Holiday Bloopers In Ottawa, A Canadian Comedy of Errors

 

Holiday Bloopers in Ottawa: A Canadian Comedy of Errors  Roland Monteleone, Chef 

The Fancy Ottawa Restaurant Fiasco

I moved to Ottawa to complete a six-month trade carpenter apprenticeship during the holiday season a few years ago, before I left for London, England, then moved to Abruzzi and back to London (another story to be told). I should have known the holidays were off to a rocky start when I tried to look sophisticated at a high-end Ottawa restaurant. Picture me, dressed to the nines, trying to impress my table with my knowledge of wine pairings. The sommelier poured a glass of something so rare it probably had its own passport. I swirled it, sniffed it, and in true Canadian fashion promptly sneezed into the glass. The waiter’s horrified gasp echoed across the dining room like the Rideau Canal frozen ice cracking in spring.

But the pièce de résistance came later, during my holiday cooking demo. I was halfway through flambéing a crème brûlée when the smoke alarm decided it had had enough of my culinary theatrics. Seconds later, the sprinkler system erupted like Niagara Falls in March. Guests screamed, the kitchen flooded, and I stood there holding a blowtorch like a pyromaniac Santa. By the time the fire department arrived, I was ankle-deep in water, still insisting the dessert was “almost ready.”

And because Canada never disappoints, the bloopers kept coming. I once tried to carve a turkey while wearing mittens (don’t ask), slipped on black ice carrying a box of Timbits, and accidentally set off a snowblower in reverse, spraying my neighbour’s Christmas lights with a blizzard of slush. 

Another time I was on a "hot date," I was determined to play the part of the sophisticated diner once again. I adjusted my fake Gucci tie (which, by the way, was knitted by my aunt in Moose Jaw and looked more like a woolly boa constrictor than haute couture). The waiter approached me and spoke in French, I pulled out my translator, which ended up, for some reason, Siri responding, I'm sorry, Sir, but we cannot have s*x.

Again, during dinner, it spiralled from there. I ordered foie gras, which I thought was French for “fancy chicken.” Turns out it’s liver. I tried to cut it delicately, but the piece shot off my plate like a hockey puck and landed in the lap of a diplomat two tables over. He gave me a look that could freeze the Rideau Canal.

By dessert, I was so rattled I mistook crème brûlée for soup and tried to slurp it. The spoon clanged against the caramelized top like a cowbell. The entire restaurant turned to stare. I raised my glass and declared, “Happy holidays, everyone!”

The Cooking Demo Catastrophe

If the restaurant debacle wasn’t enough, my first holiday cooking demo after my carpenter-boring and failed apprenticeship sealed my fate as Canada’s clumsiest chef.

Picture this: a packed kitchen, cameras rolling, audience buzzing. I was halfway through flambéing a crème brûlée (yes, I gave it another shot, I’m nothing if not stubborn). I lit the blowtorch, leaned in dramatically, and suddenly my crème brûlée caught on fire;  the smoke alarm shrieked like a banshee.

Seconds later, the sprinkler system exploded. Water gushed from the ceiling like Niagara Falls in July. Guests screamed, cameramen scrambled, and I stood there holding a blowtorch like a pyromaniac Santa.

The fire department arrived to find me ankle-deep in water, still insisting the dessert was “almost ready.” One firefighter shook his head and muttered, “Buddy, you’re banned from propane until further notice.”

The footage went viral. My friends still send me memes of me in a chef’s hat, standing in a flood, captioned: Canada’s Next Top Disaster.

Canadian Winter Bloopers

Of course, no Canadian holiday season is complete without a winter mishap. The Hockey Rink Disaster: At a holiday shinny game, I tried to impress everyone with a slapshot. The puck ricocheted off the boards and nailed me square in the shin. I limped off the ice, declaring, “I meant to do that. It’s performance art.”

Tim Hortons Tales

No Canadian blooper reel is complete without Tim Hortons.

One holiday morning, I ordered a flavoured hazelnut double-double and promptly spilled it on my lap. I spent the rest of the day smelling like roasted hazelnut beans.

Another time, I tried to balance a tray of Timbits while opening the door. The tray flipped, and Timbits rained down like hailstones. A kid shouted, “It’s snowing donuts!” and dove to catch them.

Family Dinner Chaos

Ah, the family holiday dinner, we do not serve turkey in Italy, so when we visited Toronto, after getting married, my wife and our children decided to make turkey for the whole family at my mother's home. It was the ultimate Canadian test of patience and survival.

 I decided to carve the turkey with my mother's electric knife while wearing mittens. Don’t ask why. Maybe I thought it was festive. The result? Turkey shrapnel everywhere. My sister Angela ducked behind the mashed potatoes for cover.

Another year, I tried to make gravy from scratch. I must have had a male blond moment; I misread the recipe and added maple syrup instead of broth. The result was a sticky, sweet concoction that glued the stuffing together like culinary cement. My uncle declared it “the most Canadian gravy ever,” he said, and he used it to patch a hole in his shed.

And let’s not forget the time my niece hid candy canes in the mashed potatoes. Watching Nonna bite into one was like witnessing a live-action episode of Just for Laughs Gags.

Travel Troubles

Holiday travel in Canada is its own comedy routine.

I once boarded a VIA Rail train, minding my own business, when a nice lady came up with a large overstuffed tote bag, which burst open in the aisle. Out rolled pantyhose, lingerie and for reasons I still can’t figure out, a rubber pig. The conductor gave her a look that said, “Madame, this is not Cirque du Soleil.”

Another time, I flew into Calgary during a blizzard. My luggage ended up in Vancouver. I spent three days wandering around in cowboy boots, a parka, and swim trunks. Locals thought I was starting a new fashion trend.

Since the rise of the "Elbow Up" craze in Canada, everything feels serious, focused on resilience, wide pure Canadian love, and unity and yet the holiday is about finding joy amidst chaos. Whether it’s a snowblower that misbehaves or gravy that functions as glue, we accept the mess and consider it part of the festive spirit.

So "chin-chin and cheers", may my holiday bloopers keep us humble, keep us laughing, and remind us that the best memories are the ones that go hilariously wrong.