Soon There Will Be No Reason To Ever Go Back North

It wasn’t all that long ago, if you wanted to eat an authentic pasty in the United States, you had to drive a very long way north to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to get one. Getting up there was a very time consuming ordeal, even if you lived in the southern part of Michigan. 

The pasty is thought to have its origins in the mining communities around Cornwall England.  Miners needed a simple but nutritious food which they could carry into the mines, and so, through time, the pasty was developed.  Eventually, as Cornish miners made their way across the Atlantic to work in the copper mines of Michigan, they brought their knowledge of this portable food with them.  And, it's a good thing for all pasty lovers in North America, both past and present, that they did. 

Immigrant miners from other countries, most notably Finland, made the pasty a part of their own diets, and soon it became a staple in the Michigan mining communities.  The copper mines are now deserted, but the Cornish influence lives on each time a pasty is made and consumed in Michigan’s northern most reaches.

The pasty is a self-contained meal.  It is essentially a pie crust which is wrapped around a combination of meat and vegetables, crimped and sealed around the edge, and then baked.  The filling of a pasty varies depending upon the specific recipe, but most include meat, potato, onion, rutabaga, and salt and pepper.  Sometimes turnips and carrots are added, and meats can include beef or pork, or, a combination of the two.  The pasty is often eaten with ketchup or gravy, but some people eat it without either one.

Since I was a young boy, I’ve visited the Upper Peninsula of Michigan more times than I can count, and I've always bemoaned the long travel time to get there.  But I also knew that at the end of a very long automobile ride, I would be rewarded with many great things to see and do, including, eating a delicious pasty.  And, that always made the long trip worthwhile.

The world is getting smaller, due in large part to technology and engineering, but sometimes it gets smaller because of the vision, hard work, and dedication of entrepreneurs who are not necessarily focused on technology, physics, or mathematics.  One such entrepreneur who has made the world much smaller is a man named Allan Gower.

Ye Olde Miners Yooper Michigan Pasty Shop, owned and operated by Allan Gower, is just like many similar shops found across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, except for one very important fact.   Mr. Gower’s pasty restaurant is not located in Michigan at all.  It’s located in Zephyrhills, Florida, a city best known for bottled spring water.  And while Allan Gower is originally from Maine, not Michigan, it is interesting to note that Maine’s coast along the Atlantic Ocean looks very similar to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan’s coast along Lake Superior.  Other similarities include cold and snowy winters, and often, very cool summers.  Perhaps these similarities are among the reasons why Mr. Gower appreciates the history of Michigan's pasty so much.  Whatever his reasons, he has perfected pasty making to a fine art.



Allan Gower

 Allan Gower’s day begins early.  He makes two batches of pasties each day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon.  Making and selling over 200 pasties a day in peak season keeps Gower a very busy man indeed.  Florida’s “snowbird” season during the winter is when he is the busiest, and the summer is when he is the slowest, but whatever the season, he keeps serving up delicious pasties day in and day out.  And, if you are eating inside the shop instead of grabbing a take-out order, you’ll enjoy looking at the old photographs of Michigan copper mines which line the walls.  These photographs, along with some mining artifacts, give the place some real character.

The good citizens of Zephyrhills, many of whom originally came from Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, provide a loyal local clientele for Gower’s pasty shop.  Many come in weekly to get the food which reminds them of a home up north which they left long ago.  But they are not alone.  Other Michigan transplants, living throughout Florida, also make their way to Zephyrhills every couple of months to buy frozen pasties.  Bringing ice chests in the back of automobiles, trucks, and minivans, they take advantage of the shop’s discount on large frozen pasty orders.  But, there are others who frequent the shop as well.

“Sometimes,” Gower says, “people come in and think I sell something else.”  Apparently, there are some folks, who drop by, because they think they can purchase those other “pasties.” Pronounced differently, but with the same spelling, they are looking to buy those little adhesive nipple coverings worn by some female employees in gentlemen’s clubs.  Most troubling about this, perhaps, is the fact that the sign on the front of the shop clearly indicates that the name of the place is “Ye Olde Miners Yooper Michigan Pasty Shop.” There is certainly nothing wrong, I suppose, with a gentlemen's club employee with the appropriate job title to be looking for a place to buy pasties. But, you have to wonder, at least a little bit, about someone who is looking to buy them from a place called “Ye Olde Miners."

As you would expect, Gower sells the beef pasty with all of the traditional ingredients, but he also sells a non-traditional chicken pasty as well. And, every Friday, he sells vegetable pasties.  On the day I visited, I ordered and enjoyed a beef pasty.  Gower’s pasties are very thick with generous fillings, and I split the difference by eating mine with both gravy and ketchup, and it was delightful.

If you go, Ye Olde Miners Yooper Michigan Pasty Shop is located just a few miles east of Interstate 75 at 35201 State Route 54 in Zephyrhills, Florida.  The shop is open from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Friday, and 11 a.m to 5 p.m on Saturday. 

Allan Gower is a man who has successfully shrunk the distance between Florida and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan without a lot of fancy technology, or, some science fiction time machine.  Without him, there would be many people in Florida who would otherwise have to travel well over a thousand miles back to Michigan to get something very historic, authentic, and, delicious to eat.  It now seems to me, that with the availability of pasties in Zephyrhills, Florida, that soon there will be no reason to ever go back north.

Hey Nineteen: My Rant About A Strange And Dangerous Highway

U.S.19 is an historic highway, which runs north and south, between Pennsylvania and Florida.  It is but one of the many old U.S. routes that carried automobile and truck traffic across state lines prior to the creation of the interstate highway system.  In Florida, the highway runs along the state’s western edge, and was once a main corridor for tourists heading into the “Sunshine State.”  Especially in the northern portions of the state, the highway is littered with abandoned motels, and the remnants of small and relatively unsophisticated tourist attractions which both time and traffic have long since passed by.  But if you’re coming down the highway from the north, and you’re the type of person who gets weepy when thinking about the “good old days” of the past, you better quickly wipe away those tears and get your head into the proper frame of mind before hitting the Pasco County line.

Highway 19, as it runs through Pasco and Pinellas Counties in Florida, can only be described as one wild, often bizarre, and dangerous ride.  Some locals refuse to even drive on this stretch of road.  Of those who do, they do so with caution.  Their caution is not unfounded, as this portion of highway 19 has been described as one of “the most dangerous roads in America.”   The extremely high death toll over the years is simply not acceptable, but, it is understandable.  The road, and the things that go on along its edges, can only be described as a circus.  Unfortunately, this “circus” not only delivers occasional humor, but also minor annoyances and frustration, and, all too often, injury and death.

Part of the problem with the highway is that from the Hernando/Pasco County line, on south through Pinellas County, both sides of the highway are nearly one continuous strip mall.  Every kind of business you can imagine is present.  Malls, hotels, RV parks, pharmacies, gas stations, restaurants, bars, tire dealers, used car lots, delicatessens and dollar stores, all compete with massage parlors, tattoo and body piercing studios, pawn shops, adult book stores, and supermarket size liquor warehouses.  And, there is an abundance of sign shops.  Quite frankly, the last thing Highway 19 needs are more sign shops producing even more signs which already distract too many drivers.

Vehicular traffic along the six lanes of the divided highway, is constantly slowing, stopping, and pulling in and out of the various businesses along the side of the road.   Hundreds of cross streets intersect with Highway 19, some with stop lights, and some without.  Right turn lanes veer off suddenly to the right, and U-turn lanes on the left appear without warning.  Sometimes the right turn lanes are strictly turn lanes, but sometimes they also allow traffic to go straight on through, inevitably resulting in a lot of rear end collisions.  If you think what I’ve just described is the major problem, it’s not.  The road and the environment around it are but a stage for the real problem.  People are the problem of course, but it’s not just the licensed drivers.  But, let’s start with them anyway.

It’s easy for the locals to blame the “snowbirds” for all the bad things which happen on Florida roads, and U.S. 19 is no exception.   To be fair to the locals, it is not uncommon to pull up behind a car with license plates from somewhere up north, going 20 miles per hour in the left lane.  Often the elderly driver and passenger cannot even be seen from the rear, as they are so small and frail, that they are completely hidden in their seats.  This causes many local drivers to honk loudly, as they swerve into the lane to the right, in an attempt to pass them.  And, as you might expect with these precipitous lane changes on a busy highway, accidents do frequently occur.

But most of the haphazard and dangerous lane changing I’ve witnessed has nothing to do with drivers attempting to negotiate around slow moving tourist vehicles.  Impatient Florida drivers, both young and old, are the real culprits.  Many local drivers on the highway consider the distance between one stop light, and the next stop light, a drag strip.  And, racing to the next light, while darting in and out of different lanes, really makes no sense.  Usually, if you are stopped at a stop light on U.S. 19, you will be stopped at the next one.  Like many places in the country, the stop light rule of “make one, make them all, miss one, miss them all” is in effect.  And, the vehicles involved in the improper lane changing and high speeds, like the owners who drive them, are diverse mix of the good, the bad, and the ugly.  BMW automobiles compete for dominance of the road with eleven foot high monster trucks and smoke belching junks.

As an aside, I don’t understand why so many of the Ford Tauras cars on this highway are missing bumpers?  I’m not sure it has anything to do with the highway itself,  but I’m just not ready to rule that out yet.  Perhaps we have our very own miniature “Bermuda Triangle” here on the west coast of Florida, which only strikes Tauras automobiles, and causes bumpers to disappear for no apparent reason.  It’s something I may want to ponder in the days ahead, but I suspect it’s just a case of bad driving.  And, there certainly is a lot of that on U.S. 19.

Before I stop commenting about the licensed drivers on U.S. 19, I have a few other things to mention.  Few things are more annoying than waiting in line at a short cycled left turn signal, and waiting for the “guy” or “gal” at the head of the line to turn once the light turns green.  Seconds seem like hours once the light changes, especially when there is no apparent movement from the front car. I can’t possibly imagine what takes some of these people so long to react once the light changes.  In some cases they’ve had 5 minutes to think about what to do once the light turns green, and they still can’t get it right.  I’m thinking about writing to the powers that be asking for a new law to be enacted which will only pertain to left turn signals on U.S. Highway 19 in the counties of Pasco and Pinellas in Florida.

My proposed law would require the removal of all existing green turn signals.  They would be replaced with what I believe is a much better system.   During the period the front vehicle is stopped waiting for the light to change, a camera would photograph the license plate, and immediately the car’s owner would be identified.  At the very second of the light change, blinking strobe lights would light up the intersection, followed with a quick blast of an ear-splitting siren.  Then, loudspeakers would blast an ultimatum to the owner of the front car, who had been identified by way of the license plate check a few seconds earlier.  I’ll leave it to the bureaucrats to come up with the exact language of the directive, but I’m thinking of something like, “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR MR. JOHN H. SMITH, OF 1212 PENELOPE LANE, THOUSAND LAKES, FLORIDA?  TURN LEFT DAMMIT, AND DO IT NOW.”

Under this new law, there would be zero tolerance for offenders.  Any front vehicle which did not begin to move within 2 seconds of a light change would immediately bring forth the following additional information from the loudspeakers.  “ATTENTION ALL DRIVERS WAITING TO MAKE A LEFT TURN BEHIND THE DAWDLING AND INATTENTIVE MR. JOHN SMITH OF THOUSAND LAKES, FLORIDA.  APPARENTLY MR. SMITH IS SO SELF-CENTERED AND SELF-ABSORBED, THAT HE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT THE REST OF US.  PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CALL HIM AT HOME AND LET HIM KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF HIS POOR DRIVING, AND RUDE AND INCONSIDERATE BEHAVIOR.  HE CAN BE REACHED AT THE FOLLOWING PHONE NUMBER.”  Perhaps I’ve taken this a little bit too far, as I have a habit of doing every once in a while, but I’m sure it would solve the problem in a hurry.  And, so, Mr. Smith, my imaginary friend, I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you, but somebody has to be first.

 
In my opinion, and in the opinion of many others, the most significant problems on Highway 19 are caused not by licensed drivers, but by pedestrians and others on the road or along the side of it.  I know most states now vigorously promote “sharing the road” with those on bicycles, but there should be limits.  One of the limits should be no bicycles.  A case in point was the time I was driving down the highway, and there, cycling down the center lane, was an elderly lady on a recumbent bike.  In her defense, she did have one small blinking red light on the back of her bike, and, she was wearing a helmet.  Words escape me about what to really say about this.  I fear, if she keeps getting her exercise in the center lane of U.S. Highway 19, she won’t be around much longer.  I’m sorry to have to put it this way, but what she really needs is less exercise and more time sitting with her psychiatrist discussing her death wish.

Unfortunately, she is not alone.  It is a very common occurrence to see bicycles on the highway, although, normally, I see them in the lane closest to the side of the road.  Occasionally, however, I see bicycles in active traffic lanes, going in the wrong direction.  But, the most ridiculous thing I've seen on the road was not a bicycle, but a motorized wheel chair.   There was this old guy with no legs, racing down the highway, and loving every minute of it.  As I passed him, he had a huge smile on his face.
 

Hitchhiking appears to still be a common practice along the road, and while this might have been acceptable behavior in the America of the 1920’s through the 1970’s, it seems a little outdated today.  It seems that almost anybody who claims to have a thumb in Pasco County, at some point in time, feels the need to get out on the road and try it out.  The ultimate destination for these people apparently does not seem to be that important.  I was parked in a mall parking lot one day near the edge of the highway, and was about ready to get in my car, when a man who had been hitchhiking came up and asked me if I could give him a ride to Spring Hill.  Now, I know where Spring Hill is, but he seemed confused, so I asked him which direction it was.  “Well,” he said, looking up and down the road, “it’s anywhere man, just get me the hell off this road.”  I guess it's needless to point out, but I declined giving him a ride to “anywhere.”

Hitchhiking may not be the best thing, but at least it’s usually done along the side of the road.  The really scary people are the ones who walk across the six lanes of Highway 19 completely away from any intersection and pedestrian lights.  And, unfortunately, these people are not world class sprinters.  But it wouldn’t matter anyway, because they often just walk across, completely oblivious to the moving traffic, or, anything else for that matter.   As often as not, they push a shopping cart, or, walk with a cane.

 

Competing for the attention of drivers along the busy highway are those who stand on the median strips at intersections and panhandle for change.  It’s not just the stereotypical guy with a beard, a dirty ball cap, holding a sign which says, “Homeless Vet Looking for Work…Please Help.”  There are also people hanging out with plastic pails, asking for donations to obscure causes, so obscure in fact, that I’ve never heard of any of them.  And I doubt anyone else has either.  Other people sell bottled water for a dollar in support of no particular cause, except their own, and the fact that they are very concerned that every driver on the road is extremely thirsty.

On Sunday mornings, the newspaper people come out in force.  Wearing their bright green colored shirts, they hawk their papers at every intersection for miles along Highway 19.  I didn’t realize so many people read newspapers anymore, but these bright green vendors seem to do a brisk business.  I suspect that what people are really buying are the Sunday coupons.  I was stopped at a light one Sunday morning, and one of the newspaper men came up to my window.  When I asked him how much he charged for a Sunday paper, he said, “A dollar, but most people also tip me a dollar.”  Hopefully, local restaurant servers and taxi drivers will not find out about this new trend of tipping at the rate of 100%.  Otherwise it’s going to be a little expensive to buy lunch anymore, or take a cab across town.

The real problem with the people doing their own particular brand of business on the median strip is that they don’t stay on it.  When the stop lights are red, they move their business out into the street, meandering among the lanes of stopped traffic, looking for anybody willing to part with a little money.  Then, when the lights turn green, they have to quickly dash back to the median to avoid being flattened by the oncoming traffic which has already started moving.

Of course, distracting the attention of drivers can be done from anywhere, not just along the median.  The shoulder of Highway 19 has its own cast of unusual characters demanding to be seen.  While not unique to this highway, as these characters are present along roadways from coast to coast, U.S 19’s population of them is quite large.  Dressed up as Lady Liberty, Uncle Sam, Clowns, Cowboys, and who knows what else, they stand by the side of the road holding big foam fingers, tall flags, gaudy signs and unrecognizable props supporting income tax preparation services, mobile phone services, and buyers of gold.  And, they’re always waving.  They wave at traffic, wave at pedestrians, wave at domestic animals, wave at insects, or, wave at nothing at all.  And the sad thing is, with the difficult economy, they are probably all paid a “nickel ninety-five” for doing so.  Just another circus side show act, I guess, being paid carnival wages.

U.S. 19 is all pervasive and all consuming.  There is absolutely no escape.  Pulling off the road never seems to get it completely done, as you’re never truly far enough away from 19 to break free.  One day, during the noon hour, I pulled off the highway to get something to eat.  I ate alone, but had a good lunch.  Unfortunately, I knew that my brief respite from the road was nearly over, and the highway was starting to seep back in, when the waitress wanted to know if I would like my check “separate or together.”  Huh?  What?

The Real Reason "Snowbirds" Come To Florida

First of all, based on my personal experience, I’ve always believed that the best smoked fish around comes from the small towns, villages, and hamlets which surround Lake Superior. I’m talking about the out of the way places in the Canadian province of Ontario, the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and along the Lake Superior shoreline of Minnesota and Wisconsin. I’m referring to locations like Paradise, Ashland, Nipigon, Munising, Brevort, Knife River, and Two Harbors.

Oh, I’m well aware that the Pacific Northwest has smoked fish too. We all see it hermetically sealed and sitting in the refrigerated sections of our local grocery stores from coast to coast. Enough said.

Well over 50 years ago, a man by the name of Ted Peters opened up a restaurant in South Pasadena, Florida. The world has turned over many times since, but, thankfully, the eatery he opened is still at the very same spot. More importantly, the delicious taste of the favorite menu item he served back then, namely, smoked mullet, has not changed one bit.

Ted Peters Famous Smoked Fish has been located, since its beginning, at 1350 Pasadena Avenue. And while Ted, who has since passed away, added a few additional items over the years to his menu, smoked mullet is still the main reason most people continue to visit the place. Likewise, unlike most businesses which have been around for this long, the business Ted started is pretty much the same as it’s always been. Unfortunately, it’s common for a lot of businesses to change as success comes, and not always in the best of ways. Businesses change locations, grow, and ultimately lose the identity which made them a success in the first place. Thankfully, that did not happen here. These days, as it was many years ago, patrons still sit in a small “dining room,” and I use that term loosely, or, outside on picnic tables under a covered patio.

The fresh mullet are actually smoked in a separate building, a few feet away from where they are eaten. Wood from a tree native to Florida, the Red Oak, is used to smoke the fish. The raw fish are smoked for up to 6 hours, and go through a brief preparation process before being served. I’m certainly not going to waste my time or insult you by describing in any great detail what smoked mullet tastes like. It tastes very good, and it tastes like smoked fish. I will say, however, that the fish come out on big green plates, with the fillets hot and steaming. They are moist and tender, and there is another big green plate provided for the bones. Along with the fish comes German potato salad, cole slaw, a lemon wedge, a pickle spear, and a slice of both onion and tomato. Should you wish, you can also order the fish spread, which is another favorite selection available on the menu. Simply stated, if you like smoked fish, you’ll enjoy Ted’s smoked fish.

The Gulf of Mexico’s Boca Ciega Bay, which forms the shoreline of South Pasadena, Florida, could not be more different from Lake Superior’s Whitefish Bay, but both locations do have at least one thing in common. They both have people who sell and eat smoked fish. Perhaps, the real reason the “snowbirds” come down to Florida every winter from the states bordering Lake Superior has nothing at all to do with the cold up there and the warmth and sunshine down here. The real reason might just be that visitors from the Great Lakes states visit Florida's warm Gulf Coast because they know that smoked mullet at Ted Peters is always plentiful, even in the depths of a very cold winter up north.