Clayton Ruby didn't take long to speak with the press, disgrace the locals, and clear up the situation. Eigensinn Farm is still owned and operated by Michael and Nobuyo Stadtlander. The situation was ideal for Ruby, who had built his career by standing up to bullies, but it was more than that: he had a stake in the outcome.Ruby would have known Stadtlander and Kennedy from their time cooking together and separately in a series of notable Toronto restaurants beginning in the mid-1980s. Ruby, a skilled cook, was a frequent customer of Toronto's restaurant industry as it developed. When my journalistic career was more centered on the hospitality business, and I had my finger on the hottest, newest, greatest, about-to-take-off restaurants in Toronto, it wasn't uncommon for my wife and I to arrive and find Ruby already seated at the best table in the room.At the reception following the memorial service, I spoke briefly with Michael Stadtlander about Clayton Ruby's place and significance in the pantheon of great culinary patrons. As an aside, with a cheeky grin, he asked if I had "been to the cellar?" I had, and the array of wines I saw was so magnificent that when Ruby asked if I'd like to choose one of the Grand Crus for the meal we were about to have, I stopped like a deer in the headlights and had to defer to his obviously sophisticated taste. The wine was excellent, and my shame was quickly forgotten.
There is a common thread running through.
the numerous accolades to Clayton Ruby's legal career: he was always nice to his clients and generous to his colleagues. I witnessed the latter when he supported my wife as an aspiring lawyer. I saw that for myself: he was quite supportive of my numerous food and wine publishing and writing projects, which I appreciate.I believe that one of Clayton Ruby's greatest gifts was his ability to perceive the dignity in those who were being pushed around or otherwise ignored. As a result, he changed the way Canadian laws were read and administered, which was significant. It's probably not such a huge deal to mention that Clayton Ruby found dignity in people who made fine food and wine when few others did, and that he helped develop a culture of appreciation of the hospitality sector that we now take for granted. But he did, and those who know appreciate it.Over the following few weeks, The Hub will provide readers with a taxonomy of Canadian conservatism. Various authors describe their social conservatism, classical liberalism, Red Toryism, techno-futurism, and possibly more eccentric branches of the political family tree. I'm not sure if I should be offended or flattered that, for my piece, the editors didn't even pretend that I had a coherent philosophy to express. Instead, they asked if I could articulate my own ambiguous perspective "to accompany the series."
I informed them that there is nothing more self
indulgent than attempting to control the motley herd of unexamined preconceptions and preferences that constitutes my political philosophy. This makes it a totally delightful assignment for me, but I'm not sure why anyone else would care or bother reading it. Assuming no one will, I approached the exercise without any regard for concision or order. Consider the following a loose and far less entertaining rendition of Crash Davis's credo from Bull Durham.In recent years, I've been less likely to call myself a conservative (much less "a conservative"—conservatism is a disposition, not a lifestyle brand), but I still use the term as a convenient shorthand. This is because I see less and less in modern life that is worth preserving. Because I am neither a liberal, classical or otherwise, I remain politically nameless. Whittaker Chambers referred to himself as a "man of the right," but it puts one in the context of the French Revolution, whereas I wish to have been outside the National Assembly, decrying its cruel job, rather than on the right or left.
That brings me to my first principle.
I can't recall a single revolution I would have backed at the time. There have been some counterrevolutions, but no revolutions. The term "revolution," like its companion "progress," makes my thumbs prick. That's not to argue that some changes haven't been beneficial, or that I reject all products of, say, the Industrial Revolution. I would have been against it at the time, just as I am against current technological breakthroughs that threaten to further isolate us from nature and our physical humanity.That is the second principle: I prefer the human and natural above their polar opposites. Things that pull us away from our physical experience of the world are typically unattractive and alienating. Not as a rule, but on balance. Buildings, furniture, clothing, tools, and household items that lack ornamentation, playfulness, craftsmanship, distinction, or the imprint of a clearly human creator defy their environment and repel our attention. Even while I frequently use mass production for convenience, I regret the majority of it.
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