Edmonton

Edmonton, oh Edmonton. My liver is pickled and I smell like cow poo, what am I going to do about you? That was a fleeting attempt at poetics, which didn't go so well, but that happens on occasion, and I like to roll with it instead of erasing the potential embarassment. When you work on a feedlot, you don't smell yourself anymore, but later on you realize that other people likely do, so it would be perhaps gentler to society to wash. En route to Edmonton, we were delighted to find we would be staying with some family friends of mine. A delightful couple by the name of Ian and Terri Lynn, who were not at all grudging about having two dirty cooks in the house. When we arrived they were already cooking and sipping on prosecco, so that worked perfectly into our grand scheme of food. I didn't realize how long it had been since I had seen them until she didn't immediately recognize me at the door. This is only permissible because I am now sporting a righteous beard and most people think they are being invaded by vikings when they see me. After the initial fear of conquer and pillaging, they were extremely hospitable. We were shown to the basement suite, which was literally the entire basement to ourselves, and awesome. We both showered and when we came upstairs dinner was minutes away from ready. Ian was already prepping for tomorrows dessert and we were told to kick back and relax, maybe drink something, so we did. We're always happy to abide by that request.

We were slightly impromptu guests, so they had pork chops whilst we dined upon roasted chicken, all with potatoes and salad (from the garden, which I will extrapolate on later) to keep the estomach happy. Great dinner, and a decent start to our little Edmonton experience. After dinner we caught up a little and then decided to tear off to bed, as they were up beyond their typical curfew and we were exhausted still from Calgary.

The following day we spent the morning plotting, then hit the streets in search of gastronomic adventure. We took a bus and a train to downtown, where the 'Taste of Edmonton' festival was being held. It sucked. Like, badly. There was barely a person there adhering to any sort of quality, and even on it's face it was not the towns more prestigious places serving up fare. I hate to say it, but the taste of Edmonton is not Chinese and Indian food. That's the taste of Vancouver, and Edmonton can never steal it! We decided to give some of the food a shot. We invested in fish cakes, perogies, and bbq short ribs, deciding the latter two were representative enough of the region to be edible. In case you didn't know, all the prairies have a huge Ukrainian heritage, and they are proud thereof. The story runs that the Canadian government actually sent people to Ukraine promising as much free land as they could clear themselves, and a stipend to build a house. The Ukrainians swarmed at the opportunity. This was good because it meant the land was settled and the US couldn't just carve massive swaths of land out of Canada. O how crafty were thou, John. A. Moving on, the only good things at the Taste festival were the fish cakes, from some random Korean vendor. The perogies were more empty than full, and the dough was soggy, and the short ribs were barely tender and tasted like a sauce that you buy in a 40L pail at Costco. Depressing, but we were strong, and rallied. Then we left.

Wandering downtown Ed is a singular experience, it is at once boring and still somewhat exciting. Though the vast majority is cold, grey buildings, there are shots of flair, the art gallery and a few others. Another shot of flair was a random topless woman walking around downtown, acting like it was the most normal thing ever. I was impressed, that takes balls, of which she clearly has none by genetic default, so where she acquired them, I don't know. There was, needless to say, people running around and getting excitable, but whatever, it is legal after all. Shortly after seeing the exhibitionist, we found a shop called Healthfare. Pretty post-modern, nice interior, super sustainable build, and food comes with prices and calorie content. I don't care about calories, as most of you can probably tell by the food I've been eating, but it was a good thing to see, as it signifies thought about food, which is never bad. Unless its thinking about the pizza your going to devour all by yourself because your totally wasted, and even though you ate a big dinner your hungry for some reason. I swear I've only done that like, two dozen times. Anyways, Healthfare is a pretty decent spot, and we returned the next day to eat there, the food was pretty alright. Nothing mind-blowing, no epiphany food, but still likely some of the better food you can get at the price point, and fast as anything.

That night we returned to our abode, which was minus Ian, as he is also a chef and works proper chef hours, like 10-11. That sounds like a joke, but it's not. We made dinner for ourselves and Terrie Lynn, with a 'satay-sauce salad' and chicken fritters. Basically a peanut butter vinaigrette and chicken cakes the same way one would make crab cakes. Tasty. The greens were once again from the garden, which I must now delve into. Terrie Lynn is technically a doctor(having received her doctorate just this past thursday) and works for the university and consults in some field as well. Her proper title is actually farmer. Her back garden is jammed. Herbs, vegetables, berries and even a weird olive tree with no olives. I thought it was pointless too, but apparently it's decorative. The plot is no bigger than the average suburban back yard, but she has like 6 varieties of tomato, zucchini, parsley, basil, lemon thyme, marjoram, radishes, beets, raspberries and a ton of other delectables in there.
It's a wild scene to say the least. Every night we ate there, we ate something from the garden. They also keep a cool list of par stocks that they should have in their fridge, so they never really run out of wicked stuff to do with food. Upon Ian's return, we dove into some saskatoon berry pie. I shit you not when I say this was the best pie ever. It was so goddamn good it should have it's own post, which will follow this one, and just be a picture you can all look at in reverence. His secret is in his pie dough, and the fact that he doesn't make pies too sweet. I was so pumped about this pie I had to internally chill out, so I didn't scare my hosts off. Seriously, Ian should open a pie company, and become a millionaire. Before you become too astounded that a chef can make such a stellar, mouthwatering even now that I'm only thinking about it pie, you should know that Ian is a double threat, as he is also a classically trained pastry jock. Stupid good pie.

The following day, if I remember correctly, was market day, to be followed by relaxation day, then visit the farmer day. Market day was great. Edmonton has a large and well-established farmer's market, which was kind of a blindside hit for us, because we had no idea. However, we went there with the main intention of talking with Andreas and Mary-Ellen of 'Green's Eggs and Ham', as they were a contact of Ian's and dedicated to the local movement. We ambled through the market, watching people do yoga mid-street, listening to a jazz quartet play renditions of everyone's favorite techno, and admiring the produce on display. We were shopping for dinner tonight, which was to be the 'Tongue and Cheek' meal. Very Thomas Keller, if anyone gets that. We procured some veggies, cucumber, horseradish, and a few other tidbits. One thing we almost had to buy was this conical cabbage on sale at a cabbage vendor. It was seriously so pointed it appeared like a seashell, patterned by it's veins. Pretty amazing vegetable. We chatted with the farm folks, and decided we would visit them Tuesday to get a handle on what they are trying to do.

Afterwards we went and ate at Healthfare before returning home to the basement for some quality time with the computer. Fabian tried to drive to Safeway to procure more Clamato, but took a roundabout route which involved being pulled over. No ticket though, so good luck there. We slowly began dinner prep quite early, so that we would be well ready to plate and execute by the time Ian got home from work, early this time.
This dinner was pretty ridiculous. We did a similar salmon dish to Victoria's, because they sprung salmon on us last minute. With avocado, wasabi, toasted sesame, and grapefruit. It was pretty delish, but not as much as the following course. Shaved tongue with a cucumber and horseradish relish, as well as a potato and radish salad and "devil's salad" as the German calls it. Spicy beef cheek, with carrots in salad. The tongue was braised for about 3 hours, sliced super thin, then reheated with relish and stock in the microwave. It sounds ghetto to use a microwave, but this application was perfect. The meal was stellar, and a nice little cap off to our Edmonton exploits. The following day we relaxed until around 4:30 p.m. before heading off towards the farm.

South of Calgary (Feedlot Dilemma)

So we decided to go hang with our South African chums south of Calgary for a spell after finishing up the stampeding. They are living near a town by the name of Nanton in a mobile that is basically in the middle of nothing. It's awesome. The boys are a wild crew, almost like a sports team the way they all have different strengths they play to and how they work together. I know lots of people who wouldn't last living in such close quarters with each other, but these boys are like a family, and I respect that alot.

They also let me and Fabian be part of the family for a couple days. We were the personal cooks. They give us a tour of the feedlot, we make bannock, corn succotash and tomato salad with rib-eye steak. Their feedlot manager sends us to a mobile slaughterhouse, we make meatball melts and rice. It was a really symbiotic relationship.

The first night we were there we cooked, then day two was visitation day at the feedlots. We actually got to see both stages of production, because the guys all work at different spots. Beaver Creek is where Dean and Matt work, and basically it is where the cows are raised up to a certain weight on pasture, then penned, tagged and sent to be finished up on corn. Just so everyone knows, this part is exactly like farming the down home way, the cows have tons of pasture and run around, basically left to themselves. The problematic part comes later. Dean and Matt build fences and cycle herds, but Dean drove us around to all the farms so we could see the scale of the operation. It's large and in charge. It was a beautiful day though, and we could see for miles. I rode in the back of the pickup and I swear I haven't been so relaxed, just lounging in the sun, for years. We didn't even get to see everything because you need a four wheel drive truck to access some of the fields. For the record the roads here are insane. Basically they all are numbered, apparently in order but to me it seemed arbitrary. There are a million intersections, and certain roads wind, others stop in the middle of nowhere, and others still decide they don't want to be the same road and turn into another. It's pretty incredible, but we only got lost once. Anyways, we stopped in a field with Dean and hung out, had a really good chat about South African politics, and the future there. Before we knew it it was noon and about time we get to the feedlot to meet Dave and Wes. Brandon also works at the feedlot, but he rides horses to pen check, which means he's not stationary enough for us to hang with him.

Whilst Fabian rode the feed truck with Sarah, a girl we met at the stampede, I helped Wes and Dave build a pen fence. The feedlot smell is staggering, but it's surprising how fast you become accustomed to it, and how long it takes to get off your clothes and boots. Basically the feedlot is what everyone outside of Alberta has issue with. 300 cows per pen, 30,000 cows on this particular feedlot. That is a whole lotta heifer. This is a large feedlot for the area, but there are more like it, some larger. In the states there are feedlots that make this one appear empty and outrageously spacious. Albertans know these feedlots exist, and the rest of Canadian meat eaters should know that unless you don't eat beef from the supermarket, you don't have a say about these places. That's the thing that Albertans (I think) have come to the endpoint of. If you eat this meat, you are approving what goes on. If you don't know what goes on, don't eat the meat, regardless of where it's from, beef or otherwise. Chances are, if you can't find out what farm your meat comes from, it's from animals raised like this. It's a strange thing to be there, where the majority of beef actually comes from. There is no animal cruelty, no massive overcrowding, and no psychopaths running around with electric prods. The people who work here are all really good people, hard working, and not dumb or blind. They are well-paid for their work, and they work accordingly. The cows are kept in pens, which basically amounts to a wooden square with a trough running along one side for food, and two fountains for water. They do stand around all day in their own manure, which gets deep. You'd think with all the genetic freakshow cow engineering they did, they would have engineered one to produce less manure. There are some places even the boys in cowboy boots were hesitant to walk around in. The cows aren't happy, but they are also constantly in a daze, as their feed is loaded with drugs and hormones and they are barely a year old at this point. The drugs are there so the cows can process the grain they are being fed to fatten them up. It takes them only a few short months to go from around 600-700 pounds, to double that. The optimal 'kill weight' is 1400 pounds. Some are larger, some smaller. It's actually an incredible feat of science and engineering to do this, though reminiscent more of Frankenstein than the Human Genome Project.

It's an ethical dilemma for me. The cows aren't suffering here. I'm not saying this is the case at all feedlots, or defending feedlots in general. This is apparently by far the cleanest and most streamlined lot in the area. They wouldn't take visitors if not. I don't have any pictures which are horrendous or brutal shots of cows being shot due to sickness, because there were none of these pictures to be taken. I have other issues with it, unnatural feed(corn and barley substituted for grass), and manipulation of nature(genetics and drugs), greenhouse gas emissions (cows are second only to automobiles) and environmental impact(where does all the shit go?), but animal cruelty is not one I can raise with this particular feedlot. I spent two days here, and only heard of one cow sickness. That's one cow among 30,000 getting sick in two days. That is better than the vast majority of human populations. I don't know what to say. As long as people keep eating beef in quantity, which they will, because they are stupid, this place has to exist. Would I replace it with something cleaner, more humane, and less demand-driven? Yes, would that make it cost prohibitive? Yes. Are there way worse ways, plainly visible even to visitors, that you could raise large amount of large cattle? Definitely yes. It's a really difficult exploration of an industry that is there because of necessity and demand (all their cattle are already sold when they are being finished). It really comes down to educating people, not stopping these businesses. If people keep buying cheap ground meat, these places will exist forever, or at least until our species has it's last hurrah's. If people decide they want better quality, more ethically raised, less genetically corrupt beef, and opt out of buying this beef, then these places will be forced to reconsider their methods. Just the other day we were imagining a world in which everyone raised their own chickens, and the supermarkets actually ended up trying to compete with private growers on such a scale that they would have to pamper their chickens in order to get them sold. "Our chicken is more organic than yours" sort of deal. It's a nice vision, will it happen? Unlikely. I would love to see it though. So start raising chickens in your backyard already. It's legal in Vancouver, I even know some people who do it. For all you self righteous environmentalists and animal activists out there, that is the way forward. And yes, you'll have to kill them and eat them. If you can't figure that part out, stop talking about the environment, because you have no idea how it works. So yeah, eat local beef, from organic farms, or square it with your conscious, but please always know where it's from. I still put out my thanks to everybody who helped us get to this place, especially the South Africans, and Huey and the gang from the feedlot, including crazy ol' Larry. I really wish I'd taken this guys picture, he was totally off his rocker. Next post promises to be more lighthearted and full of dead cow, because the feedlot manager was a wicked kiwi who sent us to the local butcher and his mobile kill-plant. Coming up, the third and final of the most commonly kept livestock being slaughtered in front of me.

Calgary Stampeding!

So the stampede is this ridiculous occasion in Calgary that is definitely the farthest thing from wholesome. Basically everyone in this city get's dressed up as a cowboy, frequents the local bars, and gets totally destroyed in one of three ways. Alcohol and drugs, fighting, or women. Any of the three could destroy you, but usually only one does per night. The stampede itself is a massive mayfair, grandstand and rodeo, but for young people is almost a sidenote to the staggering display of nightlife that goes on during the week. Everyone everywhere wears cowboy gear, which is sometimes hilarious, sometimes terrifying, sometimes sexy. I know that I now want to invest in a pair of cowboy boots. Not only are they badass, but super comfortable and basically the best protector for your feet in any weather and conditions. Laceless and easy to put on, as well as rugged enough to hike in, but stylish enough to wear to the bars apparently. I don't stand behind the stylish comment so thoroughly, but I do think they are badass. Moving on from cowboy gear, the stampede itself. The stampede is by far the largest midway and food stand thing I've ever been to. For those from Ottawa, picture the ex times 50 but also way better. The food is disgraceful, as it should be, the rides are cheesy and operated by drug addled carnies, as they should be, and the atmosphere is something like a mix between a saloon and a high school. It's a very unique place.

When we first got to Calg we decided to post up and start cooking, because our contacts weren't responding. Understandable, as they were probably in the middle of their work day. We stayed south of the city, and finished cleaning up our food just as a rainstorm came up. After that we napped and decided to take the train into the city. We ended up marching around downtown Calgary for a while before stopping into a stampede tent known as 'Wildhorse'. Basically a soccer dome full of alcohol and scantily clad cowgirls. The club itself kind of sucked, as it was totally bright inside and had no real ambiance to speak of. People were making the best of it, and certain cowboys were tearing up the dance floor with their two stepping madness. It's an interesting thing to note that there are men (generally between the age of 20-30) for whom the stampede is what they plan for all year. They can dress the dress, walk the walk, dance the dance, and go back to their very un-cowboyish office jobs once it's all done. It's one of those things where I think that it's cool, but also depressing, because fundamentally they do all this work just to attract women, when they could just be an intriguing individual all the time and not worry so much about it. Irregardless, that is the way it is and will continue to be. We left Wildhorse and returned to the boons to sleep.

The following day we drove into Chinatown for some breakfast at a restaurant named 'happy valley'. It was mediocre but did the trick. We then got into contact with a friend of Fabian's that he had met traveling in Laos. Perry Chen is a king among men. We met him in the Plus15s, which is something worthy of note. All over downtown Calgary there is a pedestrian route that snakes through the office buildings and over all the streets. It is 15 feet up, hence the plus15 name, and on a rainy day is the most useful thing in the world. It happened to be a rainy day, so we used them. The office workers can get to a variety of transit stops and food courts without having to ever go to street level. Anyways, back to Perry. He is one of the oil traders in Calgary, which means I don't really know what he does but he works for Shell, and though I don't love the industry that lines his pockets, he is a wicked dude. We went with him and a bundle of his co-workers to an oil party hosted by Thomson-Reuters, which was pretty awesome. Considering the fact that they were already giving us free booze and food, I think the woman hanging from the ceiling pouring champagne was just a superfluous extra, but I enjoyed it. After all, what is a party without a glittery acrobat serving the masses their alcohol. I actually was the first person the kneel down under her and get champagne poured all over my face and down my shirt, which I'm relatively proud of. Though Perry wasn't to be outdone on his home turf and lay right down on the ground and got the same treatment. I was goading him on the whole time, it was awesome. So after we each consumed about 300$ worth of alcohol, it was time to return to Wildhorse, this time with a crew of people. I barely remember most of Calgary, as it was basically getting sunburnt during the day and partying at night. The whole food trip was put on hold for a spell as we let loose and enjoyed the pure intensity of the Stampede. Perry and his wife, Jen, were leaving to Saskatchewan the next day to help Perry's parents move. This was shitty because the week would have been even more insane than it was had they been in town. Before they left they were awesome enough to just hand us their apartment for the five days we were staying in town. It was amazing to have a home base for the length of time we did, and the fact that it was just outside downtown was even better. We cooked them a pretty delicious dinner afterwards, so I feel we've repayed them in part, but it was still gloriously charitable of them to lend their house to a traveler they met once and his buddy. We had an amazing time in Calgary, met up with friends from both members of the trip, and went out altogether too much. We met some South Africans that Fabian had shared an employer with in Whistler, and who happened to be working on a feedlot south of Calgary at the time. They were amazing to party with, really great guys, and turned out to be an awesome connection to see a part of the food industry we would never otherwise have seen. I went to the grandstand show with the lovely Ms.Shannon Greer, of Carleton University fame. The grandstand show is kitchy beyond repair, but almost purposefully so. Parts were impressive. Fabian and I also attended the rodeo, though ze german wasn't feeling well and our seats were definite nosebleeds. The things they do in the rodeo make you question who the hell came up with these 'sports'. Everything is incredibly rooted in tradition, neglecting even things that keep people or animals safer or faster, stronger, or more able in favour of those things that have been around since the beginning. It is almost perfectly representative of the political climate here, which I won't get too into because it frustrates me. We also did one day of 'stampede food' after which I was nearly sick to the point of vomiting. Too much deep fried stuff is never good. We had a variety of sickening 'treats'. Taco in a bag was a definite highlight, don't judge me. They basically slice the side off a bag of Doritos and put taco fillings inside, including ground beef, green onion, lettuce, sour cream and cheese. Surprisingly tasty, though difficult to get Doritos on a fork. Another highlight was Pork Sundaes, which are basically BBQ pulled pork layered with mashed potatoes to resemble a fudge sundae, slathered in gravy instead of chocolate sauce. Relatively amazing. Lowlights include everything else, deep fried pickles, deep friend Wisconsin cheese, a massive turkey leg which was an atrocity of taste, and others. We skipped dessert (which include fried ice cream, fried funnel cakes, fried mars bars, fried jelly beans, and fried coca-cola syrup) in favour of not completely ruining our gastro-intestinal systems. Upon finishing our little culinary tour, we felt it a necessity to go back home and watch Superbad and nap. It was entirely worthwhile. My guts were in a tumultuous state to say the least.


Following that horrible assault on my stomach, we went out to the Kid Rock concert. I know what your thinking, why oh why, and frankly, I have no idea whatsoever. Fabian wanted to see rednecks at their finest. Anyways, it was a good concert. You won't find me defending his music per se, but Kid Rock puts on a good show. every riff and rhythm is stolen from some epic song, but he crosses genres, performs with energy, and plays the crowd extremely well. Throughout the show, he performs not just vocals, but piano, drums, guitar, and Dj-ing while drinking a bottle of Jim Beam. We had fun, and the three Quebecquois beside us decided to come out with us to our local Stampede tent, which was also a good time. I might actually get to learn how to horseback ride from one of them while we hit Quebec, which is something I've never done and am excited for. After that night we decided to give the ol' liver a break, and started brainstorming what to cook for Perry and Jen when they return from Saskatchewan. We hit the local farmers market, which was very boutique, sadly. The produce was good, but not all local, and many stalls didn't even label where the products came from. We stuck with the local goods, bought some hormone free, grass-fed organic beef (a rarity in this province) and produce from Alberta.
We ended up making Albertan beef tartar on local Potato chips, with an Avocado-buttermilk 'gazpacho', followed by Braised shortribs and their jus, over a bed of heirloom carrots, local peas and mushrooms. Everything was amazing, and we drank our Painted Rock Merlot to round out the meal. In a twist perfectly suited to the occasion, Perry also brou
ght in Nk'Mip merlot, which was one of the wineries we most regretted not getting to in Osooyoos. Both merlots were excellent, the Painted Rock particularly tasty, and were great accompaniments to a great meal. We followed the dinner with an apricot tart, but everyone was pretty full, so we had to finish it off the next day. So although Calgary wasn't totally food centric, we did do the province justice with this meal.

I'd like to mention another two food experiences in Calgary. One was the day after the oil party, when we met Perry and Keith, one of his work buddies, for lunch at the Avenue cafe in downtown Calgary. The place was packed, the food delicious, and the service was friendly. I was impressed with the locality of the product, not something you commonly get in Alberta, though the movement has it's legs now. The mushroom soup was great, roughly pureed and holding it's texture, and the sandwich I had was also tasty. The second food experience was one of our own creation, and of which there are no pictures. We made pork piccata and a braised radicchio salad on focaccia, which was phenomenal. Like so good it's stupid, and the best part? Leftovers as well. Another good food tip is Chinese Cabbage. It's often really cheap, tasty and versatile. It can be used both to saute or shaved thinly for a wicked salad with oranges or something similar. Stop buying romaine. After all this Calgarian gluttony, it was time to go see what actually makes it onto the supermarket shelves. Calgary feeds Canada, in terms of beef, so to all you who eat beef from your local supermarket, the following exploration is for you.

Road to Calgary

So after many goodbyes and a final squeal out of Whitehorse, our long journey back down into the world of telephones that function and free wireless internet began. Just before hitting the road, we visited the deli in town. We had met one of the butchers there at the chicken slaughter a week previous. He was nice enough to show us around, the facility is monstrous, like phenomenally so. For whatever reason, the guy who built it decided he needed a facility that borders on a production only butchery. They do a lot of the meat for the hunters in the area, so it was explained to us that when season is open, moose and deer are coming in so often that the facility serves it's purpose. The Alaska highway was at least as beautiful on the way down as it was coming up. Stunning scenery and a really simple drive. We stopped in Dawson creek to have the car checked over, before buying provisions for lunching and dinner. Moving on, we drove over the border to Alberta, that is where the trouble began. We pulled up in a provincial park to cook caribou patties with a Chateau Lafite red wine glaze. We drove into the park, and pulled up off the road into what looked like parking spots, but alas, were we ever wrong. We had apparently driven "off highway in a provincial park" aka worthy of a 287$ fine. The gentleman who served us the ticket was lovely enough to give us no warning or just tell us to move the vehicle, which was so clearly pulled up just to unload it blows my mind. Regardless, we disputed the ticket and I've officially complained to both his superiors and the Alberta parks department, so hopefully his life is made more difficult because of his immature decision with us. I was astonished by his conduct. In any case, we cooked our dinner, which was amazing, for the record. And just for the safety of my neck and the continued respect of anyone here who likes wine, the Chateau Lafite was corked and good for nothing but cooking. Our trip had it's first bump in the road, which was annoying, but not the worst thing that could have happened. We moved on the Hinton afterward, where we found the travelers dream. Public library that has free wireless and plugs on the outside of the building. That's where I went on a blogging spree and relaxed for a day. Ate goat chops with sauerkraut. Surprisingly goat chops taste exactly like goat. Some people must love the flavour, for me it was definitely worth the experience, but they were so extraordinarily goaty I'm unsure if I would love a second round. The sauerkraut, also generously donated by Tom and Simone, was amazing and rustic and awesome. We got water from the local church, and moved on after Hinton. We maneuvered our way through the Rockies to Jasper. Fabian got hilariously angry about the park fees, because you have to pay just to enter, and it was 40$ for two people for two days. We hit Jasper, I swam in a glacial lake, then we made curry and slept. Bright and early in the morning, we did a huge hike, a little larger than we intended due to poor signage. Post-hike showers were in order, so we went to a local laundry with pay showers. Since we had such a healthy morning, it was fitting to have a few pints. We caught the World Cup final in a bar much divided between the impassioned Spaniards up front and the Dutch folks getting deeper and deeper into beers as the game went on. Spain won of course, but not without a good fight. We moved on to Banff post game, saw lake Louise and the many restaurants of the Fairmont there, then slept in a parking lot of a aboriginal museum by the river. Banff is an interesting enough town, but feels entirely soulless a bit. Reminiscent of Whistler, Tremblant or any other town built expressly for a ski village. From Banff we went to Canmore, visited a microbrewery called Grizzly Paw, hung around with the brew master for a while, and moseyed down the road to Calgary to start some good wholesome Stampeding.

Yukon Ho!(pt.2)

After leaving Whitehorse elated with the past couple days, the drive to Dawson did barely anything to calm us down. We had heard stories of Dawson being a city of freedom and borderline madness. To an extent, it’s true. The drive is really long, the city is small and beautiful, and Dawson sits on the joint of two rivers in the middle of nowhere. The two rivers are the Klondike and the Yukon, two very opposing forces of nature. The Klondike is crystal clear and sparkling, the Yukon is silt-filled and the color of fresh mud. Where they meet at Dawson there is a split, and the two colors run alongside one another, swirling in little eddies reminiscent of a cup of coffee.
The city itself is pretty picturesque, though it needs something to drive it forward. Right now, it sits on it’s laurels of the Gold rush so entirely that it is almost depressing. The people at the tourist information still wear traditional garb, and the buildings have been rebuilt to appear as they did when it was the infamous “Paris of the North”. The past is important to Dawson, because not only was it the most populated time, but also a time when, for purely mineral reasons, Dawson had the attention of a continent. It is impressive and depressing all at once. To see a city like Dawson, sprawled on a lakeside swamp and proudly full of history, is impressive. To see a city with barely a future prospect at all, whose largest economy remains gold mining and who can’t seem to find a further drive for something new, is depressing. I think global warming might help Dawson. That’s only sort of a joke. They won’t have to melt as much ice for gold mining, and the climate will be nicer in winter. This is not a small bear.

All in all, we had a great experience there. We met up with our favorite Albertans(so far) at the local internet café, and rocked out a dinner of Tom and Simones pig cheeks with them. Checked out the Dawson City Museum, which was intriguing to a point. To see the extremes to which people went to get here is awe-inspiring. Almost nobody found gold beyond the first people to arrive, so most of the massive voyages here were useless. These men had to haul at minimum 1000lbs of goods through the Chilkoot pass, which is not pleasant at all. The RCMP weighed your equipment, and anything less than 1000 lbs was not allowed to enter, as adequate provisions to survive a Yukon winter weighed in to a thousand. After the museum we decided to try some of the local activities. These include drinking, yelling loudly at bars, and general revelry. Post-hitting the town, hopping from bar to bar to gambling hall, then back to a bar appropriately called ‘the pit’, at which there was a great live band, including banjo. I was impressed. Me and Rob went swimming in the Yukon, which is a really bad idea if your drunk and it’s late, which we were and it was. The river is extremely fast moving and at least one hapless tourist gets sucked downstream every year. I think I was hoping in the back of my head it would be me. Would that ever be a story to tell. Anyways, neither of us were bad enough swimmers to be that lucky tourist, so we just froze a little. Once we got out we discovered it was once again almost 4AM. This no light shift thing is a difficult sell. At 2AM when the bars go out, the sun is barely going down. It bothers your head. I’m so geared to sleep when it’s dark, and don’t often check time, which doesn’t lead to a functional lifestyle in the Yukon. We checked out the dredges and gold mines the next day, looked for farms on the west side of the river, met some Australians gold panning, and called it the second night of Dawson. It was an interesting day. The dredges are huge beyond imagination, like a steamboat, just in the middle of a pit of gravel. They are the monster machines designed to get to the gold and take it out once the rivers had run dry. Gold panning is an exercise in monotony. The Aussies had been at it for hours, and got nothing but sore backs. We tried for five minutes, decided against it, and sat with them joking around for a half hour or so. Good sorts.

Whilst in Dawson we also saw the cabin’s of Robert Service and Jack London, Dawson’s two literary claims to fame. They were somewhat a pique of interest, but without the right timing, we missed to reading at Robert Services cabin and Jack London cost too much to look at pictures on the walls. We decided Dawson was to be cut short, and headed back to Whitehorse to get back to civilization.

Back in Whitehorse, though late, we went straight to Tom and Simones, who I had called earlier to let them know we would be back this eve. A note on telephone use in the Yukon. A 15 minute card anywhere civilized gets you one minute in the Yukon. When we arrived they were out, so we went down the street to make ourselves dinner. First we prepared an appy of beef liver with apple and radish salad. Fried liver on croustini with a little julienne apple salad to match. Damn decent canapé. Dinner was the chicken from slaughtered a few days previous. We rubbed it in herbs and seasoning and oil, and I built a big campfire to cook it in. We made roasted garlic polenta and buttered peas to accompany the chicken. However, we didn’t know how hot the fire was, so the chicken had an unknown cooking time. When I checked in my trust cooking companion(Harold McGee, ‘On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen”, possibly the best book I own) it appears that red hot coals at typically in the range of 1100 C. When we discovered this and the fact that the tin foil was cracking, we pulled it out to check. It was exactly perfectly cooked. The only issue was the skin, which was roasted beyond edibility. We peeled it, and ate what turned out to be a sumptuous feast. Just as we had finished washing out dishes, Tom and Simone pulled up, and we went to their house to punish a few bottles of wine. The wines were of the sort you don’t get without lots and lots of money. Chateau Mouton-Rothschild, Les Grands Vins de Leoville, Chateau Margaux and others. We opened the first bottle, which was corked. The second was oxidized and tasted a bit like caramel and cardboard. The third was an extremely nice bottle of wine and we punished it and one other before calling it a night. All the while we had poetry recited dutifully by the son of the house, and conversations ranging from food to clothing to anything. To fully demonstrate how much of a badass maniac Tom is, the next story must be first told and second believed. It is a true story. I now sleep on three bottles of wine that are each much older than me. Not light travel for them, but I hope they’ll do well. Tom traded us the three bottles for a promise. The promise is that we’ll create a book with recipes, each indicative of the local food we found to be of top quality in the province we made it. Basically recording, in the form of recipes, our campfire highlights. At the end, we are to send it to him by snail mail. We’re going to go a little bit all out on this project, as him, Simone and Graham went a little all out on being hospitable to us. It was an amazing experience for us in the Yukon, and I could have stayed a lot longer than we did. There are deadlines ahead, sadly, and the Stampede calls. The next morning we awoke, made a huge breakfast of ham and bacon and Tom’s signature potato pancakes, and headed South into the mountains. The Yukon was a phenomenal place. I’m jealous to all those who call it home. More jealous of anyone who call Tom and Simone a neighbor or friend who they see on more than two occasions. Thanks so much for the welcome, the experience and the generosity you showed us, I promise that recipe book is going to be the only thing that enters the Yukon that can rival the bad-assery of the Rudges. Yet another slew of people that I have no doubt I’ll see again in my lifetime, and can’t wait for when I do.

Yukon Ho!(pt.1)

I know, I know....your all so happy I'm done with my wine-gobbing and you want to know about food, and traveling, and other things that you should all be doing right now. Well here we go. After the Okanagan, we went to Kamloops. I don't want to knock anywhere in particular, because we are traveling fast and I'm sure we miss out on all sorts of stuff, but Kamloops sucks.

We found a cool park by the river there, and ate lentil salad, which was pretty alright by me. Afterwards we checked out the downtown, which equals nothing to do on a weekday, and decided to sleep early and hit the road the next day. The road led to Dawson Creek, about 929km away, and was a long one. Upon arrival we checked out the town, scoped a spot to sleep and passed out. Awakening, we took a picture with the Alaska Highway sign and hit the road again, this time for Whitehorse, which is around 1500 km further up the Alaska highway. We stopped around halfway at a wicked viewpoint and ate Weisswurst with sweet mustard and sipped a little Hefeweizen. Upon the realization that pretzels are also necessary with the meal, we jumped back on the road and kept this huge undertaking going. We stopped again to eat dinner (spicy spaghetti) and then made it to Whitehorse around 1 AM. To all you who would caution me against driving at night, fear not. Whitehorse is in the Yukon, and it's summer, meaning the sun was just starting to set when we pulled in. All in all it was a couple days of pretty constant vehicle usage, and our awesome ass van pulled it off without a hitch. We stopped just outside the city and bunked down for the evening. The next day was Canada day.

The parade in Whitehorse for Canada day was hilarious in so many ways it's difficult to describe. There were all sorts of floats, including a fire spitting monster truck, two full grown men on toy cars, and a phillipino and thai community float. People vaguely paid attention and it was all in good fun, but was over extremely fast. The good news was that it ended at the farmers market. Now, I know what your thinking, who the hell farms in the Yukon. But I'll tell you who, total badasses with nothing to fear. We talked briefly with a couple people before stumbling on Tom and Simone Rudge, who are probably the people I would most want to be raised by if my own parents didn't exist. At first they told us to go see Brian, a blind goats cheese maker, who also happens to operate in the yukon (badass enough for you?). Brian also makes halloumi cheese, which I'm a fiend for, and definitely was not expecting to find anywhere in Canada being made, much less so in the great white north. Brian was kind and one of my many regrets about not staying longer in the Yukon is not being able to watch him do his thing. The halloumi was amazing. After that we ate some of the best falafel sandwiches I've ever had, which is almost pure comedy because it's the Yukon. The gentleman doing them is from outside Haifa, and makes all the traditional garnishes fresh for the market. He was funny and the falafel sandwiches were transcendent. After that we visited Tom and Simone again to ask if we could come see what a farm in the Yukon is like. Tom basically said that if we don't mind slaughtering pigs, we could come tomorrow. That was about the best thing anyone could have said to us at that point, and we got really giddy. After jotting down directions, we said our goodbyes and went off to the Yukon brewery for a tour. This was an action filled day, maybe the most of the trip. The brewery was fun, they make some good beer and some mediocre beer, but the tour guide was a good natured joker and we got to taste every beer they had on tap, which made us happy, but not too happy.

After the brewery we decided hunger was getting the best of us and marched over to a nearby shopping mall to grab some bites. Needless to say there was Daikon radish, durian fruit and all manner of other exotic stuff you might have trouble finding in a major city there. It's mental to think about the transportation for these goods to get anywhere, but the added push to the yukon was enough for me to cast a dark eye on that super market. We settled on a slaw type salad with sesame dressing and seared halloumi cheese. For those not in the know, halloumi is a weird cheese, unlike others, it doesn't melt. It caramelizes. So you can sear it in a frying pan like a peice of meat. We were only too happy to do so. Whilst cooking in a park, another couple set up at the next bench and a random aboriginal guy said he could smell it from down the block and had to come check it out. His name was Louis, and we gave him a bowl to eat and he freaked out. He said he never eats anything without meat, and that this was bar none the best meatless dish he's ever had in his life. Thanked us in the native tongue and welcomed us to the land and such, it was a pretty interesting experience. After we'd eaten, and fed some to the Albertans at the next table, a gentleman down a ways on a picnic bench gave us a pork chop to try. It was his special marinade and was pretty good. This eating thing was getting to be quite a communal experience. The Albertans came over and chilled with us for a while, they were super cool so we decided to hit the town for Canada day. First we compared vans, at which they kicked our ass. Rob is an engineer, and his van is engineered to be a badass machine. Extra batteries, a self chilling cooler, the works. We hung out a bit longer before going to one dead bar after another, at one of which I won 25$ in bar tab. Then we found Foxy's, the rocking spot for Canada day. We got in and had a few rounds before deciding to go back to the vans for a nightcap. The nightcap lasted til 4AM and went through a bottle of gin. We had half concious arguments about Disney movies and conversations I'm sure I don't remember. We hit the hay late, but had to be at the farm at 10AM the next day, so I woke up early and hit the road while Fabian slept. He woke up when we pulled into the farm, around 20 minutes outside of town. The farm is called Aurora Mountain farm, and is amazing. They have goats, pigs, cows and horses, a market garden, chickens for laying and broilers. Their house is self built and operates off the grid, and the people who live there are each extremely interesting in their own right. When we pulled up they were making a pancake breakfast, which was when the first pangs of wanting to live there hit me. The only thing that threw me off was walking in and seeing a guy in a clockwork orange outfit at the table. Their son is going into fine arts in Dawson City, and happily got to go to town today because we were helping with the slaughter. He's a whipsmart dude with a good memory, he can recite Robert Service at the drop of a hat, and also can work a farm better than most of you, therefore he gets extra points in at least two categories. He also has a really hot girlfriend, so double bonus.

After breakfast it was down to business. The pig slaughter was something I was slightly apprehensive about with no good reason. The pigs aren't worried about it, why should I be? Basically it all goes down like this. The pigs get fed. Whilst gorging at their troughs, two of them get shot in the head and pulled away. The rest of the pigs care less than I do, and continue eating. It's really something that makes you change the way you think about the animal when you see it. They absolutely couldn't care less about their piggy brethren. They almost make people look compassionate, almost.

After the initial kill, they are hung up and drained of blood before being brought to the butchery area. There we burnt and shaved one, and skinned the other. Then we eviscerate them, cut them in half, and bring them to the local butcher. It was painless for the pigs, much less gory than I expected, and actually something I can definitely say I approve of. Now that being said, don't think that these are your supermarket pigs. These are slaughtered on farm with no inspector, so they can't be sold retail. People get these pigs off Aurora Mountain Farm because they know good pigs, and trust their farmer. Ideally everyone would get pigs like this. So after we help deliver the pigs, Tom took us around to a couple businesses in town that he likes. He's a slow food representative for the Yukon, and will be part of their delegation going to Terra Madre for the Slow Food conference this year. He brought us to the Alpine bakery, which is a huge stone hearth bakery in town, and we had a chat with the owner, who will be accompanying Tom and Simone to Italy later this year. After that we picked up some beer to go with dinner and went back up towards their farm. On the way there is a really beautiful coffee roaster, called Bean North, which we also stopped into. We got a private tour because one of the hands there gets pigs from Tom. This guy knew his coffee, and it was an interesting experience to see the process that turns raw beans into finished, retail-able coffee. Almost similar to wine, the flavour charts are immense, and depending on roast, country, mountain and other such details, some coffee drinkers can tell you exactly where it's from (or, apparently, what side of the mountain it grows on). It was a really educational walkabout.

We returned to the farm, where Simone had on a pork stock with all the bits people don't want(the best bits), and ate a quick meal of rice and braised pig with some greens. It was relaxed and the conversation was good, and Tom wrangled us into another slaughter the next day, this time poultry. We did, however, have to see the soccer match before the killing could begin. We legged it down the road, stayed at a camp spot near the river and a collapsed and forgotten house, and slept. Early rise again, this time feeling Canada day's wrath upon me, we drove to town to catch the match at a local breakfast place. German wins again and we head out another farm to get our quota for the day. Killing chickens is another process that is really streamlined and not difficult or grotesque. The farmers who have chickens in the area have all pitched on buying a slaughter line, and set up like a factory. There are a couple other newcomers, one couple who wants to get into farming, and a guy from the local butcher who wants to see where the birds come from. We were the first there, and slowly the others arrive. The first job is catching the birds and getting them into crates, where they are easy to access and can't escape from. The crates are them brought over to the slaughter line, and the chickens hung up, electro-shocked to unconciousness, and bled out, after bleeding they are scalded and then put in what resembles a washing machine with fingers, but it affectionately known as a plucker. They go from the plucker to an inspection table then into a cold water bath. From the bath they go to a primary butchery table, and from there to the evisceration table. Post-gutlessness, they are again dunked in cold water, and then packaged. It all runs very streamlined, even with us newbies running about. After a certain stage we stop for lunch before finishing the last details. Lunch is huge, includes dessert and everything. I think I’m almost too lethargic to do any more work after. Happily the remaining bits are just finishing and breakdown, so nothing too painful for a tired, full me to attempt. After everything is complete, we have a beer with Tom, promise we’ll see him on the way back from Dawson City, as he just announced he happens to have a bottle of wine he’d like to share. Then we hit the road, deeper into the north and full of zest and sleepless excitability.

Winery Spotlight #16- Tantalus

The story- This is one winery I really insisted upon going to and for no good reason was very excited about. All was repaid. For some reason I have a positive memory of Tantalus Riesling in my head, though I can't recall the exact circumstance of it's enjoyment. Probably at eighteen with Mr.Colin Davidson at the prow. That little guy gets me into heaps of trouble. In any case, here we were. The tasting woman was also from Ottawa, and was engaged to the winemaker, so she had an inside scoop, which was nice. Her fiance had also worked at Nu, sister restaurant to C, so she related to the industry and everything as well. She was awesome, told us a bit about the wines and such, told us to trash the wines if we didn't enjoy them, because she does all the time. It was refreshing as hell and really a nice welcome. The owner is a huge proponent of art, and the tasting hall is half museum half winery. It has a distinctly museum-ish feel, which can be bad or good, depending on your guests. From the outside it looks like a James Bond villains villa. All white and odd angles. The interior is slick and smooth, the wine wall adorned with the physical masks which are the printed labels as well. The masks are made by a local native artist. Before you write them off and think you've seen them before, you haven't. The artisanry is incredible in these masks and whoever made them clearly has some grounding in classical sculpture or european art. Anyways, it's a winery, so wines.
Wines-
We tried all their wines this time out.
Riesling- Is a nice Riesling, definitely drinking wine, but not particularly to be savored. This suits it's purpose perfectly, because it's made as such.
Old Vines Riesling- For a more serious classical Riesling, this is it. This is an amazing wine with a certain level of focus and craft we haven't seen in many others. its a single bench wine with grapes from a very small section of the vineyard only. It's really an amazing Riesling, so we bought a bottle.
Dry Rose- The most astonishingly interesting rose we tried. So dark in hue it's almost a really light red, but maintaining that aura of rose. The real bonus is the depth of flavour, which I've never seen in a rose before, and the balance. While roses tend towards sweetness and feminine characteristics, strawberries and such, this wine has real power and perfect balance. Like a chick in a suit with stilettos to kill. We bought this too. Too interesting and unique to pass up.
Pinot Noir- The pinot was actually not to my liking, but the taster girl said that's good, because it shouldn't be released yet. It needs to cellar for a while longer before it's okay for market. The tasting is just so you get an idea of what's to come. Crafty. Anyways, great wines all round.

Winery Spotlight #15 - St. Hubertus

Story: After the brutal embarrassment that was the Pyramid Winery, we wandered to St. Hubertus, near where Carmelis cheese is. It's a small winery, still recovering from a fire that destroyed their building and most of their vines in 2003. They tried recovering the crop for the year, but even the stuff that wasn't burnt to a crisp were so stained with soot that the resulting wine tasted of burnt garbage. They tossed the batch and decided to start anew.
The wines
-Fireman's red- at ten bucks a bottle, this is a steal and a nice easy drinking pinot.
Marechal Foch- Little too big for it's booties, somehow the flavours feel like they get away from you in the jammy tannin-filled swigs.
Gamay Noir- a varietal that I remember really enjoy from a tasting in Ottawa. Their gamay was also really good, but lacked the funky barnyard madness I was expecting, interestingly, they make a rose of the same grape.
Gamay Noir Rose- surprisingly spicy for a rose, a little different from the standard, though still fruity and feminine.

Winery Spotlight #14 - Summerhill Pyramid Winery

Summerhill Pyramid Winery
The story: I hate this winery. It is the most visited winery in the okanagan, and three tour buses full pulled up while we were wandering around in the daze and the glitzy chintz that characterizes this winery. The owner is a former wall street investor who now owns this gaudy garbage. They built a massive pyramid full of wine which they claim changes the flavour because they rotate it by the cycles of the moon. If they were actually half decent people I would say that they are simply lacking in mental faculties, but it is entirely too clear upon visiting that it’s a really classless marketing scheme. How this winery continues to operate, I don’t understand. It’s a travesty. We didn’t even taste their wines, just on principle.
Wines
None, because I wish they didn't make any

Winery Spotlight #13- Howling Bluff

Howling Bluff-
Story: Maybe the smallest winery we visited in our entire time, howling bluff is a family affair. Some interesting wines, and no proper tasting room. We walked into the family kitchen where the son is holding tastings. They only make 3 wines, all of which they taste. The son is kind of a false person, and tries to be a little bit wise about everything, lots of squinting and soft speech. Fabian calls him a “wine guru”. In any case, beyond the son being a toff, the wines were pretty decent. There was one in particular which the woman in front of us said was a “man wine” and was perfect for BBQ style meals. At this winery I had stopped taking notes already, so bear with my memory. We were recommended to come here by the guys we met at painted rock and also the queen, as this was one of two wineries selected to get her drunk when she came to Canada recently.
Wines
Pinot Noir- The wine specifically chosen to get the queen drunk was this one. It's really heavily awarded and basically what the winery has built it's reputation on.
Sin Cera- big story behind this one, I'll let you visit this pompous kid and have him tell you because I don't really want to tell the whole story and to be honest it's pretty boring. It's also the story that is the root of the word sincere, so look that up if your super interested. Good wine, a blend of grapes from all over the vineyard, this is the man wine the woman was talking about.
Sauvignon Blanc- not pure sauv, touch of semillon to round it out. I wasn't a huge fan but I feel like the tactic of a little semillon or viognier or what have you to round out the sauv is a crafty trick, just needs to be put to better use.

Winery Spotlight #12- Laughing Stock

Laughing Stock
-Story: Two retired stock brokers and investment consultants open a winery with some pretty stellar marketing. All stock markers and ticker tape on the bottles. Very clean cut lines and well streamlined visuals. Even the interior is slightly excessively clean cut. We met the owners briefly at the end as we shut down the winery, last people there.
Wines-
Profile-as in stock profile, is a really great blend of more than a couple grapes. Interesting note: Each wine in the blend is aged 14 months, then barrels are chosen depending on which will yield the best results. After blending, the wine is put back into oak for another 4-6 months to finish off and become a finished product.
Blind Trust White- Another blend, this time of the white grapes on the estate. Interesting note here is that the blend isn't shown on the bottle until you peel back the foil at the top, under which the specific grapes in the blend are written. Hence the name blind trust. I picked up apricot and lychee right away. The taster girl said that was the viognier inside it speaking out. So I bought a bottle of viognier, one of the only wines they weren't tasting that day. Blind trust, right?
Blind Trust red- Same story as the white, same high quality.

Winery Spotlight #10- La Frenz

Another recommendation from Colin-
Story: German owners. Really fun staff, reminiscent of Sandra Oh in sideways, Asian girl with incredible wine knowledge and a really fun chatter. She was checking everything that was debatable on her smartphone, which was hilarious and a great person to have around, because I argue a lot. We talked wine and trip with them and tried a selection of their tastables. It was a really nice winery as well, huge doors and two tasting benches along either wall.
Wines:
Tempranillo- The second winery we came across to try this grape in the okanagan, and with favorable results. They actually grow it on another vineyard in Osooyoos, because the climate is more favorable for the grape. Quite a nice wine, but I wish I knew more about how this grape is classically supposed to taste, because I like it alot. Peppery.
Montage- We had a good conversation about this wines name. Its a big ol blend (not their biggest) but had middling qualities about it. I felt it was kinda confused. Lots of berries, but also earth tones and oak tones, so I don't really love it.
On a note about their blends, they have a five grape blend released for the first time this year to the public I believe. Critical acclaim and all that. Pretty interesting side note I thought. Supposed to be a huge wine.
Rose- Light summer sipper, fish comes to mind.

Winery Spotlight #11- Township 7

Township 7
-Story: We drank a township 7 wine a couple weeks ago with some friends, and found it good enough to visit the winery. It was their semillion. The lady tasting the wines was at first a strange person, kind of out of place in our Okanagan experience. It turns out Township 7, though it's growing, is still run and maintained by just a couple of people. She is one of them. She did know what she was talking about and everything, just appearance wise she was out of place. That's not a shallow comment, it's an observation.
Wines:
Semillion- a decent quality wine, it get's better if it's enjoyed in good company
Chardonnay-Oaked in both french and american oak,which I figured I wouldn't be able to tell on my palate, but it was different from any other Chard we've tried so far. Fabian was quite interested into how the idea came about, as it's uncommon. Apparently it was just a thing the winemaker thought of.
Unoaked Chardonnay- Very apple-ey.
Merlot- Not a remarkable wine.

Winery Spotlight #9- Painted Rock Winery

Painted Rock-
Story- Painted rock is one winery I would never have found without some trusty help of the restaurant business. One of my friends in Vancouver is doing his schooling in wines and certain has a base of knowledge about them. He was happy to recommend a couple wineries, painted rock among them. We visited, it was a shack, albeit a nice one. They are currently building what I’m certain is to be a beautiful building. For now, the shack. They have an enomatic wine machine to keep their bottles as long as possible, and good air conditioning on a sweltering day. When we got there, a couple guys from Icon wines were there. We'd seen their reviews published in a couple wineries, so chatted them up for some recommendations. Some of the wineries we were already visiting, others not, so it was a good resource to have.
Wines-
Chardonnay- Quite an enjoyable wine, but not really my style. At this point though, I quite enjoyed it.
Merlot- Our favorite from the winery, and the 2nd wine we purchased.
Red Icon- their only blend, a pretty nice and enjoyable red, not too heavy in the mouth, but just enough that you know it's a powerful wine. Seriously, this is what I wrote down.
Syrah- Can't recall this one, all I know is that we tried it. Judging by the winemaker's standard, I'd say it's pretty awesome. This was one of the higher end wineries we chose to visit, and it was a really good experience.

Winery Spotlight #8- Blasted Church

Blasted Church-
Story: when the town needed a church, they decided to move one in from a nearby dead mining town. The story goes that they figured the easiest way was to blow the church to smithereens with dynamite. They called in a local demolition man “hatfield”(hence their blend, hatfields fuse) who blew it up, then they carried it miles to the next town. They have my vote for the best marketing in the entire okanagan, their bottles are beautiful, tell an interesting story, and now the local puppet maker has made them little models of the entire story for their bottles. The winery itself is also amazing, pool included. We spoke with the daughter of the owners here as well, and she was well educated about the wines and the story. There is also a good tale of a marketing genius, because when the owners bought this winery it was called some illegible name like “prnken hill”, they hired a redesigner, who promptly found a local story about the nearby church, relabeled the winery and more than quadrupled wine sales.
Wines:
Hatfield's Fuse- a wicked blend and a nice wine. I feel like I shouldn't be rating this winery because I like the labeling so much that even if the wines were shit I'd try and get you to buy them. But seriously the wines are really good and I encourage their purchase and consumption. Please party responsibly.
Syrah- Oddly I got lots of vanilla all over this wine, from nose to palate that's all I got, not complaining, just lots of vanilla.
Gewurz- Quaffable on a summer patio.

I again tried some other stuff but neglected to take tasting notes. I seriously would wear a shirt designed by whoever makes the labels for this winery. Even their sign is wicked cool.

Winery Spotlight #7- See Ya Later Ranch

See you later ranch
-Story: Another Vincor property, named as such because when the man retired and bought a vineyard in the okanagan, his wife left him a note that said see you later, and never returned. He bought lots of dogs to make up for the loss, hence the dog friendly winery(it has both a parking lot and a barking lot for dogs) and the dogs on their wine labels. Also, some of the wines are named after the dogs. Definitely gets some points for style, as the property itself is quite out of the way but has clearly had some good money put into it. Also gets points because our taster guy had just come back from working in Ottawa.
Wines:
Gewurz -most true to the gewurz style that we've tried, the first wine we bought on our trip, and which we recently enjoyed in the yukon with a wicked meal.
SYL brut-really nice sparkling for it’s price point
Pinot 3- made from three pinot grapes(noir, gris and meunier) and a pretty delightful wine to sip on.
Semillon- Not a massive fan, but the Oak content was perfect for me, not too woody at all but with all the nice notes of vanilla and such.

We tried one more from this winery, but I can't seem to find where I wrote it down, so you can all suffer in the knowledge that I'm not sharing my full experience with you.