More TALES FROM THE PAST: And Other Drivel

By Wilbur Dean

This is a compilation of a unique writing style. I recall some of my childhood memories as best I can. Some details are sketchy, for it's been such a long time since I left the harbour behind to seek my fame and fortune upalong. That being the case, I exaggerate a bit to fill in the blanks. So my stories are mostly truth with a bit of fiction thrown in. I coined a word to describe it. Triction. Livens it up a bit, don't ya t'ink. And of course some is all fiction, but I'll not say which ones. It should be evident for all to see And if you can't tell the difference, makes no odds to me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Nov 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781922355188

Book preview

Reversal of Fortune

There was a time when, if the cupboard was empty, people always had something to fall back on to quell the hunger pangs. Take the last few pennies from the emergency fund and buy a chunk of baloney. We became so accustomed to this meal of offal that eventually it became a staple of the Newfoundland diet. ‘Newfie steak’ graced many a table for breakfast, dinner, or supper. Very cheap, and with a side dish of eggs gathered earlier in the morning, and a few preddies from the cellar, we escaped the fate of ‘Old Mother Hubbard’.

Sometimes there weren’t any pennies left in the jar, so father had to resort to other means to see that we received the nourishment that our bodies needed. So he boarded the old punt and sculled out along shore to firk out a few lobsters.  At that time in our history, lobsters were referred to as ‘the poor man’s meal’. A scavenger that was consumed only in desperate times. A beaver, muskrat, or young seagull also makes for a fine dining experience after the stomach has been growling for an extended period of time.

Everyone had a few sheep and hens, so mutton and chicken were almost always available as a source of protein., but it had to be spared along. The hungry month of March could be torturous if you squandered your food supply too early in the winter. Then you’d have to go on the dole, a situation that most proud fathers abhorred .  My father filled the money pouch by working with the A.N.D. Company in the ‘lumberwoods’ during the winter months, and when spring thaw put a halt to that he often odjobbed at Rube’s or Willie George’s or Newfoundland Hardwoods. Sometimes he was lucky enough to get a couple of weeks working on the local road improvement projects. Anything to get a stamp in the book to qualify for UI benefits. $29 every two weeks. All this in spite of the fact that he was born with a heart defect that eventually led to his death at the ripe old age of fifty-nine. 

  Most families had a quintel or two of cod and turbot salted away, a few skivers of capelin and a good many bottles of cold packed rabbit and turres, along with home preserves of bakeapples, blueberries, rhubarb  and partridgeberries to spread on a slice of bread, be it toasted or not. That, along with a cellar full of vegetables, a barrel of salt beef and fatback, a bag of beans, a keg of lassey, and several sacks of Robin Hood flour would get us through until spring. 

Then ‘twas frenzy time again, preparing for the next long, hard winter. All summer long our bodies were nourished with fresh fish and meat as we set the gardens and filled the hay loft. Shear the sheep, fill the woodhouse, harvest kelp and capelin fer the gardens: trench the preddies, jig a few squid, set the trawl, fill the cellar;  father had little time fer rest and relaxation. Except on Sunday. The sabbath was always a time to replenish the body and soul, and to Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow. Sunday afternoon would find him lying on the daybed, totally engrossed in a Zane Grey western novel. Monday morning comes way too soon. 

So there you have it. The conditions were sometimes harsh, but the rewards were great. Bologna, lobster, leg of lamb, breast of chicken, organic vegetables and condiments, hormone free meats and fish, and fresh homemade bread to boot. The one thing that we missed out on was the crab. The lowly crab, a scourge for gill netters, beaten to a pulp to get ‘em detangled from the nets. A caviar moment passed those fishermen by, that’s fer sure.

Mother had her trials and tribulations as well. She worked her fingers to the bone to keep her family safe and secure. She made the bread, set the table, washed the dishes, scrubbed the laundry and the canvas, carded the wool, knit the guernseys, and tended the stable, made the beds and emptied the slop pail and last thing before bed, she used the fine tooth comb to make sure there were no creepy crawlies in our hair. Her chores were almost always completed on time, in spite of the migraines and the dirty diapers. Mother bore the bulk of the burden, although she was often aided by my sisters and brothers and me.

  So now, back to the baloney. Like all our meals, baloney was an inexpensive source of protein. Same with da cod, lobster, mutton, and chicken breasts and wings. The Kobe strip steak, at $350.00 per pound,  and truffles, costing a mere $75.00 per ounce, were reserved for the elite in society, and were far too expensive for the common man. If father couldn’t catch it or shoot it or otherwise grow it to maturity, we just didn’t eat it. "Twas that simple. 

  So now here we are in the year of our Lord 2019, and we’re still struggling to make ends meet, as it were. My how times have changed. We no longer have a means of self support. No hens, no sheep, no trawl lines, no lobster pots, and  living hand to mouth, sometimes wondering where the next meal is coming from. One thing I know fer sure; it won’t be the baloney or lobster or chicken breasts or mutton that will give our bodies satisfaction. Too damn expensive fer me. The elite has discovered that our diet was indeed made up of  succulent fare, and their hunger for it has caused supply and demand economics to dominate, thus pushing the prices through the roof. Nothing is off limits to the insatiable appetite of the higher-ups of society. The upper echelons of New York and Paris scream for our fodder, and most likely, they will be the victor over us oppressed souls. The result being that we will never again have the opportunity to firk out a lobster to put on the plate. A box of four half-pound lobster tails will set you back One Hundred and Nine Dollars and Ninety-Nine cents. And how about those crab legs?  One Hundred and Five U.S. dollars for a three pound box. Sea scallops are going for a mere Forty Dollars a pound. Or how about a truffle or two? At $2700 a pound.  Of course, you will have to cook them yourself for that price. But if you prefer, you can visit one of the elegant restaurants like ‘Masa’, in New York City, where a three course meal will set you back $600 plus tax. Or maybe you could fly to Ibiza, Spain and dine in the ‘Sublimotion’ restaurant at the Hard Rock Hotel. A mere $2,173 per person.

  So there. No wonder lobster and crab legs are off limits to us ordinary Newfoundlanders. And if we’re caught trying to sneak a few of these crustaceans there’s hell to pay. Yes indeed, the penalty is severe. Two thousand dollar fines for first time offenders. Try it again and look out. The guillotine will fall.

  So you see where we’re at now. The once plentiful fare of the ordinary man has been confiscated to be consumed by the infinitely more influential and unscrupulous profligates of society. And it’s only going to get worse. How so?

Well, when all else failed; we could always snare a few rabbits or buy a box of turkey necks, or resort to the old reliable chunk of baloney, but alas, soon that will be out of reach of the common man.

 I walked into Sobey’s several weeks ago to pick up a few essentials, and was flabbergasted at what I discovered. 

I picked up a piece of protein from the frozen food section and looked at the price. $29.72. The weight was a mere 576 grams. I turned the package over to discover that it was a rabbit. Oh my God, I thought. This must be a mistake. But no, it wasn’t. So I thought to myself, ‘Geez, next thing the rabbit will go the same way as the lobster and the crab. Commercial harvesting only, under  strict control, and dare not offend. Just imagine. Thirty dollars for a lowly rabbit. So I put it back in the freezer and moved along to the turkey necks. A bowl of turkey neck soup would be some good now. Another sobering moment. $2.99 a pound. For Turkey necks? Egads. An increase of 300% over the last little while. Oh well, at least I’ve got enough change in me pocket ta get a piece of baloney. Yeah, right! Just several months ago I paid $1 for a meal of baloney. Today the price was $5.49. What’s this world coming to?  A full chub of otherwise discards from the butcher’s knife will set me back sixty bucks. So I headed fer da stale bread and peanut butter.

  I was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying my peanut butter and partridgeberry jam sandwich, when Norma  passed along the mail. Right on top was a flyer from No Frills, and the first thing that caught my eye was the price of a strip steak, cut from grade AAA Alberta beef. Only $2.99 a pound. Also on the front page were some lobsters for a mere $5 a pound. And scallops were on for only $8.99. So off I go to No Frills to stock up on these delicacies. I’ll be living high on the hog fer da next few weeks. 

A couple of nights ago I tuned in to Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen on the food network. I like to watch Gordon trying to teach his students how to prepare a delicious meal, using the best of the best meats, fish, and sides. I like to listen to him rant and rave in the most vulgar of language as he chastises the amateur chefs for overcooking a Kobe steak, a Maine lobster, or Digby scallops. But that night was a bit different. No foul language, and no outbursts of dissatisfaction, Just praise for a job well done. Cooked to perfection, exactly as Gordon likes it. It was difficult for him to choose a winner that night. One chef had done such a tremendous job on the Newfie Steak with a side of green peas and a curried rue. Another had prepared a braised rabbit in bakeapple sauce. And the other chef prepared a seal loin tartare with a vinegar raspberry sauce and a side of miniature potatoes. 

So you see where this is heading, don’t you? After all this time, the whole world has finally discovered that the simple things in life often give the most pleasure. 

What a reversal of fortune!

Now if we just bide our time, the market will be glutted with Kobe steak, lobsters, crab legs, scallops, lamb chops, chicken wings, foie gras, truffles, and caviar. Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm. I just can’t wait. They can have the baloney and the pea soup and the beans.  There’s just two things we have to guard against. We must fight to the death to retain our recreational cod fishery, and we must never, never, never let them get their hands on a cake of Purity hard bread. 

Now you might say that I’m full of ‘baloney’. Not so! But my deep fridge is chinched to the cover.  Right full of chubs of Newfie Steak, still encased in the waxed cheesecloth. When I realized what was going on, I bought up about 200 of them. Figured it was a safe bet that come my retirement, they’d be worth a fortune  Let’s see now; 200 chubs at 8.8 pounds each is 1760 pounds. At approximately $125 per pound…………

And then, of course, the cellar is jam packed to the hatch with coldpacked bakeapples. And just in time, too. A moratorium has been issued on harvesting this infamous jewel of the boglands. Too important a crop to let ordinary folk feast on fer nothing. I figure at the present rate of increase they’ll replace truffles as the most expensive morsel on the planet. And I’ll be laughing all the way to the bank. Eat your heart out, Gordon