A PROLIFIC journalist and the author (by his count) of some 27 books, including travel and food works as well as several novels, Calvin Trillin is sometimes referred to as America’s funniest writer. He’s been a staff writer for The New Yorker since 1963, and for 17 years he wrote a humour column that was published first in The Nation, then for newspaper syndication, and then for Time magazine. This year is Trillin’s 40th as a summer resident on Nova Scotia’s South Shore. Saltscapes spoke to him from his New York City home about raising city kids in a fishing village, enjoying Solomon Gundy and shopping at Frenchy’s.
Q How did your two daughters take to it?
A They came to think of it as “the home place.” It was partly because we had them for ourselves there. They weren’t running off to tennis lessons and we weren’t running off to cocktail parties.
Q Do they still visit the house?
A A They come every summer. When they’re there together, they put me in the barn. In fairness, the barn has been fixed into a guest house. The bedroom is where the stalls used to be.
Q What impact has your summer place had on your writing?
A When I had a longer piece to do, I would always do it in Nova Scotia, and I still do. There are no interruptions. It allows me to be more productive. I think of it as a sanctuary.
Q How do you spend your time here?
A My older daughter would say people used to ask, “What do you do up there?” And she’d say, “Well, we try to find something for dinner. It often takes us all day. We go see if there’s fish at the fish plant or we look for mushrooms.”
Q You sometimes write about food, but you claim you only cook in Nova Scotia.
A I can do three to eight dishes, depending on how you count. I can’t cook and I don’t know what a proper Beef Wellington should taste like. It’s a way of writing about other things.
Q You’ve said that food interests you inasmuch as it’s attached to a place.
A I’ve always been interested in what I think of as vernacular food that has to do with the people and the territory around it. Scallops and fish are a big part of Nova Scotia. There are some obvious local specialties like Solomon Gundy. I love Solomon Gundy. I guess that’s fish too. I like Lunenburg sausage and Lunenburg pudding.
Q You’ve also written about Frenchy’s.
A Yes, for the style issue of The New Yorker. My original Frenchy’s experience was to outfit this scarecrow that somebody had given us, but now I use it to outfit me. We refer to is as “Chez François.” The other night, somebody was talking about Frenchy’s and I was able to point to both my shirt and jacket.
Q How has Nova Scotia changed in 40 years?
A One of the big turning points came when Sobeys put the first store in. We used to bring a supply of olive oil from New York because you literally couldn’t buy it on the South Shore. Now there’s plenty of olive oil. I have mixed feelings about that development.
It’s certainly a different sort of place than when we first started coming here. But when I think, oh this place is changing, all I have to do is take a picnic to an island and not see anybody else on the water to realize that we’re lucky. It hasn’t changed that much.