WHILE STILL A YOUNGSTER IN SHORTS my parents would take my brother and I to the coolest place. We would drive down to this 1950’s old kentucky fried chicken joint in a park, located in a big valley in saskatchewan. The entire restaurant was all made out of wood—wooden doors—wooden walls, and wooden benches—all painted in black and white with dark burgundy trim like that of a little thatched roof home.

We still remember the huge big buckets of chicken at that time which was about $4.99. We could taste the flavour always a short distance away. There were all these pleasant houses with character and our white house with a big yard, had a big white fence and big trees.