Ontario Summer Adventures
by Andy Shay

Herbert Fisheries in Killarney, Ontario. Photo: A. Shay

Usually I write here about cheese, and that is certainly one of my loves, but really, I just love authentic food, whatever its stripes. And that is why I have to tell you about three of my finds this summer.

I am an American who moved to Toronto 14 years ago and for most of those 14 years I have not been far outside of the GTA. That all changed this summer when I traveled all over Nastern Ontario and the Near North. While travelling, I found three real gems of authentic food, but like finding any gem, half the fun is the digging and separating in order to get to the jewel.

The summer began in Tweed and on a day excursion north to Bon Echo park. In a small town we ran across a hand painted sign: "home made baking, blueberry tarts" and of course we bit. When we pulled up, a very nice woman came out of her house to a stand just in front and chatted. Our first clue should have been that all the desserts were blueberry and the last weekend of June was just a little too early for any fresh blueberries. So we got butter tarts instead. One bite told the whole story, COMMERCIAL BAKING! They might have been baked in her home, but the ingredients were all commercially prepared. In fact, just about the time I was wiping my fingers there was another identical stand and 5km, another and so on. Hmm...

A few weeks later, I found myself in Pointe au Baril. I spent many of my summers on the coast of Maine and it has a special spot in my heart, those massive granite rocks and wind blown pines. Pointe au Baril is only lacking salt water and lobsters and otherwise it is a perfect stand in (and 11 hours closer to home). It also has something that Maine has never thought about and that is earth shatteringly good buttertarts. Best of all, the baker is located in the lighthouse. Emmaline Madigan has been tending the light house for years and baking buttertarts , let me tell you, she has the recipe down pat. Lovely thin pastry, perhaps lard based, that is flaky and melts cleanly in your mouth. The filling is thick, but oozing and caremelly and sweet – but not too sweet, a perfect balance. They are hard to get to (you need a boat to access the light house, only open in the summer and on weekends until Thanksgiving), but if you can get there, they are a shining example of the craft.

The next week, I was delivering a child to a friend’s cottage near Tobermory. After the drop off, my youngest son and I took the opportunity to camp at the Bruce Peninsula National Park. After a night of camping and an early morning dip in the impossibly clear and cold waters of Georgian Bay (just at that point) we headed into town. If you have not been, it doesn’t take too long to find your way around Tobermory. Right in the centre of town, at the end in the harbour and surrounded by parking lots, is an old diner, Craigie’s. It commands a prime position that can only be the result of being in business before zoning regulations. It is nothing other than what you would expect from a diner, and everything you would want from such a place. Even though there have been at least three visible additions, the place is tiny and flooded with sunlight in the morning. After a bright greeting, honest to god, within two minutes I was warming myself on a bottomless cup of coffee and eggs and toast. Service just does not get faster. On top of that, and to the great fascination of my eight year old, the local men at the next table were having an extended conversation about the floating body of a tourist that was found that morning. Now that is a diner for you!

The following week, we planned our first family canoe trip in Killarney Park. How to describe the beauty and solitude out on those lakes! The first day we played it safe and paddled abound the main lake by the camp site. But the second day, we had arranged to meet another family three lakes in, which in reality equalled about a two hours of paddling and two portages. For new initiates to the canoeing scene it was a big effort, but completely worth it. After nine hours of paddling and playing in the sun we returned to our campsite exhausted. We had heard that there was a very good fish fry on the pier in the nearby town of Killarney. With no energy to cook, we made a beeline for town. Sure enough, at the foot of the main street in town, on the pier was an old red and white school bus functioning as a kitchen: Herbert Fisheries – fresh fish and chips. But something was wrong, it couldn’t be... it was closed! The time was 7:06pm and apparently the last order is taken at 6:45! The fudge shop was closing, the ice cream parlour was closing, the family restaurant was closing. Desperation was setting in and tempers flared. We turned to the newly renovated and largely completed Sportsman’s lodge where our need to eat was met.

The town is small and super and somehow retains the romantic air of a resort from yesteryear. It has the feel of a working harbour and indeed it was and still is to some extent. Apparently back in the 1960s fishermen brought up to 10,000 pounds of whitefish daily back to town. By the 70s that amount was reduced to 100 lbs daily. It is definitely a place that I will go back to.

Of course, my curiosity about the fish fry stand was only whetted. I could sense a great meal in the offing: the bus, the dock, the whole town, the exacting hours and lots of signage with instructions to customers. We made careful note of the opening time, 11:00AM sharp, and retreated back to camp.

Shortly after 11 the next day we rolled into town and placed our order through the side window of the bus. Drinks were dispensed from vending machines at the side of the window and all the condiments you could think of were dispensed from two plastic, home office file drawers. Party tents were set up on the dock with picnic tables. My name was called and I picked up the cardboard box – you could feel the heat through the paper. Inside in a nest of red and white checked paper were thin strips of fish and big chunks of lemon. The fish was so crisp underneath the thin layer of batter. Even my eight year old who hates fish liked it! The fries were fresh cut and cooked – delicious! A few minutes later one of those curious encapsulated great lakes fishing boats pulled up at the dock to unload fresh fish. Could this get any better?

There are all kinds of restaurants and food production facilities out there creating nutrition and entertainment, but there is an intangible quality to authentic products and services that even an eight year old senses, perhaps without consciously knowing. I have delighted in discovering three of them this summer and I feel like I know the real Ontario a little bit better.

Andy Shay is a Toronto-based cheese expert and consultant. Learn about Andy's tutored tastings at AndyShay.com