The Sandpoint Eater

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist

I just got home from Canada. I flew to Vancouver, British Columbia, to meet with travel industry partners. Many Alaska cruises begin or (end) in Vancouver, and I like to stay current on happenings to share with my cruise clientele. Once I realized I hadn’t been there post-COVID, it was high time to head north, check out several hotels and restaurants, and see if I could learn of any new attractions. I also wanted to go to VIA Rail Station and check out the updated first-class lounge (I’ll be escorting a trans-Canadian tour from Vancouver to Halifax next fall).

Train stations always feel like home — especially that one — and I got a bit nostalgic wandering the space. Years ago, I oversaw private rail charters and spent a lot of time there. We’d arrive on cars attached to the end of Amtrak’s Cascade; and, once our fleet cleared Customs and Immigration, the railcars would remain static on a side track while the guests ventured off to explore Vancouver Island and Whistler for a few days. 

On those layovers, I kept myself busy preparing for the return trip, which included traipsing around the coastal city in search of interesting food, wine, and local trinkets for the tablescapes and staterooms (I know, tough job). After my recent station encounter, I walked to Chinatown and lingered over a filling lunch at my favorite dim sum restaurant, Floata. It was just as I remembered — filled with the lively chatter of locals.  

Another spot I used to frequent was Rodney’s Oyster House in Yaletown. It was years since I’d been there, too. I used to overtip the staff and persuade them to shuck dozens of oysters I could take back to the train for the returning guests. Rodney’s was just as I’d remembered. I pulled up to a barstool, bantered with the young fellows pulling pints of Keith’s Amber and deftly shucking oysters by the dozen. On an average weekend, they go through an unbelievable 1,000 oysters a night. I did my best to help them maintain their nightly average by slurping down a dozen tiny, briny mollusks.

Though I usually avoid talking about politics when traveling, it was hard to avoid that evening. The curious bartender peppered me with questions. I did my best to reply with honest and sometimes painful answers, and he was more than sympathetic — even pouring me a conciliatory drink on the house. When it came time to pay my tab, we bid a fond farewell, and he wished me (and my fellow Americans) nothing but luck.

Besides trips to Vancouver, living so close to Canada, I’ve made countless road trips across border crossings closer to home. Whether it was Eastport, and I was Nelson-bound with a carload of silly soccer girls, or heading to Creston via Porthill to meet a friend for lunch, I’ve always encountered a warm welcome — even the time I realized I’d entered the wrong border of Eastgate and had to double back to Porthill, answering the Canadian border agent’s perfunctory question, “When was your last visit to Canada?” Forty-five minutes was not the answer he sought, causing a long-ish, but light-hearted interrogation.

Maybe it was all the trips north, but I can’t recall why daughter Casey knew all the words to the anthem, “O Canada.” Perhaps it was all the sporting trips we made across the border. I do know that the lyrics came in real handy when Casey grumbled to her math teacher about a B she received on a test in the eighth grade. Mr. Lang offered to revise it to an A if Casey would stand at the front of the class and sing “O Canada.” 

That well-earned A may have been the highlight of her middle-school career; to this day, she still knows all the words. 

After 30 years of living next door to Canada, I am pretty darned fond of these friends and neighbors; and, right now, I feel like I’m caught in a custody battle and can’t choose sides. When angst takes over, I head to the kitchen for baking therapy (never look to me to sing “O Canada”). 

It seemed fitting to bake something to honor my Canadian friendships, so I whipped up a pan of butter tarts — a quintessential Canadian pastry from pioneer days. Regarding additional ingredients, fans are passionate and divided about adding either nuts or raisins to the tart recipe. We don’t need one more thing to argue about, folks, so I recommend leaving out both (I also think plain tastes best). Enjoy with a steamy Americano — or, as I just heard it coined in Vancouver, a Canadiano. Call it what you may, just bake up a tart or two and keep the faith, my friends. 

CANADIAN BUTTER TART

A traditional, rich and flaky sweet finale. This Canadian delight can be baked in individual small tart pans or miniature muffin tins, but making in a single baking pan is a labor saver. These are quite sticky, and the parchment paper helps release them from the pan. Add some chopped nuts or raisins if you’d like.

Canadian butter tart

INGREDIENTS:

Crust layer

• 1 cup unsalted butter softened

• ½ cup powdered sugar

• 1 tsp salt

• 2 ¼ cup all-purpose flour

Butter tart filling

• ½ cup unsalted butter softened

• 1 cup dark brown sugar

• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

• 4 large eggs at room temperature

• 2 tbs heavy cream

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• ¾ cup dark corn syrup

• 2 tbs white vinegar

DIRECTIONS:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a 9-by-13-inch baking pan with parchment paper.

In a large bowl, beat the butter and powdered sugar until fluffy. Add the salt and flour, mix until well blended. Press the mixture into the bottom of the pan.

Bake in the preheated oven for 15-20 minutes or until a pale golden color. Remove from the oven and leave the oven turned on.

Filling Layer

Make the filling while crust layer is baking. In a standup mixer, beat the butter, brown sugar and flour until evenly combined. Beat in the eggs — two at a time — the cream and vanilla extract. Mix in the corn syrup and vinegar (stir in the optional raisins or pecans at this time). 

Pour the mixture over the baked crust. Bake in the preheated oven for 30-35 minutes, or until the top looks set. 

Remove from the oven and cool completely on wire rack. Make sure the tart is completely cooked before cutting into squares.   

Store in an airtight container in the fridge for 3-4 days or wrap well and freeze for up to 2 months.