The Surest Sign of Spring

The Chip Trucks in town opened today, or at least one of them did. The specific one that I am speaking of stations itself in the parking lot of a car wash, but it still does a fair business. When we went by at noon, there were several good souls waiting patiently for their first chips of spring to fry. I think we have four trucks operating in our fairly small town plus a place that specializes in takeout chips. It's a Canadian thing, eh?

Do you have chip trucks in the lower half of the continent? If so, what do you call them? I ask because I think it might confuse you to call them chip trucks since chips are something different down there. Well, we have those kind of chips too, and like you in fact, we call the kind of chips that come from trucks, fries. But we retain enough Britishisms up here that we can make out from the context whether we're talking the cold kind that come in bags or the hot fries that come out of the grease vat.

Although we generally call the hot version, fries, the trucks remain Chip Trucks, not Fry Trucks, and we have fish and chips, not fish and fries. How we distinguish without going crazy is beyond me, but we do. It would have been easier to follow the British way and refer to fries (the hot greasy kind) as chips and to chips (the bag kind) as crisps, but we reamin a six of one and half dozen of another type of nation. We're caught between two versions of English up here in The Great White North, but somehow we seem to make some sense of it all. If Canadians can make sense out of anything that is.

Forget about crocuses and daffodils. Whatever the name, chips or fries, the opening of dem dere trucks is about the surest and sweetest sign of spring.

Back in Sarnia it was de rigeur to visit the three chip trucks that parked under (so to speak) the [Bluewater] bridge at least several times a season. We would sit there, by the water, on a halcyon summer day enjoying the gentle lake breezes, watching the lakers (ships) navigate by, and munching the most scrumpdilicious chips in the world. Oddly enough, although I found both of these pictures via Google, the one below is from one of those very famous Sarnia chip trucks: Albert's.

Butter Fries and a Solitary Swan

Yesterday, on what I'll call the first day of spring although some will argue that I'm a day off, Cuppa and I headed to Riverside Park for a junk food lunch. My back had cooped me up for a few days, but it was somewhat better, good enough to sit in the car anyway, so out we went. We have a great burger joint in town, a non-chain place. While it's a little pricier than the ubiquitous franchises, the food is better than the standard fare. Everything is made from fresh and not frozen, and both the burgers and fries are yummy.

Imagine my surprise, however, when the fellow beside me ordered large fries — with butter if you please ... or as he pleased. As I waited for our order to be filled, I scanned the board and realized for the first time, that butter was, indeed, an option. Yesiree, you can have fries with gravy or fries with butter or fries with both gravy and cheese curds (that's called poutine btw). I knew about the gravy and poutine, but butter on fries was and is totally new to me (on this, only my third visit ever). Sure enough, after they scooped the fries into the container, they poured melted butter over them, just as one would with popcorn. I can't imagine but chacun à son goût as they say in the province to the east.

Off we drove to the park as we often do although seldom with a deliciously greasy lunch in hand. The temperature hovered around freezing, but the sunshine made it quite balmy inside Harriet the Chariot. I gazed out and saw a splash of white way out there on the water. As I studied the spot, I came to realize that it was a swan: a solitary swan. I've never seen a swan around here before, but on the first day of spring there it was. I used a telephoto lens, so the picture isn't as clear as it might be, but I like the fact that I was able to frame both it and the Canada Goose between the tree trunks. I suspect that the goose was one who had wintered over. Some do that rather than go to the trouble flying south — silly things.

How odd: butter on fries and a swan on the river where there has never been one before, even in summer. Did you encounter any oddities on your first day of spring?