: the better you smell, the more likely it is that someone will sit next to you. That’s a bad thing.

Things to remember:

• Set small goals. Don’t think ‘I’ll be in Vancouver in 70 hours’ think ‘I’ll be in Sudbury in 2 hours (hoorah!)’
• Go west to east if you can. Thinking it’s 10pm, then all of the sudden it’s 9pm again, is incredibly depressing.
• Don’t multi task. Ever. Multi tasking is your enemy. If you’re eating, don’t listen to your ipod. If you’re talking to someone, don’t be knitting. Etc.

*'Other buses' include Mega Bus, Orleans Express, Coach Canada and all buses used for Queen’s Bands. Excludes local buses and all other types of transportation including rideshares.

** 'Class missed' is based on 4 weeks I was absent as well as 2 classes missed every other week.