Ron Wood

Members of the Manyberries Official Officers Cocktail Hour, relentless in their ambition to maintain the reputation of our metropolis as a beacon for the world in terms of urban sprawl, utter lack of sophistication, disinterest in anything beyond the picket fences that enclose our backyards and keep the dogs, cows, chickens and horses from wandering are urging me to register in Ottawa as the official lobbyist for the greater Manyberries metropolitan region.

 While I agree with their argument that it is my civic duty to go forth and promote the interests of our sprawling hamlet and its citizens, I worry that there are so many committees, sub-committees, alternatives and subalterns that will require my attention that even with the vastly shallow personal talents pool from which I can draw, if I will be up to the job.

 For instance, the Manyberries Outhouse Museum Development Committee has stated that while our MP is doing an outstanding job, as all Members do, of spreading whatever needs to be spread in Ottawa, who could possibly  focus 24/7 on our need for federal funding.

 The Committee to Make Dead Horse Canyon Appear to be Worth Visiting by Tourists will be equally demanding of time and resources.

If I do take it on, it will be altruistic because it comes with no remuneration, salary, per diem, thanks, gratitude, expenses, or even drycleaning for the suits I brought back from Ottawa the last time I was there.

  The rewards will be  strictly personal: to join the annual Hill Times Newspaper List of The Top 100 Most Influential Lobbyists in Ottawa. I might even be associated with some of those near the top of that list if I can trust them to handle some of the smaller challenges facing the Outhouse Museum Development file.

Wood’s Version of French Onion Soup

Step by Step

1 tbsp brown sugar

4 gloves of garlic minced

2 tbsp butter

2 tbsp olive oil

3 large onions sliced

Sauté the onions in the garlic and oil at low heat for a long time (60 minutes)

Add the garlic & brown sugar and continue cooking and stirring (10 minutes)

4 tbsp cognac or brandy

4 tbsp red wine

Ground pepper (as much as you want, I use quite a bit)

Add cognac & wine to onions continue to simmer for 10 more minutes and then add

1.2 litres of vegetable, chicken or beef stock

1 tsp fresh or dried thyme or herbs de province (I prefer herbs de province)

Continue to simmer until some of the liquid is reduced

There are two ways to go from here:

Thick slices of mozzarella or gruyere

If you have traditional onion soup bowls, put your soup in and top with a thick baguette topped with a thick slice of the mozzarella or gruyere and under the broiler.

Finely shredded parmesan or reggiano parmesan 1 tbsp per serving

When you take the bowls from the oven sprinkle the parm or reggiano over the top.

OR, IF YOU DON’T HAVE TRAD. ONION SOUP BOWLS AND/OR WANT A LARGE SERVING IN REGULAR SOUP BOWLS

Put the slices of baguette topped with cheese under the broiler on an oiled flat pan and transfer with a spatula to the soup bowls

I don’t use salt and find the shredded parm gives it that little extra tang.

SOME OBSERVATIONS:
Most women I know like garlic more than most men I know. I used 8 cloves and nobody complained.

This recipe is a bit sweeter because of the brown sugar and wine.

If you like the broth dark, use beef stock and you can substitute molasses for the brown sugar.

The regulars at the Just One More in Manyberries are thinking about buying one of those new airport scanners that can see through clothing as an entertainment feature for the saloon. Hazel said she wouldn’t mind at all walking through one because it would be flaunty and fun and she would even do a pirouette to show the security guys what they’re missing. Big Tim Little said if Pamela Anderson walked through they’d probably taser her down on suspicion she was smuggling torpedos. Then he said if Meg Ryan walked through one after she got her lips plumped security would think they’d netted a platypus. I said if we could merge the two of them we’d have an image of a torpedo-armed platypus that we could sell to one of the tabloids. Hazel said she didn’t think very many of those Hollywood women would walk through one because it would be evident how much work they’ve had done in terms added upholstery.

I am looking forward to 2010 and the publication of All Roads Lead to Manyberries. It is not certain as to publication date or when books will be in stores but April looks like a good bet. Editor and Publisher (Frontenac House) David Scollard and I are in the final throes of selecting from the abundance of potential chapters, narrowing and winnowing what amounts to two books down to one. But right now, 24 hours before the Eve of the New Year, I want to extend best wishes for a wonderful 2010 to any visitors to this site and of course to the all the people who bought and made AND GOD CREATED MANYBERRIES a best-seller. The title of the new one is ALL ROADS LEAD TO MANYBERRIES and I hope that readers enjoy it as much as they tell me they enjoyed AGCM. Have a healthy, peaceful, prosperous and loving 365 days of 2010.

At 3:00 am, the drift between house and garage is five feet and rising (thank you Johnny Cash) and the wind is still howling from a northerly direction. I don’t know what they call it way up north but this looks to me like igloo snow, hard-packed by the wind and carvable if you had to build a shelter. If there is traffic out there, it can’t be seen or heard because of the wind and the blowing snow. I can remember a storm like this when I was 8 or 9 and my dad and older brother helped me build an igloo in our backyard. It was big enough to accomodate 10 people when we finished and my dad brought out his white gas camp stove and some tea, bread and a can of beans. The three of us sat inside and boiled up a billy can of tea using melted snow water and then heated the beans in the same billy can. My old cocker spaniel Tex wiggled inside and got a piece of bread because, my dad said, you have to make sure your sled dogs don’t go hungry. Then we sat and discussed and wondered, while the wind howled outside, if this was how the people in the far north lived.  Both these guys fit the description of a cowboy in an old song as “panther quick and leather tough” but yet, they took the time to fire up a kid’s imagination so I guess they were “leather tough” in a different way. I’m sitting here listening to the wind howl again and glancing out the window can see the snow is still piling up and have this wonderful comfortable and safe feeling that I’m back in that igloo with Harry Charles and Harry John (Son was his nickname).

Frankly, my dear I don’t give a damn what Tiger did or is alleged to have done and was very surprised this morning (Dec.2/09) that the Globe and Mail had a front page story (continued inside) saying the only way out for him is the truth. I don’t recall ever seeing any front page stories carried by any newspapers when allegations or rumours surfaced about any of their reporters/editors/publishers/owners who got caught up in extra marital tangles. Over the years I’ve heard a lot of stories, witnessed a few things that would have caused trouble in marriages or for careers and heard remarks both sexist and bordering on racist from journalists that would have destroyed the careers of any politicians who uttered them and was heard. Funny how these incidents get overlooked by their media colleagues and are never given lead or front page treatment. When one well known television anchor dumped his wife for another woman, barely a whisper and certainly nothing on any front pages that I can recall. Hypocrisy? They probably don’t know what it means.

There are politicians and some media types who are claiming that Canada’s reputation is being sullied by the allegations that Taliban “insurgents” (terrorists is another word you can use) who were captured by Canadian soldiers and handed over to Afghanistan prison authorities were  tortured. If anybody is sullying Canada’s reputation, it is those same politicians and media types. For example, there was one report that when Canadian military and government officials visited Sederat (a prison in Kabul) they found a prisoner who had been ”whipped with cables, shocked with electricity and/or otherwise hurt” while in detention. At the Parliamentary Committee yesterday, Liberal MP Ujjal Dosanjh asked David Mulroney if he could say with any real certainty that the prisoner was not a Canadian detainee. The answer was no which then allows the media to say that Canadian detainees “may” have been tortured.

An honest lead to the story would have been, for anybody, politician or media, “no evidence at all that any Taliban terrorist detained by Canadian soldiers and handed over to Afghan prisons were tortured.”

I’m suggesting that if the Liberal, New Democratic Party and Bloc MPs and the media were worried about Canada’s reputation they’d accept the testimony of 3 generals and an Ambassador and declare that Mr. Colvin was well-intentioned but had nothing but rumours, speculation and a hunch to go on and say “case closed”.    

Then I’d suggest they turn their attention to how one defines beheading journalists, stoning women to death, throwing acid in women’s faces, machinegunning teachers, and other acts of barbarity. Is that torture? Or just collateral damage that (sigh sadly here) one must expect when terrorists are allowed free rein?

It has been determined by a democratic vote that Manyberries will support Saskatchewan in this year’s Grey Cup National Drinking & football thing. After not much discussion the consensus was the Montreal is further east of Manyberries than Saskatchewan so our loyalities would remain in our own backyard (down here the backyard is the 640 acres you can see from the outhouse when the door is open).

We would have supported Montreal in the football part of the drinking event even if Calgary had been in it because Montreal is less foreign to us than what Calgarians call cowtown but we refer to as bull—t town.

Purvis says that doesn’t mean, however, that he won’t offer up a few choruses of All you wettas, you jaunty all you wettas so as to make Montreal feel a little more at home.

I was in Carmangay Nov. 8/09 for a meet the author event to support the Carmangay Library and it hasn’t changed a whole lot since I first saw it back in the 1950s and the people are still as friendly and hospitable as they ever were. The event was in the Carmangay Senior Centre, right across the street from the library and I noticed a sign for a December 25th turkey dinner. All the menu items were written down and most had names beside them of volunteers who would supply the turkeys, brussels sprouts,etc. Laree Findlay who had invited me explained that on Christmas Day they have a big turkey dinner for all the people in the area who would otherwise spend it alone. She said there a few dozen widows, widowers and young singles who would attend, along with whole families of people who would celebrate Christmas by having dinner there rather than at home.

On the drive back I was thinking that you don’t see this sort of community closeness in the big cities. Yes, they do have dinners for the homeless and people do give up their Christmas day and dinner to volunteer and serve but this is different. This is just a bunch of very warm-hearted people who make sure that everybody who wants to becomes a member of a ”family” on that day.  Because they are close knit their family Christmas dinners become one great big celebration with a lot of invited guests.

I remember back when I was a kid my parents always invited two bachelors to join us for Christmas Day and dinner. One of them, “Old Dick” as my Dad called him worked for Dad and he had come to Canada from England as an orphan, adopted by a farmer on the prairies. He was never part of the family that “adopted” him and had never been included in the Christmas family gathering. All he ever said was he was very happy to leave there when he turned 16. The other guy was a veteran whose wife had taken the children and disappeared before he returned from the war. Each of them got as gifts the same thing every year: a pair of socks, a flat fifty of cigarettes and a bottle of rum. I never saw anybody at Christmas open gifts as slowly and carefully and with as much pleasure as those two guests.

Could be that’s why my Dad loved driving through and up and down the streets of Carmangay whenever we were hunting in that area. It just could be that big generous heart of his made him feel he was close to home.