Oh Canada! Sunday: I Go over Niagara Falls

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

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

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

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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Oh Canada! Thursday: Shuffle off to Buffalo

Amongst all the confusion of visiting this cousin and that cousin, I somehow ended up missing the ride to the next destination. I looked at the railroad map and realized that we were all supposed to meet up eventually in Niagara Falls, so why didn’t I just take a little side trip to Buffalo for some hot wings?

The train trip wasn’t that long, but they kept us at the border forever, so I managed to read an entire book on the way. Luckily I had packed up some of the fruit and cheese I’d bought from the markets, so I had a nice picnic instead of microwaved train burgers.

A Scottish couple sitting behind me bitched the entire way about every little thing. You can even hear them quietly bitching in the background of a video I took of the bridge.

I rented an SUV with GPS in Buffalo and almost immediately started talking back to the disembodied voice. The Courtyard by Marriott I’d booked was right by the freeway (damn you, google maps!). The room was spartan compared to the Westin, but it was comfortable and had these groovy lamps.

The view from my room:

I went for a drive and passed a cemetery. They aren’t set apart and surrounded by hedges and walls like they are here. There is a block of houses, then a block of gravestones, then another block of houses. It’s like every vacant lot has been turned into a little cemetery.

I stopped in at Wegman’s for supplies. I love Wegman’s; they even had Purple Haze cheese.

For dinner I hit Duff’s. Even though hot wings were invented at The Anchor Bar, Duff’s has a reputation for serving the best wings in Buffalo. The room was crowded and raucus. Teenage boys videotaped each other in hot wing eating contests for YouTube.

The floor looked clean, but was really slippery. I shuffled over to a waitress and asked why it was so slippery. Without missing a beat, she shrugged and replied, “Chicken grease.”

The menu warns:

Medium is HOT

Medium Hot is VERY HOT

Hot is VERY VERY HOT

I ordered ten Medium wings to fill me up and 10 Hot wings for the adventure. I ordered a side of milk, which is my secret weapon for eating spicy food.

The medium wings were incindiary. I moved on to the hot, and wasn’t that impressed. I guess it’s like getting punched in the face. The difference between getting punched really hard and getting punched really, really hard isn’t that noticable.

I found myself longing for Bob’s hot wings. He cuts the heat with lemon and gives them a final pass in the broiler to fuse the sauce onto the wings. It’s funny how you have to travel so far only to discover that what you were looking for was right there at home all along.

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Oh Canada! Wednesday Continued: Canoe Canoe

Canoe is a well-reviewed restaurant serving nouvelle Canadian cuisine. It is part of a restaurant group similar to Patina. I was surprised to be dropped off at a high-rise office building with instructions to take an elevator up to the top floor.

Sometimes I order things that sound strange because I am daring the restaurant to make it taste good, which is how I ended up drinking a “Locust.” It is a combination of Grasshopper wheat beer, ginger ale, and Limoncello. And you know what? It worked. Far better than a shandy. After that one experiment, I went for my usual champagne – they had my favorite, Perrier Jouet with the flowers on it.

I started with a chowder of Ontario fiddlehead ferns and BC spot prawns. Fiddleheads are kind of like asparagus, only grassier, maybe a little like pea shoots. It was topped with a wild leek and yukon rouille, a Provencial French sauce for soups. Yes, only the French would think a soup needs a sauce.

Next I was a little daring and had a plate from the tasting menu – Potato gnocchi with crispy sweetbreads and foie gras. The sauce/foam was rich with cream and morel mushrooms. The person who was delivering plates and explaining the ingredients had a very strong French-Candian accent, and I couldn’t understand hardly anything he said. In the dim restaurant, it was difficult to make out what was what. The waiter, who I was loving, was staring at the plate trying to help me make out the individual ingredients. You know you are in an expensive restaurant when the waiter is willing to stand and ponder your dinner with you. Suddenly I remembered in a pack-for-emergencies moment I had thrown a Mag light in my bag. So I shone a spotlight on the dish, sweetbreads were identified, and voila!

I was brought an intermezzo of a celery foam. I expected a light refreshing palate cleanser, but there was a layer of salt on top that was so intense, instead my palate received an intensive salt scrub by a vicious Swedish masseuse. Uncle! Uncle! I’m cleansed! My palate is immaculate! I give in!

For my main dish I ordered the bison striploin with North woods mushrooms, confit potatoes and a peppercorn sauce that was similar to a bernaise. There was such a treasure trove of exciting new mushrooms to try – Black trumpet, cinnamon cap, yellow foot, blue foot, and more, that I ate them all before I remembered to take a picture. The confit potatoes were so delicious I am just going to start cooking everything in duck fat from now on. Meatloaf? Confit! Apple pie? Confit!

The buffalo was lovely – kind of like beef with a taste of the wild. It’s strange that I am not usually a fan of game, but I love buffalo. Maybe it is my native roots. Or maybe it is the fact that when I was growing up my mom had a freezer stuffed full of buffalo meat. I never knew where it came from. Or if it was really buffalo. Recently when I asked about it she told me she had traded for it.

Check out this crazy Dr Seuss garnish

I only have one memory of my great-grandmother Hopkins. We were at a rare family picnic somewhere in BC. I was asking her what saskatoons looked like. She said, “Well, they look…like that!” We had stumbled upon some wild bushes and picked enough to bring back to the picnic. Canoe had a dessert that came with saskatoons, which the waiter was kind enough to bring me on the side, and they made me a little maudlin.

I have been going easy on desserts, but I had to try Sticky Toffee Pudding made with Glen Breton Rare Whiskey, Toffee Sauce and Parsnip ice cream. Seriously. Standing alone, the parsnip ice cream was successful, but didn’t do anything for me. When my waiter convinced me to try it together with everything in one bite, it did actually make it good. Trippy. This is the third time in a month I have seen kumquats in a fancy restaurant, so I guess they are an up-and-coming fruit.

I loved the service, I loved the atmosphere and I loved the food. I loved the chef, Anthony Walsh, so much I sent him a glass of champagne. The dishes were all creative, but based upon local ingredients. They definitely disproved the theory that restaurants with views all suck.

Downstairs there were two city blocks of taxis waiting. Normally you go to the first taxi in the line, but it was cold, and that first taxi was really far away. So I opened the door of the nearest taxi and asked what the pecking order was. He said there wasn’t one, so I hopped in. Within seconds, there was another cabbie at the driver’s window, screaming in his face that he was stealing fares and he knew I should go in the first taxi. I thought about getting out and going to the first taxi, but then the guy screamed in the window, “I am going to fucking stomp your fucking face in!” I didn’t really want to get in his taxi after that. So my cabbie and I drove off with the guy still grabbing at the window.

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Oh Canada! Wednesday: Dim Sum and other Delights

Wednesday I woke up and headed straight to Lai Wah Heen. It is quite possibly the best dim sum in Toronto. At the very least it is definitely the most elegant. The elevators have different paintings but I love this one because it looks as if they are deciding what button to press.

The menu is filled with exotic and glamourous-sounding temptations that sometimes border on the mysterious, as with the “rainbow chopped in crystal fold” and the “Billionaire egg white fried rice flavoured with shredded conpoy.” The pan-seared foie gras arrived with a sweet sauce, mildly touched with ginger alongside tempura asparagus.

I ordered the shark fin soup – just because. The dumpling was really the star of the dish. The shark’s fin were long strands of clear straw like Barbie hair. Mmmm, cartilagenous.

The dumplings pictured starting on the left are the Phoenix eye purse (fish maw and sprouts), steamed crabmeat, corn and cured ham dumpling, chicken and scallion, and steamed duckling dumpling with foie gras. The Phoenix eye purse was interesting looking, but did not stand out. It was adorable that the corn dumpling was folded to look like an ear of corn, but the simple chicken and scallion was actually the best of the dim sum.

It is so wrong that the duckling dumpling is made to look like a little duck – but in a good way. The foie gras flavor was so mild as to almost be absent.

The chilled duo of lychee and jasmine tea puddings was clever and definitely tasted like tea. They were probably made with agar agar.

Afterwards, I checked out the Bata Shoe Museum. It not only had the pop culture and fashion shoes I expected, but a number of interesting anthropological exhibits.

Bowie’s shoes from the “Serious Moonlight Tour”. I wanted to smash the glass and steal them so I could burn them and salt the ground so nothing could ever suck that badly again.

I took a cab over to Kensington market. My cabbie was from Trinidad, so we sang calypso songs along the way. He got so caught up in singing, he forgot to put on the meter. He offered me a free ride, but I know they are hard up so I gave him a fair sum and asked for a recommendation for a Trini restaurant.

Kensington Market has a lot of cool hipster and hippie shops, like Blue Banana.

I especially enjoyed a store called Blue Banana where I bought some gifts for friends back home and some bath bombs to spoil myself.

A fellow Roadfooder had recommended the debrezini sausage at European Meats and Sausages. By the time I got there near closing they were out of debrezini, so I enjoyed a knockwurst, which was scored and resembled a stegasaurus tail in a bun.

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Toronto Wednesday: Spadina

The neighborhood around Spadina was the epitome of eclecticism. On one corner alone was a Korean place, pho, and dim sum. I took a quick break in Rol San, the dim sum joint. I ordered a Tsing Tao, and I wasn’t that hungry so I asked for the deep fried crab claw and an order of dumplings.

Soon a guy who looked like David Crosby and a heavily wasted girl in a Ramones jacket sat behind me. She whined at him in a cheap English accent, “BUDDY, I feel awful, Buddy, I feel dirty.” He tried to get her to lower her voice, “Relax we’re across the border now. It’s over.” His voice had an ominous midwestern undertone like Steven Jesse Bernstein. She would not let up, “But Buddeeeeee, BADeeeee, I feel sooo awful, you know, so bad.” Soon they were bickering over 20 dollars and the entire room stared. I didn’t dare turn around, and waved for my check before I finished my beer. The waiter who had been so accomodating now treated me coldly, as if I had brought them in with me.

I took the dumplings to go, and later abandoned them in the room when I left, so the only thing I really remember about the food was how spongy the shrimp around the crab claw was – somewhere between a shrimp chip and styrofoam packing peanuts. For some reason they made me think about the Australian Kiwi birds and what they would look like deep-fried.

They did have an extremely cool poster on the wall

Next door was a little dim sum bakery called Dong Dong Pastries – how could I resist? I picked up a few treats for later.

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Oh Canada! Tuesday – In Which I Run off to the Big City

On Tuesday I took off for a little solo exploration. I lucked into a killer room at the Westin Harbour Castle – if you are going to Toronto, this is definitely the place to stay.

 

The view from my room:

I headed over to the St Lawrence Market to Paddington’s for a peameal sandwich. Remember the backbacon Bob and Doug McKenzie were always talking about? This is real Canadian back bacon.

Butter tarts are a Canadian specialty similar to pecan tarts. They can be served simply, but are usually baked with raisins and walnuts in the filling.

 

Cheese-stuffed peppers

At the St Lawrence Wine Market the process of pressing ice wine was explained to me in a strong  accent, “We have to wait until the grapes, they freeze for THREE days. Then we hand-pick the grapes. Then we press the grapes. You get ONE DROP of liquid from each grape. With the red wines, you have to get the skin. You know how hard it is to get a drop of liquid from a frozen grape skin?” Because I am a sucker for a colorful story, and because it did sound pretty hard I bought the wine.

Alex Farms, whose theme was “An adventure in cheese” had an interesting Guinness cheese.

That night I had dinner at the Asian fusion restaurant Monsoon

 

I was surprised to see such a well-reviewed restaurant so empty. But that turned out to be the case for most of Toronto. Tourist traffic is down and cabbies were fighting over my fare.

I ordered a flight of sake. They had 2 flights, as well as wine flights.  The Tozai “well of wisdon” was very gentle. Onokoroshi junmai daiginjo “demon slayer” sake had one hell of a kick. It had a “raw silk” texture. I am still not a big fan, although I enjoyed the Moonstone Asian pear-infused sake. The Nigori Pearl antique-style, which was roughly filtered, was kind of like what I imagine the liquor you make in prison by spitting on fruit must be like.

I started with a dim sum platter that was kind of a disappointment. The chicken satay was fine, but the beef satay was pure gristle. If you’re only going to offer one single bite of beef, it should be the perfect bite. The fried shrimp dumpling, Thai fish cake and salt-cured salmon with the texture of tapioca weren’t worth more than a test bite. But the papaya salad was refreshing and delicious.

The tempura vegetables cooled quickly, and probably should have arrived as an appetizer instead of a side dish.

Pork belly is normally served in French restaurants; it worked well with Vietnamese flavors.

I wasn’t sure what to do with myself after dinner. But I looked up and the answer was right in front of me.

I am not a stereotype

So I have to stand in this Star Trek thing and the guy says “I’m going to check you for explosives”

Suddenly, hard jets of air hit me right in the face and I make a sound like, “Aughhhh!”

The guy says, I told you I was going to check you for explosives.”

I asked, “Why would I hide explosives on my face???”

Phallic symbol, what?

 

 

 

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Oh Canada! Monday – Small town life

Monday

The company was founded in 1931 by Walter P. Zeller as “stores for thrifty Canadians”. The chain began with the purchase of the fourteen Canadian locations of American retailer Schulte-United, all of which are in southeastern Ontario. Almost immediately, Zellers began an aggressive expansion strategy, and within 25 years operated sixty stores, and employed 3000 people.

Today, Zellers operates stores from St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador, to Victoria, British Columbia, and employs over 35,000 people. Almost every Zellers location features a pharmacy and an in-store restaurant, the 1950s themed Zellers Family Diner.

Multi-level stores are gradually being equipped with a new, state-of-the-art shopping cart system known as the “Cartveyor”, which is designed to transport carts between floors next to a standard escalator.-Wikipedia

I ate this. Actually I poked it with a stick. I won’t go into detail.

You can buy anything you want at Zeller’s

Apparently, even something nice for your grave.

I wandered around the mall, and after perusing the bookstore I found a Laura Secord chocolate shop.

The women working the counter were playing a strange game of good chocolatier/bad chocolatier. The first lady smiled and tried to be helpful, rushing to get a bag as I ordered a cardamom truffle. The second lady looked up from stocking shelves to interject in a warning tone, “It tastes like cinnamon.” Ummm, OK. I ordered one each of the more adventurous flavors. The second woman looked up again and admonished, “They cost A DOLLAR each.” Umm, OK, lady.

I asked Nice Chocolatier if they had a guide booklet so I would know what the flavors were later. Nope. No guide. So I asked if I could photograph the cases so I would remember the flavors. After getting permission from Good Chocolatier, Bad Chocolatier yelled at me for taking these pictures, “They don’t like it.” Maybe they don’t publish a guide or like photographs taken because Recchiutti might notice that they totally ripped off their style.

Down a few shops. I had a better experience with Purdy’s, a popular chocolate company out of Vancouver. The lady at the counter was friendly, and all the customers chatted with each other. The whimsical little hedgehogs are rich with chocolate and hazelnut. In true Canadian fashion, they had maple leaf chocolates and ice wine truffles.

Opa, a pretty good franchise, had a stall at the food court. I needed sustinence, having just pushed my sliders and gravy around the plate. I ordered up a fava bean gyro, which was similar to falafel.

At dusk I went for a walk around the lake. I saw some adorable Canadian goslings by the side of the road. They are everywhere. Naturally.

I also fell in love with the old Crosley Shelvador refrigerator in my aunt’s garage. Its door handle opens with a plunger mechanism, like a hypodermic needle.



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Oh Canada! Sunday – I am Not Struck by Lightning

Sunday

Today I awakened to a strange whiny sound. My aunt asked, “Did the geese wake you up?” We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Actually, I guess we ARE in Kansas. Newmarket, Ontario, Kansas to be exact.

My aunt’s grand-daughter, Catherine, had her confirmation today. I made it through the long ceremony by reading the entire missal, and was impressed by this quote:

The best prayers often contain more groans than words.

They finally found a way to get me into church:

If this were a calendar, I would have bought it:


The church requests that you don’t drink and drive! Who’s guzzling that much sacrificial wine?

For dinner we went straight to the Crow’s Nest pub where I was sated with a Killians.

My mom ordered the prawns to start. They were nicely charred with a flavorful homemade cocktail sauce. This is only half a serving, because certain people have very fast fingers.

One nice thing about Canada is that you can get peirogies anywhere, including an Irish pub. The creamy potato and cheese filling wasn’t too bland, and the pierogie were deep fried to a lovely crisp and sprinkled with bits of bacon. It was almost like a stuffed potato skin encased in pie dough and deep fried. With sour cream.

A thousand calories later, our main dishes of fish and chips and roast beef arrived. The haddock was dense in contrast to the light batter. The fish squares were more similar to English fish and chips than the American version. The chips were nice as well.

The prime rib was a little overcooked, but still tender. Mom forgot that Canadians cook the hell out of their meat.

It’s important to stay well-armed. The pierogies must be guarded at all costs.

 

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Oh, Canada! Saturday – Less than an Hour from Landing to Tim Horton’s

Saturday

Sometimes I feel like I’m related to half of Canada. My parents come from big farm families; I have seventy-two first cousins on my mother’s side alone. We have relations dotting the eastern and western edges of Canada, with a few provinces in between.

One day my mother and I were driving the long, lonesome plains of Alberta and stopped in at a tiny café. Since phone books in Los Angeles have about 20 pages of people who share my last name, I peeked at the phone book out of curiosity. It was about a quarter-inch thick.

My mom pointed out, “See, that’s your Uncle John. That’s where we’re going. And that one there is his sister.”

I asked, “You mean there are only 3 people in the phone book with our last name and we’re related to two of them?”

She said, “Oh, we’re related to HER too, but we’re not speaking.”

One cousin tells the story of wandering into a hall of records to research the family tree. The desk clerk called into the back for someone to come help her after hearing the family name. The woman just happened to be a second cousin.

As a result, my mother is part if a giant network of Canadians who travel the country, to and from each other’s homes, staying in an endless array of guest rooms. They stay up all night drinking tea and visiting. They hardly ever go out to eat.

These relatives usually don’t understand my aversion to restaurant chains. They don’t understand my dedication to exploring local cuisines. They don’t understand my mission. When I try to explain that I want to eat something that I can’t eat back home, I am usually met with blank stares. They don’t believe Canada has a “local cuisine.” And so Iusually have to make do, Tim Hortons after Tim Hortons. Luckily most of my relatives are excellent cooks.

Auntie Jeanette’s Nanaimo Bars

½ cup melted butter
¼ cup brown sugar
¼ cup cocoa
1 egg, beaten
2 cups Graham cracker crumbs
1 cup shredded coconut
½ cup chopped walnuts
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1/3 cup lemon juice
4 squares semi-sweet chocolate (1 oz. each)
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter

Mix together butter, sugar, cocoa, egg, crumbs, coconut, and walnuts. Press into a 9×9-inch pan.

Combine sweetened condensed milk and lemon juice. Pour over base. Cool in the refrigerator until set.

Melt chocolate and butter over low heat. Cool. Once cool, but still liquid, pour over second layer and chill in refrigerator.

Uncle Pat’s Irish Cream

8 ounces Irish whiskey
1 cup sweetened condensed milk
2 eggs
I Tablespoon chocolate syrup OR ¼ cup Kahlua
1 Tablespoon vanilla.
Blend well. Keep refrigerated.

(You can add 1 cup table cream if you’re a big sissy)

Saturday as we headed to Ontario, I was trying to stay positive, but the trip was grueling. It involved changing planes and hours of walking. We had a Chicago dog from Gold Coast Dogs on our layover – I had a nice Polish dog with Chicago toppings – except I didn’t try the crazy green relish. I like the crunchy exterior and greasy insides. Mom had the dog with the day-glo relish.

The peppers perked me right up.

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The Best Cupcakes in LA???

Last Sunday Eat:Drink:Play hosted a Cupcake Challenge at the Montmartre Lounge. The event was sponsored by Fiji Water, K & L Wine Merchants and KozmoDeck> part of the proceeds were donated to the Elizabeth Glaser Pediatric Aids Foundation. LAist’s own Lindsay William-Ross and Caroline-on-Crack were on the official judging panel, as well as Sophie Gayot (who we all just watched frighten the finalists on Hell’s Kitchen this week), Tara de Lis from Citysearch, and Sam Rubin from KTLA. Guests were also given ballots to vote in three categories.

Thank God they had cheese to cut the sugar and alcohol thanks to Tom Martinez of K&L who kept my glass filled with their sparkling wines. I took the high road while others gorged on cupcakes and got drunk instead.

The ballots worked on a points system 3 points for your 1st pick, 2 points for 2nd pick, 1 point for 3rd pick. 3 categories: Best Traditional, Original and Overall Best. The judges votes were counted as half the score, with the guests counting as the other half.

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all guests received a KozmoDeck a cross between an entertainment book and ValuPak coupons. Handy you can carry a few in your wallet for favorites, or the area you are headed. 15-dollars off a bill of 50 dollars or more. drawback – alcohol doesnt count towards 50 bucka and some places, like the BBQ joints, a couple would be hard-pressed to spend 50 bucks. But marketing works, the pictures are appealing and will encourage me to try new places. I shuld have hung around and traded them like baseball cards to collect all the Ciudad coupons.

Drumroll, please…

Best Traditional

1st place: Vanilla Bake Shop Red Velvet (judges’ choice)

2nd place: Yummy Cupcakes Red Velvet

3rd place: Hotcakes Red Velvet (public’s choice)

Best Original

1st place: Sugar Jones “Paradise” (judges’ choice)

Reminiscent of 1950s fad with layers of coconut, pistachio, mandarin orange and pineapple that did not really fall into any category, so they were just called “dessert”. Mostly tasted like pineapple and coconut. Another crowd favorite – one of only two where I ate the entire cupcake.

2nd place: The Oinkster Peanut Butter and Jelly

3rd place: Essential Chocolate Desserts “Blood Orange Fudge”
a very sophisticated flavor combination with a nice ganache

**Public’s choice was Leyna’s Strawberrilicious

Best Overall:

1st place: Leyna’s Kitchen “Strawberrilicious”(public’s choice)

2nd place: Sugar Jones “Paradise” (judges’ choice)

3rd place: The Oinkster Peanut Butter and Jelly

OK, so I always end up with a weird story and today this is it: I asked the lady at Paradise cupcakes if she had leftovers, and she was like, “Oh God, please take these off my hands!” As she reaches for the box of cupcakes to hand me, Sophie cuts inbetween us like Im not even talking to the woman and says she’d like to take a picture of an open box of cupcakes.

Sophie had such a commanding presence, the woman just opened MY box of cupcakes, thinking she’d take a quick pic and go. But no, Sophie had to pose with the cupcake lady in the photo too, holding the box of cupcakes strategically between them. and we all had to stand there while she told the sucker taking the photo where to stand. And we had to wait while people kept getting in the way. And I just want my frigging cupcakes so we can leave.

So Sophie says to me, “I don’t want anyone in my picture.” I thought she needed crowd control, and ever helpful, I shooed grazers away from between her and the camera. I was standing like 2 feet away from her and she says to me really nastily, “I don’t want YOU in my shot either.” I wanted to say, “Then get your grubby paws off my cupcakes, Frenchie.”

Later when I told this story, Caroline said, “but she’s so nice…” and Lindsay said, “You do realize that’s Sophie Gayot of GAYOT don’t you?” I don’t care if she’s Lord Zagat – a lady does not touch another ladie’s cupcakes.

Except maybe when they are as tempting as Caroline’s

Voting commences

That special smile that can only come from cupcakes – or alcohol

Plenty for everyone, folks

Recap:

Best Traditional
1st place: Vanilla Bake Shop Red Velvet (judges’ choice)
2nd place: Yummy Cupcakes Red Velvet
3rd place: Hotcakes Red Velvet (public’s choice)

Best Original:
1st place: Sugar Jones “Paradise” (judges’ choice)
2nd place: The Oinkster Peanut Butter and Jelly
3rd place: Essential Chocolate Desserts “Blood Orange Fudge”

**Public’s choice was Leyna’s Strawberrilicious

Best Overall:
1st place: Leyna’s Kitchen “Strawberrilicious”(public’s choice) (picture attached)
2nd place: Sugar Jones “Paradise” (judges’ choice)
3rd place: The Oinkster Peanut Butter and Jelly

Leyna’s sister made the cupcake tree Letu Floral Designs and gifts

People were also impressed with the root beer cupcakes from Yummy

Lucky Devil’s had a very original entry. But they absolutely worked.

Violet had some lovely entries as well. These ones had chunks of brownies inside

Not only did Vanilla have a beautiful display, the workers at the table were always aware that they were “onstage”, always smiling and keeping photogenic poses – I have a lot of other pics of cupcakes with bent-over behinds in the backgrounds from a few of the other tables who forgot about the cameras. No, I won’t post them. I do have some class, you know.

After awhile, the whole room started looking like this

But I still brought this entire tray home – I did have to mud-wrestle Sophie Gayot in a giant tub of pistachio frosting for it, though.

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Bite the Big Apple: Monday

Without a trace of regret we cancelled our lunch reservations at Le Bernardin Monday. We had more upscale dining experiences than we had planned already, and we had a mini-fridge full of knishes and cheese.

We went to the Guggenheim, which was closed except for the rotunda – but that was OK. I wanted to see it for its architectural merit more than anything. Maoist artist Cai Guo-Qiang had a varied ouvre. The gunpowder art was fantastic – controlling the uncontrollable power of fire. The clay figures from the days of Cultural Revolutionary propaganda were disturbing with their real eyes and crumbling faces. The exhibit was timely, and I was surprised it was not at all controversial considering all of the dust bunnies that the Olympics have swept up. 99 taxidermied wolves ran into a plexiglass wall and crashed, in a statement about dogmatic thinking. I still don’t understand the tigers.

We walked along the park and bought a hot dog from a street vendor. All of the flavor was boiled out of it, but it had that miraculous mustard. We passed by the Met, but it was closed in preparation for the big Costume gala. There were more movie stars there than at the Oscars, but for us it just meant no Met.

We had a nice walk through the park, and visited the Alice in Wonderland statue I have always wanted to see.

On the way home, we stopped at John’s and bought a pizza to take back to our room. We ate almost the entire thing without coming up for air. Mmmm, pepperoni.

Later that evening we had reservations at Baldoria, run by Frank Pellegrino Jr., a member of the family that owns the world-famous and impenetrable Rao’s. The room was far more casual than I had anticipated and there was not a whiff of tourist-trap. It was like traveling back in time except for the fact they were piping in Bon Jovi’s greatest hits instead of Sinatra.

I immediately fell in love with Carlo, our waiter. After reciting the daily specials, he gave me the most endearing smile, and I realized no one had smiled at me like that since I had been in New York. Then he shrugged his shoulders and held his palms up near his face, like, “That’s what we got. You like it – great, you don’t like it – that’s OK too!”

I tried the Baldori martini, which was infused with orange, and would have knocked me on my ass if I had drank the entire glass. We started with Rao’s famous red peppers. I wondered what they would serve them with. I mean, who can just eat a big plate of red peppers? They were presented alone, mixed with pine nuts and sultanas. I immediately found out who can eat a big plate of peppers – me, that’s who. They were cool, and delicious. I sucked them down like octopus tentacles. Maybe we were just getting scurvy from all of the pizza and cheese, but we ate those peppers ravenously.

Bob ordered shrimp with tagliatelle. The shrimp were 3x the size of my thumb! They were monsters! The sauce was very lemony – this place digs lemon. My papardelle with artichokes in a cream sauce was rich and filling, but I couldn’t stop eating it. We had to beg off dessert, the portions were so generous. Definitely the most charming service and most cozy under-the-radar spot yet.

Walking home I was a little self-conscious in my gown, heels, good jewelry and pricy camera. But walking through the lights was so thrilling we didn’t want to take a taxi. One of those bicycle carriages offered a ride, and we figured, what the hell. Tourists always look soooo stupid on those things, but I have to say it was great fun zooming through Times Square with the wind in our hair.

The next day we didn’t have time for Grey’s Papaya, but the taxi driver ordered a dog from a cart at a red light. Boiled and watery, not quite the same. With one more day, I would have hit Grey’s, the Metropolitan, and maybe seen a Broadway show. It was too bad we had to leave so soon because I had finally perfected my New York don’t-mess-with-me glare. It was a combination of “I’m cold” “I’m angry” and “Something smells bad”. It was pretty easy, because most of the time two out of three of those things were true.

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Bite the Big Apple: Sunday Night at Lupa

We had late reservations at Lupa at 10:30(Thanks, JG!). Basically we ended up going right back to where we had spent the entire day, so bad planning on my part. We ordered a tasting menu, which they told me could be tailored to suit our tastes. After much thought and a peek at the menu, I went with NO sardines, organ meats, or broccoli rabe/rape. YES to pig’s jowls, homemade pasta and oxtails.

Our starter or amuse bouche were a pair of tiny little prosciutto balls. They were like sausage balls coated with a light crumb – delicious. Next they brought out a giant selection of antipasto. Everthing was superb – beets w pistachio, asparagus with pecorino, Baccala with Potatoes, white beans with tuna, radicchio with lemon and wild mushrooms with. There was also fresh prosciutto and homemade coppa cotto, coppa cruda and sporasetta

If they had just brought out the dessert next, we would have gone home remembering that as one of the best meals of our lives. Unfortunately it was a case of diminishing returns. The asparagus and marscapone cappelleti were lovely and perfect for Spring.

The spaghetti with pig’s jowls and spring onion seemed like it was made in consideration of our tastes. However, the jowl was incredibly salty, which would have been enough for the entire dish. But the pasta was also salted, making the dish difficult to enjoy even if the spaghetti had not been underdone. If it was intentional, their pasta is the al dentiest. To be honest, it seemed like right before that dish the good chef went home leaving instructions for a less capable hand.

The rest of the meal was not served in cute little individual portions as the rest of the meal had been. Standard menu items were plopped down on our table for us to split. We were the last seating, so maybe they just wanted us to get the hell out of there. The skate was not similar to calamari as I had expected. It was more like delicate whitefish with the texture of shredded chicken breast. It was nicely coated and pan-fried. The Pork was a bit sweet and actually reminded me of shoulder cooked with Coca Cola. The potatoes were lovely, and we were pretty full by this time anyways.

The cheese course consisted of a goat cheese that we inhaled, a pecorino, and something akin to a sharp white cheddar (again, they don’t tell you these things in The City). The stewed apples were a nice accompaniment. But the dessert – the dessert was spectacular! Tartufo!!! Oh my God, delicious chocolate embraced hazelnut ice cream and a chocolatey core. I had to stop after a few bites, but Bob reported a glaceed cherry sat in the center.

We hailed a taxi back to our room, and I’m surprised he didn’t add on a freight charge for the two of us.

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