Snow Cafe'

We all know what to do when life hands us lemons, but what if you're given a couple feet of snow? Inspired by the fabulous ice hotels of Scandinavia and, more recently, Canada, I decided to create an ice cafe'. Cian Hoey, a friend and fellow crazy idea enthusiast, agreed to help. I spent a few nights flinging snow against the side of my 90 year old brick building on the main street of Birch Hills, then formed the mass into a long, communal "snow table". Tried to make a chairs, but abandoned the attempt after too much snow down the back of my ski pants. The next task was building a privacy wall to shield diners from "What on earth is going on out there?" stares to which I'm accustomed. After depleting my own supply of snow chunks, I resorted to snitching from the giant pile beside the bank. Between trips inside to check simmering broths, put cheesecakes in the oven and grind coffee, I filled a wild assortment of containers with water. These became candle holders and ice art. We didn't want to complete the project until right before the meal, lest our palace fall prey to vandals. (Wouldn't it be tempting if you were a kid?) On the day of the event, Cian, who had spent the previous evening sewing old, white tablecloths onto thrift store cushions, showed up to do some serious carving, staging and setting up. By 5 p.m. we had lots of ambiance but no fire. A frenzied call to the Co-op resulted in a tire rim fire pit delivered right to the restaurant by a store employee's husband. Further proof that small towns rock! Our nine brave guests arrived at 6:30 p.m.. No one sat at the snow table-the fire was much cozier. Cian served the four course, Scandinavian meal while I plated and took care of the bemused indoor diners. Folks sipped coffee and rosehip apple cider from Canadian flag emblazoned travel mugs. The party lasted until well after 8 p.m., The meal's once classy name, "Fire and Ice Feast" unanimously changed to the more descriptive "Fruzen Arse Dinner". Join us for next year's edition!