Work had let out early. It was Christmas Eve so the only thing getting done was paper shuffling and well wishing. I took my time walking home along Robson Street. All these years later, I still like this moment in the calendar – the eleventh hour, populated by harried people desperate to fulfil last minute errands. If you were shy about offering up a Happy Holidays or Merry Christmas, at this dire hour, it springs from everyone’s lips.
… the eleventh hour, populated by harried people
desperate to fulfil last minute errands.
I can still see him, his trench coat flapping in the breeze despite the cold. The sight of him made me smile. He was an old boyfriend and, even though we’d broken up years ago, he was still special to me.
We exclaimed each other’s names, embraced, and stepped to the side so that the throngs could pass. He told me he was still Christmas shopping. Plenty of time, I replied with raised eyebrows.
His name was Peter and he worked for the newspaper I now write for. Back then, he was their labour reporter and he was as sharp of mind as he was rumpled in appearance. He was smoking – he was always smoking; that was one of the reasons we broke up. Without trying to, Peter inhabited every cliche about the hard-nosed, soft-hearted beat reporter. He wasn’t voluble but, when he spoke, he spoke authoritatively. He knew stuff.
… as sharp of mind as he was rumpled in appearance.
Our romance began one Remembrance Day. I’d run into him down at the Cenotaph. I told him I was going to my parent’s for dinner and asked if he’d like to join me. Never one to turn down a home-cooked meal, of course he said yes. He was seated alongside my dad and I watched as Peter thawed him out with his questions and observations.
My parents had just moved into a new home. My dad brought a bottle of wine to the table announcing that it was a gift from the fellow who’d laid the brick driveway. We might as well try it, he said, as he filled the glasses.
“I could swear this was my uncle Joe’s wine”.
Peter took a couple of sips and put his glass down.
I could see he was thinking. He took another sip.
“I could swear that was my uncle Joe’s wine”.
My dad paused and looked squarely at Peter.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Peter Comparelli”, he replied.
My dad then put his glass down.
“This wine was a gift from Joe Comparelli”.
I learned recently that Peter had died in Malaysia in 2016, not surprisingly, of lung cancer.
… Same Old Lang Syne …
There’s a song that goes into heavy rotation toward the end of every year. It was a hit back in 1981 and it’s a true story about a chance encounter on a snowy Christmas Eve. You know the one – Daniel Fogelberg’s song, Same Old Lang Syne – about running into an old flame in the frozen food section of a grocery store. It ends with a beautiful sax solo of the New Year’s Eve standard, Auld Lang Syne. All over the world, and all these years later, people say it still makes them cry.
Here’s a video the true story behind this iconic song.
This week’s question for readers:
WHAT THOUGHTS DOES A NEW YEAR PROMPT FOR YOU?
Leave your Comments below!
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Submissions to last week’s question:
ARE YOU PART OF THE CONFEDERATE OF BREAD-BAKERS?
Like so many things, it’s all about getting comfortable with the process. I go on bread baking sprees … and then I have to go on jogging and calorie counting sprees!
T. Wong
Bread making need not be daunting, in fact you don’t even need a bread making machine or a dough hook. All you need are the basic ingredients, a large bowl and then follow Jim Lahey’s “No Knead Bread” recipe. This makes an awesome artisan loaf of bread.
Ken Bergen
I was a kindergarten teacher for more than 20 years. The children and I made bread every year in the weeks before spring break and Easter. First, we would plant wheat kernels in clear plastic glasses so the children would know that the wheat we were grinding was actually seeds. Next, we’d grind wheat, mix the ingredients and then the children would be given a chunk of dough to knead. The following day, each child was then given a portion of the dough to knead into a bun and set to rise on a cookie sheet. An hour later the buns were in the staff oven and each child took their warm bun home.
I was fortunate to be welcomed into my grandchildren’s grade one classes to make individual loaves with them and their classmates. Nothing compares to the smell of freshly baked bread!
Leslie Purvis
Yes, I am a dedicated bread maker. A friend shared her recipe for no-knead bread in 2019. I’ve been baking bread ever since. I modified the recipe to make whole wheat bread and developed my own method of preparing and baking the loaf.
Brenda Morris
I have been baking bread almost every week for the last 60 years. I take the odd week off, but it doesn’t take long to get tired of store bought and we are back in the kitchen baking up another batch – nothing better than toasted homemade bread! This week saw a batch of bread, two pans of sticky syrup pecan cinnamon buns and three braided sweet breads. Yum yum!
Trudy Halliday
Not a recent convert, I’ve been making my own bread since the hippie sixties. I think my first recipe was Honey Whole Wheat from my mother’s McCall’s cookbook – which I still have. Even though I had a busy freelance career, I could usually find time every other weekend to make a couple of loaves. I found it therapeutic. In the early aughts a friend gifted me The Bread Bible by Rose Levy Beranbaum. It not only has some of the best recipes for bread, but her idiosyncratic method of breadmaking converted me.
Ellie O’Day
Yes, I am a dedicated bread maker. A friend shared her recipe for no- knead bread in 2019. I’ve been baking bread ever since. I modified the recipe to make whole wheat bread and developed my own method of preparing and baking the loaf.
Brenda Morris
I spent the ‘50s on Manitoulin Island in the little town of Mindemoya. A woman there baked white bread at 50 cent a loaf for the cottages. I’ve spent the last 70 years unsuccessfully trying to duplicate her loaves. I once again returned to the book,”The Bread Makers’ Apprentice ” which I got about 10 years ago. This time, I followed the instructions to a “T”. What made it work was the very slow rising, first overnight in the fridge and second rising in my home made hot box. Best bread ever. Very light, large one pound loaves. Moral: never quit making bread.
Graham
I was baking bread when I read your column! It is so easy to bake my “No Knead Raisin Bread” and with the cinnamon smell, waking up the house in the morning it is heaven! There are no fancy tools to do this and the peanut butter toast is delicious.
Dave Richardson