Fatfingers
In 1754 Emil “Fatfingers” Gaspard was a struggling carpenter in Arcadia, Nova Scotia. That year the British, in that tasteless manner so prevalent among conquerors and empire builders, decreed that all French people had to leave the province. The Brits thought they were doing their own English settlers a big favor, but were actually condemning them to centuries of bad food and insipid color schemes. There were many other negative effects of this policy, the poem “Evangeline” being only the first that springs to mind. The French, with heavy hearts, moved to New Orleans. The hearts of Emil and his family were heavier than most, because when the ship had touched at Haiti, Emil had gotten drunk and traded all his carpentry tools for a sack of onions and garlic. However, it must be admitted that Emil was not all that great a carpenter when he did have tools. (They called him Fatfingers because his digits were perpetually swollen from misplaced hammer-blows.) Right away in New Orleans they noticed a couple of things: Rather than just the cod and haddock they were used to, the nearby waters were a teeming bouillabaisse of catfish and shrimp, crayfish and crabs, turtles, mussels, and the occasional English tourist. The other thing was that the original settlers had, with typical Gallic impetuosity, immigrated with their good clothes and left their recipe books and seasonings behind in Europe. On these few chance circumstances a culinary dynasty was built. Emil and his friends were soon hard at work, insulting health inspectors, and setting food critics adrift in small boats, not to mention the very necessary smuggling of foodstuffs. Emil, formerly a pariah in colonies up and down the English Coast, at last found reason to take a stand and became a valuable member of his community. He also found a dexterity with the whisk and the knife he had never known he possessed, and his fingers soon returned to normal size.
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Fatfingers
In 1754 Emil “Fatfingers” Gaspard was a struggling carpenter in Arcadia, Nova Scotia. That year the British, in that tasteless manner so prevalent among conquerors and empire builders, decreed that all French people had to leave the province. The Brits thought they were doing their own English settlers a big favor, but were actually condemning them to centuries of bad food and insipid color schemes. There were many other negative effects of this policy, the poem “Evangeline” being only the first that springs to mind. The French, with heavy hearts, moved to New Orleans. The hearts of Emil and his family were heavier than most, because when the ship had touched at Haiti, Emil had gotten drunk and traded all his carpentry tools for a sack of onions and garlic. However, it must be admitted that Emil was not all that great a carpenter when he did have tools. (They called him Fatfingers because his digits were perpetually swollen from misplaced hammer-blows.) Right away in New Orleans they noticed a couple of things: Rather than just the cod and haddock they were used to, the nearby waters were a teeming bouillabaisse of catfish and shrimp, crayfish and crabs, turtles, mussels, and the occasional English tourist. The other thing was that the original settlers had, with typical Gallic impetuosity, immigrated with their good clothes and left their recipe books and seasonings behind in Europe. On these few chance circumstances a culinary dynasty was built. Emil and his friends were soon hard at work, insulting health inspectors, and setting food critics adrift in small boats, not to mention the very necessary smuggling of foodstuffs. Emil, formerly a pariah in colonies up and down the English Coast, at last found reason to take a stand and became a valuable member of his community. He also found a dexterity with the whisk and the knife he had never known he possessed, and his fingers soon returned to normal size.
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Fatfingers

Fatfingers

by Charles White
Fatfingers

Fatfingers

by Charles White

eBook

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Overview

In 1754 Emil “Fatfingers” Gaspard was a struggling carpenter in Arcadia, Nova Scotia. That year the British, in that tasteless manner so prevalent among conquerors and empire builders, decreed that all French people had to leave the province. The Brits thought they were doing their own English settlers a big favor, but were actually condemning them to centuries of bad food and insipid color schemes. There were many other negative effects of this policy, the poem “Evangeline” being only the first that springs to mind. The French, with heavy hearts, moved to New Orleans. The hearts of Emil and his family were heavier than most, because when the ship had touched at Haiti, Emil had gotten drunk and traded all his carpentry tools for a sack of onions and garlic. However, it must be admitted that Emil was not all that great a carpenter when he did have tools. (They called him Fatfingers because his digits were perpetually swollen from misplaced hammer-blows.) Right away in New Orleans they noticed a couple of things: Rather than just the cod and haddock they were used to, the nearby waters were a teeming bouillabaisse of catfish and shrimp, crayfish and crabs, turtles, mussels, and the occasional English tourist. The other thing was that the original settlers had, with typical Gallic impetuosity, immigrated with their good clothes and left their recipe books and seasonings behind in Europe. On these few chance circumstances a culinary dynasty was built. Emil and his friends were soon hard at work, insulting health inspectors, and setting food critics adrift in small boats, not to mention the very necessary smuggling of foodstuffs. Emil, formerly a pariah in colonies up and down the English Coast, at last found reason to take a stand and became a valuable member of his community. He also found a dexterity with the whisk and the knife he had never known he possessed, and his fingers soon returned to normal size.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780578057743
Publisher: Good Ink Books
Publication date: 10/11/2010
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 359
File size: 203 KB

About the Author

Born on a mountaintop in Chicopee Falls. Left home to play saxophone in the Boston subway. Successful busking, though, requires the sort of devil-may-care approach to interpersonal relations of which Charles was entirely incapable. He played like an angel, but no one stopped. On an inspiration, he wrote down the details of a previous existence and set out to find an agent. Many months passed. Many boxes of saltines were consumed. finally though, he was rewarded with a publishing contract and the world was his oyster. Soon enough the young author had blown all his earnings on cheap booze and donuts.
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