I’m a little late with this week’s music but a few things I was doing for the PEI Symphony had me preoccupied. And speaking of the Symphony we have our final season concert coming up with violinist Marc Djokic playing the Sibelius Concerto for Violin under the direction of our wonderful maestro Mark Shapiro.
To celebrate Canada and our 150th birthday Djokic, with his sister Denise and several other musicians, has made a series of videos for NONCERTO called “Extreme Locations”. Amongst their locations are inside the structure of the Confederation Bridge that joins the rest of Canada to our Island, Cows Creamery (the best ice cream not just on the Island but anywhere!) and this one filmed at Green Gables National Park. The Djokic Duo plays Erwin Schulhoff‘s Zingaresca against some wonderful shots of the area around Cavendish on the North Shore.
The bells of Charlottetown’s beautiful St Dustan’s Basilica have been silent for the past 40 years but that is about to change come July 1st of this year. A committee spearheaded by historian Catherine Hennessey and co-chaired by Kevin Murphy have worked tirelessly to have the structural problems that caused them to be silenced righted and to raise the $400,000.00 needed to refinish and retune the 17 bells, install the infrastructure and electronic system.
The bells were cast by Paccard Fondrie Des Cloches in Annecy, France and installed in the north tower of the church in 1928. They are sister chimes to the bells at St Patrick’s Cathedral in New York and L’Oratoire St-Joseph-du-Mont-Royal in Montreal. The restoration work is being done by the Christoph Paccard Bellfoundries in South Carolina.
The good people at Vintage Charlottetown posted this video from Cocktail-VP showing how the bells would have been cast back in 1927-28. The foundry in this case is the famous Whitechapel Bell Foundry in London but the process was the same – and with few modernizations as it has been for centuries.
This video ends before the tuning processes is shown. When the bells of St Dunstan’s were cast they would have been tuned using tuning forks and lathes. As Nigel Taylor, the head tuner at Whitechapel, explains techniques have evolved considerably even over the past ten years.
I’m looking forward to hearing that first peal of bells on July 1st as we celebrate the 150th Birthday of my country. I can think of no more joyful sound.
On this day in 1855: “Border Ruffians” from Missouri invade Kansas and force election of a pro-slavery legislature.
I’ll tell you where the bloody snows of yesterday are – or better yet I’ll show you.
Across the street from our house – roughly the same shot as yesterday.
Out of the master bedroom window looking west down our street.
Out of the second bedroom looking east and what was once the old train yards.
My blog buddy Yvette in Provence (sigh!) asked if yesterday’s photo of the beginning of the blizzard was really where I lived and she wanted to know what time of day I took it. Well yes Yvette it is where I live and that photo was taken at around mid-day as were the ones above a day later.
We ended up with about 35cm (13 inches) but with winds that hit as high as 90kph (56 mph) the drifting caused some enormous snow banks. We live right at the harbour so we get the full force of the breeze – pleasant in the summer, not so when it becomes gale force. But it is Canada, it is February and it is Winter so what else do we expect?
They tell us there is another storm on the way tomorrow. So we do what everyone else does here – make sure you have supplies (which reminds me I have to get another quart of Island potato vodka if the liquor store opens tomorrow), stay off the roads so the crews can plow and enjoy a “snow day”. Besides everything – and I mean everything – is closed so there’s no where to go anyway.
*The one phrase from François Villon’s Ballade des dames du temps jadis (Ballad of the Ladies of Bygone Times) that most people know – except Yvette who probably studied it in school.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach
Perhaps the most famous ostreidae celebrated in story and rhyme are those unfortunate, plump – and let’s be honest stupid – young oysters who accepted the Walrus’s invitation to go for a jog along that great expanse of sand. Even though their Elder wisely refused to join the rather unusual pairing of Tradesman and Marine Mammal on their stroll, the foolish young ones eagerly trotted off hand-in-hand (?) with, or puffing behind, the Walrus and the Carpenter. And their sad fate as a result of that inadvisable course of action is well documented and told to Alice, with perhaps unnecessary glee, by those battling brothers Tweedledum and Tweedledee*.
“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes- and ships- and sealing wax-
Of cabbages- and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings.”
“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed—
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”
“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?”
“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf—
I’ve had to ask you twice!”
“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”
“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchiefs
Before his streaming eyes.
“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none—
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.
Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There
Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson) – 1871
Holding my pocket handkerchief before my streaming eyes I hang my head in shame to admit that I would have been more than happy to join Walrus and Carpenter in their oysterian feast. In fact I intend to do so in the next day or so, well not with those two – I mean after all they are fictional aren’t they? Aren’t they? – but with several other friends. However I shall be dining on what I consider to be the second most famous bivalves in the world – PEI oysters. And even better, oysters from the winter harvest.
Until a year or two ago my own taste in oysters ran to those puny little smoked bits found in cans and on Ritz crackers at cocktail parties or on a slightly more sophisticated level baked in La Mediatrice or Oysters Rockerfeller. Though I had tried them once or twice before the mere thought of consuming raw oysters conjured up all manner of horrid images – none of which good taste will allow me to share here. However on my first visit to PEI I bit the bivalve, so to speak, and tasted oysters from the cold waters of the St Lawrence as they should be tasted: raw with a dash of lemon, and a grind of pepper. Several more feastings – including oysters fresh from Galway Bay with a glass of Guinness – has turned me into a fan. Now my palette is not that refined that I could identify a Malpeque from a Colville Bay just by taste but I am beginning to recognize the variations created by location, salinity and time of year. And this time of year the oysters that are being harvested are sure to be plump and tasty.
And since I’m waxing (not sealing I might add) about the joys of eating PEI oysters I thought I’d share a few facts, figures and features about the Island’s second favourite mullusk.
The Mi’kmaq, the first known inhabitants of the Island, used oysters as a food source.
The supply of oysters was so plentiful in the 1600s that Acadians on the North Shore used them as fertilizer for their fields.
They also burned the shells for the lime until a statute was passed in 1832 banning the practice.
Malpeque oysters have been famous since 1900 when they were named “the best in the world” at the Paris World’s Fair.
Joining Confederation in 1876 brought with it the railway and access to wider markets which led to the decimation of the oyster beds.
To meet the demand seeds were brought in from New England to bolster the industry but the imports brought with them the deadly Malpeque Disease and by 1915 over 90% of the beds had been destroyed.
In the early 1920s a disease resistant oyster was used for reseeding and the work of Dr. A.W.H Needler at the Ellerslie experimental station on the Biddeford River revitalized the oyster industry in the Atlantic region.
For an oyster to grow to the preferred harvesting size of 3 inches takes between five to seven years in the wild; if farmed that time is reduced to four years. And for those puny cocktail oysters? Two to three years.
Wild oysters are still harvested using long wooden oyster tongs.**
December to March is one of the prime times for harvesting – with waterways and bays frozen over it’s an arduous cold process involving ice cutting, wet suits and scuba equipment.**
If that old rule of only eating oysters in months with the letter “r” in them were followed the restaurants on PEI would go out of business. As with many things new methods have improved conditions and it’s now considered safe to eat oysters any month of the year.
There are four main areas of oyster beds on Prince Edward Island – this interactive map allows identifies the oysters found in each and highlights what gives them their individual taste and characteristics.
Fortunately there are several very good oyster bars within walking distance of the house. So it’s just a matter of making a choice, bundling up, cutting our way through the snow, settling in to a comfortable arm chair perhaps by an open fire, ordering up a loaf of bread, some pepper and vinegar, perhaps a dash of Tabasco, a slice of lemon, a pint of Guinness or a nice crisp muscadet, watch the gentleman behind the bar shuck a few dozen Malpeques or Raspberry Points – and savour the sweet briny goodness! Definitely not “a dismal thing to do”.
I have freely admitted that my knowledge of Prince Edward Island was minimal when I first visited back in August of 2015 and has only slightly improved since my full-time arrival in September of this year. Oh I knew that the Charlottetown Conference had been held here in 1864 but I didn’t know that Island did not join the Confederation until 1873 nor did I know the conditions for it joining.
And of the Island’s earlier history I was even less aware. I had vaguely heard of the Mi’kmaq in history class but have yet to discover the history and culture of the First Nations people of the Island. Of course it stood to reason that it had been under French control at one time but I had not realized it was part of what was called Acadia and was known as Île Saint-Jean. Nor had I realized that there had been French settlements here though records indicate that they were not prosperous and that the settlers on the Island experience great hardship. Good harvests were often followed by several years of famine. Starvation was common and occasioned desperate pleas for supplies from Louisbourg, Québec and even France itself. In 1756 the famine was so devastating that authorities were prompted to relocate some families to Québec.
Many never reached their destination – disease and the ocean claimed the lives of well over half of the 3100 deportees. Of the disasters at sea the worst was the Duke William on December 13, 1758: 396 of the 400 Acadians died from disease or when the ship sank 100 kms from its destination.
Though the British Conquest of Acadia occurred in 1710 the next 45 years were to witness the refusal of many Acadians to declare the Oath of Allegiance to the British Crown. The refusal was made for many reasons: religious, economic, relations with the Mi’kmaq, trade and, perhaps minimally, political. During the Seven Year’s War allegiance to Britain became a major concern and under strategic orders to neutralize support for the French cause General Jeffery Amherst sent Lieutenant-Colonel Andrew Rollo to lead the British deportation operations. He was ordered to take possession of Île Saint-Jean, build Fort Amherst on the site of Port-la-Joye, and deport the Acadians. On August 8, 1758 Rollo arrived to begin what was to become one of the most deadly operations in The Great Expulsion. Some of the Acadians on the Island swore allegiance, others joined the Mi’kmaq, and others fled to the settlements on the Miramachi. But most were transported to Halifax and then onward to France. Many never reached their destination – disease and the ocean claimed the lives of well over half of the 3100 deportees. Of the disasters at sea the worst was the Duke William on December 13, 1758: 396 of the 400 Acadians died from disease or when the ship sank 100 kms from its destination. Today the anniversary of that tragedy is commemorated as Acadian Remembrance Day here on the Island and in New Brunswick.
Until the great Acadian writer Antonine Maillet‘s recent lecture at the Confederation Centre I also had no idea that there was an Acadian Anthem.
Ave Maris Stella has its roots in the 8th century Plainsong Marian Vespers Hymn Hail Star of the Sea. In 1884 it was adopted as the anthem of the Acadian people at the Second Acadian National Convention, held in Miscouche, Prince Edward Island. The original anthem was in Latin but in 1994 Jacinthe Laforest, from Mont-Carmel, Prince Edward Island wrote French lyrics but in a bow to tradition the first verse is the original Latin repeated as the final strophe.
Dedicated to the history of Charlottetown Harbour and yachting on Northumberland Strait on Canada's East Coast. Winner of the Heritage Award from the PEI Museum and Heritage Foundation and a Heritage Preservation Award from the City of Charlottetown