Jam-Jams

Sometimes baking, though hard on the waistline, can be comforting. It comforts me because I associate the smell of freshly baked bread or the sweet smell of warm cookies with being at my grandparent's house. A house that raised ten children, and more grandchildren than I can name. It was a home that was always swarming with activity, endless teasing, the sounds of laughter, music, and the smell of Grandma's cooking.

There are a few freak shows here who have their Christmas lights on now, and this does two things to me: it makes me angry (it is the middle of November people! Gawd.) and it makes me lonely for home. We won't be able to get back to the Rock for the holidays this year and I find it very difficult to get through. So I have been a little bit blue the past few days. That might explain why I have been baking up a storm. But not just any recipe; I want to make my Grandma's Jam Jams. I have never known anyone besides Grammy to make it- and they were my favourite treat she baked. She knew it too- one Christmas, she sent myself and Don back to Ontario with a freshly baked load of Jam-Jams in one hand, and a Steak and Kidney Pie in the other.

This was how Grandma said "I love you". And I loved her right back.

I don't have the patience and flair that Pioneer Woman Cooks has, and I don't have the artistic and impressive dishes that Rock Recipes displays, but I do have a damn fine cookie recipe a la Clara M Browne. I hope I do it justice. Here is what you will need.

2 cups flour

1/2 cup sugar ( I used brown, but I am not sure if that is right or not- I will have to ask my Aunt Catherine and get back to you on that)

3 tblsp molasses

1 tsp baking soda

1 egg

1/2 cup margarine or shortening

1 tsp vanilla

pinch of salt


First, preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Next, measure out your margarine (it is a good idea to let it come to room temperature first) and sugar and dump it in a bowl. Then beat it like it owes you money.



Add molasses, vanilla, salt and soda stir it up so it blends well, and then add 2 cups of flour. Resume the beating. Then, take a break my friend. You have been working hard. This mixture needs to chill now anyway. So put your feet up, have a drink and let this batter cool for at least two hours. When your time is up, take it out of the fridge and prepare your counter top with a light layer of flour. Dump your batter onto the floured surface and flatten it with a rolling pin. Or a can of Mugs Root Beer and wax paper, if you don't have a rolling pin. Just roll it out...

Besides a rolling pin, I also lack cookie cutters. So I just use a glass. I don't have to show you a picture of that do I? Come on, the Mugs Root beer improvisation is embarrassing enough! Once you have cut out your little round circles of dough, line those babies up on a cookie sheet. Now pop 'em into the warm oven. Bake them for 8 to ten minutes- leaning closer to the 8. They might not appear done but unless you have a Holly Hobby Oven they will be done. While they are still warm, you want to add the jam. Now Grammy often used jam she made herself, but we can cheat. Use your favourite kind. Put a little on the bottom side of a cookie, and then top that ooey gooey goodness with another warm cookie, make a little sandwich out of it.

Now here comes the most important part- Share them with someone you love:

And that my friends is the magical Jam-Jam: a traditional Newfoundland cookie. Enjoy.

Free Hugs: Newfoundland

Free hugs is a real life controversial story of Juan Mann . His intention was to change the world one hug at a time. In a world where we live so insularly, IPods in our ears, Blackberries at our fingertips, and lawyers on speed dial: this idea was radical. It spread fast.

And was banned by authorities just as quickly...you have to have insurance for that kind of thing. But a petition and moocho media later (Oprah) and suddenly the red tape disappeared.

Since this campaign started (2004) it has spread- and of course you know Newfoundlanders had to get in on the action. And here they are doing just that:



Have you hugged someone today?

Women from the past 500 years

This is an amazing little video of images of women from the past 500 years:

The best husband in the world

Since the only family we have in Ontario is my Uncle Bren and his brood Hubby and I haven’t been out much since The Boy was born. Bren and Sherri have three of their own, so they can hardly drop everything and come over and watch my son. But on Friday, that is exactly what they did.

Because my husband is the bestest husband in the world.

I pulled into the house Friday evening after picking my son up from daycare- and found myself pulling in behind Sherri’s van. Her kids hopped out, said hi, and walked on in to the house. The Boy and I followed- where we met my Husband at the door. A husband who was supposed to be at work. A husband who had bought me tickets to see the Police in concert (OMFG!), and who had arranged for Sherri to watch the Boy while we were out. A husband who was standing there with a goofy grin on his face while I wept like a baby.

The concert was outstanding. First rate. I have wanted to see these guys in concert since Synchronicity came out. The trio, has not toured for over 20 years, and yet those years apart seemed to fall away Friday night. They played together in an almost symbiotic fashion. Sting’s voice was clear, and hit every note, Summer’s guitar solo’s was epic, and Copeland simply blew everyone away with his drum set up. His incredible rendition of Wrapped Around Your Finger had Copeland standing, jumping and hitting chimes, cymbals; even a large gong behind him with finesse. The crowd was into it, singing along, answering Stings’s trademark “EEEEYOOOOHHHHH!" note for note, with heart and gusto.

It was an excellent evening. My ears are still ringing. If you have a chance to see The Police in your area, (They play Montreal's Bell Centre Monday, Nov. 12) take it. It is one of the best shows I have ever seen.

Thanks Buddy, you are the best.

Wikiality.com, the Truthiness Encyclopedia!

Just a little sample of what can be found at: Wikiality


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Newfoundland is a magical place to the east of Canada. It is full of cod fish, old men, leprechauns and eczema. Newfoundland did not exist before 1949. That is why it is called Newfoundland. Newfoundlanders wear green, white and pink flags all the time. They're probably Communists.

At one point, Newfoundland tried to join the U.S., but many Newfoundlanders and Americans alike wanted none of that, so like the fat boy that dates the ugly girl in high school, Newfoundland joined Canada for a while. Everybody keeps forgetting that Newfoundland is single now, though - either that, or nobody wants to have to deal with the idea of it being in the dating pool (because it goes potty in the water), and so they still include it in all of the maps of Canada and call it a province and think that people in it say "b'y" a lot.

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Odd dudes. Funny, but odd.

A time to remember

My Poppy served in World War II. He was a selfless man, proud, strong, honest and hard working. He left such a mark on me: gave me an image of the person I want to be. He died of cancer a few years back and I find it hard still to think about him as gone. Poppy never really talked about his time in the war, he found it too difficult. But he was the man behind the scenes at the memorial services, and at the parades, and he kept the cenotaphs in good condition throughout the year. It was important to him that people remembered, honoured, and were grateful for the sacrifices made by so many young men and women.

This time of year I think about him a lot, because he always had a difficult time around Remembrance Day. So I guess he was in the back of my mind guiding me to a story about Canada’s War Brides: over 45,000 British and European women who left behind everything that was familiar to them to start a new life in post-war Canada.

Canadian War Brides is trying to gather stories from these brave women. Their tales are incredibly romantic; their journeys are inspiring and sometimes tragic, yet they leave you with a greater understanding of this amazing group of Canadian women. Of course, this is a Newfoundland Blog, so I must highlight the story of Rosalind Elder. I should also thank her for teaching me a Newfoundlander's toast I had not heard before:

I bows towards you,
I nods accordant.....
I catches your eye and I smiles

**The Picture above is of Newfoundland War Brides from the St. John's "Rose and Thistle Club", Christmas 1950. Photo courtesy of Rosalind Elder. Ms. Elder also has a website, and has a book of her own called Maples and Thistles

Should I call the CIA?

Ever since I put my son in Montessori School (Sept 4/07), he has been sick with one thing or another and so have myself and hubby; because my son is a generous little guy he shares it all with us.

So far he has been stricken with Roseola, an ear infection, a throat infection, pink eye, and now another ear infection and that pink eye is still lingering. Riding right along with him is my husband, who has had sinusitis, the flu, and now another bout of sinusitis. Then there is me, I have had a chest infection, a cold, and I am currently battling a throat infection. We are all on our third round of antibiotics.

Hubby takes the Go train to work every day, and for years now has been restricted in that tiny train car to get to work; it is always crawling with the germs, phlegm, and airborne cold missiles that only an enclosed space like a train can nurture and cultivate. And yet, he usually catches something that knocks him back once a year. I work with teens all day. They hand in their work on paper that is oozing with their pathogens, and I type on the computers that they hack and whoop and sneeze on all day, and I, like my husband, usually catch something only once a year. I rest, drink fluids, and the malady goes away.

That does not appear to be the way it is working this year. Nope. Not at all. We have had one thing after another for months now…MONTHS! And the damnedest thing is, it never goes away. It just hangs on, like those last five pounds you want to lose. And just when you think you are close to beating it, the damn thing morphs into something else.

I am really starting to wonder about what is going on there at Montessori. Is it really just a school? Or is it a front for something more sinister? I am starting to think it is black ops for some terror cell secretly manufacturing biological weapons of mass destruction. Maybe I should call somebody about this? God, my kid is only a year old, and already he has turned to the dark side.

Somebody pass me a Kleenex.

Jellybean Row

Awhile back, Geoff Meeker dropped a line to me about Jellybean row. I have to admit, it was the first I had heard of it. But one peek at their web page and I was hooked. I even have a little Christmas request list made.

What is a Jellybean Row you ask? Well, it is part souvenir, part collectible and a piece of original art. Modeled after the heritage homes of downtown St. John's, these colorful plaques are mounted and ready to hang on your wall. Better yet, my wall.

There is a really sweet Christmas series for sale as well... I am seriously considering picking up a set for my mom for the holidays. She is a Christmas nut. I love how the one above even has the stained glass window over the door. Anyhooo, it is a really neat idea folks. Check it out! Let me know how you like it.

Newfie Screech- We have the Yanks to thank?

Back in the day, Jamaican rum was a popular part of a Newfoundlander’s diet, as we traded salt fish to the West Indies in exchange for rum (that would have been when we actually had fish to trade with anyone!). The original rum was barrel proof in strength so it did not exactly have a smooth finish. Eventually the government applied some controls that required it be packaged in clear glass and began selling the rum in unlabelled bottles. You could say that screech was the original no-name brand. It remained nameless until American soldiers came to the Island during World War II.

I have heard the story told many times, and I often wonder if there is either bit of truth to it. Apparently, a young serviceman, enjoying the lower drinking age, was having his first taste of the brew with some of the locals. They were not supposed to be drinking at the time, as the officer was on duty. But, it was cold, and a little nip might warm him. The Newfoundlander he was with, downed his shot in one gulp, so the American did the same. The officer’s blood-curdling scream attracted a lot of attention. An Sergeant who heard the sound from outside pounded his fist on the door and demanded to know, "What the hell was that ungodly screech?"

Answered the Newfoundlander: "Da Screech? T’is the rum, me son!"

And the name stuck.

A few years back there was an overhaul of the whole brand. Ironically, it was done in part to break into the US market. I hate the new look. Maybe it is because I don’t do well with change, maybe it is because the new look just doesn’t jibe with a name like “Screech”, or maybe it is just an uppity design which conveys little of the history behind the bottle.

What do you think? Which bottle style do you prefer? And have you ever sampled this sweet, yet raw dark amber gold? And for those of you who might scoof at the drink due to its name, I’ll have you know, this baby is the Gold Medal winner at the 2003 International Rum Fest!

Newfie Night-cap
• 1 ¼ ozs. Newfoundland Screech
• 1 – 2 Teaspoons Brown Sugar
• Coffee
• Whipped Cream

Halloween Rant

I so agree, strange little dude:





That said, my little guy will be a dragon tomorrow.

Scott Pynn Art

You know, I believe that Newfoundlanders are a talented lot: a fine crew. Contrary to all those Newfie jokes out there, we can get the job done. Hell, we are currently building the entire province of Alberta! We are sharp, clear minded, we cut through the bullshit. One need only read the works of Ray Guy, Rex Murphy, or Rick Mercer to see that. We are artisans, painters, sculptors and poets. And we do it all with our distinct sense of the world, our wit, and our poetic voice.

I recently came across the works of Labrador native, 27 year old Scott Pynn , and I was lucky enough to be able to ask him a few questions about his life and work as an artist. A self described "Average Joe", Scott used to work as a roofer, a carpenters assistant, and a lumberjack. The latter he said was “the most interesting because I would spend all day cutting down trees and then go home and paint them back up again”. Scott’s been painting since he was young. He was inspired by his grandfather, also an artist, who specializes in painting steam locomotives. He taught Scott when he was “just a young pup” beginning with the basics of composition, color, and perspective: “It was the greatest gift he ever could have given me.”

Art is not a choice for Scott- it is something he must do: “I have always been compelled to make things and feel disconnected from myself when I don't have a creative outlet. I sometimes joke that if I never painted my mind would explode, it's hard to pinpoint what inspires me; it's a mixture of everything, nature of course being a big part. But I guess what I strive for the most is to describe in paint those indescribable feelings you get so often in life. Like on a crisp fall evening when the leaves are crunching under your feet and you can smell wood smoke in the air, or that feeling in your stomach around Christmas time. You know the feeling I'm talking about, everyone does. Sometimes I'm inspired by very big things like a thunder and lightning storm and sometimes it can be as small as watching a drop of rain slowly trickle down the stem of a daisy.” Scott has had a variety of shows in the last few years in Labrador, New Brunswick and Alberta, and more are in the works. Currently he has the largest Facebook Art Group with over twenty-five thousand members and growing. He is “thrilled” with the support he has received fellow Newfoundlanders.

I have some really beautiful pieces of art in my small collection of Newfoundland works- and I picked each because they spoke to me somehow. Of course, because I live off Rock now, these pieces mean so much more to me: they are a comfort. But my feelings towards Scott's pieces were very different: I haven't reacted to art work so viscerally in a long time.

I lived in Wabush, and Goose Bay for a few years as a child- and it was a golden time for me. I was a happy kid then; my family loved it there. I don’t often think of Labrador because my time there was so short. But when I first saw Scott’s work, I found myself whirling back to that apartment on Cormac drive…to the woods beyond where I would toboggan, ski-doo, build snow forts, and make snow angels in the deep of the whitest snow. I remembered the magic of the Northern Sky, with her rainbow of lights swirling in dark- the trees bowed by the weight of the snow, themselves awed by celestial majesty. Scott’s work brought it all back in a bittersweet rush of nostalgia; made me a little weepy. But then, that is what great art does.

Autumn traditions in Newfoundland.

I love autumn. I love the cool days and crisp nights; the changing leaves that swirl in the wind whispering their way through the sky. Of course this fall has had none of that. Jeeze, it has been hot as balls these past few weeks. Feels like we may just skip fall and dive head long into winter- though at the rate we are going, it looks like it will be a green one.

Aside from the weather cliches, I love autumn because of all the traditions that go with it. Many of my favorites begin at harvest time, it has become and annual tradition for my husband and I to pick apples at Archibald's Orchard , and pick up a nice fruit wine for Thanksgiving at the same time. We also head on over to Pingles Farm to pick our pumpkin for Halloween- and deck the house out so it looks like a tribute to Vincent Price. And now it is something we do with our son.

Many of the autumn season's customs are historically related. Although there was no Thanksgiving Day holiday in Newfoundland Pre-Confederation, many people celebrated it as part Harvest and it included Halloween. The whole season of Halloween is a little different back home on the Rock. There are at least a half-dozen Halloween-related customs that are unique to Newfoundland, though their roots, like our ancestors, reach back to other places. We just made them our own.

For example, the few days before Halloween and sometimes after it used to be called Mischief Week. Old Newfoundland's children traditionally believed that there are certain kinds of mischief allowed at that time: stuffing sods in chimneys, soaping windows, taking pins from gate hinges, and so on. It in no way resembles the Devils night insanity that sometimes goes on across Canada and the US. Mischief week was just harmless little pranks.

In Trinity Bay North, many people participated in Torch Night, when young men would carry torches around the community in a parade. Torches were made from just about anything: from old boots soaked in fish oil, or barrels of kindling, even old dried-up tar mops; in fact the name Tar Mop Night was used in the White Bay area. And come on, is there anywhere else on the planet that still celebrates Gay Fawkes night besides the UK and Newfoundland?

I miss all that kind of stuff now. Not just because that the weather here in Ontario is all off, but that deep rooted sense of tradition and community is so lacking here. Cripes, some neighborhoods and apartment buildings don’t even allow Halloween. It is kind of sad really. And we are losing it back home too, slowly but surely. I don’t think Tar Mop Night has been seen in about 60 years or more now.

I know some traditions die out for practical reasons- imagine Guy Fawkes night downtown Toronto! The police would show up in Riot gear. Seriously, we need to sit down and look at all those wonderful traditions we had for so many years, and really give some thought to preserving them. If not in practice, definitely with photos and stories: our own recording of our history. These traditions are what make us unique, they are an essential part of that constant internal pull of the island: they draw us together as one. And that my friends, is a beautiful thing.

"Ass kicking is what's called for"

I have never been one to jump into American political debate. I do watch what is going on down south but I refrain from commenting on American politics and popular debate because, well, I am not American. It is all too easy to point the finger from the outside; much more difficult to take an honest look inward. But there are occasions when issues arise and I find myself drawn in. The 911 conspiracy freaks have managed to get me going today because, and it pains me to say it, but there are actually some Newfoundlanders out there promoting a variety of conspiracy theories. And no, I am not linking to their blog.

While I am no fan of George Bush and his cronies, I do not believe that the attacks were a false flag operation carried out with the intention of winning the allegiance of the American people in order to facilitate military spending, the restriction of civil liberties, and a program of aggressive and profitable foreign policy. All this was simply a bonus for Bush Administration; it allowed them to take advantage of a tragic situation and use 9/11 to invade Iraq.

While "Intelligence" may have known something was in the works, I doubt they knew exactly what was going to happen and when. Nor does it make any sense to me that the planes which rammed into the Pentagon and Twin Towers were missiles, or were shot down (um, from where? Cleveland?), or that they were the results of "controlled demolition" (yes, because no one would have possibly noticed that in the works). I think the best theory is that Flight 93 never crashed, no, they swapped that plane! How exactly they manage that is never explained. All the while, these conspiracy freakshows manage to ignore the wreckage at the scenes and witness testimony. They also somehow miss published reports by the National Institute of Standards and Technology which do not support the controlled demolition hypothesis. And the hundreds of peer reviewed papers completed by civil engineers who prove that the impacts of jets at high speeds in combination with subsequent fires led to the collapse of the Twin Towers. And yet, this wacko collection of freaks, who seem to have nothing of importance to do with their time, still persist. Maybe it is time to move out of Mom's basement and get a job folks? Maybe get a girlfriend? A boyfriend? Whatever curdles your cream.

You might be wondering what got me going on this today- and it was this crazy exchange between 9/11 "Truthers" with Bill Maher on his show :"Real Time with Bill Maher":


My mind turned to all those families who lost people they loved because of 9/11 and the subsequent wars in the Middle East. What a slap in the face it must be for them to have these brainless worms go on and on with their inane conjecture, and to see Newfoundlanders join this lunatic fringe makes me even angrier. Come on people, we are smarter than this.

And now for something completely different.

It is a little known fact that I kick some serious ass when it comes to puzzles. We recently downloaded PuzzleQuest for the Xbox 360, and when we weren't cleaning, marking, or playing with the boy, my husband and I played game after game of it on the TV. I beat him bad. I made him cry. I did a victory dance on his inferior little manbrain.

Then, on Sunday night, I noticed a new link on my Newfoundland forum, it was Karen, the wonderfully talented photographer (she also happens to have a stunningly beautiful blog) who posted it. Karen knows of my weakness for riddles, puzzles and puns. I think she knew this site would plague me; would get under my skin like bed bugs at a whore house on a Saturday night.

It is a visual puzzle in the style of a medieval painting, and each section of the painting represents a horror flick. The movies represented span film history and because it is basically an ad for M&M Dark chocolates (Yuck, who eats the dark stuff??) all the films depicted are horror or thrillers. So, you have to be a bit of a film buff to get more than a dozen. My husband remembers EVERY FILM HE EVER WATCHES and I am a bit of a horror film hack, but there were two of those suckers we did not get at all.

And it is driving me batshit.

If anyone can get the one with the stairs, or the one with the two guys on the stairs please, for the love of mike and milk chocolate, please let me know.

Here it is: http://www.mms.com/us/dark/dark_game.jsp

And Karen, payback is a bitch..."I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too....."

I will be watching tonight

Two of my favourite shows have pulled out all the stops for their Fall premieres. This Hour Has 22 Minutes makes its season debut this evening ... and Danny Williams is on the menu. Oh I do hope they make a nice liver pate out of him. I may even open a bottle of wine. According to the CBC, Mark Critch will once again demonstrate an unmatched talent for his dead-ringer impression of Danny Williams. Have a listen to this my friends ...just enough to whet your appetite.

And if that wasn't enough, RMR is back! Wahooooooo! Disgraced media baron Conrad Black is scheduled to appear in a taped segment on the season premiere of The Rick Mercer Report tonight.

Ahhhh, ladies and gentlemen, I will break open a bottle this fine eve; any suggestions for a nice red, something that goes nicely with crow?