Nobody at the Bryson Lions Club’s annual Sea Pie — or “Cipaille”, as it was advertized – Supper on Sunday could remember who’s sea pie recipe it was that, for decades, had been used to prepare mass quantities of the infamous dish for the Bryson community.

“Maybe it was Fergus Wrinn’s,” suggested club president Betty Leach, unsure.

“Or Rheal Sicard’s,” offered former president Brent Ostrom, who for years has taken on the responsibility of keeping the club’s wood-fired oven going to cook the pies through Saturday night.

“There’s been many through the years that have been made,” noted Karen Saunders, daughter of longtime club member Ivan Saunders, who had returned from Montreal to enjoy the sea pie feast with her father, as she does every year.

But on Sunday, the origins of the club’s recipe did not matter. Lions members involved in leading the production of the feast knew how to pull it together like they knew how to breath.

At least 900 pounds of cubed beef and pork, maybe 1,000 – that’s how much Bryson Lions Club head cook Relics Leach figured went into making the 19 sea pies served on Sunday. But that’s not all.

“Probably two hundred pounds of potatoes, 100 pounds of carrots, and then there’s the baked beans from the Lionettes, and 20 pies,” listed club president Betty Leach.

On Sunday at 12:30 p.m., only half an hour after the Lions had opened their doors to the community and started dishing up the orders that were piling up at the door, the club’s kitchen was running like that of a well-established restaurant.

Large pots filled with steamed carrots, peas, mashed potatoes, and of course, the sea pie, sat on warmers against one wall.

An old stove against another wall hosted simmering pots of peeled and halved potatoes, awaiting their fate with the masher.

Erik Robillard stood at one end of the kitchen island, filling to-go containers with sea pie. His wife Adrienne McKinnon was in and out of the kitchen, running full plates to people who were dining in the hall.

And every 20 minutes or so, somebody in the kitchen would holler “more pie” and Matthew Lepine would roll his trolly to the next room over where he would pull a massive cast iron pot, from the large wood-fired oven, haul it onto the trolly, and deliver it, oh so carefully, to the kitchen.

Relics Leach, who used to run a restaurant, started planning the feast in April, sourcing the cheapest, good quality meat he could find, ultimately buying from Renfrew’s No Frills.

He said he’s taken on the role of head cook because he’s the only one fit to do the job.

“I’m the youngest member here,” he said. “I’m 50 years old. All the rest of them are in their 80s.”

The real preparation began on Friday, when a small army of volunteers showed up to dice the 900 or so pounds of meat. On Saturday, the volunteers returned to prepare the pie dough – enough so that each of the 19 pies got three layers of crust – and start cutting the vegetables.

For most Lions members and feast volunteers from the community involved in this year’s production, this was not the first time they stepped up to put on Bryson’s mainstay tradition of at least 50 years.

“It’s a community thing, just a nice tradition to keep going,” McKinnon said, between delivering steaming plates of food. She and her family moved back to Bryson, where she grew up, six years ago, and she’s been volunteering for the supper ever since.

Longtime Lions member Ivan Saunders has dedicated himself to the sea pie tradition for decades as the designated pie dough maker. He remembers when his father moved the large wood oven from Elliot’s bakery in Shawville to the Bryson Lions Club.

“He brought it up here and we installed it in there,” he said, pointing the the back corner of the club.

Seated at the table with him was his daughter Karen.

“[The supper] used to be a huge thing. They had music, baseball, the tables used to be full,” she said, noting the smaller turnout at this year’s event, where fewer than half of the tables were full.

“They used to have competitions for best tap dancer, singer and fiddle player. One year they had softball and the men were on donkeys. You jumped on the donkey and then you had to go around the bases but the donkeys didn’t always do it,” she laughed.

“We were lucky, our parents were very involved. Now they have fewer Lions members so they can’t have as big a party.”

Betty Leach, club president for the past two years, said the club lost six of its members in the last few months, most departures due to internal conflicts, a difficult loss when the club, now down to 11 or so members, is already struggling to bring in new people.

She said putting on the feast with a smaller team has been challenging.

“This was always the big fundraiser, but it’s going to hurt this year,” she said, admitting she wasn’t sure the club would sell enough pies to make up its costs.

Ostrom is also hoping to pass on his fire-tending responsibilities sooner rather than later.

On Saturday night he visited the oven every two hours to keep the fire going and add water to the pots.

“That’s what makes the gravy in the sea pie,” he explained. This year, for the first time, he was assisted by his grandson, Adam Lafonte.

“It was hard sometimes, but just to help out, it makes a difference,” Lafonte said.

Ostrom, like Relics Leach, said he does it because he’s one of the youngest people still involved with the club.

“The older guys that did it, they’re either gone or there’s only a couple left,” he said, assuring he’ll be tending the fire “until he drops.”

“This has been going on a long time,” Relics Leach said, gesturing to the hall of diners.