Run in Place

On Thursday, I did an early morning run though I was out at a concert the night before. I headed East past Little India into the Eastwood area. There were plenty of trees and charming old homes. Though I have noticed that for some reason, on most streets in Toronto, the South and West side usually have better buildings or amenities. One such house at 77 Eastwood, looking like it belonged in a small town, apparently fetched $1.7M ($263K over asking) last April despite the current downturn in the market.

Lunch was leftover uyghur noodles from Kebab House. Just before I signed off for an extended weekend (thanks to the company's policy of treating the 2nd Friday of each month as an extra rest day), I conducted yet another interview. This was a solo effort since the Team Lead was off for two months. The face-to-face (via remote meeting) was a bit of a farce because before it even started, my VP strongly hinted that he wanted this candidate. And we "agreed" afterwards that they were a good fit. But if so, we should have simply made an offer without this extra interview. Certainly, their experience covered a skill gap on the team. And they were near the top of the ones I've talked too. But they were the sort of technical, hip-deep in the weeds, nerd that failed the "presentation aspect" of an interview.

The rain cleared just long enough for me to head over to Nganda to get dinner. With rice at home, I chose the vegan Pondu Madesu ($11.90) and fried plantain ($6). The tables in the restaurant were named after African cities. Each one should have a laminated card with a menu QR code on one side and a photo with a travel blurb about the city on the other. But they were all kept on the counter instead. So while waiting for my order, I read about Accra, Lagos, Dakar, and so on.

The pondu and plantain went great with my white rice. The vegan part was probably the omission of salted fish in the stew. I didn't know that pondu (cassava leaves) needed to be pounded or boiled to be non-toxic. So thank you to whoever did that laborious work. The madesu or beans added a soft chew and overall, it was fragrant and delicious.

West By North West

I headed to my old neighbourhood to visit my dentist on Thursday. Since I arrived early, I went to the No Frills at Dufferin Mall, which was larger and better stocked than the Coxwell location, for some small groceries. Both the regular and express buses along Dufferin will be carrying attendees to the FIFA World Cup down at Exhibition Place. So the glass facade of the subway station was covered with World Cup colours, logo, and welcoming messages.

I received not just a cleaning but measurements to get a new mouth-guard. My dentist has gone digital 2 years ago so instead taking an impression with putty like back in 2020, he jammed a wand into my mouth. The intraoral scanner must be emitting only tiny laser pulses because it took awhile to complete the process. After the cleaning, I asked him why despite my daily regiment and 3-month visits, it was still a chore. He claimed that I was actually doing a good job but some locations, like below the gums, were not accessible. Still, given the state of my mouth, I think his "A grade" assessment for my effort was done "on a curve".

I hadn't had lunch yet so I made my way to the best 241 Pizza in the city. The owner was there and I explained that I haven't visited since March because I don't live in Toronto anymore. We chatted about the World Cup where he will be cheering on Iran. He revealed that he lived in Woodbridge, but liked his business location for the busy view of passer-bys. I agreed wholeheartedly and ate my slice ($5.50) on the steps of the nearby church to people-watch. A young couple joined me with tacos bought at Gus Taco from just across the street.

In the evening, I went to Dina's Tavern for a NXNE concert. I originally chose the venue so I could go to Fresca, too. But 2 pizza meals in one day was overkill. I started going to NXNE 16 years ago but it has been 7 years for me. Some things remain the same like amateur photographers with their gears and media pass. Some were new: there were more young POCs today. But it might have been because the 3 performers tonight were mixed.

Ley Vara and Lauryn Kovacs presented solo sets. They sang the usual love songs composed by young artists. But Kovacs did write a tribute to her mother called One In a Million when she spent a month in L.A. There were a few covers: Vara did Like A Prayer (Madonna) while Kovacs sang Save Me (Aimee Mann). It was dedicated to her dad because he loved the movie Magnolia. I saw that film in the theatre when it came out in 1999 so yeah, generation gap. Of all the acts playing tonight, Kovacs had the strongest material.

Chai Sully was a shift way from the wistful balladry of the first 2 sets. With the help of her producer, standing behind a sampler and a MacBook, Sully leaned into an R'n'B vibe. Her songs were short (almost snippets) that flowed into each other in quick succession. I know this "compilation" style is also typical of rappers. This would play better in a club/DJ show but in a small concert setting, it made her songs sound unfinished.

The final set was a full band starring Vara and Kovacs called Frank. But I had to get back to the East End early enough to work tomorrow. Some German tourists waited with me for the streetcar. They got off at Yonge St. while I kept going. The East End is definitely "grungier" than other parts of Toronto. I thought a bare-chested man was going to harassed some young women. Luckily, he only spoke to them briefly before getting off a few stops later at Broadview.

Steppe-ing Out

With my sublet winding down, I will switch to only visiting favourites soon. But I wanted to give another new place a try since Hana Ramen was a bust. On Tuesday, the College streetcar took me directly from my apartment to Jarvis. I walked south down Mutual, one of those side streets that I have passed by many times. Its old homes and mature trees was a callback to the heydays of Granby Village (a small enclave within the Garden District neighbourhood). The surrounding, derelict areas have now been mostly replaced with condos and commercial buildings.

Charcoal Kebab House, a recent replacement for Tenda Sushi, was housed in an older 90s loft conversion called The Merchandise Building. This Uyghur restaurant sat in an unlovely spot next to the entrance to the indoor parking garage. But the interior was nicely decorated with cloth on the table, cushy chairs, paintings of people and scenery, and a bust of Mahmud al-Kashgari.

The single-page menu got straight to the point. There were 2 main categories: kebabs and noodles. So I got a lamb kebab ($8.95) and Uyghur Soman ($23.95). The kebab was excellent: spiced with cumin, soft, juicy and went great with NangBing (flatbread). I would say that 2 skewers would make a reasonable, lighter meal. When the Soman came out, it resembled spaghetti-os as the hand-pulled noodles were diced into little pieces. I only finished about one-third of the plate due to the large portion size. The noodles had great chew, the sauce tangy but not too acidic (its richness was closer to a stew in mouth-feel), and the tomatoes, celery, and spinach added bursts of freshness. To me, the beef/veal didn't add much to the dish only because it wasn't as wonderful as the kebab. Forget your typical Italian diner, get your pasta from places like this.

Since Kebab House was closer to Dundas St., I took that streetcar back to the East End. Regent Park and the surrounding areas have been revitalized, but the run-down sections and its indigents still peeked through here and there.

One Life To Live

Sunday morning, I got a better look at the long-time renter living in the basement of my sublet. He was gathering up dead leaves in the backyard. Peeking through my kitchen's window, I revised his age downward: he was closer to mine. So it was a case of me not recognizing a peer and therefore misjudging how I appeared to others.

Leaving him to his chore, I went to Udupi Palace for lunch. The new location was a better fit than the old one. The latter seemed too cavernous for the number of diners Udupi hosted. The menu informed me that Udupi was a reference to Udupi cuisine, a mostly vegetarian style from Karnataka. Since the dosa was actually from there, I ordered a Pav Bhaji Dosa ($13.95). Normally, I don't mind eating with my hands but the mashed veggie ingredient was too soft to pick up cleanly. Along with the chutney and sambar soup, it was a delicious meal. I overheard the owner and waitstaff talking to a long-time customer with his new wife (1 year in Canada and baking at Bobbette and Belle). From the snippets I learned some lore: Udupi opened in 2004 while the proprietor arrived from Bombay in 1990. He gently chided them for not sticking to a pure vegetarian diet but the woman countered that while she used no eggs in cakes back in India, here you couldn't do without in a mainstream shop.

On Monday, I found out that the "new" Team Lead has taken a two-month leave of absence from what was originally a short vacation last week. This was the 3rd time they have taken time off to deal with health issues since they joined 3 years ago. As they were at least 20 years younger than me, I gave more thought to my own retirement. Especially since I also have some problems, although not as serious yet, from dentition to digestion. But what would I do and where would I live?

Back in 2019, when I did my training, I thought about changing (to a less lucrative) career as a yoga teacher. With the pandemic in 2020, I never got my chance. Since then, yoga studios have shuttered en masse (Toronto's yoga golden age was between 2008-2018) and there were now 7 years of new graduates. Also, the idea of having intestinal problems while teaching (all those folds and twists) was mortifying. It happened once at Downward Dog as a practitioner but luckily it was at the end of class. Still, I had to explain to my bemused instructor that there was "hot fire below". So would I just spend early retirement doom-scrolling all day? 

As for a place to live, if I become increasingly reliant to being close to home because of the same gut problems, then Toronto was it. My old neighbourhood of Bloorcourt and Bloordale had everything within walking distance. But living on a "fixed income" in an expensive city was financially less prudent. But in Ottawa, would I just spend early retirement doom-scrolling all day?