Getting Salty in Point Roberts

Point Roberts

I managed to make it out to Canada’s west coast the same time good friend and writer Nina was visiting with her friend Anne in Ladner. I joined them and we weren’t there long when Margaret, another old friend and voyageur, called us to adventure.

Did we want to cross the border? she asked.

Nina and I shared a knowing glance. Was Margaret referring to that intellectual hinterland that declared an environmental blitzkrieg? Nina asked. She is an ecologist and strong proponent of the environment. Nina also writes eco-fiction and climate fiction. The current rapacious U.S. administration's disrespectful and ill-treatment of the environment has driven her out of principle to boycott that country.

"No," Margaret answered. "Point Roberts."

We exchanged another look; cute off from the rest of the United States, Point Roberts was practically Canadian, given that it was an isolated peninsula off Canada and once even considered seceding from the U.S. to join Canada. Wikipedia describes it as a "pend exclave" of United States, located on the southernmost tip of the Twawwassen Peninsula, south of Vancouver, B.C. 

Seabright Farm Stairs to the ocean

Point Roberts gets its name from Captain Vancouver, who named it after his friend Henry Roberts. It was officially declared part of the United States in 1849, when the Oregon Treaty extended the 49th parallel as the boundary between the U.S. and British territory (which Canada was at the time) from the Rocky Mountains to Georgia Strait.

After thinking it over, we replied, "Sure!" We were eager for adventure, after all. Something that might get our feet wet or us lost then found. Something big ... or small. Something outside then inside...

Boundary Bay community

So, we went on walkabout ... well, drive-about, to be precise. We drove into that sleepy American community of 1300 or so people, looking to discover something or someplace.

After an uneventful border crossing, we drove along Boundary Bay Road through a sleepy community of cottages that faced the bay. From there we drove to Lighthouse Marine Park for a walk along the ocean shore, where we picked up whelks strewn on the pebble beach and watched a purse seining boat put out its net. The day was sunny  but not overly hot. A cool sea breeze brought the smell of brine and seaweed. 

Tamra Hansen, owner and chef

I was soon peckish from the sun and sea air. We retraced out steps to a charming cafe with outdoor patio for lunch and settled on the back patio. Saltwater Cafe has been around for a while; long enough to have plenty of character both inside and outside. The current owner has been there over 17 years. 

We decided on two platters to share: the Wedge and the Charcuterie Plate. Both were exquisitely presented and thoroughly enjoyed over Moscow Mules (Vodka, spicy ginger beer and lime juice) and lively discussion that excluded politics.

Owner and chef Tamra Hansen--also a Canadian--uses local ingredients for the rotating menu based on what's in season. We know, because when Nina entered to get two coffees, we overheard Tamra instructing on of the servers to being in some lavender from their garden (for the Lavender Mojito--one of their signature drinks). That's fresh!

The Saltwater website tells it this way:

Charcuterie Plate

"Located on Gulf Road, in Point Roberts, Saltwater Cafe is the establishment we've longed to create. After starting and operating a large number of successful restaurants both locally and nationally, we decided to settle back in Point Roberts and open something close to our hearts.

"Out menu is inspired by authentic cooking and the diverse flavours of the Pacific Northwest, made utilizing local ingredients gathered by Chef and owner, Tamra Hansen. We have a huge range of rotating specials depending on the season, featuring BBQ, wood fired pizzas, sandwiches and more! In addition to our specials we have tons of delicious cakes, muffins and pastries. Find them all lined up on the bar as you walk in. We also have a 'pick your own' sweet counter, great for kids and big kids alike."

Here's what Nina, Margaret and I had from the menu that day:

Moscow Mule

Moscow Mules: vodka, spicy ginger beer, fresh squeezed lime juice and mulled lime.

Charcuterie Plate: assorted gourmet cheeses and meats, served with nuts, fresh figs and other seasonal fruit with a side of freshly baked bread.

The Wedge: iceberg lettuce wedge, crispy apple with bacon, grape tomatoes, blue cheese crumbles, garlic vinaigrette, blue cheese drizzle and asiago cheese.

part of Saltwater Cafe garden

Cafe is Open:
Tuesday-Sunday, 8pm-4 pm
Monday closed

Contact: 

1345 Gulf Road,
Point Roberts, WA 98281
T: 360-945-7258 (SALT)
E: info@thesaltwatercafe.com

“Poutine is one of Canada’s Blessings!”

Ayman with his poutine treasure, UofT

That’s what Ayman, a PhD grad student in metallurgy at the University of Toronto (UofT) shared with me as we huddled in the chilling cold at one of the many roadside food wagons along St. George Street. Clutching his prize—a large container of steaming poutine—Ayman confided that he had first discovered poutine about 6 years ago when he came to Canada from his homeland of Egypt to study engineering at UofT.

I was on campus, located in downtown Toronto, visiting my writing friend Nina Munteanu, who also teaches at UofT. “Come visit me and we’ll have lunch!” she’d blithely said to me and then proceeded to get caught up in meetings with students as I scampered around campus in the chilling minus 20 degree cold. That’s when I spotted one of the many food wagons that line St. George Street with steaming aromatic foods of exotic nature—from BBC pork and vegetable on rice to Halal to hot dogs and … well … poutine…

Poutine—made with French fries and cheese curds topped with a light brown gravy—originated in Quebec. It’s sold across Canada in small “greasy spoon” type diners (casse-croûtes in Quebec), pubs, and roadside chip wagons (cabanes à patates) and is popular in hockey arenas. The dish supposedly originated in the rural Eastern townships of Quebec in the 1950s—where and when I was born. Which may explain my affinity for it.

Poutine classique of la Banquise, Montreal

The most widespread story is that poutine originates from a restaurant formerly called Le Lutin qui rit in Warwick, in the Arthabaska region. In 1957, a trucker named Eddy Lainesse asked the owner Fernand Lachance to mix some cheese curds in with his fries. A Drummondville restaurant called Le Roy Jucep registered a trademark stating that it is the inventor of poutine. Jean-Paul Roy, owner of this restaurant in 1964, is the first one to have served poutine as we know it today, i.e. "French fries, cheese and gravy." Poutine could also come from the region of Nicolet, in Centre-du-Québec or from Saint-Hyacinthe in Montérégie. The high number of cheese dairies producing cheddar cheese curds in these two regions could explain the phenomenon.

Poutine Parisienne

Outside of Canada, poutine is still considered exotic, where it has appeared on menus in Europe and Asia. In Paris, where I’m originally from, poutine is served in two Canadian pubs, the “Moose Head” and “The Great Canadian”. In New York and New Jersey it’s served as a late-night side dish at clubs and called disco fries. 

The Dictionnaire historique cites the Provençal forms poutingo "bad stew" and poutité "hodgepodge" or "crushed fruit or foods"; poutringo "mixture of various things" in Languedocien; and poutringue, potringa "bad stew" in Franche-Comté as possibly related to poutine. According to Merriam-Webster, a popular etymology is that poutine is from a Quebecois slang word meaning "mess”.

Poutine contains a lot of calories and cholesterol. So, it's not exactly healthy. For instance, an average male would have to jog 2.5 hours to burn off the 1,500 calories in the country-style poutine (bacon, chicken, gravy, fries, onions and mushrooms) available at Smoke's Poutinerie. It's salty. It has fat. It's "junk" food. Having said that, it is made up of potatoes and fresh cheese.

Ultimately, it comes down to moderation.

When you’re briskly scampering from one end of campus to the other on a winter day as the wind chill blows the temperature to 30 below zero and chafes your little furry cheeks bright red, a steaming dish of poutine looks and tastes like ambrosia! And, as Ayman said, a blessing!

En vous souhaitant le meilleur cette saison! Je suis Toulouse, le COOL Chat voyage!

Cruise with Toulouse: Riding Harleys in Cozumel

Carnival Dream docked in Cozumel

“Get up, you lazy bones! Time to go onshore!” In her exuberance, Nina grabbed me by the tail (she isn’t always considerate when she’s excited) and cheerfully shoved me into her daypack. “We’ve landed in Cozumel!”

‘Docked!’ I corrected her from inside the pack, as she blithely rushed out of our stateroom and rode the glass elevator twelve stories down to where we would disembark. The word is docked!  Good thing I’m her editor, is all I can say.

As we got off the ship, Nina gave me a glimpse of the huge pier. Our first stop on the Carnival Dream cruise was Cozumel, an island in the Caribbean Sea off the eastern coast of Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula. Cozumel means Island of the Swallows in Mayan and it’s the largest Atlantic island of Mexico with a low, flat and densely vegetated topography, based on limestone. The limestone has created some cool karst formations. For instance, Cenotes are deep water filled sinkholes formed by water percolating through the soft limestone over thousands of years; if you’re a qualified cave diver – and foolishly adventurous – you can get permission to explore Cozumel’s Cenotes. About twenty years ago some of those foolish adventurers discovered what is now recognized as the 5^th largest underwater cave in the world. 

Toulouse checks his Harley

The Maya first settled Cozumel in the early part of the 1^st millennium AD. It was a place of pilgrimage and considered sacred to Ix Chel, the Maya Moon Goddess. In 1518 Hernán Cortés and his fleet swept in like a dark storm, destroying a bazilion temples and eventually wiping out the locals with smallpox. Those were tough times for the Mayans. According to some researchers, by 1570 only a meager 30 people survived from the original 40,000 Mayan population. Those were the dark years, when the deserted Cozumel became a hideout for pirates and refuges and other interesting eccentrics. Did you know that Abraham Lincoln almost bought the island as a place to send the freed slaves of the United States? But the drawn-out war in the Yucatan changed his mind.  Cozumel finally entered its golden years when Jacques Cousteau “blessed it” by discovering and popularizing its spectacular scuba diving in Cozumel’s coral reefs at Palancar. Even the destruction by Hurricane Wilma hasn’t slowed down Cozumel, which remains a popular tourist destination and currently boasts over 90 restaurants. The locals, a wonderful mixture of Mayan and Spanish descent, are friendly, optimistic and cheerful people with a great sense of humor and healthy outlook. Nina tells me they remind her of the cheerfully adaptive Thai people of Phuket, who after the devastation of the recent tsunami, just picked up the pieces and built it all up again within a short few years. 

Cozumel is a popular charter fishing destination and offers some of the best scuba diving and snorkeling for our “Joe Tourist”. But Nina and I aren’t “Joe Tourist”… Besides, you may recall from my last post that I’m not particularly fond of water (I am a cat, after all, free to exercise the inalienable rights of my species). We did something far more exciting – and exotic:  we toured the island on Harleys! We saw the “wild side” of Cozumel.

Toulouse chills with Willy and Carlos

On the pier we met our guides, Willy and Carlos, two regular guys in black leather jackets and tattoos. Smiling like pirates, they led us to a lonely back parking lot, where we found our bikes. Nina chose a red 1200cc Sportster and I chose a blue one. What? You don’t believe I rode one all by myself? Take a look at the picture of me on the bike at Punta Sur, one of our stops!

The tour was an exhilarating fur-raising ride along Cozumel’s cracked and warped roads with a view of its scenic shoreline. We took off from Sunset Beach and headed south through the ancient Mayan town of Cedral then continued south, salt air whipping through my fur, to Punta Celerain and the historic lighthouse at Punta Sur Ecological Park. Nina panted and huffed after me as I scampered up the 100-some steps to the top for a breathtaking view of the island’s surf and vast beach. I don’t know what her problem was: the stairs weren’t nearly as narrow, crooked, and worn as the crumbling Tower of Pisa (but that’s another story…). It was in the park that I met Charlie, the resident crocodile. Charlie’s presence in Cozumel, let alone North America, is an oddity. If you know anything about natural science, you know that crocs are normally restricted to the “old continents” of Africa and Asia. North America and South America support alligators. The way I remember it is: “Nile” rhymes with crocodile and “Amazon” starts with an “a” like “alligator”.

It must have been the fresh sea air, because my stomach started to growl. Nina’s followed soon after and Willy got the message. We quickly mounted up and he navigated us along a windy back road to the main highway and the “wild side” of the island to “Coconuts Restaurant and Bar”. We dined on authentic Mexican cuisine at this funky seaside eatery and watched the locals cavorting and laughing. The open-air restaurant resembled something from an old James Bond movie, thatched palm-leaf roofs decorated with t-shirts from across the world and support poles tattooed with business cards. Fearing the retarded dog that decided to park itself near us, I wandered off to the beach below, lured by deep sea-green surf, lava-shaped rocks and the sweet aroma of local herbs. Of course, no one told me that the beaches here allow partial nudity! Bonus for me. Nina was “put out” though; she’d panicked when she couldn’t find me.

After she found me on the beach, she shoved me back into her backpack where I stayed as we continued the last leg of the tour through Mezcalitos, and west toward the main town of San Miguel, where Willy showed us—well, Nina (I was still socked in the backpack)— where he lives. We then rode through San Miguel’s bustling downtown and finally returned to the pier’s back parking lot.

Nina relented (she can never stay mad at me for long) and let me out of the pack when Willy produced two bottles of Corona Beer to celebrate our cool 5-hour tour. It was a blast!

You can book your Harley Davidson Tour with Willy and Carlos through Sand Dollar Sports. sds@sanddollarsports.com From Canada call: 972-966-0616; from USA call: 1-888-737-6399; from Cozumel call: 987-872-0793 or 987-872-1884; fax: 987-872-6158.