The pancetta in the basement was joined by even more hanging meat. Smoke permeates the meat better if the surface is totally dry.
Jeff got to work preparing the wood. While it is true that you can buy wood chips all over the place, it seemed more fun to do that from scratch too. (Although not as much fun after an hour of sawing..)This huge branch of Manitoba Maple fell down during one of last summer's windstorms.
Next morning, bright and early. A few pieces of lit charcoal and a couple of chunks of maple got the smoke puffing nicely. Nice and cool.
Look at the happy ham and happy hock and happy sausages!
Now look at the burnt, sad and unhappy ham!
This catastrophe occurred around hour 3 of smoking.
Everything had been going really well until that point. The wood was smoking consistently and was nice and cool for the first hour and a half, but then it started fizzling out. It took a while to get the next batch of charcoal and wood smoking nicely, so I figured I'd have to time it a little tighter on the next batch. Which led me, an hour later, to add half a dozen burning briquettes to the wood when the last half dozen were still going.
About fifteen minutes later, Jeff saw flames spitting out of the smoker. No more smooth, cool smoke. We had fire.
Now, the whole thing about smoking is that you want to flavour and somewhat dry out the meat without cooking it. This is why the low temperature is so important - you don't want to render any fat or cook the meat. Which is what happened.
I wept bitterly.
But all was not lost. The burnt parts of the ham were cut off, and then we roasted it. The smoke had permeated about 3/4 of an inch into the ham, leaving a nice pink ring on the outer layer. It tasted...kind of hammy.
Some of the bacon had started cooking in the fire and had gotten pretty leathery. I cut those pieces off to use later as salt pork, some of which flavoured a huge pot of spicy baked beans beautifully the next day.
There was about a 6-inch square of usable bacon from each slab that I had prepared. Hey, for my first try, that's not so bad, is it?
Mmmmm. Homemade maple bacon.
Part two: Bacon and Pancetta. 
And then the easiest part - Hang it up, and let it cure.
Thank god the cats can't jump higher than two feet - the basement is usually their domain, but the cool, dry environment down there was very nice for the pancetta.
The finished product, after curing for almost four weeks:
The brine for the ham and the hocks was salt, brown sugar, some juniper berries, and water. 
Next came the pancetta. This was a dry cure, pictured above: salt, brown sugar, bay leaves, juniper berries, fresh thyme, chopped garlic and cracked black pepper. 
This spice mixture was rubbed liberally all over the slab of pork belly. This was repeated with the other two slabs of belly, but with a simpler cure of salt and sugar.
The slabs of bacon were placed into air-tight plastic bags, and then weighted down in the fridge. I used a sophisticated method of placing canned goods on top of them. Clever, yes?
The brine with the ham and the hocks were placed in a cold corner of the pantry. There happened to be a cold snap during this time and this room was probably around 5 degrees. Although it probably slowed down the process of salt absorption, I didn't have to panic that it was going to go bad on me!
Then, I waited.
...and pretty flowers too.
Oh my, yum yum yum! the wapiti was definitely much drier (and therefore leaner?) than the tourtiére. The crust was most dilectible, and melt-in-your mouth. I am guessing it was definitely lard. And the rosemary crept up on you and enveloped your olfactory and savory senses in a big blanket of joy!
I'm always up for over-the-top food. And if an idea is a good one, why not triple it?
The cheese fondue was composed of McEwan's Scotch Ale, two cheddars (one smoked), some mustard and some cayenne. 
Considering the heaviness of the cheese fondue, I opted for a broth fondue rather than oil for cooking meat. I had planned on getting some wonderful scallops from Mariner Neptune and thought a nice gingery broth would work really well. Unfortunately, the scallops were way too huge to cook properly in the over-crowded fondue pot! The beef, chicken and prawns worked really nicely though (and left me with some tasty broth at the end of the night!)
We had a couple of very nasty fire flare-ups as a result of the old lamp oil that we used for fuel. Both pots got charred black and the metal pot had a 1/2 centimetre of ash covering its base. (Note for future reference: buy Sterno for next fondue).
The More With Less cookbood is my bible for simple, cheap eating. Rich food has its place, but after days and days of non-stop seafood and donairs last December, I started craving simpler food. And this soup recipe is one of the simplest.
These are the basic ingredients: lentils, onions, garlic and lemon juice. 
Here's what you do: Boil lentils with cumin. Fry onions and garlic in olive oil. Add a tablespoon of flour to coat onions. When lentils are cooked, add the fried onions and lemon juice. 
Garnish with yogurt, and you got yourself some damn fine soup. Lentils rule!
These lovely clams and chips come courtesy of Cousin's Snack Bar on Agricola Street in Halifax. Most Haligonians swear by John's Lunch in Dartmouth for fried clams, and don't get me wrong - they are amazing! But Cousin's has always been Jeff's favourite.
Cousin's Snack Bar used to be a convenience store with a couple of stools in back, but the racks of potato chips are gone and now tables fill the place. On their sign outside they proudly advertise their Homestyle Cooking and then in smaller letters it says: Breakfast and Seafood. Gotta love a place that specializes in fried fish and fried bacon. 
Check out the huge, twonie-sized scallops. Check out the chunks of lobster claw meat. And check out the glistening, shining layer of melted butter floating on the top. (The soup was actually a creamy colour underneath the butter). When I sipped my first spoonful, my tastebuds quivered with joy. The second spoonful of soup was gently savoured, and the flavours were quietly contemplated. On the third spoonful of soup my body started to rebel. I tried to will my body to submit to the pleasure, but the fourth spoonful of soup brought on nausea. I was defeated. (But Fluffy the cat won out BIG TIME.)
This soup did me in. This was the 2nd last day of the trip. I had already been dreaming of cleansing kale and lentils for awhile at this point due to the overload of amazing food being offered up from every direction. Two turkey dinners, three donair meals, corned beef and cabbage, clams and chips - all in the same week! It was too much!!! NO MORE EATING!
But then I slept on it, and woke up feeling great and ready to eat again. We brought home the rest of the chowder, and we ate it New Year's eve for lunch. At this point I only had to last one more meal. One more glorious meal before heading back home to the land of potatoes and sauerkraut. I'll let the rest of the photos speak for themselves.
The remains.
The meat in this version of the döner kebab (Halifax donair, as it is sometimes referred to) is sliced from a loaf cooked on a vertical spit, made from a combination of ground beef, flour or bread crumbs, and various spices, while
the sauce is made from evaporated milk, sugar, vinegar, and sometimes garlic.
The meat and sauce are served rolled in pita bread with diced tomato and onion. This version is generally so packed with ingredients, that the pita is almost there for ceremonial purposes; the pita of any true Haligonian donair will be so soaked in sauce that attempts to pick it up will be fruitless.
An offshoot of the donair is the donair pizza. You get your donair meat, your onions and tomatoes, your cheese - and then you smother donair sauce all over it. Kinda gross, but kinda yummy, especially after a few beers at the Seahorse Tavern...
(This pie comes courtesy of Alexandria's Pizza on Queen.)
Next post: Seafood heaven.
