Every morning, I start my day with a cup of delicious coffee, black. Or a “Cuppa Joe”, as we used to call it. (I heard that it was so named after the U.S. Secretary of the Navy, Josephus Daniels, who banned liquor on U.S. warships in 1914 and the strongest drink allowed became coffee). As I was savouring the aroma of the Nectar of the Gods one recent morning, I was reminded of the Icelanders’ deep love of good, strong coffee. Growing up in Gimli, coffee was ever-present – always offered to someone who stopped in at the house, no matter what time of day or night. When on the lake, coffee was brewed, no matter how rough the water.

Every year, I would spend the fall and winter fishing seasons with my family at our camp at Albert's Point on the shores of Lake Winnipeg. My father and his brother Hannes would come home to Gimli August 1st each summer, after spending two and a half months fishing for whitefish at the north end of the Lake. They would rest for a week and then get busy preparing all the gear necessary for the fall and winter seasons. This included a complete kitchen outfit, along with the anchors and nets. Nothing could be left to chance. No phones or Canadian Tire in those days; if something had been forgotten, you would have to do without.

As the two brothers, Ted and Hannes, were married to two sisters, Annie and Sophie, the two families often functioned as a single unit. In mid-August, all the kids, who were in preschool at the time, along with two weeks of supplies would be loaded onto the 40-foot ‘gas boat’. It was called a gas boat because it had a motor as opposed earlier models which had sails. We were joined by two hired men, axes, saws, nails, hammers, spikes, lumber and other items needed to build a new dock at the camp. The rest of the supplies would follow on the supply boat. But first, the dock would have to be built and the camp ready for the arrival of the M.V. Barney Thomas with all our gear, food, coffee, and a dozen independent fishermen.

Coffee was an important commodity on the lake, and care was taken to ensure that there was sufficient quantity procured. Coffee in those days came in 25-pound boxes from J.J.H. McLean & Co. A cheese cloth bag was first soaked in strong coffee for several days and then sewn to a copper hoop. To make a pot of coffee, ground coffee was added to the cloth bag or “sock” - more spoonful’s for stronger coffee. Then boiling hot water was slowly poured over the ground coffee in the sock and the result was a delicious Cuppa Joe.

I well remember my first taste of coffee as a kid. It was a beautiful late August night, and I was trying to stay awake while a huge driftwood fire blazed under a full Harvest moon. The men were enjoying a smoke and a cup of coffee and the easy camaraderie of a group, that has worked hard and well together over a long day. As this was to be our home until next April, I learned very quickly that it would be either lake water or coffee. Coffee smelled much better than it tasted, but after adding 3 heaping spoonful’s of sugar, I thought that it was not that bad.

We used the sock method for making coffee for many years after I had moved to the city and started my own family, getting a new sock from Annie when needed. Far removed from the beach and the fire, it was how my kids first learned to make coffee, albeit with a kettle on the stove in the kitchen. Today, I brew my daily 8 cups in a Tim Horton's coffee maker and I kicked the sugar habit years ago. But sometimes on a quiet morning, the smell of a fresh-brewed Cuppa Joe takes me right back to the camp on Lake Winnipeg in late summer, with the warmth of the fire on my skin and the warmth of family and friends in my heart.

Ken Kristjanson
December 2021