Well, I certainly feel that Jordan and I spent the final long weekend of summer in true Gabriola style. We held our annual (hopefully) neighbourhood Labour Day weekend potluck, followed the next afternoon by a picnic on a wild, waterfront cliff, recently purchased by friends.

            With all of the upheaval in our lives over the past few months, combined with not knowing if Jordan was even going to be here that weekend and the fact that my new kitchen isn’t finished, I was uncertain if we were going to be able to have a party at all. But Jordan was determined to show off his new BBQ, in all of its stainless-steel glory, and nothing as trivial as the absence of a kitchen sink was about to deter him. We had purchased the BBQ as a joint 50^th birthday gift for each other, but ladies, I’m sure you know who it really is for!

            My biggest concern was that as summer waned, everyone would have already made plans by the time we decided it was a go. In Calgary, if we tried to hold a party on this particular weekend, we would be lucky to find anyone left in the city. But even up to the day before, we were hearing from and running into folks who were just back on the island and wanted to come. At the market, I spoke to Jean and she said we would find that as a rule most islanders are back for this weekend, their family and visitors gone, and in general they are ready to celebrate a “taking back the island” weekend. Did that mean that for the past 12 years, everyone was happy to see us go?

On Saturday morning, we ran into everyone at the market and Village Foods buying their secret ingredients for their secret dishes. I don’t usually do this, maybe I was just feeling lazy, but I told everyone to “just bring whatever you like.” I learned two important lessons from this: Gabriolans love to make dessert and they don’t necessarily consider green vegetables appropriate party fare. In my family, we would rather spend hours piping cream cheese filling into a platter of cherry tomatoes, before agreeing to bring the dessert. We also had the “duelling tabboulehs”, but the contest ended in a draw. They were both yummy.

I needed to buy some mango chutney at the market that morning. None of the at least five other jars of various chutneys and sauces I already had at home would do. The vendor I had bought it from before practically cringed as she saw me coming. She knows that I “smoosh” her hand-chopped fruit chutney to make a smooth dipping sauce that clings. I tried to explain to her that this was important, particularly at a stand-up function, but she wasn’t impressed. I guess I never should have told her.

            Did I mention that my new kitchen is not ready? I nearly resorted to using paper plates, but because we were serving steaks, Jordan pooh-poohed that idea. I went to Good Bones and for four bucks, bought a lovely set of dishes; less than the cost of paper, and I am sure I will use them again. I also picked up an inexpensive set of cutlery to give us enough knives. In the long run, this will be cheaper than plastic and definitely better for cutting steak. If you ever need rental dishes, talk to me first. We moved our harvest table into the unfinished room, decorated it with candles and flowers and with the party (Christmas) lights strung around the wall, it looked quite festive.

            But the best part of the whole night was the fact that I never had to worry about any of my guests having a good time. Well, there was that one incident where one neighbour thought it would be cute to put Tabasco in another neighbour’s wine. Fortunately for our leprechaun, he has gone back to the Old Sod for a few weeks, perhaps long enough for things to cool down.

Neil entertained us with his “parlour” pipes; sort of the bagpipe equivalent of an apartment-sized piano and no one fell off our makeshift ramp to the “dining room.” We didn’t even manage to scare off our new neighbour who had just moved in across the street that very afternoon. It was wonderful to watch how this olio of diverse backgrounds could come together and mix so well. The evening ended with the last few of us sipping coffee and scotch, eating Jean’s fudge, re-hashing the party.

             The next morning, Jordan offered to share dishwashing duty in our “camp” kitchen; I didn’t even have to beg. Later, we had a picnic with a few friends, eating leftovers from the party and Veronica’s garden-fresh corn and tomatoes. We toasted our good fortune to be in such a beautiful spot on such a perfect day. You sometimes just have to feel sorry for the rest of the world!