Fernie, and Rob gets on his high-horse reviewing restaurants.

I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by. ~ Douglas Adams

Last weekend saw us at yet another new ski resort, Fernie in BC, about 3 or 4 hours drive South of Calgary. It was steep and beautiful, the snow was soft and both Vic and I had a great time on the slopes. Once again we availed ourselves of the services of the mountain hosts. These are often retirees earning themselves a free lift-pass by taking groups out and touring them around the mountain twice a day. They sign up for 18 days over the course of a season. What a brilliant idea! We get to ski with a group of new friends, see bits of the mountain off the beaten track we might not otherwise try and I personally find that I have a lot more confidence to push myself knowing that I have an experienced leader to get me out of trouble and not wanting to hold people back makes me strive to keep up. I was carving turns on blue and black runs all weekend, and trying to find my way in the powder too, although this mostly lead to a couple of giant wipe-outs. I also saw what the locals term a 'garage-sale;" a wipe-out so complete that all of one's equipment is laid out for onlookers to peruse and collect. A ski to the left, a helmet to the right, here a pole, there a pole etc.

Off the snow we ate very well. Should you ever find yourself in Fernie I have two recommendations for you. For regular Canadian gourmet cuisine try the Cedar Tree restaurant. Fabulous service, an interesting menu cooked to perfection and a reasonably priced selection of local wine and beer all in a modern and cosy atmosphere. We were wowed by the place and look forward to going back. Of particular delight to us other than the delicious food and English waitress was their flexibility, which made a pleasant change. I fancied the chicken from the special three course menu but they were all out, so they put together something similar for me at the same bargainous price of $19, even accommodating my gastronomic peculiarities (feta and tomato salad hold the tomato, if you will!). Last time we were in a restaurant and asked for a change of ingredients it was a different story. Over Christmas we went for a curry at the Moti Mahal (17 ave and 14 st SW for Calgarians). We had been ever so excited as we love a curry and are still trying to find a great one in Calgary. The menu looked interesting and although it was a bit more expensive than we're used to for a curry we were looking forward to a great night out. Everything was proceeding according to expectations until we ordered. I fancied the look of the chicken Jalfrezie, but I do love a mushroom and I try to get a bit of paneer in whenever I can (paneer is a type of Indian cottage cheese) so I asked the waitress if I could add them to my curry. I didn't anticipate a problem as several other dishes on the menu contained both ingredients. Turns out chef won't do it. Chef knows best. These dishes are how they are and there are no substitutions, so no, I couldn't have and mushrooms or paneer in my chicken Jalfrezi. I was a little put out and thought that chef was possibly labouring under the delusion that he was further up the Michelin rankings than was actually the case, but I was prepared to extend him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was some kind of spicy savant with an unerring eye for the perfect concoction. I awaited his creation with baited breath. I could always have a mushroom omelette tomorrow. It arrived looking 'gourmet,' and indeed it was. 'Gourmet' in pretentious inverted commas, not actually gourmet and good tasting. The chicken was certainly tender but cut in two or three giant cubes, as were the peppers and onions which were also woefully undercooked. None of the sweated down loveliness diced onions take on in the gravy of most curries. The place was busy and it gets good reviews; I can only assume most of the patrons have never been to Bradford, home in exile of the humble curry. Suffice it to say we left disappointed and are unlikely to go back or recommend it to anyone else.

Still, while I am on about curries, let me heartily recommend The Curry Bowl in Fernie, where we were met at the door by a friendly expat. The Bristolian maitre-d showed us upstairs to a little waiting nook as it would be about half an hour until he could squeeze us into his packed restaurant. A great sign. We crowded in while he served a selection of wines and beers from around the world. Over a can of Old Speckled Hen we met some of the other patrons waiting for seats and the atmosphere was very relaxed. It was more like being in someone's lounge meeting strangers at a party than anything else. Our host regaled us with banter and trivia and a gay old time was had by all present, and all this before we'd even seen a menu. When we finally sat down the food as good as the atmosphere had lead us to hope it would be. When we go back to Fernie (to stay for free with a mountain host) we will have a devil of a time trying to choose between two fabulous restaurants both rating a well deserved 10 out of 10.

Anyway, enough for today. I'm off to watch the end of Miss Congeniality (feel entirely free to judge me; I would!) with a slice of birthday cake (thanks mum, thanks Vic). Tomorrow, fingers crossed, I'll cover the rigours of exam week, Las Vegas and solicit advice on the next novel. Look after yourselves,

R