Fueled by a few pints of Guiness, Adam and I, intrepid heroes, headed back to Alejandra's house to plan our departure. We quickly found a place to stay in the area of our destination--Our homebase was to be a small rented cabin on the shores of a frozen lake (note: Adam would later qualify the adjective "frozen" with the modifying adverb "almost".)
The next morning, after guzzling gallons of coffee and purchasing supplies for our voyage, we loaded up in the vehicle and headed North. Armed with little but a map of little detail and bucketloads of confidence, we started our drive. We decided that our path would, as much as possible, be confined to back roads, as we wished to see as much non-freeway Canada as possible.
We headed out and began to drive...slowly but surely...Within a few hours, already growing tired, we arrived in the general geographic region. We had planned a huge feast, and so we stopped at a grocery store in the area to stock up on food and wine. In a moment (perhaps among many) of culinary genius, Adam had planned the menu, keeping in mind the theme of the voyage, and had planned a meal of pork chops marinated in mustard and maple syrup. We decided as a group that the pork chops would go nicely with some potatoes and brussel sprouts.
We purchased our victuals and headed toward the cabin. Oddly, the one thing that we had been unable to find in the grocery store was fresh, local maple syrup in a reasonably sized bottle. There were plently of outrageously-sized bottles of the local goo, as well as bottles of Aunt Jemima and her similar faux-maple pals, but none of these options seemed viable or morally correct. And so, after speaking with some of the local workers, who all had cousins or brothers or sisters or friends that made maple syrup, we headed down the road in search of some roadside maple blessings.
Driving down the local highway, having long passed the turnoff for our cabin, we grew nervous. We saw no sign of the maple shack we were looking for, and we seemed to have gone too far. We fretted, worrying that our good luck had come to an end, and decided to turn back, hoping to find another option. Our great fortune, however, continued to shine upon us, and the road in which I chose to enact a K-turn turned out to be the driveway of the place we were looking for.
So we bought some syrup and moved along, headed toward our fancy lakeside cabin (which was, in fact, a sort of crumby, yet homey tiny little place that had obviously not been decorated since the late 1960's). Adam got to work cooking our meal, and Alejandra and I got to work on the wine we had bought. We all worked hard, and within about an hour, Adam had cooked up a delicious meal, and the three of us had polished off a fairly large quantity of wine. With music-provided by the satellite TV, we sat down and ate, enjoyed the rest of the wine, played some music and finally settled in to sleep and dream of fluffy pancakes and sugary, pure, gorgeous maple syrup.
We woke up late the next morning and immediately got to work packing up and cleaning up the place. Luckily, the night before, we had finally found a map that mentioned the town we were looking for, "Oro Medonte".
And it turned out the town actually exists:
As we got closer, the excitement in the car was noticeably increasing. Road signs pointed to the end of our journey, which we approached with a mixture of anticipation, exhaustion, and sadness.
We had finally reached the conclusion of our adventure. We entered Shaw's, greeted by the smell of scrumptious hotcakes. We were seated at one of the many tables, which like the others, was covered in a bright orange plastic tablecloth. We checked out the menu, and our choices were few.
--Silver Dollar Pancakes with One Sausage, OR
--Two Pancakes with Two Sausages, OR
--Three Pancakes with Three Sausages.
Now, Alejandra was feeling the Two Pancake option, but Adam and I, arriving at the end of such a momentous undertaking, immediately decided that we would obviously eat the largest of all possible options. Adam's conversation with the waitress went something like this:
--I'll have the Three Pancakes with the Three Sausages.
--Uh...are you sure?
--Yeah, I'm sure...Why?
--Well, it's just a whole lot of food...
--Listen! I've come here from Brooklyn, and I think that can handle Three Pancakes!
This last sentence was pronounced with a great deal of force, and the Waitress smiled, slightly taken aback, and then nodded her approval. I seconded Adam's order and we sat to wait for our pancakes. They came a few minutes later, and the truth is--they were pretty damn good. Thing is, as I dug into the mammoth pile of food, I remembered that I'm really not all that crazy about pancakes. I mean, I like pancakes, but they're not my favorite food, and the truth is that I really prefer French Toast any day of the week. No doubt about it.
This realization, however, in no way diminished the metaphysical deliciousness of my plate of pancakes and sausages. Cutting them up, slathering them with pure butter, soaking them in sugary, condensed, natural sap--every action and every bite was pleasurable, and every sip of coffee washed it all down wonderfully.
After the meal was over, we had the chance to meet with members of the Shaw family. We witnessed the entire syrup-making process, learned some interesting syrup trivia (40 gallons of sap are necessary to make just one gallon of syrup), took a walk through the maple grove, and got to try some maple syrup toffee (Little House on the Prairie-style--hot syrup poured over snow).
The Shaw family (and friends) all seemed happy to meet us, and were very impressed by our journey. Oddly, one very nice lady referred to us as "movie stars", which somehow seemed to be the conception of New Yorkers, and even requested our autographs (which I believe and hope was a joke).
And so, the voyage was complete. We had made, against all odds, to Shaw's Pancake House. In the face of those mocking our journey, we had traveled 100 miles North of Toronto to eat some pretty good pancakes. We had met the Shaw family, checked out the syrup making process, and eaten syrup toffee (a dream of mine for years). And now, all that remained was to head home, victorious and stuffed.
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LETTER TO SHAW FAMILY:
Dear Shaw Family,
I just wanted to write and thank you for the wonderful breakfast experience we recently had at your Pancake House.
Some of you may remember that I and two friends made the journey to Shaw's from Brooklyn, NY, after reading about your delicious syrup and hotcakes in the New York Times. The trip was better than I could have possibly hoped for it to be, and it was truly very nice to meet all of you.
I would like to direct you to my website, www.frijoles265.blogspot.com. You may enjoy the narration of our journey from Brooklyn to Oro-Medonte, as well as some of the photos of our trip and the time we spent at Shaw's. I also plan to soon print some of the photos and send them by mail.
Thanks again for everything, and I hope that you are well. I hope to see you again, this time to try some Shaw's Products of the pork variety.
Sincerely,
Chris, Adam and Alejandra
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THE RESPONSE:
Hello from Canada,
Of course I remember all of you. It was a pleasure meeting you and I really enjoyed your enthusiasm about our little Sugarbush in Oro-Medonte.
Your trek to Canada after seeing our story in the New York Times was pretty amazing to me. If you have any extra copy, we would love to see it.
I hope that you can come back some springtime in the future. My husband Tom (the 5th generation) said that I should check out your site to see the photos so I will right now.
Thanks again for your compliments and kind words.
Regards,
Terri-Lynn Shaw
Shaw Maple Products & Pancake House
#493 Oro-Medonte Line 14, S.
RR#1
Orillia, Ont. Canada
L3V 6H1
Good Times! I had a blast with you "movie stars" in Toronto.
ReplyDeleteI'll see you back here if you decide to visit the sugar bush again.
besos,
Alejandra