AUGUSTA, Ga. - The flavor is nothing if not distinctive. That is true not only of the meal, but of the tale that made it possible.
Both are regional, to be sure. With an appeal that, in a sense, is universal but, in truth, is unmistakably Canadian.
One is the menu chosen for this year's champions dinner at the Masters. A tradition dating as far back as some of Augusta's magnolias. A meal served only to past winners and selected carefully by its newest member.
The other is the story of that member, this year's returning champion. An intriguing yarn of an unremarkable man at the peak of an unlikely career.
Settle in for dinner and a tale, both courtesy of Mike Weir.
Begin with the canape. This includes lobster specially imported from the eastern coast of Canada. The seafood is lightly wrapped in a puff pastry, enhanced with saffron and vanilla aioli.
Begin with the childhood. A boy growing up an hour north of Detroit and a world removed from the typical PGA path.
That's no indictment of Sarnia, Ontario. The town, in fact, is depicted as something of a paradise in the Academy Award-winning documentary Bowling for Columbine. Sarnia is portrayed as the antithesis of gun-toting U.S. cities.
It's just that, for a young golfer in Canada, the season is short and the ambitions can be limited. Weir could play a par-3 course behind the local Holiday Inn and, if industrious, might clear the snow off the shore to hit balls onto Lake Huron during clear winter days.
As his story is told and retold, the timeline becomes blurred and the facts are sometimes twisted. What we know is Weir eventually drifted further from baseball and hockey and drew closer to golf.
Steve Bennett, the local club pro, turned Weir on to Jack Nicklaus and the boy was forever hooked after watching the Masters on TV.
"Everybody, when the snow melts, is excited to get on the course and especially excited to watch the Masters," Weir said. "I remember as a kid, you know the brief commercials that were on, running outside and trying to putt for a few minutes and running back inside to watch every shot."
At 14, Weir wrote a letter to Nicklaus. He wanted to know whether he should continue playing left-handed or try to become right-handed. The reply sent by Nicklaus is framed and hanging today in Weir's office.
It said, in essence, to do what comes naturally.
Move on to the appetizer. Oak crusted Arctic Char - among the northern-most freshwater fish - with maple brown butter vinaigrette, and a white and green asparagus salad and baby golden beets.
Move on to the early days. Or, to be honest, the early years.
If Tiger Woods was fresh off the Stanford campus when he won his first Masters in 1997, Weir was ripe for a college reunion by the time he arrived.
A product of Brigham Young University, one of the few schools to offer him a golf scholarship, Weir graduated in '93 and joined the Canadian Tour. And the Asian Tour. And the Australian Tour.
The next half-dozen years were a maze of highways, embarrassing paychecks and fading dreams. Weir's wife, Bricia, would serve as his caddie to save money. Their belongings were in storage to avoid apartment payments.
Meanwhile, collegiate contemporaries such as Phil Mickelson and Jim Furyk were already PGA millionaires. Weir was left behind.
Five times he went to the PGA's qualifying school.
Five times he failed.
"Those times, I think, made me tougher," Weir said. "Makes it even more rewarding the six or seven years I spent playing smaller tours and driving everywhere and finding ways just to make ends meet."
Weir got his PGA card in 1998, but failed to crack the top 125 on the money list. That meant a seventh trip to Q-school.
By 1999, it seemed, Weir had arrived. He was not only in position to win his first tournament, but also his first major.
He was tied with Woods heading into the final round of the PGA Championship. The Cinderella story was 18 holes from completion.
Weir shot an 80.
The entree required last-minute work. The plan was for roasted rack of caribou with sour cherry and parsnip compote, along with British Columbia morel mushrooms. But Canadian caribou is a protected species and difficult to export, so the menu was switched to elk.
The defining moment required a little extra work.
Unlike the '99 PGA Championship, Weir kept his cool on the final day of the 2003 Masters. A 7-foot putt at No. 18 forced a playoff with Len Mattiace and, one hole later, Weir became the first Canadian to win a major.
He did not hit long. He did not drive with much accuracy. Yet he finished with just the fourth bogey-free final round of any Masters winner.
"What Mike did last year," Nicklaus said, "was phenomenal."
In the end, Canadian wild berries and wine.
At the end of the night, Weir could find no Canadian beer.
Somehow, that did not keep the party from continuing.
In the hours after his victory, Weir and friends had moved from the golf course to a house he rented in Augusta. He stayed awake until 4 o'clock, got back up at 6 a.m. to check the news (To make sure, he said, he really did win) and then caught a flight to Toronto for a prearranged appearance to introduce a new line of clothes at a Sears store.
The line for autographs began in sporting goods, wound around lawn and garden supplies, bypassed paints and was last seen in appliances.
Before the Sears appearance was the call from the prime minister. Afterward, there was the 90-second ovation at a Maple Leafs playoff game.
"People in Canada who never watched golf or ever played golf were home watching Mike that weekend. It was like a national victory," said Bennett, Weir's first coach. "All of Canada was buzzing that week.
"He is, basically, our national hero. You had Wayne Gretzky in hockey and now you have Mike in golf."
As the days passed, the craziness would lessen. By the time Weir returned to his home in Draper, Utah, there were new headlines being written and another tournament soon to start.
Then came a knock on the front door.
Outside, a man introduced himself as Jim something-or-other. Jim, it turns out, had been at the Masters. He was driving home and, on impulse, stopped in Utah. He kept hitting construction sites, asking for directions, until he found himself at Weir's front door.
In the driveway, Jim's wife sat in the car waving.
"You'd think his wife would say, "Don't you think it's odd, honey, to be going to the guy's house?"' Weir said. "But, no, he thought it was okay."
Jim had five flags from the Masters and Weir signed them all. Then he sent Jim on his way home to Calgary.
