Day 1: Saturday Vancouver: The Elbow Room (CLOSED)

Posted on August 12, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

OK, first of all let me warn all of you that this is my computer set-up right now. So forgive the spelling errors.

The flight, customs, everything went smoothly. Our room at what looked to be a cheesy Holiday Inn rocked – it was a suite, and we were right in the center of the gay neighborhood! Yay! Good food, safe, clean streets, and it is always easy to find a place to buy condoms! Gay gentrification is good for EVERYBODY.

I was kind of dazed from only 30 minutes’ sleep on the plane after 48 hours awake, and didn’t feel like wandering around just to check things out. So I let my mom and her 2 neighbors, Ralph and Mary Ann, take off and I jumped on the internet. Soon I had a promising destination – The Elbow Room, known as the best burger in Vancouver…and it was only a few blocks away!

You could tell immediately that this was not your average diner. The waitstaff are known for “abuse”. But it’s more like teasing, which made me feel right at home in a strange city. It was around noon, so I could go either way on breakfast or lunch. There was a risque-sounding 12-inch pancake but I REALLY wanted the burger. Arghhh. Maybe I could just order both and pick at them.

Not at this place. My server said, “No way can you even take 12 inches. I’m bringing you the 6-inch pancake.”

I argued, “I want the 12 inch AND the hamburger!

That was too much! I had crossed the line!

He said, “Oh, I get it, you’re being BAD. We have a BAD girl over here! Maybe you need a spanking! Do you need a spanking?”

What? What kind of place had I walked into? Soon he had a wild, red-headed cohort with a mysterious Eastern European accent backing him up, “Does she need a spanking?”

By now I was in fits of giggles and couldn’t even talk. I was just going to eat whatever the hell they brought me. And like it, if I knew what was good for me. Well they were NOT kidding about the pancake. It was light and airy, dotted with fresh raspberries and blueberries, but I probably ate one fourth.

If you don’t finish your meal at the Elbow Room, there is a mandatory fine. I donated a few toonies to their local version of “Angel Food” and escaped corporal punishment.

Posted in Canada, Vancouver | 1 Comment

I was a Teenage Supertaster!

Posted on July 28, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Ever since I was little, I have always been a “picky eater”. When I complained that food is overly salty, bitter, smoky or sour, people would insist that it was “just fine”. The butter wasn’t rancid, the meat wasn’t spoiled and the milk wasn’t “off”. It took a blind taste-test differentiating between six different kinds of soy sauce and an ugly showdown during which I dared my own mother to eat the mold off the cheese for my family to stop questioning me.

Even as an adult, I have had an unnatural revulsion for broccoli, which is probably the only thing I had in common with George Bush, Sr. On one particularly long and arduous train trip, I had the misfortune of sitting next to a broccoli farmer. Like someone who thinks a lesbian just hasn’t met the “right” man, she was convinced that if I only prepared the vegetable correctly, I would change my mind.

“Have you ever had Broccoli Florentine?”
“Have you ever tried it with cheese sauce?”
“Have you ever had broccoli with soy sauce?”
“What about cream of broccoli soup?

Finally my husband, God love him, stopped the endless interrogation by asking me, “But have you ever tried shit a la mode?”

It doesn’t stop with broccoli. My wine afficianado family has never grasped my distaste for the fruit of the vine. It was especially odd because I love champagne. Up until a few years ago, my family still tried to pour me wine at dinner and bought me expensive vintages as gifts. Again, maybe I just haven’t had the “right” wine. After one brother took me to a wine bar in San Francisco, I will admit that the “buttery chardonnay” did not make me grimace and run for the nearest spit bucket.

The list goes on – brussell sprouts, and even dark chocolate are unpleasantly bitter. Another freakishly picky food issue I have is with raw meat. I am frequently convinced that it has gone bad. My husband sniffs it and tries to explain to me that that is what raw meat smells like. I sniff it again and it smells rotten. He declares it perfectly normal. We go back and forth until finally it goes in the trash or he eats it himself. And to his credit, he hasn’t died yet.

Finally, one day my husband watched a television special and announce that I was a “supertaster”. I fit all of the criteria – coffee, dark chocolate, red wine, cruciferous vegetables, were all unpleasantly bitter to me. So I started checking it out. The final proof I needed was when Wikipedia mentioned that supertasters are also able to detect when meat is going bad faster than the average taster. I wasn’t crazy after all! Well, maybe I am crazy, but at least not about that.

Over at Blogsoop they had a radical idea — what if food bloggers were supertasters? They sent out tasting strips to food bloggers. They discovered after sending out taste strips that 80 percent of food bloggers reacted to the strips.

Miss Lindsay of LAist and I gamely stuck our taste strips in our mouths and were unimpressed. Paper. It tasted like paper. Then it was like gleaking over something sour, but in reverse, my entire mouth puckered up and I had to run into the bathroom. We both were sick for hours and could nt shake that awful taste, no matter what brand of mint we bought. Now I just have to dye my tongue blue and it’s official.

although some would disagree

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments

Where to eat in Leimert Park

Posted on July 23, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Ackee Bamboo serves up delicious Jamaican food in a cozy diner atmosphere.

Cafe Soul fries some of the best catfish in town.

Mama’s House for catfish, smothered meats, greens, and chicken wings the size of bats.

M&Ms Soul Food a breakfast classic, with some of the best yams in the city.

Shabazz Good Foods is the place to get your bean pie. The fish sandwiches are pretty good as long as you’re there, but it’s all about the bean pie.

This is a review of the Crenshaw and Adams location of Phillip’s BBQ.

Phillips is a legend, a monument in LA BBQ. And this one is the original. Some people claim that the sauce at the Leimert Park location is far superior to the sauce at the other two locations. Tender ribs slathered in those complex, multilayered sauces – who cares if you have to eat standing up?

And yes, Phillips still has signs everywhere.

Papa West is a new brunch spot in the location that was formerly Augustines.

The “rogue” M&Ms is closed now

Newly opening in its place is Creole restaurant New Orleans Vieux Carre.

Next-door to the M&Ms at Crenshaw and MLK stands a distinctly South LA phenomenon — the Louisiana Chicken/Chinese restaurant.

The atmosphere at 5th Street Dick’s Coffee and Jazz Emporium is easy and comfortable. The original location closed in 2000 when Richard Fulton passed away, but was re-opened around the corner on Degnan in 2005. There is always a welcoming vibe, whether everyone is gathering around to watch Dave Chapelle together, or hosting an impromptu dance lesson. The air-conditioned room provides cool respite on a hot day, and they make a mean banana-berry smoothie.

Babe and Ricky’s Inn was founded in 1964 on Central Avenue, and moved to its current location in Leimert Park in 1997. Laura Mae Gross, who locals and musicians call “Mama” is a darling who will even give up the secrets to her fried chicken if you’re nice, but don’t step out of line. The bartender is super-friendly, and the bands are like family. The club is only open Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. Around 10:30pm a big soul-food buffet appears, with black-eyed peas and hot links in a spicy jezebel sauce. The buffet is rounded out with greens, juicy fried chicken and festival bread that is a nice surprise.

The sign says it all

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Meet me at 59th and Lex

Posted on July 12, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Bloomingdale’s diner is the perfect spot for ladies who lunch. 59th & Lex appears upon first glance to be only a glorified coffee bar for a quick break from the 40% off sale. This little diner is actually so much more than your typical department store lunch counter. The sandwiches and salads are delicious and the service is sheer perfection. These ladies would expect nothing less. Named after the corner on which the original Bloomingdales stands, the name 59th & Lex has been known to confuse friends from New York. The primary fare is just what you would expect for the properly manicured – light lunches and sinfully rich desserts. Just because you’re watching your waistline, it doesn’t mean you can’t splurge once in awhile right? After all, it is a special occasion. It’s always a special occasion when you just got your hair done.

The mango chicken salad is crisp, refreshing and filling. Goat cheese and mango are an unusual combination, but really work. Although pecans would make more sense with the fruity, creamy dressing, the walnuts do pair naturally with the goat cheese. The salad jumped the shark with the addition of sundried tomatoes. It was flavorful and acidic enough already.

A tuna salad sandwich is one of those simple dishes that is somehow often screwed up. The tuna at 59th and Lex is never screwed up. It is cool, lightly seasoned, and does not betray its true fish nature. The tomato is ripe and the lettuce is Romaine. All is as it should be. It is kind of strange that on this visit they brought half sourdough and half white bread. Maybe they serve so many soup/salad combos that they make sandwich halves in an assembly line. Or maybe the waiter forgot to ask what bread we wanted and didn’t want to have to deal with the crazy girls in the corner again. The fries are usually very good, but on this occasion, at least half were disappointingly limp.

The shrimp bisque is rich and creamy, but lacks seasoning. Something like a litle curry powder or saffron would give it character. The french bread is soft with a nice crust and it is difficult to resist eating the entire plate

For years I have been confusing waiters with bizarre behavior like ordering too much food and picking at it in order to write reviews. On one visit, my friend and I talked over each other, asked the waiter questions, discussed our options, then shut our menus with finality. The waiter looked down at our expectant faces and held his pencil poised over the notepad, “Are you ready to order?” We blinked at eachother, “We just did.” After repeating the order twice, soon our table was overflowing with plates that jutted out over the edge. The waiter said, “Your Chinese chicken salad will be right up.” I looked at the already crowded table in panic, “We ordered a Chinese chicken salad???” A smile crept over his face and I realized he had totally punked me. Good one.

59th and Lex is known for its fish and chips. One recent lunch hour, when a distressed diner wailed over the specials page, “What? No fish today?” and the waiter replied, “Yes, we have salmon” I could tell he was new. The cod is surprisingly unfishlike, and the batter is light yet crispy.

Another reason I love this diner is that they have this little corner nook that is often vacant, so you can hide and do weird things like pose your food for the best lighting. The banquette beneath the slatted wall pitches forward a little, so unless you feel the need to be ergonomic, sit against the solid wall

The cheesecake was fresher and more moist than the chocolate cake that day. It had a smooth, creamy texture, but was not “real” New York cheesecake, which I find to be kind of dry and powdery compared to West coast cheesecake (Ain’t no cheesecake like a west coast cheesecake cause a west coast cheesecake don’t STOP!).

I lusted after these shiny lily pad serving dishes, but they were ridiculously expensive. I still want them. Maybe I will register for them the next time I get married.

The ladies who lunch and their perfect coiffures

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Gordon Ramsay Does the Predictable!

Posted on July 10, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Why is everyone calling this an upset? I called this one with about 5 contestants left. You could see the fire in Christina’s eyes every time a challenge was posed. She is like a racehorse chomping at the bit, fully in the zone. Every time. Sometimes she fucked up, but it was lack of experience rather than the laziness, burnout, bad attitudes and possible mental conditions of the other contestants. It’s better to get someone you can train to do things your way before they have learned bad habits somewhere else (or got some serious baggage. Serious.)

Good on ya, and lets hope you can turn things around at the Gordon Ramsay in the London West Hollywood. Because Lord knows, last time was not what I expected…

Gordon Ramsay at the London: A How-to Guide
How to Dine at the new Gordon Ramsay at the London in West Hollywood:

Step 1: Make a reservation
This is surprisingly easy. Unlike the restaurants in Ramsay’s New York London Hotel, The Gordon Ramsay is practically a ghost town. Maybe it’s because Gordon Ramsay is not at the helm. Neither is the chef-who-cannot-be-named winner of this season’s Hell’s Kitchen. Who is at the helm anyways? For now, Andy Cook, formerly of Gordon Ramsay at the Conrad Tokyo and Josh Emett of Gordon Ramsay at the London New York, along with three sushi chefs.

Step 2: Find the restaurant
Drive up and down Sunset, always ending up on Holloway. When you see the Roxy, start watching for Clark. Because if no one bothered to tell you, like the website, or the person who took your reservation, or the person who confirmed your reservation, the sign for San Vincente reads CLARK. Now turn on Clark. Pass the restaurant on your left, remember that it used to be the Bel-Age, say a curseword and hang an illegal U-Turn. Turn into a driveway that is so understated it is practically invisible. Confuse the valets who don’t know that the restaurant is open yet. (Steps 3-7 are below)

Step 3: Marvel at the wonderous decor
It is like ice cream parlour meets funeral parlour with a little Barbarella thrown in. It is impossible to gauge the theme or era of the decor. Edwardian space-age? The bloop-y lounge music makes it feel like The Milk Bar from a Clockwork Orange. For some strange reason it seems as if Michael Caine circa 1968 is about to round the corner any minute.

Step 4: Figure out the menu
In a take on the tapas-sushi-small plates craze, the menu is not divided into courses, but price ranges with little rhyme nor reason. Although the server states that the lighter courses are near the beginning, they are not. Hog’s head and rack of lamb are not light dishes. Chilled pea soup and Caprese are not heavier dishes. There is also a tasting menu if you prefer.

Don’t fault the server for not always knowing what is on your plate – they are not given tastings or even fed cheaper variations on your meal for their group meal. Some of them have never eaten anything in the restaurant before. In addition, the menu is often not descriptive enough, offering simply foie gras when what arrives is actually pate de foie gras.

The small plates, a variation of the bar menu at the London New York, have their problems. One problem is that small plates get cold very, very quickly. It is about surface area and heat dissipation, if I remember high school physics. Cold mashed potatoes are BAD.

Step 5: Take a chance
Duck tongues, really? Really? It is like something out of Monty Python, “I’ll have the lark’s tongues and kitten ears, please, with a side of peacock vomit.” Maybe the weird decor is supposed to hint at a palace in Rome during the middle-ages The upside to the menu is that it gives people a chance to stretch their culinary boundaries a little and try something new. The downside is the precious little geometric shapes are sometimes laughable. Make sure to dine with someone who has a sense of humor, as this is going to be kind of funny.

Step 6: Don’t sweat the small stuff
Your fork is on the wrong side of the table, your server doesn’t know what’s on your plate, no one refills your water glass, and when they do, the napkin that they shield the glass with has disgusting stains on it, you have to ask before your plates are cleared every single time, and the coffee takes forever to arrive. Relax. They are new here. Give them time. It’s not like Gordon Ramsay is known for being a perfectionist or anything.

Step 7: Whip out your gold card
Prepare to shell out about 150 bucks a person, 250 bucks if you drank a lot, which definitely improves the experience. Hopefully the A&R guy from England is putting it on his room, because that is who I imagine you must be eating with. But it might be worth it this one time. Just for the fun of it. Now you know what duck’s tongues taste like. Chicharrones. Almost exactly like chicharrones.

For my complete review with loads more pictures, go to LAist

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Millie’s

Posted on July 10, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Once upon a time Millie’s was the only game in town. Sure, there was the House of Pies and the coffee shop on Sunset that is now some kind of brewpub — but no one ever went there. Millie’s had a strong family vibe. Everyone in the neighborhood considered it home. Most of the servers were local musicians, and everyone knew each other. Then new restaurants started popping up all over town, and when Millie’s changed hands around 8 years ago, it was the final nail in the coffin. Millie’s fell off the map.

Recently an old local came into town, and feeling nostalgic, we returned to our old haunt. I couldn’t believe it. There was al fresco dining, so the seating was not as cramped, and the wait was not so long. The servers were still super cool and the food was — better. Much better. I remember one day 15 years ago when I wanted fresh avocado for my omelette, and my friend walked over to the produce stand on the corner to pick one up for me.

Not anymore. Fresh fruits and vegetables are in abundance at Millie’s. The Avocado is at that rare peak of ripeness that only lasts 2 days. The fruit salad was sweet and the fruit was tender and soft without being gushy. Everything was at its peak.

The Devil’s Mess:

There is plenty on the menu to please carnivores and vegans alike. Low carb, low-fat, and even biscuits and gravy — they’ve got it all. I am particularly fond of the scrambles with toppings, which they call a “mess” I don’t know why phrases like “garbage plate” and “mess” are so appealing. It’s either the little kid or the biker in me.

If I had to categorize their food I would call it a cross between California Fresh and American Regional. Besides Southern biscuits and gravy, they serve a hangtown fry, corned beef hash, chilaquiles, and a salmon benedict.

But the regional favorite I had to try out on my last visit was the chicken friend steak. Like eggs benedict, it is a true test of a kitchen’s skill. And they came through. The pounded steak stayed crispy even under the blanket of thick (and rich) gravy. The potatoes may appear a little burned, but they are just right. Their biscuits are light and fluffy, like angel’s breath.

My most recent dining companion, LAist’s own Lindsay, chose the Eleanor R (Two eggs over-easy, cheddar cheese, over a layer of rosemary potatoes, salsa, guacamole, and sour cream) for which I was grateful. I had been curious to try that dish. But the name made me think of Eleanor Rigby, which made it seem too lonely. Maybe they should change the name to Eleanor G (I think you’re swell…”) Later I learned it was named for Eleanor roosevelt. Again, everything on the Eleanor R was excellent. The only complaint was that the eggs arrived cold. My own eggs weren’t really hot either, but I spend so much time taking pictures and yapping with waitresses I’ve become accustomed to eating cold food.

The chocolate chip pancakes were killer, even if I could only try a little bite. They were light and fluffy without being too thick and heavy. Lindsay was not so impressed. She felt the use of dark chocolate was a bit much. And supertasters are sensitive to that kind of bitterness.

For those of you with special dietary needs, Millie’s offers The Angel’s Mess (tofu scrambled with vegan sausage and casein-free soy cheese. Served with your choice of bread and a delectable fruit cup). The tofu scramble (colorful seasonal vegetables, tofu marinated in a sesame ginger soy sauce served on a bed of soy sauce) does not specifically say vegan, but that would be my bet.

They also have some delicious-looking oatmeal, omelettes, and a variations on a special called “the regular” which is kind of like a “Grand Slam”.

Overall, I was extremely impressed by the quality of the food, the cooking skills, and the good service. That coffee cup was never empty. The variety is practically on the level of Jerry’s Deli. It is rare that I look at a menu and want to try practically everything on it. I will be back soon to check out the intriguing Jackie G (Three scrambled eggs with cream cheese, scallions and sherry wine).

Of course, I only eat at Millie’s on weekedays. It is a brave diner who attempts to hit this place on a weekend, when the crowd, true to the name, are always milling about.

The most man ray menu in town

see you next time!

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4th of July in Leimert Park

Posted on July 7, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

4th of July the parking lot behind Vision Theater was home to Leimert park’s annual jazz festival. Music, dancing, and shopping were main attractions.

But the real question was – what was there to eat? Marilyn’s had a stand there, and it was nice to not have to wait in a line around the block for once. The turkey leg was probably the best thing I’ve eaten in awhile. The sides were satisfactory, but paled in comparison to the tender turkey.

Shabazz had the wings and fish cooking, but we were more interested in the bean pie man. Although this cobbler looked out-of-sight, the blueberry pie is a rarity and you’ve got to get it while you can.

The sun was merciless, so we took a break in 5th Street Dicks for some smoothies and ended up hanging out in the AC to watch Dave Chapelle with everybody.

There is a promising new creole restaurant opening up in the site of the “fake” M&Ms.

Dray’s BBQ is there at the Farmer’s market every Saturday morning. We picked up some ribs and a tri tip sandwich for the road.

People showed varying degrees of patriotism via T-shirt

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Oh Canada! Wednesday: Home Again Home Again

Posted on July 2, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Wednesday walked into town for lunch with Jeanette before heading to the airport.

We had lunch at a homespun diner called The Maid’s Cottage. My Shepherd’s pie was homey, and would have been perfect if not for the mixed frozen vegetables. My mom, in a moment of indecision, fell under my bad influence and ordered herself both a stuffed cabbage AND a meat pie.

My aunt had a more dainty soup-sandwich combo. The service was super-friendly. It’s the kind of place you want to find when you are travel-weary or ill. A little hot soup, fresh-baked bread and mothering. They also had meat pies and small pre-packaged homemade dinners, a nice convenience for singles and senior citizens.

Their bakery section also boasted the “world’s best” butter tarts. They were definitely the biggest. They boast about a secret ingredient, but if I had to bet the farm I would guess Lyle’s Golden Syrup.

My aunt worked at this restaurant for about 30 years.

This little English shop sold meat pies, and my favorite – Thai Lime Chili chips!

It was a beautiful day so I took a lot of pictures of wildflowers along the way. This first picture reminds me of the easter Ideals magazines my mother used to buy.

It was hard for me to say goodbye, but I know it was much harder for them

Posted in toronto | 2 Comments

Oh Canada! Tuesday: The Last Supper

Posted on July 1, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Tuesday was our last night in Ontario. Another cousin and his very witty girlfriend took us out for dinner. When someone else is treating, you go where you are taken. So in spite of buffets having a bad reputation of quantity over quality, we went to a Chinese buffet.

Wow. I could definitely see why they were so excited to go there. This was not like any buffet I have been to. The room was tasteful and chic. They had those cool old Mai Tai/Singapore Sling placemats so I knew it was going to be good.

They had a huge assortment. Of everything. I chose to avoid the seafood and sushi, since no one can do everything well. These popular sections are never a good idea. The ribs and chicken were fantastic. They had an excellent assortment of noodle dishes as well.

The dim sum was impressive. These were beautiful, even if the red bean paste filling was a little dry. The desserts also tend to be an area of disappointment in buffets. Their table was hit and miss. Some of the selections were fantastic, some were ho-hum and some were so bizarre they had me enthralled.

Isn’t Jell-o one of the most psychedelic things ever?

So that night I fell asleep for the last time listening to my mom and aunt reminiscing about their childhoods. Every single story seemed to start with, “Remember the time the cow got out? And Mother was so mad?””

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Oh Canada! Monday: Of Rugs and Roti

Posted on June 26, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

On Monday we hooked up with my dad’s side of the family and went to the Museum of Textiles.

There was a demo/participation display and since it was unattended, my mom walked over and started weaving to show my uncle and cousin how the machine worked. It completely blew their minds. Of course it also completely blew their minds that I photograph my food. Welcome to our world! Sorry, there is no guidebook.

One of the current exhibits, Rugs of War was extremely heavy. It was comprised of rugs woven in Afghanistan during the Soviet occupation. It was really strange to see little tanks and guns in place of birds and blossoms.

I realized I hadn’t eaten anything all day and it was after 4 o’clock. So I ran around the corner to a Roti shop I had noticed. A roti is an East Indian flatbread similar to a tortilla. In the West Indes, they are stuffed and made into a sort of burrito, also referred to as a “roti”. East meets West.

As I often do in unfamiliar territory, I asked the lady to just make it as if she were making it for herself. I ended up with curried chicken and something like daal. It was genius. I wish we had roti shops here; I would eat them for lunch every day.

Wanting to show us a nice time, our relatives drove us to the picturesque nearby town of Mississauga, pronounced Mrs. Saga. We walked along the water, then had dinner at their favorite place – Snug harbour. It was just like a movie location, “Find me a seaside restaurant! I need more life preservers on the walls!”

The local fish was catfish from Lake Erie. Although it was cooked with Cajun seasonings, it was very different than the catfish from the salt water in the Gulf of Mexico. It was much cleaner-tasting (ironic, coming from Lake Erie). It was missing that appealing muddy flavor that probably explains why children like to eat dirt.

Posted in Canada, toronto | 1 Comment

My Word Cloud

Posted on June 24, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Strange things happen when you Google yourself. I write for a group blog – mostly restaurant and music reviews, photo essays and a few hard news items. I didn’t realize there are journalism watch sites tracking every word you write.

Anyways, I love my word cloud. MAKE MEAT, POTATO PUNK. TASTE THAI THINGS, TURKEY!

angeles art band beans butter cheese chicken chocolate cook cream cupcakes dia didnt dish dont drinking eat festival food friends good halloween haunt hot kind laist make meat megan menu music myspace night northridge park people photo pic pie place potatoes punk recipe red restaurant rock room sauce served show song sugar taco tamale taste thai things turkey water watts

I am a little puzzled by the topics list. I only mentioned Florence Henderson and Eric Idle twice. I had lunch with Pat Boone ONCE and now it’s going to follow me around for the rest of my life? Thank God for Christmas!

Most Frequently Mentioned Topics:
Megan Meier
Los Angeles
Lori Drew
Long Beach
Hollywood
Eric Idle
Florence Henderson
Pat Boone
Mike Watt
Christmas

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Oh Canada! Sunday: I Go over Niagara Falls

Posted on June 4, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Sunday the weather was on our side and my mom, Auntie Jeanette and I were able to take a helicopter tour over Niagara Falls. So technically speaking, I went over Niagara Falls – sans barrel.

The view from outside

The view from within

This is my favorite place by the falls. I don’t want to see the gorgeous view from across the water. I like to stand right at the edge, a breath away from going over.

I love the “world’s biggest” anything!

This building looked like a bucket of KFC (Whatever it is I think I see, becomes a KFC to me!)

We looked around a bit, and everyone was patient while I snapped some pics of the local Buddhist monastery.

 

We hitched a ride back to Newmarket with my cousin and his wife. When the subject of lunch came up, there were vague murmurs of Tim Horton’s emanating from the back seat. What is up with Tim Horton’s? Are they putting crack in it? But no one wanted to be the one to make a fuss. I sensed a sudden power vacuum, and nature abhors a vacuum. I pulled out my list of restaurants and seized the reins. California sandwiches, a new place I had heard good things about, was conveniently on the way.

As we sat at a stoplight I noticed a Tim Horton’s. Curses! I tried to decide whether or not to fake a seizure. But the resulting uprising was easily quelled without the need for diversionary tactics.

It turned out California sandwiches was closed Sundays, but it is so popular we weren’t the only ones standing in the parking lot. Another thwarted customer recommended Francesco’s Foods just down the street on Clayhill, which turned out to be a real find.

Francesco’s veal and chicken cutlets were crispy and delicious, topped with melted cheese and marinara sauce.

The steak sandwich was mind-blowing. The meat was so tender. I was so focused on the veal cutlet when I ordered I didn’t even notice they had panzarotti. My loss.

I asked Rae, at the counter, what cut of beef they used for the steak sandwich. He came back with, “What? You want me to give you the recipe for the red sauce too?” I love a challenge. We bantered back and forth for a little while and finally he showed me where the cut was on his own body (Sorry, I’m sworn to secrecy). I looked up and realized everyone else was sitting in the car, purses in laps, staring straight ahead. Wait! We can’t leave yet! I’m over here falling in love! And what is the secret to the red sauce?

Back in Newmarket, I found a coffeshop with wireless so I could start uploading photos. On the way home, I asked the taxi cab to take me somewhere good to pick up something to eat. He took me here. It was in a strip mall with an adult bookstore.

Proximity to New York definitely paid off.

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Oh Canada! Saturday: In Which Musical Theater Nearly Does Me In

Posted on June 3, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Saturday my mom and I went to Niagara Helicopters Limited, but the copters were grounded due to inclement weather.

On the way back, we passed by the Evel Knievel Daredevil Museum. My cousin said, “I suppose you want to stop there.” Are you kidding me? It was also a thrift store – score! 15 dollars poorer, one funny sign and crazy hat later, we were back on the road.

I don’t know what any of this has to do with Evel Knievel. But it was behind a velvet rope.

The camel toe wouldn’t fit in my luggage

We passed a cool motel that looked EXACTLY like the motel from Psycho. If I hadn’t seen the real Psycho set, I’d swear that’s where they filmed it. So when we counted heads and came up one bed short, I volunteered to stay at the Bates Motel. I wanted to take pictures inside the room. No one would let me stay there, something about drugs and hookers. So they found me a room at the Old Stone Inn.

That night we had tickets to “Oh Canada, Eh!” It was an unfortunate pick – probably my worst case of bad judgement this trip. I had heard the food was actually good, and it looked like it was going to be kitschy in a cool, drag-queen kind of way.

Instead it was a theme restaurant, like Medieval Times. Imagine Bear Country Jamboree meets Waiting for Guffman. Along with cheesy acting and the anticipated stereotypes (they even had a “newfie”), the hypercheerful music was unrelenting. The French Canadian accents were just painful. How in the hell did they manage that? You can’t throw a rock in Ontario without hitting someone with a real French Canadian accent.

For dinner there was a watery pea soup and mediocre salad that they comically cleared while I was still eating it. I just poked at everything else – a platter of mixed Canadian food – fried fish that wasn’t so bad, chicken, some of the worst beef ever, and I forget what else. Maybe I will recover the memory in therapy. You may wonder where the food photos are – well, I had a broken lens that wouldn’t focus on anything within three feet of me – be grateful.

At the end of the meal, they offered “Squirrel cake” Squirrel cake? Really? Although I’m sure my ancestors probably did eat squirrel, I must have heard them wrong. It turns out it was swirl cake. Chocolate and maple. Yeah, maple. The most intense, awful, maple badness ever. We all tried to be subtle as we spit it out. I wish it was squirrel cake.

It was kind of a relief when they cleared the dessert dishes, since it meant that the show was almost over. Not so fast, Missy. It went on and on and on. I went outside and started making phone calls during the Gordon Lightfoot tribute.

Keeping with the Psycho theme, there was some appetizing taxidermy on the walls.

The room at the Old Stone Inn was beautiful. Definitely a nice place to stay in Niagara Falls. It was right near a party row. Hunger and lots of people yelling wooohoooh drew me out of my room. Especially since my plan to get drugs and hookers at the Bates Motel had been thwarted.

Hello? Halal Indian Food and Evil Psycho Clown. May I help you?

I happened upon this place on Clark Avenue simply called Indian Buffet Restaurant. It was too good to be true. An Indian buffet open til midnight? Score. As I stood there considering my choices, one of the waiters approached me, “You are so beautiful. I will make you anything you want – special.” Amongst my many superpowers, I seem to have the strange ability to mesmerize East Indian men. Friends who have witnessed this power in action attribute it to my red hair. Others think it has something to do with my breasts.

“How about a garlic naan?”

“Anything for you!”

“OK, then, TWO garlic naan!”

When you are a lone traveler, the desk clerk is your best friend. The clerk at the Inn was so sweet, when he saw my take-out bag he took my food in the back and put it on covered plates with real silver as if I had ordered it from room service. So I curled up for the night with a 10.99 movie and my riches of naan. Swank.

Ontario does love its phallic symbols

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Oh Canada! Friday Night: April Wine and May Poutine

Posted on June 2, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

At the “Springilicious Festival” in Niagara Falls, Ontario, we met up with my cousin’s work friends and started drinking. One friend introduced himself to me by saying, “Hi. I’m John. I play bass.” (Did I mention that I play guitar?”)

I had to come back with, “Did you hear about the drummer who locked himself in the van?”

“No”

“It took the bass player an hour to get him out.”

“Why?”

One drawback to my dawdling in Buffalo was that by the time it occurred to me to check out the food most of the booths were closing up. The Haitian booth was still open. The lady at the booth was shy about my camera, but I flattered her and then showed her the picture and offered to erase it of she didn’t like it. She blushed charmingly and waved me away.

I thought I ordered a curried chicken, but ended up with some kind of fritter and fried plantains.

After a short break to eat the mystery fritter, I stood up and picked up my bag, and the camera just flew out, end over end, smashing into the concrete. It didn’t happen in slow motion, as dramatic as that would have been. Luckily, I was hanging out with techie-minded engineers who physically pushed the lens back in. I now was forced to shoot in Manual mode for the first time ever.

As a result, the rest of the pictures in this series are going to be compromised as I am forced to learn Manual mode. The photos are all wacky, as I am often unaware that the setting is off and cannot make the broken lens focus on anything less than 3 feet away. Later, back in LA, when I had to cough up for a new lens, they sold me a lens filter to try and counteract my cavalier attitude towards my gear. The woman added, “The cover has UV protection too, so that’s good.”

I asked, “So I don’t get cancer in that one eye?”

She just stared at me, like, “How do you even walk around without hurting yourself?”

Sad as I was about the camera, ice cream makes everything better. The gelato booth even had nougat, an uncommon flavor and definitely better than chocolate.

When I had heard that April Wine was playing, the name sounded so familiar, but I didn’t know any of their songs offhand. I had thought it would be like Jethro Tull or Lord Sutch. It turned out to be more of a hair band, like bands that pronounce “higher” as “Hiyaaahhh.” I asked one of the guys when I should expect the power ballad.

“Probably any time now.”

“How many times do they say the word ‘lady’?”

“This isn’t Styx.’

“I know. But it’s the third law of the power ballad that it must include the word ‘lady'”

So I was really gratified to hear this song. So gratified I had to go find that guy and point at the stage and raise my eyebrows at him. Because I am such a lady. Or could have been.

Could have been alright, could have been here tonight
Could have been sweet as wine, you could have been a lady
I could have been alright, I could have been here tonight
Could have been sweet as wine, you could have been a lady

It’s disturbingly catchy.

“I could have been allllriiiight…could have been here toniiiiight…could have been sweet as wiiiine….you could have been a ladyyyyy.”

In fact it kind of reminded me of my favorite song from The Office.

“…so wrong so right all night, alright, oh yeah. Oh yeah”

We stopped off for drunk food at Somebuddy’s Casual Family Dining. It was a little Hooters-esque, but I have no problem with cute girls in short shorts sexily wiping down tables. And hey, they had poutine – official drunk food of the great white north.

In a segment on the television series “This Hour Has 22 Minutes” during the 2000 American election, Rick Mercer convinced then-Governor of Texas George W. Bush that Canada’s Prime Minister, Jean Chrétien, was named Jean Poutine. – Wikipedia

This was definitely one of my stranger moments in food porn. Imagine me insistently slurring, “Wait! Wait! Don’t touch the poutine! I have to get my signature shot!”

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Oh Canada! Friday: Bye Bye Buffalo

Posted on June 1, 2008 by Kiki Maraschino

Friday I headed over to Charlie the Butcher’s. You place your order at the counter where the day’s side dishes are displayed. The set-up allows you to ogle the carving station from anywhere in the restaurant. An old man sitting near me heckled the carver, “Slice it thicker!” It wasn’t even his sandwich. You tell ’em, old boy!

My roast beef arrived in big slices so tender it was nearly falling apart. The beef is served on a weck (kummelweck), a kaiser roll dotted with kosher salt and caraway seeds. It is without a doubt one of the top five sandwiches I have ever eaten. If I had never been to New Orleans, it would probably be number one. Various mustards and horseradish are available to gild the lily.

Charlie’s a butcher – not a baker

Did anyone else see The Shining?

Right across from Charlie’s was another graveyard. Seriously, they just find me. I remember as a kid begging my dad to stop at a cemetery on a boring car trip. He said, “Someday you’re going to spend an awfully long time in one of those places. I don’t see any reason to start now.”

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I stopped off at my hotel and decided after missing my last ride, I should call the next cousin early to organize Saturday’s transportation. It turned out there was a huge festival in Niagara Falls that weekend and he could pick me up in a few hours at the rental car place while shopping. Rock concert? Tasting booths from local restaurants? You don’t have to ask me twice. Of course I didn’t realize that by leaving I would be missing the world’s biggest fish fry. Dang.

I packed faster than I have ever packed in my life so I wouldn’t get charged an extra night. In my haste I left the Purple Haze in the minifridge, as well as forgetting my favorite wooly sweater. Sometimes it seems like I spent last month steaming across the continent leaving articles of clothing and artisanal cheeses in my wake.

On the way to Niagara Falls, I would be passing a Ted’s. The first Ted’s was opened in a tool shed in 1927. I’m like a kid hearing the siren song of the ice cream truck. I am just not responsible for my own actions. “Ermm, sorry I’m late. There was this foot-long calling my name…” I could only finish half of my charcoal-grilled dog. I was still full from lunch at Charlie’s. An embarassment of riches.

I bought a jar of their amazing spicy-hot pepper relish, but was disappointed to discover that they don’t can them, so the relish has to be kept refrigerated.

How creepy is this motel?

I love bridges!

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