Last Snow Day on Knight Street

A wise man once said, “Only a fool moves house in February in St. John’s.” But then again, a wise woman (me) says “You’re gonna pay over-asking and get outbid for that house come spring once the interest rates drop, so put on your big girl pants.” And here we are.

I’d like to say we’re none the worse for wear, but the truth is, the past two weeks wrecked us, and I’m not even sure a bidding war with a slew of Ontario power couples with money to burn would have been more stressful. One looks back and wishes one had a crystal ball that could see into the worst week of weather of the entire year and that crystal ball would scream “RIP OFF THE BANDAID.” But nooooo, the reality is, you will take your time and leisurely pack over the course of two weeks, your move will be delayed by a day because of blizzard number one, but hark! You will only find this out once you’ve disassembled all the beds and the kitchen table, to be left with nowhere to sit or sleep or eat. You will have to spend the night in Mt Pearl in Nanny and Poppy’s basement, and you will proceed to shovel out not one, but TWO parking spots for a walloping three blizzards in five days, while you go back and forth between houses with the little things you hadn’t packed yet. Like the goddamn television that you somehow forgot was mounted to the wall.

Also unhelpful is the fact that this was my first EPIC move that didn’t involve grabbing a backpack and leaving all my shit in my parents’ basement to move to Korea, or throwing together some clothes and my deepfreeze to shack up with a fella. And after moving house with a partner and a youngster and twelve years’ worth of a life, I totally get minimalists now, I think they are the smartest people alive. But anyway, we are in! We barely made it after the Valentine’s Day weather shitshow, just in time to shut the door against the Sunday storm and cozy up in the new house. Cozy up between a zillion boxes mind you, and Mom’s plans for Saturday Night Tacos took about four hours to organize once we realized we’re shitty, haphazard packers who also accidentally left the frying pans at Knight Street. (Sorry, that should read I’m a shitty haphazard packer, Justin wasn’t bothered and got to it, while I flailed around staring into space wondering what to do with random handfuls of legos, elastic bands, and memory sticks.)

Our last snow storm on Knight Street was exciting, mostly because it felt like all the packing was done (it wasn’t) and we could relax a little because we thought for sure the move would be delayed until after the weekend (it wasn’t), so I was in a blissful state of denial, pretending that all we had to do was shovel out and carry on as normal like everyone else on the street (I’m such an idiot). I had just taken Samantha Seneviratne’s Chocolate Chip Skillet Cookie out of the oven when Justin informed me that the movers had emailed and said the move would go ahead in the morning in the middle of blizzard number two (it didn’t). That relaxed snow day feeling dissipated pretty quickly, but I had chicken in to marinate, and I wasn’t about to cart that to the East End.

Clementine Harissa Chicken

8-pack of bone-in skin-on chicken thighs
2 tsp olive oil
4 cloves of garlic, minced or grated
1 tbsp ginger, grated
Zest and juice of two clementines
4 shallots, peeled and thinly sliced
4 tbsp harissa paste
¾ tsp kosher salt
1 cinnamon stick
1 cup chicken stock
Mint, for garnish

Trim chicken thighs of excess fat. Mix together olive oil, garlic, ginger, zest and juice, shallots, harissa paste, salt. Toss with chicken in a large bowl, throw in the cinnamon stick, cover and marinate in the fridge for a few hours or overnight. Preheat oven to 425°F and arrange marinated chicken, including the cinnamon stick, in a 9x13 roasting pan, lined with parchment paper if you like. Pour chicken stock in the pan, in between the thighs, making sure you don’t pour over the chicken. Roast for an hour or so, basting a couple times, until chicken is cooked through, and the skin is caramelized and crispy. Serve with polenta, rice, or roast potatoes and garnish with chopped mint.

(Really good with polenta, especially if you take a couple of tablespoons of the basting liquid/sauce to toss in with your stock before cooking it.)

Oh, Knight Street I will miss you so. I will miss the creak of the wooden floorboards upstairs, how we always thought we would wake Jude while we tiptoed around when he was a baby just learning to sleep on his own. I will miss the little kitchen where I made his first birthday cake, where I learned to make risotto and donuts for the first time. I will miss the evening summer sun on the front of house, being a stone’s throw from Bannerman Park, being able to scoot across the street to pee at home instead of using the gross outhouses at the Folk Festival. I will miss walking home from downtown with Justin when we’ve been out to eat with friends, or going for an ice cream and a walk with Jude at Government House. I will miss running down the hill to Didi’s place, or to the Duke for fish and chips with the girls. I will even miss the dinosaur stickers on the living room window that took two hours to get off with a scraper and a mixture of baking soda and Goo Gone.

But most especially, I’m really, really gonna fucking miss that seven-second walk to school.

Onwards and upwards, chickens! Or eastwards, in our case. Stay tuned. xo