The Bard & Banker - Robert Service

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"There's a race of men that don't fit in,a race that can't stay still..." -Robert Service 

Robert Service

A  Victorian beauty of a building caught my eye in the same historic section on Government Street in Victoria. After checking out of the Bedford, I rolled along with my suitcase to The Bard and Banker. It was a bank for decades, then a Christmas shop, and now it is a restaurant, named after our famous Canadian bard, Robert Service.

When Robert Service left England at 21, he was drawn to the wild west. He worked in this bank amid all the excitement in Victoria that was the gold rush, from 1896 to 1903. Later he was to work in the Duncan area (across the pond from me) before going to the Yukon where his poetry

made him famous. I have seen his cabin in Dawson City, perched on the edge of town. I sat on a stump outside the open door while an enormous rook crowed rudely. Robert Service went on to live an even more varied life. The earnings from his publications made him wealthy. He hobnobbed with the rich and famous in Europe, married, had one child, and eventually died at 84 in his home in France.  

The breakfast menu at the Bard and Banker was an appetizing one, and I enjoyed sitting back and gazing at the architecture, thinking about this intriguing man. 

Haunted Fan Tan Alley

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

Continuing with the birthday theme, I made my way to Il Terrazzo, one of my favourite restaurants, the kind has old brick work, propane flame, and tasteful plantings. Being a country girl, I tried not to feel nervous about the approaching dark. This entailed a walk through the historic Bastian Square to the infamous Fan Tan Alley. The narrow alley used to house opium dens, gambling, and prostitutes, during the good old days when the gold rush brought settlers to the wild west. The alley is named after a gambling game that was illegal. 

The story goes that people hear footsteps, turn, and noone is there. Author, Shannon Sinn, in his book The Hauntings of Vancouver Island, writes that it is the murderer, not the victim, who people report seeing. A prostitute named You Kum, used to sit in the window, and was said to have been very beautiful. She had a frequent visitor named Ah Heung. He proposed marriage to her twice. It was said she did want to marry him, but she was already married. The two often argued. One day, in a fit of jealousy, he flew into a brutal rage. He stood in Fan Tan Alley and when she leaned out her window, he severed her head with a long curved knife. He was jailed then condemned to hang, but before that could happen, all shaved and combed, he hung himself with a noose made from his own shirt.  The ghost of an Asian man covered in blood revisits the grisly scene. People get into the most frightful muddles, don't they?

Looking over my shoulder anxiously, I arrived intact. The squid and shrimp in a rich passata over polenta was exquisite. I just about passed out eating a sumptuous slice of hazelnut cheesecake. 

"It feels like my birthday," I said to my server. 

"Every day at Il Terrazzo feels like a birthday," he replied. 

I have to get off the island more often. 

The Ghost Of Lady Churchill

 By Maryanna Gabriel

With flooding and storms, I kept a promise to myself. As my birthday last summer consisted of recovering from a back fracture, this was my treat. I took the ferry from Salt Spring Island to Victoria, to spend the night in a vintage hotel, The Bedford Regency. There are a section of buildings along Government Street which are absolutely charming. "Any ghosts?" I asked. The lobby was definitely dated. A young woman at the counter was forthcoming. The Bedford, built in 1910, did have ghosts. I listened, fascinated. Back in the day, after the building was commissioned to house a stationary business, it became The Churchill Hotel. She said Lady Churchill had witnessed the brutal murder of the man she loved. The trauma was so great she had committed suicide. Apparently, she can still be heard singing from her old room. 

Undaunted, I checked in and then wended my way to the Garrick Head Pub which used to be Garrick's Head Saloon. It is one of the oldest pubs in Canada, dating to 1867. I had the clam chowder and studied the old wood floor, and wished some of the history was featured more prominently in the décor. A man named Mike Powers who was murdered over 100 years ago, is reputed to be seen sometimes warming his hands by the fire. It was not advertised the pub was where prisoners used to have their last meal. Condemned by Judge Begbie, otherwise known as the hanging judge, they were hung in the gallows across the way in Bastion Square.

I suppose faffing about where ghosts hang out isn't terribly birthdayish, or Christmasy for that matter, but I was loving it. Fortunately, Lady Churchill refrained from humming a few bars during my stay. 

Solstice Lemon Honey Cake

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

"Et lux in tenebris lucet - 

the light shineth in the darkness."

-Victor Frankl

The darkness is a cocoon I enfold myself into as we approach solstice. This is such a delicious, moist cake that I thought I would share it with you. It helps....  adapted from a recipe I found on the internet. If you have a flavourful honey it really makes it good. 

Solstice Lemon Cake 

Whisk wet ingredients until smooth:
3 eggs
1 1/2 c. olive oil (good quality and yes this much)
1/2 c. sugar
1/c. honey (this really makes it)
1 1/4 c. milk or buttermilk
2 tsp. vanilla
zest and juice of two lemons

In another bowl mix dry ingredients:
2 c. flour
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt

Add to wet ingredients and place in a 9"greased spring form pan. Sprinkle with sugar (this is important). Bake 350/50 minutes and shake a bit of icing sugar onto the top.