A Creative Retreat

where I bake with maple syrup and make a tiny film

This time, four years ago, I was making pouding chômeur -

The wind is whipping around my head. It pushes its way inside my hat and deep into my ears, creating the hint of an ice cream headache. I know from experience that a blast of cold – from the wind, diving into the ocean, or even a forced icy water blast at the end of a shower – is uncomfortable, but the feeling will fade into euphoria once I’m warm again.

We’re hiking at Polly’s Cove, a piece of barren, craggy coastline dotted with boulders left behind by retreating glaciers. We climb over the rocks and bogs, hands on our hats, and watch seabirds hovering above, unmoving against the wind. My friend finds wintergreen growing along the granite, weaving through scrubby blueberry bushes and vines of juniper. We bite into the thick leaves. Salt and mint is the flavour of this place. Maple syrup too, but that’s further inland, where life is more hospitable.

Back at home, warm and euphoric, I make a cake. The cake is called pouding chômeur – a classic Québécois dessert that literally translates as ‘pudding of the unemployed.’ The recipe, as the story goes, was created by female factory workers during the Great Depression, using ingredients most people had on hand – flour, baking powder, brown sugar, water, cream and butter. The brown sugar, water and cream are meant to mimic maple syrup, a luxury for some, now and then. Modern versions of the recipe call for maple syrup, but today I’m staying authentic.

Now, four years later, I’m making pouding chômeur again, but this time in Cumberland county where the nights are cold, the days are warm(er) and sap is running through the sugar maples. There are people deep in the woods nearby working around the clock to capture the clear sap and boil it down, down, down into amber gold. So I’m going to use maple syrup, a whole cup of it. We’re flush right now.

I’m here with a friend and a family member who is also a friend to walk, cook, and work on whatever we need to work on. We call it our creative retreat.¹ Dottie is also here. She pulls me outside several times a day to stretch, walk and feel the sun on our faces.

I thought I’d capture the moment on film. The Be Good Tanyas are playing in the background. I’m singing along, badly. Everyone is working on something. I hope you also enjoy it, and consider making this pudding - or pouding, en français. C’est délicieux.