The Word - Vol 88

What’s For Dinner? 🧂

I don’t know about you, but growing up in the '50s and '60s, our family had a very predictable dinner menu. I have to admit, and I know Mother would back me up on this, my Mom wasn’t a Michelin calibre chef. She could make a mean peanut butter and banana sandwich, but when it came to dinner, she kept it pretty simple. Some of the concoctions for lunch included peanut butter and jam, of course, cucumber sandwiches with mayo in the summer, and a real shocker, brown sugar sandwiches! I know, I can hear you shrieking out loud at the thought, but oh my, was it good. Here’s the recipe if you like. Two slices of fresh white bread, slather those with butter, then pile on some brown sugar! Good grief, how did I survive? How am I still alive? ​

We also had something we called a “George sandwich.” This was a single piece of bread, spread with whatever filling you wanted on the bread, then just fold the piece of bread over. It was named after a person named George who was a friend of a friend of ours. George was blind and didn’t trust himself with a knife, so he didn’t want to cut the sandwich, he would just fold over the piece of bread. Presto, a George sandwich. A perfect little snack if you didn’t feel like a whole sandwich. 

But let’s get back to the weekly dinner menu. It was pretty much the same every week. Hot Dogs with Hockey Night in Canada on Saturday nights, most Sunday nights it was roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Monday was something with leftover roast beef. The beef was put into a meat grinder and usually turned into Shepherds' Pie. Tuna casserole on Tuesdays, Macaroni and cheese on Wednesdays. Not Kraft Dinner, the real Macaroni that was finished off under the broiler to make the topping nice and crisp. Thursday was a toss-up and could have ended up being eggs and toast, and Friday we treated ourselves to Dunbar Fish and Chips delivered by one of the Taylor brothers, on bicycle. At least I think it was one of the Taylor brothers. They delivered for Dunbar Meat Market and I’m sure the Fish and Chip shop too. Sometimes as an extra treat, maybe once a month, the family would pile into the car and go to Lions Burgers on Broadway, with an ice cream cone from Peter’s Ice Cream shop across the street. Sounds like a pretty good lineup, but the problem for me was, that it didn’t change! I don’t ever want to see another dish of Tuna Casserole again in my life! But Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding? That’s another matter. 

We just got back from a trip to Vernon, BC, and while there we went to a waterfront pub called the 1516 Pub and Grill. A great little place with a lovely deck overlooking the boats tied up at a marina on Okanagan Lake. It had a wonderful pub food menu that included something you don’t see on menus often, Yorkies. Are you familiar with Yorkies? The last time I think I had a Yorkie was at a pub in Regina or Saskatoon! It’s pretty simple really, and on the top of my list of what I’d consider to be comfort food. It’s a small Yorkshire pudding, topped with shaved roast beef, horseradish, and smothered in gravy! I’m salivating just thinking about it. I didn’t really have to read any further down the menu, Yorkies for lunch will do just fine. At The 1516, the Yorkies were served much like you serve Sliders. Three Yorkshire puddings in a row, stand back and let me at em’.

Those little Yorkies brought back a flood of delicious memories of childhood when, as I mentioned, almost every Sunday night dinner was roast beef, peas, potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding with gravy! My Dad was in charge of the Yorkshires. He’d grease up and heat up a cast iron type muffin tin, mix up the Yorkshire mixture, pour it in, and place it in the oven. Now, I don’t know why, but the Yorkshires would either turn out high and fluffy and golden brown or end up like hockey pucks! Maybe someone opened the oven door during the cooking process to see how they were doing, causing the fluffy puddings to come crashing down! I’m no chef, but I think that’s maybe why the fluffy puddings turned into little round hard brown discs. Dad would be devastated when that happened, but the family didn’t mind. Smothered in enough gravy, we gave him a pass, and believe me it didn’t happen very often. 

I related this story of the Vernon Yorkies to a friend of ours, Carolyn Mason. She and her husband Peter, own Carmelo’s restaurant in West Vancouver. It’s an Italian restaurant, so I knew this wasn’t going to be an item on her restaurant’s menu, but to my surprise, she immediately said she makes the best Yorkies on the planet! The band was playing “Who’d a thunk it?” She said she didn’t make them for the restaurant, just for family and friends at home! Not only that, she promised to make me a plate of Yorkies for the next time we got together. 
I have my napkin neatly tucked in, and mouth watering at even the thought. 
Don’t go light on the gravy!

Till next week...
Wayne

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