So This Is Christmas

I met up with a friend for brunch on Saturday. They were a rarity in that they did not live in the suburbs. Yet despite being relatively close to Tamis Café, they have never visited this downtown filipino restaurant. We were supposed to see each other again after meeting up in the summer, but they were incommunicado through the Fall.

I opted once again for dasilog which has increased to $19. After our orders, we got to talking about their "disappearance". They were busier than usual, partly because the oldest child had joined a challenging high-school program, but also their new role as manager in a different department was frantic. I was glad I didn't need 3 cups of coffee to get through the day. Being a CPA, they were aghast that I've been keeping my money under a mattress. Now I have an investment plan to grow my money. They actively managed their own financial portfolio but I'd rather pay investment fees so someone else handled the work. I recounted about my recent trips to Toronto and my friend expressed an interest in seeing the postponed Retrocity concert next year. We both saw that band when they lived in Toronto. I didn't think their schedule would permit it, but I promised to let them know.

On Monday, I went to my sibling for Christmas dinner. It was a bit shocking to realize that I haven't seen their family since last Christmas. The full extended family was there except for 2 absences: my oldest uncle who was no longer comfortable driving at night and my grandma who felt some joint pain. It was a large dinner spread. Their spouse had prepared a full turkey dinner with sides along with curry noodles and char siu pork. Relatives also brought spring rolls, Vietnamese coleslaw, dried persimmons, and grass jelly desserts. There was also a large tray of home-made cookies (so my Toronto cookies became a gift instead) and my niece tried her hands at a raspberry cake.

My youngest cousins were starting to feel stifled in Ottawa. One was heading to Calgary because a new romantic partner was going there for post-grad studies. I asked why they weren't aiming for Vancouver or Toronto. It turned out that, as a suburbanite, the love interest didn't like crowds. But on a trip to see a band, they realized that The Danforth was not Kensington Market. It was possible to experience peace-and-quiet in the big city. A lesson learned too late but Vancouver was still a remote possibility.

The other cousin was regretting their return to Ottawa in 2020 after undergrad in Toronto. I didn't say anything back then but I was skeptical of their decision. Sure enough, the lack of a nightlife and the unreliable public transit were problems. Could they re-establish themselves back in The Big Hog without a high-paying job? Unfortunately, they were someone with the skill but not the temperament for hi-tech.

This Christmas there was one new member added to the clan. And there will be another next Yuletide because a cousin was expecting their second child in March. But I suspect that will be it for another decade. On the other hand, with the older generation well into retirement now (my grandma is 95 this year), the family could start to shrink in a few years.

60s Minute

Thursday was much colder than previous days. After posting on social media about the allure of Bloorcourt and Bloordale, I headed out along College St. My destination was Barbershop Patisserie to pick up a pre-ordered box of Christmas cookies. I saw that Middle-Eastern café Arabesque was opened so I went in for a bedouin spiced tea ($3). I also ordered an arabesque pizza ($3.99) which resembled a rolled-up pita with stuffing. Mostly I wanted to chat with the owner as it has been over a year since I've stopped by.

He seemed to have aged quite a bit since then, having trouble remembering cities and locales. Since immigrating to Canada, Toronto has been good to him and his family. He spent decades working in auto manufacturing before retirement. The café was just a chill place to hang out during the week; on week-ends he drove his sports car up to the family cottage. His sons had successful lives in the States. But today I found out that, as a young man, he was a jet-setting journalist. Backed by Saudi money, it was the life to fly first class, stay in fancy hotels, and travel all over Western and Eastern Europe, the Middle-East, and even East Asia to report on "human interest" stories.

The topic came up because I was talking about Moroccan shop Mashi Moosh in the East End. It turned out his spiced tea was inspired by his visits to that country. He also had a connection to Ottawa. One of his sons got his doctorate from there and still maintained a house in the area. But as for himself, he also thought that the Nation's Capital was a boring place to live.

At Barbershop, I was tempted by the store display and bought some croissants and savoury pastries in addition to my cookies. I thought about doubling back for pho at Pho Linh due to the frigid weather. But I needed some greens and headed up Delaware to Bloor for a veggie plate at Laziza. I also grabbed samosas at Dosa Mahal though I was tempted to order masala fries.

In the evening, I pondered my choices because there's always something going on in Toronto: Jason Collett's Basement Revue at the Paradise, Jennifer Castle at The Great Hall, or Miranda Mulholland and Michelle Willis at the new Hugh's Room location in the East End. Maybe a showcase of up-and-coming POC comedians (Kulture Shock Comedy) at Comedy Bar or new music (Whisper Gang, Day Jasper) at The Burdock? But in the end, with the cold weather and all the walking over the last three days, I decided to stay in instead. You can't FOMO in Toronto even if you're visiting; it's a no-win situation.

Dark Comes Soon

I flip-flopped about heading out to an event on Wednesday night. But I remembered skipping out on what might have been a great show a few years back. Geary Ave. is more gentrified since then, but there was still room for fun. A small recording studio/event space called Division 88 was hosting a Winter Solstice party.

The industrial space had a hip vibe with wooden benches, graffiti, a wall papered over with comic book pages, and a section filled from floor to ceiling with vinyls. The studio area was partially closed off for the show. It was more house party than advertised event, even if there was a door cover and you paid for beer and wine. I was pretty sure any liquor license for the venue was likely of the nod-and-wink variety.

The two hosts for the evening started with a group sing. While Emily Steinwall accompanied the crowd with the repeated lyrics from Crosby, Stills & Nash's Find the Cost of Freedom, Kyla Charter improvised melody and harmony. With the crowd now engaged, Cheyenne Sapphire (a last-minute replacement for Merival) led folks through some moving meditation involving breath-work, body movement, visualization, and vocal releases (singing, yelling, etc.). She then did a combination of spoken word and performance art with Steinwall adding occasional sax and flute riffs. As this artist offered tantra coaching and related teachings, some of Sapphire's verses and movement got rather spicy. I was in awe with someone so unselfconscious and comfortable with themselves.

Charter returned for a proper set. Using a looping station, she layered a cappella vocals for originals (Doubts, Forest Jam, Thousand Goodbyes) and a wonderful cover of Radiohead's 15 step. When I first saw her, I felt she had a sweet but weak voice even if she sang backup quite nicely. But tonight I was astonished by her range and power. Full-throated Earth Mother was a better fit than sad indie girl. Charter had a surprise at the end for the audience (that included many friends) and her father. She was changing her name to Laila Noel as her current name was mostly a feminized version of her dad's.

I left soon afterwards because I was too old for these late-night events. I also don't enjoy house parties and certainly not an (in-all-but-name) one where I was a total stranger. But listening to Steinwall's album Welcome To The Garden (which won a SOCAN prize) the next day, I think I missed out on a great performance. Well, half a FOMO is better than a full one.

Tender Is The Bite

It was a slow Wednesday. I stayed mostly at my rental except for several trips to grab food. In the morning, I stopped by Uncle Sid's. It has gone full deli: opening at 8 a.m. and offering breakfast fare. I opted for the breakfast special ($7.95 all in) consisting of 2 eggs, sausages, toast and home fries. It was your typical diner food like you'd get at Billy's.

I visited Roll and Bowl for a dine-in lunch. I upgraded my usual order (veggie bibimbap) to a kimchi bibimbap ($13.45). The kimchi added crunchy fermented goodness but the veggies were a tad overcooked. That detail plus the fact that they didn't recognize me or my order (I always pick veggie bibimbap with no sesame oil) made me wondered if these were new owners. I could swear that, in previous visits, the proprietors were younger.

I risked a constitutional by walking to Ossington along Bloor and then circling back to the rental via the Dufferin Mall and College St. I thought that the massive construction at Bloor and Dufferin was the rebuilding of the high schools along with some new commercial spaces. But when I saw a massive banner for condo developer Fitzrovia, I realized bigger things were in store. It turns out there will be six massive buildings at this corner. With an additional 4 buildings planned for the parking lots at Dufferin Mall, Bloordale and Bloorcourt will be completely gentrified in 5-10 years. The buildings at Bloor and Dovercourt have also been torn down to begin construction on an 11-story condo. They might be keeping the walls of the corner building as a façade.

For dinner, I went to Island Hot and Spicy. I noticed this Jamaican spot the last time I stayed here. It was on the "wrong side" (less foot traffic, railway tracks, etc.) of the Bloor and Lansdowne intersection. My dinner seemed questionable with an empty restaurant and the sound of a microwave after I ordered. But I was wrong as my small jerk chicken meal ($11) was delicious: melt-off-the-bone chicken that was nicely spiced along with soft and fluffy rice and beans. Despite the quality of their meat, many Caribbean joints often have dry rice. The only negative note was the salad complete with Kraft ranch dressing instead of coleslaw. But it came with fresh carrots and tomatoes so it wasn't all bad. This was vastly superior to Jerk King and even the nearby Caribbean Queen of Patties.

Carol of the Belles

After the great meal at Pastorcito, I was feeling unsettled. Perhaps I indulged too much in the spicy sauces or all that meat wasn't great for someone who ate a mostly plant-based diet. Likely it was the same old digestive problem. But I came to Toronto specifically to see The O'Pears Christmas show. Their live-stream during the pandemic reminded me how wonderful they were live. So throwing caution to the wind, I gingerly made my way to 918 Bathurst for the concert.

The space was filled with about 130 people: the "biggest show ever" (exclaimed Jill Harris) for a "band that plays once a year" (quipped Lydia Persaud). That's what frustrating about this talented trio for me. Despite being together for 15 years, they've only put out 2 albums. And they still have un-released material.

In fact, they opened the show with one such song. Their spine-tingling harmonies on Thunder has always thrilled me. Tonight it made me forget about my rumbling stomach. The O'Pears had a full band (Christine Bougie on lap steel, Ben Whiteley on bass, Steve Lavery on keys) to accompany them over 2 sets of comforting lullabies (One Day, Morning Song), warm tunes for the cold season (Long Winter, Lose The Sun, Stay Warm), and lovely covers (The Roches' Hammond Song, The Emotions' What Do The Lonely Do At Christmas).

For their biggest show they've invited some friends to come sing. Harris explained that they loved doing backup vocals. Over the course of the evening, Joanna Mohammad (Aphrose) gave us the gut-wrenching Weapons, James Baley's Call On You was hymnal, and Alex Samaras and Mara Nasrallah's semi-improvised Braid 2 (Meredith Monk) segueing into Now I Walk Beauty was a celebration of pure singing. When all 7 singers came together on the penultimate song Ring The Bells, the audience leapt up in a standing ovation.

I didn't know if the older couple behind me was attending their first O'Pears Christmas show. But they ran out of superlatives by the end. Since a good number of people knew the trio from "all stages of their life", Jill Harris mused that it felt like a small town. Lydia Persaud teased her that "everyone knows of that small town Toronto". Well, a feel-good Hallmark Christmas movie, usually set in a small town, could not outdo the warm fellowship that filled this former Buddhist temple tonight.

Small But Meaty

On Tuesday, I was going to Toronto again in spite of being back in Ottawa for only a week. This was the first trip that Rider Express was "expensive" (i.e., $25 more than the usual trip). But it was still cheaper than Via Rail or Megabus. Oddly enough, perhaps being the 1st mover after Greyhound Bus had shutdown, Megabus had its own depot in Kingston as well as access to the bus platforms at Scarborough Town Centre. Rider Express has to settle for stopping in the parking lot of shopping malls. But on the plus side, you have access to more fast-food joints.

After several trips, I finally decided to buy lunch at Mr. Sub during our short layover in Kingston. I remembered this franchise at the Rideau Centre some 30 years back. Specifically an overpriced sub with just a few deli slices, no extra toppings, and the bread made tough by microwave reheating. No wonder Subway decimated this chain when it arrived in Canada. The Mr. Sub veggie sub ($9.19) was about the same quality as a Subway foot-long. One advantage with buying it fresh was that I could include wet toppings like tomatoes and get the bread toasted.

The bus made good time until we were about 200-300m from the terminal. From the Gardiner off-ramp down onto Lakeshore Blvd and finally to the entrance took over 1 hour because of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Worse was the realization that almost every vehicle was single occupancy. So I didn't get into my short-term rental until almost 4:30 pm. It was still a charming studio like last time. But unfortunately, it wasn't as clean today. I had to wipe down the plastic tablecloth and washed several glasses because they were covered with food stains.

Afterwards, I headed out for dinner. During my last stay in Bloordale, I noticed that the new Mexican restaurant Taqueria El Pastorcito near Dufferin and Bloor was always full. I decided to finally give it a try tonight. Pastorcito had a no-nonsense menu: tacos, burrito, quesadilla, or torta. I picked 2 al pastor tacos ($5/each) and a chorizo quesadilla ($7). I had misgivings about the cost as only gentrified, non-Hispanic spots charged these prices. But both dishes was stuffed to overflowing with meat. The al pastor was tender, grilled pork by way of the Middle Eastern shawarma spit while the chorizo was soft and finely chopped. Both taco and tortilla shells were toothsome and fragrant. In addition, they were (overly) generous with the sides: sauces, pineapple, and grilled onions.

This restaurant was a great new spot. No wonder it was packed with (mostly Mexican) folks looking for a tasty meal. But I feared for the other Latino joints in the neighbourhood including La Tortilleria, Tierra Azteca, and Latin World. In fact, on my way back to my rental, the latter was entirely empty. It was still early in the evening but things didn't look promising. There were no vegetarian options at Pastorcito so during my dinner, I wished that plant-based La Bartola had hearty dishes like here instead of fussy ones.

Winds In The West

It has been mild for the past few days, but the temperature dropped and the wind picked up by Monday evening. I hopped on the subway, then the Ossington bus to make my way to The Great Hall. My last show there was sublime. Tamara Lindeman (The Weather Station) now has enough of a local fanbase that she can have 3 shows where each night she will play 2 of her 6 albums in their entirety. If I was still in Toronto, I would have bought the pass and attended all concerts. Being in Ottawa now, I settled on seeing the 1st night before heading back.

It was a seated event which was appropriate since Tamera Lindeman doesn't write tracks you can dance to, especially in the early days. Also, I find this arrangement reduces the backroom chatter so that softer music don't get drowned out. I was curious about the near sold-out audience since most of them weren't around back then. But we were all in for a treat tonight, because as Lindeman pointed out later, in those days she played solo sets. This was the first time that a live band would accompany her on the earliest material.

The first set had songs from the EP What Am I Going To Do With Everything I Know. This was actually released after the relative success of her first album. As one can tell from the title, The Weather Station's songs (Soft Spoken Man, Time) tended to be dense lyrically but also a bit elliptical. She had just left behind her banjo days so there was plenty of intricate finger-picking on the guitar. With only 6 tunes on that EP, we also heard a few unreleased songs to round out the set. They were more straightforward though many thought Crooked Line was a country/blues banger.

With the album All of It Was Mine we started to hear quieter arrangements (Traveller, Nobody) but there were still tricky runs such as when Lindeman broke out her banjo for Everything I Saw. She had to restart the song, adding wryly that her banjo muscles were rusty. Compared to a decade ago when she didn't talk much, we got background information and insight about her work. For example, Chip On My Shoulder was her obduracy in the face of some people (in life and also the music business) who get (creepily) excited about young, inexperienced women/artists. The second set was also relatively short. Lindeman mused, to the audience's laughter, that she needed to pad out her songs with more choruses.

I don't know if Lindeman will have different backing bands for each show; I saw that frequent collaborator Ivy Mairi was sitting in the audience tonight. But there were familiar faces on stage such as Ben Whiteley and new ones like Georgia Harmer. The one who came from the farthest away was Kentucky fingerstyle guitarist Nathan Salsburg. He reached out to Lindeman after her first album and they've been friends ever since. He was warmly received after his introduction but some in the crowd got really excited when he revealed that his wife was singer Joan Shelley.

The encore was an interesting dilemma because Lindeman will play all of her songs but just on different nights. Tonight we got 3 great covers instead. She opened with a capella rendition of Black Is The Colour of My True Love's Hair. Lindeman's musical career started when she received positive encouragement after singing it at an Irish trad at Dora Keogh (now Noonan's Pub) in the East End. Salsburg played his instrumental number Impossible Air. Then the full band ended with Richard Laviolette's Snuck Right Up. This musician, an early inspiration for The Weather Station, had recently died. This song (about "pure love" per Lindeman) gave us a sing-along refrain to send us warmly out into the cold.

Bho Knows Cooking

After attending Raw Taiko, I took the streetcar to Broadview and Gerrard. Onyx Chocolate made iridescent bonbon and chocolate bars. They had a range of flavours including Asian inspiration like Gochujang, Mochi, and even pork floss. I tend to avoid gentrified businesses but the previous proprietor, Rose's Vietnamese Sandwich, had retired. Given the tiny space, it was unlikely that any other Asian business would move in.

I got a Durian chocolate bar ($14.75) for my mom, a small 4-piece box ($13.50) for my grandmother, and a 16-piece ($48) as a Christmas gift. But since the bonbons only keep for 2 weeks (4 if sealed airtight and stored in a fridge), I'll have to give them right away.

After I dropped off the package at my rental, I walked a few blocks east of Coxwell to Bhojan Ghar. This new South Asian restaurant had recently opened and was offering a 15% discount. As the owners were Nepalese, there were tranquil photos from their homeland framed on the wall. The dishes were mostly Indian but there were some Nepali dishes such as momos and a noodle soup called thukpa. I opted for vegetarian Dal Bhat ($16), naan ($3.25), and masala chai ($2.50).

My Nepali thali combo was delicious: tender chickpeas (chana), soft lentils (dal), fragrant cauliflower and potatoes curry (aloo gobi), steamed greens, and crunchy radish pickle. There was also a generous amount of basmati rice. The naan was a stand-out and better than most Indian restaurants. It came very close to matching the best naan (IMO) in the city.

There were numerous pick-up orders during my dinner. I didn't know if it was just to take advantage of the discount but this neighbourhood gem deserve continuing support. Even the picky eater a few tables over told their companion that the tandoori platter was a 10 out of 10. Though I enjoyed Karma's Kitchen, Bhojan was the better Nepalese place and one of the best South Asian restaurant in the East End.

I tip the recommended amount when dining out but I don't like it much. Most waitstaff are average at best; and that's ok because it's just a job not a calling. So just include this overhead in the price. But tonight I included a generous amount because service at Bhojan was impeccable. The two young servers were solicitous and prompt without being intrusive. Remember that picky eater? Changing tables, custom orders, and so on. All problems were handled with aplomb.

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Sunday afternoon, I was at The Betty Oliphant Theatre to watch Raw Taiko celebrate their 25th anniversary. It was formed in 1998 to allow Asian-Canadians especially women to create community and engage with issues such as misogyny and racism. In 2020, I enjoyed their set at The AGO a week before Covid news became a local matter and people started panicking.

There were 8 compositions that included several new works but also from their 2 decades of existence. The recital's theme was home and so in between the pieces, videos showed members talking about what this word meant to them. There was the typical remembrance of inter-generational meals but as the members were women or non-male, trans, queer, and often involved in community or social work, the concept of "home" encompassed deeper ideas of belonging, acceptance, and safety.

Coincidentally, I was at a concert on Saturday where the artists also tackled "big issues". But I was generally nonplussed with the vanilla "expand your mind" attitude there. These reflections felt deeper as they were personal and came from lived experience. There was no prevarication or blunting unpleasantness in vague therapy talk. Even land acknowledgement (de rigueur but generic and rote in most performances nowadays) included pointed reminders that these treaties were broken and we are all part of the existing colonial settler system. And for one of the works Palestinian keffiyeh were tied around a drum and worn by the orator.

As a matinée, there were quite a number of children in the audience. I don't know how much of the complex nuances they understood but hopefully something settled in their unconscious as ways to question the status quo. The pieces that used the entire ensemble were unsurprisingly the most thrilling as the air vibrated with the drum beats. The smaller works that fared best involved choreography thanks to the experience of some members in dance and movement.

Taking the streetcar home, I passed by the encampments at Allan Gardens park. Raw Taiko had already given answers as to why some people prefer to live outside in tents. Because it was home: where they can keep precious mementos, be among people who accept them, and sleep in a (relatively) safe place.

All The Gin Joints

During my stroll to Atto Sushi, I noticed that there were numerous stores selling goods between Coxwell and Woodbine. Since I hadn't finished everyone on my list, I decided to do some more Christmas shopping in the East End. I skipped the vintage shops as my family weren't into "used" items. I briefly browsed Arts Market but it didn't have the same selection as the larger, defunct location at College and Ossington. Then I came across Mashi Moosh, a store that stocked goods exclusively from Morocco.

Although I sometimes shop here and there, I generally prefer to buy everything from one place. Looking around at the variety on display, this goal looked doable here. I needed to keep things light and small for transport and ended up with several kitchen items made with clay from Fez and terra cotta from Safi. I chatted with the workers while they rang up my order. It turned out they left Ottawa almost 40 years ago after University. But unlike myself, they never moved back. I answered their questions that although it might be more urbane than in the 80s, Ottawa was still rather dull.

I wanted to have lunch at a Nepalese restaurant but it wasn't open yet so I stepped inside a Pizza Nova. Despite its ubiquity in Toronto (its headquarter is in Scarborough), I have never eaten at this franchise. I was impressed at the number of fresh pizza available by the slice. I chose one that was topped up with several types of mushroom ($6.50). It was quite good for a chain pizza but the small slice reminded me of Ottawa's poor money-to-food ratio. In fact, I had to return to the Pizzaiolo near my rental because I was still hungry.

Free To Be

There was a concert Saturday night that promised a singular experiment: Indigenous singer Jeremy Dutcher with U.S. Girls at Massey Hall. On top of that, this rising star would be accompanied by a choir (that also sang on his new album) comprising of numerous singers from Toronto including Lydia Persaud and James Baley. But I only found out about the concert just before my trip and it was almost completely sold out; I would be sitting up in the rafters for $60. So I consoled myself that U.S. Girls' Massey debut was not the full band but only a trio of Meg Remy, Alex Lukashevsky, and Georgie Gordon (once of The Magic) and I will see Persaud and Baley soon for The O'Pears Christmas show.

Instead I headed to The Burdock for my first show there since the pandemic. Both acts tonight covered a similar ground: earnest pleas of the granola crowd to be kind and love one another. The first was a choir called Minuscule. This large ensemble was fronted by Laurel Minnes but tonight they were a 4-member group accompanied by Minnes' partner on drums. It was good, catchy music (Oh Da Dee, Lukewarm Love). The harmonies were nice but I've been spoiled by the intricacy of The O'Pears. Minnes' verbiage and melodic phrases reminded me of Language Arts and The Burning Hell. But while the latter bands had rawness, sweetness, and occasionally humour in their dense verses, Minuscule was a bit anodyne.

The duo Moonfruits from Ottawa also mined the same territory. In fact, they invited Minuscule to provide backup vocals on one song. The two groups had met when they played in Red Rock, Ontario. Domestic partners Alex Millaire and Kaitlin Milroy sang about depression (Loki), climate change (Carousel), and greedy landlords (Renter's Ramble). It was still a bit hippie and flower power but as they were in the folk tradition, they were successful at adding some timelessness to their lyrics. Their songs had a surprisingly propulsive feel that got toes tapping. Throwing in some humorous French songs from their older albums was a welcome bonus.

It Is Thee Modern Danforth

I'm not sure how Atto Sushi came to my attention in 2021. Probably via a pandemic post about supporting local businesses in my Insta feed. I do remember looking for it during my bike ride along the Danforth. I gave up at Coxwell and went south to the Beaches to eat at the Georgian restaurant Tiflisi. But it turns out this sushi spot was further along past Woodbine station.

But since my rental at Coxwell was within walking distance, I finally visited Atto on Friday for dinner. Along the way, I observed changes to the street in the last 5 years. This far East, Danforth wasn't the trendy Greektown of Broadview and Pape. Still, there were plenty of new stores with a few remaining stalwarts like fruit markets, shoe repairs, and car mechanics. The recent businesses weren't all trendy restaurants but included a wide selection of shops such as hair salons, hobbies and crafts stores, and several vintage shops. Even a niche place that specialized in fingerboards (tiny skateboards) was opened.

Atto Sushi was a small restaurant with just 3 tables. It was at the edge of the gentrifying area as its neighbours were all car dealerships. After looking over the menu, I chose an edamame appetizer ($5) and a combo called Atto's Nine ($18). Although the prices were only slightly more expensive than a cheap sushi place, everything was made with care. First came a large portion of plump, nicely salted edamame. Next was the salad with arugula for variety and a miso soup that contained thick seaweed slices and firm, toothsome tofu. Finally, the nigiri was a lovely main: flavourful fish, some nice toppings like shiso leaf, and loosely packed sushi rice. The chef gave me a complimentary "sushi taco" that had a nice textural contrast. All in all, this was a local gem.

Speed Shopping

On Saturday morning, I wanted to get my Christmas shopping done within the 2-hour limit allowed by a TTC's transfer. I have done it before but this time I was targeting West End stores: Uppdo, EweKnit, Jill and the Beanstalk, and Ziggy's At Home. I thought I would also try Tsuchi Cafe because they were doing a 1-day sale of Japanese bagels as a collaboration with Lisa Kitahara of Okonomi Kitchen. And then make another attempt at Kiss My Pans for Singaporean food. The shopping was mostly successful but the lunches were a bust; there was a long line-up at Tsu Chi and all the tables at Pans were full. So using the last 25 minutes of my transfer, I hopped on the streetcar and entered the College subway station with 10 minutes to spare.

It was raining when I exited Coxwell station so I stopped off at the Pizzaiolo location near my short-term rental. Back when I ate at the Queen and Tecumseh location after my Sunday yoga classes, I stuck to their Mediterranean slice. Their Bianca (with zucchini instead or artichoke) did not compare to (now defunct) Amato's at College and Borden. This time round I retried the Bianca ($5.99) as I noticed that Pizzaiolo has now added artichoke. Along with some roasted garlic and other spices, the flavour profile was almost the same as Amato's. Now if they could only add some olive oil to fully replicate this slice.

Deck The Halls With Poison Ivy

My December stay started with a desire to see the 25th Anniversary show of Retrocity at the Redwood Theatre on Gerrard. It was unlikely to be as emotionally satisfying as their 20th Anniversary show but this 80s a capella group always put on a great set. It would also give me a chance to finally check out the Redwood despite passing by numerous times during my sublet last year.

But on the eve of my trip I received a message that for health reasons the concert has been postponed until next year. I then remembered there was another show that I came across but had decided that I was too old to attend two events in the same night. On to plan B. After digesting my huge Ethiopian meal, I headed to the West End for an evening at The Garrison.

I wasn't sure who the organizer CLASS were (good luck finding them online with such a generic name) but in addition to band merch there were also painted mugs, artwork, zines and other knick-knacks. They also decorated the stage with old TVs, a crazed snowman resembling a South Park character, and popcorn garlands made with styrofoam blobs and empty beer cans.

The show started with short sets by several comedians. By coincidence, I already follow Sima Sepehri on Insta. Her comedy revolved around having recently gone clean (no more booze, weed, etc.) and celibate. But for that kind of "serious material", you need Maria Bamford's level of honesty to connect with the crowd. Kari Johnson did better with her "gross out" comedy about exes hooking up with curvy women, privates with too much dangly bits, and the logistics of tossing salad.

The first band was a duo group called Waste Youth. The drummer shouted verses while the bassist pounded out heavy rhythm. This got the crowd going. By the time Burner took to the stage, The Garrison was full and receptive to their loud, head-banging music. A mini-mosh pit appeared near the front. At one point, the singer was carried around while he screamed lyrics. Oddly enough, in the softer moments, he had the same vocal inflection as Adam Duritz of Counting Crows.

Bad Waitress has had a good run over the last 18 months with bigger and bigger gigs and I wanted to finally see them as the head-liner. Though I was getting sleepy, I would have stuck around if I still lived in the area. But after calculating the probable start and end time of their set and the public transit time to get back to the East End, I headed out. I thought about the young crowd tonight that harkened back to a grittier Toronto: goth gear, jackets with pins and patches, non-binary outfits, and plenty of tattoos, piercings, and wild hair. Many of them were probably just regular folks who ditched their casual wear for the night. But how was the hardcore minority surviving in a "$2500/month for a 1 bedroom" Toronto of 2023? Where do they even find housing and jobs in the now gentrified neighbourhoods? Well, I hope they and their non-conformity can continue to exist in The Big Smoke.

Rhodes' Collard

Friday, I was back in Toronto for a few days. It wasn't as invigorating as the last time I descended on The Big Smoke. But 10 degrees warmer than Ottawa made up for the grey, overcast sky. This time, my short-term stay was in the East End on a side street near Coxwell subway station.

The communal kitchen and living room were cozy and nicely decorated. The most spectacular part was the pretty backyard with deck (covered for the winter). There were 6 rooms for rent: 3 on the main floor and 3 in the basement. The owner probably lived in one of the rooms though they all had keypad locks. My room was a basement unit with its own bathroom. There was also a second small kitchen to be shared among the subterranean dwellers.

After the initial wow factor faded, my room wasn't quite as pretty under a more critical eye. Firstly, this must be a grandfathered basement as the ceiling height was low. Secondly, the renovation used cheaper material and DIY workmanship. I felt the lumpiness of the floor as I walked around. Sure enough, a quick peek underneath the area rug revealed the laminate tiles starting to crack. There were several taped notices including an ominous warning that the toilet often clogged. To be fair, it's a nice enough space with a clean bathroom. Such a room at $114/night at Victoria's Mansion would be smaller and in worse condition.

For dinner, I thought about revisiting El Sol. But then I remembered being told that Ethiopian restaurants have mostly relocated to this area due to rising rent elsewhere. So in fact there were quite a few to choose from about 2 blocks west of Coxwell and Danforth. I stepped inside modest Abugida as their prices were cheaper than trendy La Vegan ($25 for a veggie combo!)

It was empty at first but became busier by the time I finished my veggie platter ($17). This was a delicious dinner with a huge portion. I would still have been happy if it was 20% smaller. The selection of veggie options was top notch: fresh salad, stewed lentils, cabbage, beet, green beans, collard greens, and berbere sauce. The last item added a bit of kick to the meal. Everything was nicely cooked and not too oily. The collard greens were just a bit salty but you could compensate with some earthy beet. By the end, I was overstuffed and a bit too full. A constitutional would be perfect but sadly after-dinner strolls are verboten for me. So I waddled back to my room for a short lie down.