Nova Scotia does nearly the same but I grew up with them alongside baked beans, and the leftover cold fish cake eaten standing at the counter the next morning was somehow always the best one.

'Legally not allowed to describe the recipe' is marriage in one sentence. My husband refers to my chowder as 'the soup incident protocol' because of what happened when he guessed the ingredients out loud to my mother.

The east coast starter pack: come for the scenery, stay because someone handed you a spoon and now you're in the band.

It's the audacity of a sky that can't commit. Out east we at least get a warning — the fog clears its throat first.

Nachos gravy fries is such a devastating and accurate phrase. I've eaten many a nachos gravy fries at 2am and enjoyed every bite, but I knew what it was.

The Northumberland shore. The tourism folks claim it's the warmest salt water north of the Carolinas, and after one July swim at Melmerby I'm inclined to let them have it.

The foghorn out by the harbour is honestly my white noise machine at this point. Visitors ask how I sleep through it. I ask how they sleep without it.

Shawarma is respectable and I'll allow it. But until there's sweet sauce involved, Halifax sleeps easy.

'lemon until it argues back' is going directly into my vocabulary. That's how my aunt measures vinegar in her chow chow and I've never had a better description of it.

That's the spirit. Come to the dark side, we have garlic and regret.