Chummy Jiggers is an East Coast comfort food oasis in Manotick

Chummy Jiggers. It’s an amusing name and could almost be the lost installment of the British Comedy “Carry On” film franchise.

However, as owner Steve Ryan told me, “It’s a Newfie term that means something like ‘thing-a-ma-bob’. As in “Hand me that chummy jigger over there.” “

When applied to the modest menu of this food truck, I suppose it could also mean “odds & sods”.

Ryan and his life/business partner, Megan Freake, are both from the East Coast and have assembled a collection of bites that will warm the cockles of Easterners’ hearts.

Make no mistake, this is comfort food pure and simple. What this sometimes means is that it's not exactly healthy but that’s not a concern when we just want a taste of home.

 A good example is these stuffing bombs that are one of my new guilty pleasures. 

It’s as it sounds: homemade turkey stuffing is rolled into balls and deep-fried. They come in orders of three or six. I ordered three and that was sufficient. 

There was a properly crisp outer shell with a warm and salty interior perfumed with fresh summer savoury. These were served with a warm gravy and a mustard pickle made by a small, independent producer in Newfoundland.

Garlic fingers are a favourite from Nova Scotia and you can find this pizza-like treat throughout Ottawa, from Hunter’s Public House to Spark Beer to Centertown Donair & Pizza.

While the aforementioned are decent, I have a feeling that the Chummy Jiggers version will be seen as the more traditional. 

They were moist and loaded with just enough garlic and crumbled bacon on a nice crust that almost tasted and appeared as if it had been baked with a little extra oil. It was not a greasy dish, but felt like a combination of baked and fried.

Moving from fried foods to healthier fish territory, I tucked into their cod au gratin. Here was a fresh tasting melange of tender cod, cream, herbs and cheeses. 

It came served with a standard dinner roll and while it was okay, I did wish that the bread had come straight from the oven.

If you love a Halifax donair, as I do, you’ll find the donair nachos a no-brainer. It’s an obvious sharing plate but it was a bit unwieldy. 

The meat was seasoned correctly but had been a bit excessively fried and had lost too much moisture. The corn chips were of good quality but the requisite tomatoes and sweet onions were too coarsely chopped and kept falling off the chips as I attempted to eat them.

When eating something as simple as nachos became a logic puzzle, an element of frustration set in and I started eating the entire thing by the handful.

My suggestion would be to more finely chop the tomatoes and onions for better distribution and to keep more of the veggies on the chips.

I sat at one of the shaded tables and watched many people come and go and I suspect the line-up continued long after I left.

A good number of the folks at neighbouring tables were from the east and I enjoyed listening to them talk about the food and how nice it was that they could now get a few favourites.

Such is the power of food. It brings people from various backgrounds together around the table but it can also act as a balm for the homesick. 

It may be simple eating but they do it well, and all I can say is ‘Carry On Chummy Jiggers.’