Our Lady of Perpetual Hell

The weekend got off on a very bad foot when I went up to have a morning coffee and chat with the ‘rents on Saturday and Dad showed me the morning newspaper. Right on the front page of the Sarnia Observer, above the fold, was the horrifying headline, “Chip truck banned”.

In Sarnia, there is only one chip truck that would garner this kind of attention in the local media. And that chip truck is Albert’s Rolling Lunch.

Albert’s has been in business longer than I’ve been on the planet. The truck is a local summertime tradition, parked underneath the Bluewater Bridges, doling out what we locals call the best chips in the world in Point Edward beside where Lake Huron narrows into the St. Clair River. Ever since I was a kid, Albert’s has been a draw for thousands upon thousands of locals (and not-so-locals: this past summer, I stood in line in front of a bunch of leather-clad folks who’d ridden their motorcycles from Kitchener specifically to get chips at Albert’s on the recommendation of a friend). The truck has had a few different locations underneath the bridges as the configuration of the area has changed over the years. Where once there was only one chip truck, one bridge, a gravel parking lot, and enormous boulders where we sat and ate our chips at river’s edge, now there are three chip trucks, two bridges, two paved parking lots, a walking/running/cycling path, gardens, and the random boulders have been replaced by three-tiered stone “bleachers” that run along the river’s edge.

No matter where it was parked–under one bridge or two, in one parking lot or the other–Albert’s Rolling Lunch was a fixture. “Under the bridge” has always been the local lovers’ lane, so Albert’s has always fed the couples who parked at river’s edge to watch the submarine races. The truck also always fed the thousands of folks who’d line the river’s edge to watch the boats sail up the river into the lake for the start of the annual Mackinac Race. It was such a treat as a kidlet to get up early and go down and sit on the rocks under the bridge and get your parents to buy you a cuppa chips for breakfast that day! When I lived in Toronto or in Salt Lake City, one of the things I missed and often longed for were those chips… Whenever I was on a trip home during Albert’s short season, I would always try to make time to go down with friends or family to get a plate. When I was little, the smallest serving came in a paper cone (called a “cup o’ chips”) and overflowed. You ate ‘em one at a time with a toothpick to make ‘em last longer. By the time you got near the end of them, the vinegar had soaked through the paper cone and begun to drip. The next size up was a sturdy cardboard plate–probably about 4″ X 6″, and also overflowing. (The cone has lately been replaced by a slightly smaller version of the plate. Overflowing, natch. That’s what Suzanne is holding in the photo.) If you had eyes bigger than your stomach (as my mom would say), you could get a box. But you would probably regret it later, because it was about 4″ or 5″ square and at least that tall. If you ate all those chips, I suspect it would feel like you’d just eaten a bowling ball. A box was good for sharing on dates, though.

Over the years, more chip trucks sprung up around town, all hugging any location they could get close to the shoreline, but Albert’s withstood the onslaught of pretenders to the crown. Albert’s always had the longest lineup. Because people knew which truck had the best chips. We were raised on ‘em, after all. Even when ownership changed hands over the years (Albert is long gone), the recipe for the chips’ preparation must’ve been handed down, ‘cause those suckas taste the same today as they did when I was eight years old, sitting on the rocks under the (single!) bridge, watching the lakers sail by… Golden with a slight crisp bite on the outside and soft and hot on the inside. And I have always ordered them the same way: “Salt and lots of vinegar, please!” The vinegar is misted onto the chips with a hose and spray nozzle contraption that hangs just inside the window of the truck (I think you can see part of the hose, actually, right behind Suzanne’s head in the photo). I never taint them with ketchup. Lawdy, no.

Timing can be a tricky thing and, frankly, it usually seems like mine is lousy when I show up to get chips. Meaning I place my order and pay for it but then I gotta wait ten minutes or so because it always seems like they just handed out the last of the previous batch and I hafta wait while they fry a new one. But waiting isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Because, while I stand there, waiting, the sense of anticipation grows. And, now, I dunno ’bout you, but, to me, the sense of anticipation is exquisite. I never really mind the wait because I know all it means is that I’m gonna get some really fresh, really hot chips. Hell, it’s easily worth the wait! And, besides, I’m never the only one waiting, and everybody in line chats while we wait. It’s a friendly, communal place to be. Getting chips at Albert’s is one of my all-time favourite things. And it’s one of those things that locals customarily make sure we do when we have guests from out of town. It combines a sense of friendly community with the summer beauty of our location on the Great Lakes and becomes like a defining moment of any visit to this area–that moment when the figurative lightbulb goes on over the visitor’s head and they think, “Yeah, I can see why you like it here.”

So the thought of Albert’s not being in its familiar spot under the bridges next summer is, frankly, unfathomable to me. As Cathy Dobson points out in her Sarnia Observer article, there are two petitions to help save Albert’s–one of them you can sign online here. Either the Bluewater Bridge Authority has to be persuaded to change its decision or somebody in the village of Point Edward needs to step up and offer an alternative location. When I think of the thousands of people that the truck lures to Point Edward over the summer, I can’t imagine why the village wouldn’t be upset about this.

Wherever Albert’s Rolling Lunch sets up, that’s where I’ll go for chips. And I know I’m not alone in this.