I love food. Some of my earliest memories revolve around “marketing” at the local butchers’ and greengrocers’ with my grandmother, Nanny Edwards, and Mom in Grand Falls, Newfoundland, and hearing the regular knocks on the kitchen door from boys selling fat red partridgeberries, or plump blueberries with their foggy blue sheen, that tasted like heaven and Nirvana and ambrosia rolled into one tiny purple jewel. Oh, Newfoundland blueberries! If Shelly had been fortunate enough to taste them, he would have written them an ode.

Food is a big deal in Newfoundland. Fresh fish and game were regular fare when I was growing up, and Nanny Edwards’s baking was legendary. In Nanny’s house, there was always the scent of butter/sugary baking of some pie, or cake, squares or cookies, or a blueberry duff steaming on the stove. Baking is a big deal in Newfoundland, and even my mother, who was an ambivalent cook at best (much like me and my two sisters), could have earned the famous Paul Hollywood handshake on Bake Off.

It’s no surprise, then, that food plays a big role in the Newfoundland scenes in my historical romance timeslip novel, “The English Wife”. As the great tenor, Luciano Pavarotti, once said, “One of the very nicest things about life is the way we must regularly stop whatever it is we are doing and devote our attention to eating.”

What’s a Jiggs Dinner? you may well ask. Here’s a blogpost I did on Newfoundland food on Mai’s Musings book blog where you’ll find out all about it: /https://maitaylor567291325.wordpress.com/2020/07/02/the-english-wife-adrienne-chinn/