SORT OF NORTHERN ITALIAN

Inexplicably the dream featured zebra meat in a wine and tomato sauce with cloves served over ribbon pasta cooked by my cousin Amy in Canada. Where no zebras thundered across the prairie. And I don't know what her cooking is like anyway.

It was delicious.

While waking, I wondered why she had cooked it so.
Perhaps because it's lean meat.
Needs long simmering.
Cloves.

This is probably a great testament to the presumed cooking skills of my cousin in Canada, surrounded by headhunters and hockey players in the vast prairies, bereft of civilization. Italianate. Calgary. Whose food I have never had.

GOOD WITH RIBBON PASTA. NOT ZEBRA.

While I have been to Canada several times, I've only been to Calgary once, for Christmas break. Remember that scene in 'Cool Runnings', where the Jamaican bobsled team walks out of the airport into the cold? Precisely so. It was freezing.

During that entire two weeks I caught the flu, went cross-country skiing, smoked outdoors freezing my gand off because my uncle and aunt were non-smokers, drank lots of hot beverages, and went to a museum. Life there is indoors. A lot of it is underground.

Did I ever mention that I am anti-social? Canadians in winter are very social.


I have no idea what food in the prairies is like even during the best of times.
Probably like Midwestern cooking, but much better.
Possibly they have hot sauce now.

I remember the cigarettes much more than the food.



They also have various strong liquors there.
Canadians are very temperate people.




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