Sometimes my ramble is a true ramble. A veritable wandering journey of words.
Yes, every week is different in the world of rambling, and sometimes selecting a column topic can be challenging. As my weekly deadline approaches, the topic hides, lurking in a shadow, challenging my creativity.
Occasionally, my subject hits like a thunderbolt, out of the blue, served up on a silver platter. This week, my topic presented itself in a most unlikely spot.
There I was, at the weekly Thursday fish fry at our local Royal Canadian Legion, Branch 124 on King Street near the tennis courts and the public pool.
The fish fry is open to the public, almost always well attended, and the talented, enthusiastic fish fry crew always hits the ball out of the park. Their blue career apparel adds a certain class.
Six volunteers upstairs in the kitchen, two more selling tickets and taking the cash just inside the front door, and the young food runners delivering the food. Three championship-level coleslaw artists always create a brilliant side order to complement the fish and fries.
The wonderful bartenders are kept busy and work hard with welcoming attitudes.
The fish is always haddock, deep-fried to order. There is the occasional request for catfish or cod, but haddock always prevails.
Now, to the source of Ross’s Rambling for this week. As a relatively new Legion member, I have happily become very comfortable at a regular table, with several longtime NOTLers. Lise, Sig, the peripatetic and charming Marlene, Ben, Wally and regular fun other folks.
After all the work has been finished upstairs, hard-working Henry Adamowski usually joins us to enliven the conversation. We eat and chat, and these chatty new friends sometimes unwittingly provide me with a unique perspective on local history.
Last week, I kept hearing the word “ice.”
Local tales from decades ago and the ice bridge across the river from our town to Youngstown. With the necessary, really frigid temperature levels and sustained winds from the northwest, the mouth of the river would be packed solid for weeks at a time. Some brave daredevils would scramble across the border..
No documentation needed, and not that long ago. Shortly after 9/11, the dreaded passport legislation became part of our lives. A shock to the system, but we were forced to adapt to this new reality.
For decades, ice cream cones were all the rage on Queen Street. Jim Smith’s comprehensive, interesting and educational hard cover NOTL history pictorial book explains what a big treat ice cream cones were for local youngsters.
We won’t even talk about the historic pricing for these special treats, or the prices people happily pay now for cones or cups with their favourite flavours.
And when did gelato deftly elbow its way into our local lives?
A natural progression of the word “ice” brings us to the current oenological headliner here in certain parts of the Niagara Peninsula.
Only a few decades ago, icewine became all the rage, and local wineries have won numerous prestigious prizes at wine expos around the world.
All the stars seemed to have aligned. Terror, temperature and talented people. An enabling microclimate. Wine tourists from around the world, more than willing to open their wallets wide for this sweet treat, to be savoured here or back home, around the world. It really is amazing, isn’t it?
This is what happens when a group of intelligent, hard-working people work synergistically for the common good. Sharing ideas, tenaciously producing world-class wines.
Chapeau to the Niagara wine industry for icewine and their other award-winning wines.
This column has been a struggle, to be certain. The word “ice” has been part of Niagara for a long time, and will no doubt stay with us. Evolving, with new contexts.
As a fun aside, and to end this column, let me report that during our current oppressive (remember this in January and February) heat wave, a few local food and beverage establishments ran out of ice.
You just can’t ever predict the future. Or the present. We all do our best to keep up.
