When traveling back from Newfoundland and Labrador on Sunday, we had only carry-on bags, but my backpack, which was holding my beloved Newfoundland Salt Company sea salt, was flagged. The security agents took the salt jar out of my bag to check the weight of it. At 150 grams, it was under the 350-gram limit for salt to carry on during a Canadian flight. I had no idea that “salt” even had its own category!

According to the CATSA (Canadian Air Transport Security Authority) website: “Salt: Certain powders and granular materials in your carry-on are limited to a total quantity of 350 ml or less (roughly the size of a soda can).” So, it’s not being categorized as a liquid, but actually has its own category under “powders and granular materials”? I didn’t realize this was an issue when flying in Canada, but now I know. I checked the TSA website, and salt does not appear to get flagged.

Then, while researching travel to Brussels this November, I found out that the airports there actually consider chocolate a liquid if they are pralines or truffles that may have fillings that are soft or become liquid after reaching a certain temperature. As such, a number of disgruntled travelers were forced to check their bags full of their Belgian chocolates when leaving Belgium. I definitely would have been confused and not understood right away if I were told this. This is almost as befuddling as the salt incident from this past weekend.

I guess I will need to pack a bag that will be good to get checked because I’m definitely planning on bringing back chocolate from this trip!

Exploring Newfoundland and Labrador has given us quite a number of sights, from rugged cliffs, unique rock formations, crashing waves and piercing blue waters, to puffins little auk birds, and several different whale sightings. The funniest thing about going on a whale watching boat tour, which is what we did this morning, is that it’s always a gamble on whether you will actually see a whale, but you kind of go just hoping for the best. And we saw not a single one today, but it didn’t really matter because we had already seen two or three by chance during other hikes and walks on this trip.

During our boat tour today, I learned that puffins are local to this area, and after having visited a free puffin viewing site a couple days ago, I realized how unique these tiny birds are. They have so much oil on their feathers that despite being able to regularly dive into water as deep as 100 feet, as soon as they get out of the water, they are 100 percent dry. Their signature orange-red tinge on their beaks is temporary; it’s only present when it is mating season and used to attract a mate. And the funniest part of the narration of the tour: I had noticed how much puffins had to flap their wings while flying in the air, but one of the guides said that here in Newfoundland, unlike in other areas of Canada such as Ontario, they really do not care about being politically correct here. So, they like to call puffins “PPFs” — “piss poor flyers.” They flap their wings while flying like there’s no tomorrow, as though if they didn’t flap 100 times that they’d fall out of the air.

And of course, Chris had to make comments wondering what a puffin would taste like. He is a true omnivore.

While I enjoy alcoholic beverages quite a lot, one thing I’ve never really gotten into is beer. I’ve been to beer festivals, been to too many beer tastings that I’ve lost count, but it’s just never been something I’ve really loved or looked forward to. I particularly have never, ever been able to develop a test for IPAs (India pale ales). However, there are exceptions to this: I do enjoy cider (is that considered beer…?), plus I do love a number of fruit beers I’ve tried over the years, particularly the pear, pomegranate, and grapefruit Schofferhofers we discovered we loved in Germany in 2013.

On the second day of this trip while visiting the Quidi Vidi fishing village just outside of St. John’s, Chris suggested we check out the Quidi Vidi Brewing Company and try a beer flight. The bartender was really friendly and did a custom flight of four beers based on what we said we like and don’t like (fruity, nothing too hoppy). They are most well known for their Iceberg lager, which is a North American style lager brewed from water that is genuinely collected from icebergs found off the coast of the province.

In our flight, we tried the Iceberg lager (very clean and fresh tasting), a baked apple sour (cloudberry) beer, a mango-peach tinged IPA, plus a wheaty saison beer. The baked apple sour was definitely my favorite, and with further discovery while doing other tastings on our trip and some quick Google searches, I discovered that “baked apple sour” is synonymous with cloudberries, which is the same as bake apple berries and Nordic berries. They are local to this region and also found in Nordic countries and Scotland, plus other temperate regions of the Northern Hemisphere. They grow wild, not to mention they are pretty resistant to being domesticated, so when used or sold, they are pretty much always picked wild. Cloudberries are most often used in liqueurs, wines, and jams, and this makes sense given how delicate and tart the berries are. They resemble raspberries and are “cloud-like” in their shape, extremely seedy, and are a bright-orange hue. We lucked out on our drive back into St. John’s from Elliston and Bonavista this afternoon and passed a man on the road side selling mason jars full of cloudberries. I likely paid the most I’ve ever paid for fruit after jackfruit or durian — $15 CAD for a pint-sized jar of cloudberries. But I figured that since one of our biggest joys is trying and discovering local produce and foods when we travel that it was a worthy investment. And boy, were these little guys tart! They were quite sour with a slightly sweet after taste and while jarred, it seemed like their juices were oozing out, creating somewhat of a fermented, alcoholic flavor as we ate them. And now, I have their mason jar to take home and remember them by.

Newfoundlanders take their food very, very seriously. Given they are so remote and that they experience such extreme, cold temperatures in the winter, great care is taken in the production of every aspect of their food, from the way their vegetables and fruits are preserved for the winter (this is the largest home of “root cellars” in the world, or old food storage systems that are built into the ground; these are basically like historical refrigerators before these existed) to the killing of wild moose, the preservation and fishing of their most famous fish, cod, all the way down to how their salt derived from the local salt water that surrounds them. I was greatly anticipating eating the local food here, and I certainly was not let down.

Newfoundland’s “summer” seems to be more like New York City’s “spring” in that everything we get at the Greenmarket in New York seems to come here around July or August of every year. This includes short-season vegetables like garlic scapes, which are pungent and much loved, as well as chanterelle mushrooms, one of the most expensive mushrooms I’ve ever eaten, and one that I still have been too cheap to buy myself to make at home. We had the privilege of dining at one of Canada’s most famous restaurants last night in St. John’s, Raymond’s, which is known for its dedication to local, sustainable, and wild foods. Most of its food is wild and foraged within kilometers of the restaurant, which adds to its mystique, particularly in an era where pretty much everything we eat is farmed and domesticated, whether it’s a carrot or a sheep.

The original chef of Raymond’s, Peter Burt, is known for his creativity plus his passionate obsession for salt. He grew frustrated with the constant import of food into Newfoundland and asked, why are we importing something as simple as salt when we are literally surrounded on all sides by salt water? So he refined his method of salt making during his years at Raymond’s and eventually left the restaurant to be a salt maker full time out in Bonavista. He now runs his salt business with his partner/wife as a two-person show full time and sells to specialty shops and chefs around the local area, throughout Canada, and even in the U.S. now. His business is simply named Newfoundland Salt Company.

That kind of passion is so inspiring to me. Salt seems like it’s just this little thing in the grand scheme of food, but Peter Burt’s obsession with it in fine-tuning the granules in its size and shape is just so quirky and fascinating. That’s the kind of thing that gets me really excited about food; we think salt is salt and sugar is sugar, but there is so much that goes into making these seemingly simple ingredients that the average person just doesn’t know about and thus, doesn’t appreciate at first glance. And I can say as someone who has had this salt multiple times on this trip, at Raymond’s, Mallard Cottage, and the Boreal Diner (delicious locally sourced restaurants in Quidi Vidi fishing village and Bonavista) that this salt is unique and a true standout. You can taste and feel the difference when it sits on your tongue and as you’re crunching down on it with your teeth. A few years ago, I started getting into salt because of the famous sea salt I’d repeatedly read about from South Brittany in France, fleur de sel de Guerande. These salts are said to be high in minerals, lower in sodium (the irony), and have no additives. But this Newfoundland Salt Company sea salt is one of the most beautiful and to date, likely my favorite salt I’ve had and purchased. It’s meant to be used as a “finishing” salt, so for sprinkling on top of vegetables, salads, meats, and even baked goods right before serving. I never thought I’d be this excited about sea salt, but I can’t wait to use this on something special when I get home.