Many years ago this month, I was invited
to the 75th Annual Southwestern Saskatchewan Sheep and
Woolgrowers/Stockdog Trials in Maple Creek, Saskatchewan.
The
night before the big do, I sat in Bernice’s kitchen as she cut leg
o’lamb into one-inch squares for shish kabob. I was helping Skewer. The
banquet was sold out, over 400 expected so there was a lot of cutting
and skewering.
“How ya gonna cook this
meat?” I asked. She explained she had four backyard BBQ grills lined up
with an engineer and a fireman for each. Sounded good to me.
Saturday
afternoon I spent at the fairgrounds watching the dog trials. That
evening at the armory, four BBQ grills ‘bout the size of a Toyota tire
were set up on the lawn at the West entrance. A gentle breeze wafted
through the cottonwood trees and carried the inviting scent of hot coals
and sizzling shish kabob into the packed building. Inside, the crowd
was excited, loud and beginning to perspire. Folks seeing neighbors and
friends, jostling at the bar and anticipating. Soon, smoke began to
thicken in the hall. It was taking a long time to cook the kabobs.
The
first forty or so people were served. The lamb fat drippin’ on the
coals forced a continual restoking. During the next two and a half
hours, the crowd grew restless but remained ever Canadian polite.
By
the time the last group was served, the tables, silverware and walls
were slick. Sweating people were glistening with lamb fat. Cottonwood
fluff clung to cheeks, hats and the occasional butter pat. The M.C., a
big boy wearin’ a western suit and black cowboy hat took the stage. He
looked like a bronzed statue of a draft horse somebody’d sprayed with
WD40.
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