Historic Bites & Hidden Sites in Nova Scotia
- Ginger North
- Jul 6
- 8 min read
Some places live in your bones. For me, Nova Scotia is one of them.
I spent summers here as a kid, feet dangling off wharves, hair whipped sideways by salt wind, watching the harbour spill stories into the sea. It's a province that feels older than time. Mi’kma’ki land shaped by tides, by shipwrecks, by stubborn settlers and voices that still echo in the red earth.
Nova Scotia doesn’t just tell history, it cooks it. From garrisons to telegraph wires, here you can time-travel by foot and by fork. In this chapter of the #30CanadianFoods series, we’re diving into forts, inventors, and cliffs once crackling with the very first wireless messages. And we’re bringing home recipes that make you want to dust flour off your hands and tell someone a good story while the pudding steams.
If you missed the rest of the series so far, you can catch up here.
Let’s go time-travelling.
Halifax Citadel: Where Cannons Boom and Pudding Steams
Walk up Citadel Hill on a foggy morning, and you’ll hear history before you see it. A cannon blast, sharp as a slap. Bagpipes drifting from somewhere unseen. A costumed soldier barking orders in 1812-era wool, baking slowly under the July sun. The Halifax Citadel isn’t one of those “read a plaque and move along” kind of sites. It’s alive. It marches. It feeds you stories.
I’ve always had a soft spot for the Citadel—not just because I love a good fortress, but because it’s one of those rare places where the past feels present. Not polished. Not performative. Just... persistent.
Inside the walls, you’ll find the Army Museum (surprisingly emotional), hidden tunnels (yes, you can walk through some), musket demos, costumed interpreters who are genuinely into their roles (ask one about their uniform buttons—go ahead, I dare you). And if you stay late enough, you can even join a ghost tour that takes you through the darker corners where the walls whisper back.
What struck me most on my last visit wasn’t the military bravado—it was the detail. The little things. A child’s letter preserved in a case. A stew pot in the mess hall. A soldier’s scribbled note about missing home. These stories simmer quietly beneath the loud bits, and they’re what make the Citadel worth climbing that damn hill for.
Oh—and speaking of mess halls...
They ate well. I mean, well enough to wrap a whole tenderloin in pastry and call it a Tuesday. That’s right: Beef Wellington. And not the dainty, froufrou version you see on TikTok. This one is rugged, wrapped by hand, and built for feeding soldiers who just marched uphill in wool. It’s historic comfort food—rich, flaky, and unapologetically dramatic.
(Recipes are below, and yes, they're worth the pastry drama.)
Baddeck, Bell, and My Grandfather’s Ghost
Every summer of my childhood was spent chasing history across Nova Scotia—crammed in the back of my grandparents’ car, weaving up and down the province like it was our personal memory map. My grandfather, a gentle man with sharp eyes and a government career in telecommunications, had a thing for Alexander Graham Bell. Not just the telephone—everything. Hydrofoils. Flight. Early sound experiments. He’d say, “You know, he didn’t invent the phone in a vacuum. He invented it because he was listening.”
That line stuck with me.
I still remember when we went to the Alexander Graham Bell National Historic Site in Baddeck. At first, I rolled my eyes. I mean, it’s a museum dedicated to a man best known for the world’s most annoying invention. But then you step inside. And you realize: this place hums.
It hums with wind tunnels and kites and flying machines and dreams too big for Boston boardrooms. Bell didn’t come to Cape Breton to retire—he came to build the future beside the Bras d’Or Lake, and he brought his full eccentric brilliance with him.
What I love about the site—then and now—is how hands-on it feels. You’re not just reading signs. You’re peeking into his notebooks, seeing the way he sketched ideas as fast as they came, like they might evaporate if he didn’t catch them. There’s an intimate kind of genius on display here—the kind that tinkers late at night while everyone else is asleep.
And when I remember walking through it, I feel my grandfather again. Watching me absorb it all. Asking questions the interpreters loved to answer. It’s not just about Bell. It’s about what happens when curiosity meets freedom. When invention gets its hands dirty. When you realize history isn’t some frozen past—it’s a conversation still unfolding.
If you’ve never been to Baddeck, go. Not just for the museum, but for the view. For the quiet. For the feeling that something important once happened here—and might again.
Ghost Towers and Morse Code: Marconi’s Message
The Marconi National Historic Site sits high on a bluff above Glace Bay, staring straight into the Atlantic like it’s waiting for a message. And in 1902, it got one—the first wireless transmission from North America to Europe.
That blows my mind.
You’re standing on the same ground where they once built giant wooden towers to whisper across the ocean. Where sparks flew from wires and waves. Where communication as we know it—texting, streaming, doomscrolling—started. And yet today, it’s so quiet you can hear your own thoughts again.
The museum is small but thoughtful. You’ll find early radios, dusty equipment, stories of Marconi’s team, and even some hands-on Morse code fun. (Yes, I tried. Yes, I butchered it.) What I love most, though, is how elemental the site feels. You look out over that wild coast and think: they sent sound across that?
People online say it’s “simple but powerful,” and I couldn’t agree more. It’s not flashy. But neither was what they built—until it changed the world.
And if you’ve brought a sandwich (or a sense of wonder), sit on one of the benches after your visit. You’ll see what I mean.
Hidden Nova Scotia: Mystery Walls and Whispered Legends
Nova Scotia doesn’t just do history—it does weird history. And I’m here for it.
Take the Bayers Lake Mystery Walls, a set of dry stone walls deep in the woods behind a business park. Nobody knows who built them. Theories range from early Acadian field boundaries to Mi’kmaq ceremonial sites to—you guessed it—aliens.
Or consider the North End of Halifax, where rumoured underground tunnels connect old buildings. Smugglers? Escape routes? Cellars with secrets? You’ll have to ask the ghosts. (Just maybe not during the ghost tour—they get a little jumpy.)
This province has layers. You just have to be willing to get a little lost.
History You Can Taste: From Boiled Pudding to Beef in a Blanket
Nova Scotia’s food history isn’t all chowder and oatcakes (though yes, please to both). When you dip into heritage recipes from sites like the Halifax Citadel, you’re biting into the rations and rituals of people who lived through wars, weather, and wool uniforms.
What they cooked wasn’t always fancy, but it was hearty, resourceful, and sometimes downright decadent when ingredients allowed. Like these two dishes—Beef Wellington and spotted dick —both rooted in British culinary tradition but still echoing across Nova Scotian tables (especially if you’re doing a re-enactment or feeding someone after a ghost tour).
By the way, the Citadel sells a period cookbook if you want to explore more recipes. Alright, let’s get cooking!
Beef Wellington: Garrison Luxury in a Pastry Hug
This isn’t just dinner. It’s a statement. Think tender beef tucked into buttery pastry, golden and crisp on the outside, blushing pink on the inside. A meal worthy of a Citadel officer—or your next weekend showstopper. This version honours the one shared by Parks Canada via the Halifax Citadel, but feel free to adapt—because unless you’re feeding a squadron, you probably don’t need the full fortress-sized portion.
Pastry
4 cups | 400 g all-purpose flour
1 tsp | 5 g salt
½ cup | 115 g butter
½ cup | 115 g shortening
1 egg, lightly beaten
½ cup | 125 ml ice water, approximately
(Or, let’s be honest: use store-bought puff pastry if you’re tired.)
Filling
1 filet of beef (2½-3 lbs | 1-1.5 kg)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 egg, lightly beaten
Directions
Make the pastry: blend flour, salt, butter, and shortening until crumbly. Add the egg and just enough ice water to form a dough. Wrap in wax paper and chill. (Or use puff pastry.)
Preheat oven to 450°F (230°C). Season the beef, roast on a rack in a roasting pan for 15 minutes for rare or 20-25 minutes for medium. Remove from oven and cool to room temp.
Reduce the oven to 425°F (220°C). Roll out your pastry into a rectangle, about 18 x 12 inches and ¼" thick. Place the cooled beef in the middle and overlap the long sides of the dough over the meat like a buttery sleeping bag, seal with egg wash. Fold in the short ends of the pastry and brush again with egg to seal.
Transfer to a baking sheet (seam side down), brush the whole thing with egg, and bake at 425°F (220°C) until golden, about 30 minutes.
Rest, slice, devour. Cold leftovers? Even better.
Regal, rich, and just a little extra. It’s the kind of thing that makes you feel like you deserve a promotion.
Spotted Dick: Silly Name, Serious Flavour
Let’s just get it out of the way—yes, the name is ridiculous. But spotted dick is a British steamed pudding packed with currants (“spots”), soft, suety richness, and a sense that someone’s granny is about to scold you for opening the lid too soon.
This version comes from the Halifax Citadel archives, and it’s exactly the kind of dessert you’d make if you had limited ingredients, a boiling pot, and a hungry regiment to feed.
Ingredients
3/4 pound of flour (about 3.5 cups unsifted all purpose)
1/2 pound beef suet
1/2 pound of currants
2 oz. white sugar
Cinnamon
2 eggs
10 fluid oz. of milk (1.25 cups)
Boiling cloth
Directions
Mix the flour, suet (or butter/shortening), currants, sugar, and cinnamon in a big bowl.
Add the eggs and milk, stirring until you have a thick, lumpy batter that smells like winter at your great-aunt’s house.
Spoon the mix into a cloth or parchment-lined mould. Tie it up (leave room for rising) and boil gently for 1½ hours. You can also steam it if you’re fancy.
Serve warm with melted butter and a sprinkle of sugar—or a splash of custard if you’re really leaning in.
Dense, warm, slightly sweet. It’s the kind of dessert that makes you want to light a fire and write someone a letter with a fountain pen.
Off the Main Path: More Heritage Worth Wandering Into
Not everything makes the brochure. And that’s often where the best stories live. Here are two places you might miss if you blink—but shouldn’t:
Millbrook Cultural & Heritage Centre (near Truro)
If you want to understand Nova Scotia, you need to start with the Mi’kmaq. This centre does something many others don’t: it invites you into living culture, not just preserved artefacts. Exhibits here are vibrant, community-led, and grounded in both past and present. You’ll leave with more understanding—and maybe, if you’re lucky, a story or recipe you weren’t expecting. 🔗 millbrookheritagecentre.ca
De Gannes–Cosby House, Annapolis Royal
This is the oldest wood-frame house in Canada, built in 1708 and still standing tall. It’s less like a museum and more like someone’s great-grandmother forgot to leave. There’s something beautiful about walking into a space so domestic—so ordinary—and realizing how extraordinary it is to still exist. Every floorboard creaks with layered lives. 🔗 Historic Places Entry
This Province Lives in Me
There’s something about Nova Scotia that sticks with you—like salt on your skin or a song you heard once and can’t forget. Every summer I spent here with my grandparents left me more curious, more full (in every sense), more aware of how deep and layered this place is.
The sites we’ve explored—Citadel Hill, Baddeck, Glace Bay—they’re more than markers on a map. They’re invitations. To stand where something important happened. To listen. To taste. To remember.
And hey—if that remembering comes with a side of pastry or a spoonful of suet-studded pudding? Even better.
Disclaimer: Fair & Furious is not sponsored by the businesses or brands mentioned in this post. We just really love sharing anything Canadian with you! Support our mission by sharing our posts and interacting with our content! Thank you💛
Comments