Last weekend, Chris and I had some friends (and 3 dogs) over at our cottage in Blue Sea, Québec. We realized upon arrival on Friday that our internet had been shut off due to… non payment (oups! I meant to pay it, at some point). No biggie, I’ll call the local internet provider, pay the bill and get reconnected.
The next day (it can wait another day, right?), I called to find out the accounting department was closed on weekends (“I told you so” says the voice in my bed). Oh well, this meant we were going to spend the long weekend at the cottage the way it should be done… Without internet or cell!
Play classic games
We busted out the Wii and our Rock Band went on to touring 4 different cities on Friday night. To avoid carpel tunnel we took a break to play good ol’ board games (with beer). Games are usually more fun with beers, right? We played Balderdash, Scattergories and Catch Phrase until our creativeness plateaued (then it just got messy).
Eat well
Saturday we prepared brunch together (the women cooked… the guys were on quality control). I decided to make a big batch of ployes with savoury and sweet fillings.
My parents are from Edmundston, New Brunswick; a French Canadian region on the border of Québec, New Brunswick and Madawaska, Maine; where its people are called Brayons. I grew up eating ployes for breakfast, lunch and dinner at my mémére’s. It’s a crepe made from buckwheat flour and the best way to eat them is drizzled in butter and brown sugar or maple sirup. I’ve been perfecting my method of preparing these in the past year or so, but I feel that I’ll never be able to reproduce the ones my mémére used to make. It is likely that the wonderful childhood memories associated to them are making this goal impossible to achieve. They will never taste as sweet as they did when I was a child. Either way, it doesn’t change that the first bite of a ploye always takes me back to my mémére’s kitchen – rolling up ployes doused in butter in brown sugar and eating them while we watched Céline Dion’s Christmas Special.
Regulating temperature of an outdoor fridge is an art. RIP my sweet one.
Get outdoor
That afternoon, we headed over to Mont Ste-Marie for an afternoon of downhill skiing. I confess today, as you are my witnesses (and those present on Saturday): I’m Canadian and a terrible skier. Growing up in New Brunswick, I spend most of my weekends in the winter at indoor soccer training sessions. I’ve only gone skiing 5 or 6 times in my life (including 1 time snowboarding – *disaster).
It was beautiful day for skiing (I was told). It was cold enough that the fresh snow was still powdery and the hill wasn’t too busy. My first run was terrifying because I had forgotten how to do simple S. I was snowplowing down, scraping all that nice, fresh, powdery snow out of my path. Anytime I tried to straighten my skis, I would pick up speed, panic and had no choice but to throw my body to the ground to avoid a fatal crash. Although Chris was born in Saskatchewan (the flattest province in Canada), he learned to ski in Fort Qu’appelle’s Mission Hill which had an abundance of bunny hills (which I needed desperately). He then went on to become a great skier on Canadian Rockies when he moved to Alberta. Last weekend our little ski group consisted of 3 Western Canadians who grew up skiing/boarding on mountains (not hills) and two Irishmen. I thought my ski experience (and having Canadian blood and all) would give me an edge on the Irishmen… I was wrong. Even 5 year olds were zooming past me in effortless swishing motion. After two green runs, I relieved Chris of his duties as coach (and first responder) to watch the group go down from the comfort (and safety) of the lodge for the rest of the afternoon. I had a afternoon skiing, relieved that I didn’t have to be carried out of there in the back of an ambulance.
Lupa is clearly an winter dog!
Max is 10% winter dog, 90% spoiled-lay-on-the-sofa-by-the-fire dog.
Our deer friend
Buying the cottage two years ago was one of the best decision we’ve ever made. The short trip to the lake on weekends is the perfect way to get out of the city and recharge our batteries with a little country fresh air!
Keeping up with the Fenders 