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The Floret—Ernst Hupel

Video
November 18, 2019

“It was a personal investment.”

The roads of Fogo Island are empty this morning. The weather forecast is calling for high winds and 50 millimeters of rain: a daunting amount of precipitation even for seasoned coastal dwellers. The drive to Fogo Island Inn is accompanied by the kind of wind that cuts across, under, and around a vehicle, rocking it in a way that unnerves the uninitiated but goes nearly unnoticed to those who frequent these routes. The staff at Fogo Island Inn are talking about getting a guy named Noah on the phone… “we might need an ark,” they joke.

“There’s a sense of home throughout the entire journey of getting here.”


Ernst Hupel is staying in room 23. He belongs to a group of people the Inn has affectionately named “permanent visitors:” those who live away but find some sense of home on Fogo Island, whether they own property or not.

“Even the security agents at the airport know me now.”


“There’s a sense of home throughout the entire journey of getting here,” he notes, “from the time I pick up the rental car in Gander to the time I drive off the ferry… even the security agents at the airport know me now.” Ernst first came to Fogo Island to consult on the interior design of Fogo Island Inn: “I was invited to the Island to take a look at what was happening here at the Inn and see if I could help out… that’s where it began.” Citing deeply considered sourcing decisions and the responsibility felt by all to do right by the place and community, Ernst notes that “this project challenged everything I knew about design… everything in the Fogo Island Inn is here for a reason.”


After several years of travelling back and forth between Ottawa and Fogo Island for both work and pleasure, Ernst couldn’t ignore the pull any longer. He purchased a home in Joe Batt’s Arm; this weekend, it’s occupied by a group of 8 women he knows from Ottawa.


“Purchasing a home was a personal investment, and it’s really changed my life,” he says. Still known as Hewitt House after its original inhabitants, the house had been owned by Shorefast and needed significant time, money, and energy to restore. With resources financial and otherwise needing to be directed elsewhere, Shorefast made the rare decision to sell. But the sale came with conditions. “I needed to do the work to the home in the first year so that the house was actually being restored and not just sitting there,” Ernst recalls, “because having a house sitting empty does nothing.” And if he ever sells the home? “Half of its increased value would be donated back to the people of the Island.”

“Purchasing a home was a personal investment, and it’s really changed my life.”


Ernst sets out from the Inn to visit Hewitt House. Undeterred by the inclement weather, he decides to walk. “The wind today feels like a warm hug,” he insists amidst bright red, late fall blueberry bushes swaying violently in the multi-directional breeze.

Arriving at the house soaked through but still smiling, Ernst greets the rambunctious group as he tosses his muddy pants in the dryer and dons a borrowed pair of pyjama bottoms. Settling into the living room to laugh and joke with his houseguests, it’s clear that Ernst finds great joy in sharing the home. Indeed, he remarks, “I don’t feel like I own this house… I’m just taking care of it.”

“I don’t feel like I own this house… I’m just taking care of it.”


“I want this house to really represent the love and the responsibility I have and feel for the Island and the community. I want this house to be a tool for others from away to come with family and friends and to hopefully see even just a glimpse of what this place has done to me.”


“The hospitality that is so natural here is so foreign for so many that don’t live in a place like this.”

What the place has done, in part, is created a second home for Ernst, his family, and his friends. “Every time I’m here, someone will say, ‘when are you coming home again?’ The hospitality that is so natural here is so foreign for so many that don’t live in a place like this.”


It’s precisely this genuine sense of belonging and welcome that attaches people to the Island. Ernst recalls a family vacation to the French Riviera that followed a Fogo Island visit several years ago. His eldest daughter, a young teen at the time, had remarked, “I wish we could go back to Fogo Island because it was more real.”

“I wish we could go back to Fogo Island because it was more real.”


As a “permanent visitor,” Ernst plans to do his part to hold on to that authenticity. His wish for the Island is simple: that it remains a place conducive to living, working, and belonging. “I hope that people will be able to live here and make a decision to live here and be able to work here and raise families and really carry on what has been here for hundreds of years.” AR

The Floret—Mackenzie Hewitt

Video
August 27, 2019

“This is home no matter what.”

For Mackenzie Hewitt, Joe Batt’s Arm has always been home. She’s grown up walking ocean-bounded trails, picking berries, riding four-wheelers, and living a relatively safe and somewhat wild existence on the outport island her family has inhabited for generations. The house that she shares with two siblings and her parents is a popular gathering place. “This is the house everyone comes to,” Mackenzie says, explaining the presence of her two teenaged girlfriends sitting at the kitchen table. “I’ve been here for four days,” one of them quips.


Mackenzie’s bedroom is in the basement. It is mostly taken up by her large bed, the duvet on which she straightens and fusses with upon entering. A few scattered objects, obviously mementos of memories shared with friends, line her dresser. She loves the privacy of being downstairs from the rest of the family, but wishes the lighting could be improved. Of the filming lights being set up around her, she remarks, “I wish I could have one of these to do my makeup.”


She is a typical teen in so many ways: a bright and keen student who loves spending time with friends and drives with a “novice driver” sign on her back windshield. “Do you want to see my grad dress?” she asks, despite the fact that her graduation date is still nearly a year away.


“The meaning behind nursing is getting to help everybody – no matter who they are.”

But Mackenzie is also fairly unique amongst her peers, both those that share her island home, and those coming of age across Canada. She is focused and driven, having established her ambition to become a nurse long ago. “I’ve always wanted to do nursing ever since I was smaller,” she says, “It’s something I feel like I’d be really good at.” For Mackenzie, “the meaning behind nursing is getting to help everybody- no matter who they are.” With the shy smile of someone well aware of both the limitations and power of their youth, Mackenzie altruistically defines “helping people” as “loving and caring”.


“I have to manage my time very wisely.”

She works up the road at the Fogo Island Inn in the food and beverage department. During her summer, evening, and weekend shifts, she waits on the Inn’s discerning international guests. It’s an often challenging role that Mackenzie approaches with an understated confidence that is rare to observe in someone so young. Of her busy days juggling school, work, homework, and friends, she says, “I have to manage my time very wisely.”


“We get to help them understand what our Island is like.”

“Hospitality at the Inn has a lot to do with the people,” she says, describing how she and her colleagues approach the meaning of their roles as constituting “the loving of a stranger.” And the most rewarding part of working with the guests at the Inn? “We get to help them understand what our Island is like.”


Mackenzie’s lifestyle would likely seem foreign to fellow teens in, say, Ontario. Most teenagers’ first jobs are in small retail stores or fast food restaurants, not one of the top hotels in the world. Another case in point: over the course of her time spent being interviewed, Mackenzie fields no less than three calls on the landline for her father. “He’s gone moose hunting,” she politely informs each caller before spending a few moments exchanging pleasantries.

“I was very happy and thankful to be home.”

In less than a year, Mackenzie won’t be home to answer the phone. She’ll likely be on the main island of Newfoundland, beginning her nursing studies. She’s nervous about moving away, and seems to understand her upcoming university years as a necessary but nevertheless daunting step towards her career aspirations. While she doesn’t plan to study in a particularly enormous urban centre, she knows that anywhere she goes will be markedly different, and bigger, than Fogo Island.


While many young people growing up in rural places dream of big city lights and the accoutrements of urban living, Mackenzie doesn’t seem to feel their allure. She describes a recent school trip to New York City with understandably hesitant awe: “There’s so much movement. So much going on. There’s so many people… just people everywhere.” She found it somewhat unsettling to see so many people keeping to themselves. “I was very happy and thankful to be home.”

“I really hope to come back to the Island one day and give back what it has given to me.”


Her connection to her roots is unmistakable, undeniable. “You can go anywhere, but this will always be home,” she states. She speaks of someday spinning her nursing skills into a healthcare business to serve the community; she is unwaveringly adamant that she wants to come back and work on Fogo Island once she receives her certification. “I really hope to come back to the Island one day and give back what it has given to me.”


After all, she says, “this is home no matter what.” AR

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The Floret—Jonathan Gushue

Video
August 9, 2019

“There’s no disconnect here.”

Jonathan Gushue, Chef


Jonathan Gushue expertly picks his way down a rock-strewn pathway. Gazing straight ahead, he steps quickly and precisely over any obstacles he encounters. Seemingly immune to the cold and wind, it’s as if he’s been navigating this trail for years.

“You’re doing something for more than yourself.”


In reality, he is still becoming acquainted with the landscape surrounding the Fogo Island Inn after taking up the post of Executive Chef in early 2018. “I wanted to work with a group like Shorefast, where at the end of the day, there is a motivation and you are giving back. If it didn’t go your way that day, at least the initiative on a whole is going in the right direction. You’re doing something for more than yourself.”

“Not many places have character like this.”


When recounting his own personal food story, he starts in the same place many people would: with his father. “Food was always a big deal for my father,” he says, “it was the one thing we had in common.” Recalling his Newfoundland upbringing, Jonathan is quick to remember the trout fishing expeditions, moose hunts, and cabin stays that introduced him to the natural assets of rural Newfoundland and the outdoor lifestyle he so rarely encountered within the city limits of St. John’s. “The outdoors in Newfoundland is the only outdoors that really means anything to me… not many places have character like this.” He thinks back to an occasion when his father joined a moose hunt despite having no intention of actually “hunting”. “I just like the walk,” his father had reasoned.

“I would just roam.”


This tendency towards quiet, individual exploration characterized Jonathan’s experience of another prominent venue throughout his childhood and adolescence: hotels. Tagging along on his lawyer father’s business trips, Jonathan stayed in many of Canada’s stalwart hospitality establishments. He fell in love with the long corridors and hidden kitchens of these regal buildings; “I would just roam… I would be in the back in the kitchens and stuff. That’s where I fell in love with hotels.” Collectively, “the energy of the people in them” fueled his fascination. “I used to think, ‘I better work in these hotels…’ because I knew I’d never be able to afford to stay in them. It was almost romantic.”

“It’s incredibly real, and that’s the most important thing for food.”


Working in those hotels is part of what took Jonathan away from his home province of Newfoundland and Labrador for more than two decades. “I think I just had to come back,” he states, “I was yearning for more knowledge about where I’m from… and I’d been gone for 25 years.” Fleeing urban cynicism and the endless stream of mind-numbing imitation plaguing the world, Jonathan was drawn to Fogo Island. “It’s incredibly real, and that’s the most important thing for food. It has to be real; it has to speak to people.”

“Here it’s just so much easier to get a little bit closer to the people who are catching the fish, growing the vegetables.”


“You start with an ingredient you enjoy… what would go with that? What shares the same water, what shares the same land, what shares the same air?” Pulling ingredients from different communities, fishers, and growers is part of the day-to-day: “On the Island, we’ll look at everything we can get from Tilting, everything we can get from Joe Batt’s… where’s the squid coming from? Where’s the mackerel coming from? Where’s the cod coming from? Here it’s just so much easier to get a little bit closer to the people who are catching the fish, growing the vegetables.” He appreciates the integrity inherent in the local Fogo Island food supply: “If I want to find out how that lobster was caught, I can go down and ask the fisherman. Or, I can ask his wife. She works on the Front Desk at the Inn.”

“To be able to create sense of place is not easy.”


He continues, “In this quest for a sense of place, there is a lot more to learn. It’s not just about learning the product, it’s about learning the people who are growing it… and the people in general.” The translation of ingredients to plate is an iterative process. According to Jonathan, “to be able to create sense of place is not easy. It’s certainly possible, but it’s very fleeting. You have to keep trying and trying.”

Jonathan notes that “there’s no disconnect here” between the food on plates and the fish in the ocean. But he also knows there is work to be done to keep it that way. Of the many initiatives he is spearheading, Jonathan helped bring together Fogo Island’s first-ever Food Circle: a community conversation about local foodways and the Island’s place in global supply chains. “The Fogo Island Food Circle is a beautiful gathering of the people of Fogo Island, primarily… trying to bring the history of the Island together with what’s happening now. I see the food circle as a huge opportunity to tell a story- an ongoing story. People have concerns about food. Food affects everyone, and the food circle is a great opportunity to find out, ‘what does food mean to you?’ The food circle is an opportunity to bring your thoughts, concerns, feelings, and experiences with food to light.”

“I don’t think anything grows fast well.”


There are no shortage of projects to take on, mouths to feed, and community members to collaborate with; all in due time. Jonathan isn’t one to rush: “I don’t think anything grows fast well.” He’s committed to holding on to the values the Inn was built on: “it goes with the mission of Shorefast to be honest: an honest presentation, an honest concept, or even an honest plate.”


And when asked what he might do when he finally gets a moment of spare time in the midst of all this creation and collaboration? He echoes the sentiments of his father on that moose hunt when he says, “I’ll be happy to just walk around.” AR