Year End Review

A friend invited me to a Zoom chat for our university group. So on Wednesday, I logged in after dinner to virtually meet up with the old gang. Like any dinner party, it overstayed its welcome; this 5-hour hang was probably 90 minutes too long. But it was good to see familiar faces, some of whom I haven't seen in almost 15 years.

Given this year, COVID news cropped up several times. No one was personally affected health-wise and everyone was lucky enough to be able to work from home. Most had kids so there was a lot kvetching around that, regardless if they were physically back in school or studying online. The challenges between managing work-life and home-life remained even when you didn't have to commute. Other annoyances included cutting your own hair, sharing the internet, or finding time to eat as a family. A few lamented that they were surprised how little together-time they actually had despite so much time spent at home.

These experiences were bemusing as I didn't have these responsibilities. I had to admit to my buddies that overall it has been enjoyable for me: eating in the park at lunchtime, walking all over Toronto; I have never spent so much time outdoors. One thing we did have in common was the march of time. So there was much commiseration (and comparison) about all the ways our bodies were failing us.

One family was building their house from the ground up after a fire. They regaled us with 3 years of bureaucratic run-arounds and contractor woes. And they still have 4 more months to go (in the best case scenario). Others had less dramatic home ownership problems. As a renter, I only contributed the bizarre situation of my landlord in his last few months.

One thing that stood out for me was an interaction with an old friend within the larger group chat. I had forgotten about our camaraderie since we lost touch. I don't usually enjoy being around loud people but I found their boisterousness charming. Perhaps it was self-serving since tonight they thought all my corny jokes and quips utterly hysterical! So I lamented that this easy rapport with another person was something rare for me. If only I could be this copacetic with more people.

Buon Natale

Christmas lunch was scheduled for the 27th. But with an Ontario-wide lockdown in place for Boxing Day, my family moved it to Christmas Day. No doubt there were many people who were doing the exact same thing: changing plans, fast-forwarding schedules, and so on. Health authorities are right that these half-hearted measures by the Ford government are less effective.

However, we did limit ourselves to individual households. This was not a 100% buffer zone since throughout the day, other members of my extended family visited to deliver gifts and stayed for a quick chat. This just goes to show how easily people underestimate contact risks.

With a smaller gathering, it was a simple lunch: spring rolls and turkey and shrimp fried noodles. Dessert was fresh fruit and a (dried) cake from a co-worker that seemed to have been made from sliced bread and icing. Still, there was plenty of cheer as a nephew was arriving in a few months.

I reflected that this was the first Christmas without the whole clan. For a long time, everybody came. In the past few years, with the younger generation living further away and in-law visits to other cities becoming more common, it was getting harder to organize a get-together that accommodated everyone. But this year was the first time that the familias was fragmented into separate households. I wonder if this will be a blip or an acceleration of an ongoing process.

Two Houses Not Alike In Diggity

Great Conjunction

It was a sunny Monday morning in Ottawa. People online were excited that Jupiter and Saturn would meet in a Great Conjunction on the Winter Solstice. But with clouds moving in later on, there was zero chance that I could see anything tonight. But a potted Gerbera Daisy did produce two cheerful blooms. I have been quite lazy over the last several weeks. Without my own space, I haven't practiced yoga at all. I have walked outside every few days but only for practical reasons like getting groceries.

I needed to buy a few items today. But instead of heading straight there, I decided to take a few detours like my recent strolls in Toronto. It started at a little strip mall at Montreal Rd and Elwood. Businesses here struggle along for a few years then fold. Previous iterations included a Middle Eastern joint called Garlic King and a taqueria named Kukulkan. Currently, there was a falafel place (Quick Break) and a pastry shop (Petits Macarons) although the latter does mostly online orders and wholesale to stores like Farm Boy.

I passed by Lockwood Park which was really more of a parkette. The houses along Elvina were small bungalows sitting on large plots. A small trail near Mowat led to Kinsmen Park. Surrounded by houses, it reminded me of Sadra Park in midtown Toronto sans Hydro towers. But given the size of those private backyards, I wonder if anyone would bother to use this public space.

Crownhill St. was also a bungalow-heavy road but the mixture of semi-detached and townhouses along Steel looked new. Another small trail off Marissa spilled onto Fairfield Park. Finally, this felt like a place where you could linger. Wooden boards have been put up to form a hockey rink (though no ice yet). There was a playground, some benches, and a bit of space to relax. This wasn't Dufferin Grove (neither in size nor tree cover) or even Vermont Square but it could be reasonably inviting in summer.

A few more streets and I finally arrived at Ogilvie. This was a let-down as a destination. Instead of a bustling but friendly street like St. Clair, this was an arterial road dotted with big-box stores (Costco, Canadian Tire) and other suburban outdoor malls. So this wasn't a total bomb as a walk but it did reinforced my feeling that Ottawa is mostly a failure in urban planning.

Pick Me

For the final installment of her live-stream concerts on Thursday, Molly Tuttle decided to have a socially distanced "pickin' party" where the focus will be on guitars. It turned out to be a typical Tuttle set: a blue-grass combination of her own tunes plus songs she has covered in the past.

The set started with a bang with toe-tapping originals Save This Heart and Supermoon. Even a Rolling Stones' cover (She's A Rainbow) sounded like a classic blue-grass number. But it wouldn't be a party without guests. Tuttle had mini-sets with local Nashville talents: Daniel Donato, David Grier, and Ellen Angelico. It was quite a feast to watch Tuttle trade licks with her guests while highlighting other people's music including Fox On The Run (Manfred Mann), Soldier's Joy (Bill Munroe), Angeline The Baker (Stephen Foster), and Georgia On A Fast Train (Billy Joe Shaver). Her White Freightliner Blues (Townes Van Zandt) with Grier was astonishing, even better than her duet with Tommy Emmanuel. She thanked him for supporting her when she first moved to Nashville, and also for "stealing his licks". Tuttle's collab with Ellen Angelico wasn't quite as blistering, but the latter had a knack for writing oddball tunes including a song about someone who wanted to experience love but wasn't sure what it was.

Her backing band of Annie Clements and Megan Jane played a more supporting role tonight. But there was plenty in the chat who wanted them to tour together. In fact, the audience was the most active during this show, perhaps excited by the talent on stage. The supportive messages and appreciative emojis filled up the screen throughout the set.

Live With Lido (and Lido)

Tuesday afternoon, Lido Pimienta was live-streaming on Youtube as LidoTV. I thought that it would be a pre-recorded show but was pleasantly surprised that it was live. Her team had built a "living room" with bright, kitschy décor including several of her artwork on the walls. Over the next hour, Pimienta enthralled her audience with songs from her latest release Miss Colombia.

With only her on stage, she found a way to make both the music and the visuals engaging. There were multiple cameras but they weren't intrusive. One even offered a kaleidoscopic effect now and then. On the audio side, it wasn't all backing tracks. Piementa used live looping to layer multiple vocals during her performance. This made songs including her 2 singles from this album: Nada and Eso Que Tu Haces as well as numbers like Pelo Cucu and Resisto Y Va interesting and different from the album.

There were even several costume changes. During these breaks, they aired videos of a "Lido Shopping Network" where she attempted to (wink) sell merchandise. Her sales patter became increasingly surreal and absurd as Pimienta implored her fans to buy vinyls (you won't play them, so hang them as paintings), CDs (having 3 kids is expensive, she's in debt to her record label), and calendars or small prints of her artwork (give them to your parents, they won't use it, so you can take them back later, it's like a double gift). Her natural humour translated perfectly to the screen.

The audience loved both the over-the-top antics and the singing. They were watching from around the world, though most were from Spanish-speaking countries. The dearth of local fans (i.e., Canadians) despite her credentials: a previous record won the Polaris prize, the new one was short-listed for the Polaris as well as a recent Grammy nomination, was puzzling. It reminded me of numerous Toronto musicians who only found success after leaving Canada such as Stacey, Allie X (L.A.), and Michelle Guverich (Berlin).

Vs The World

It's funny how you can get tired from doing nothing all day. So I woke up from a Friday nap too late to catch Nyssa's live show at Lee's Palace. Luckily, this live stream was available to watch the next day. I settled in on Saturday to give it a look-see.

This would have been an album release so the set was comprised of songs from her latest work. But in addition to numbers like Greenback Dollar, Bye Bye Jubilee and Misty Morning, there were also unreleased music (Innisfree Blues, Appetite 4 Destruction). Nyssa continued to mine storytelling songs (Go Away Evil, Full Of Love) but the focus has narrowed to snapshots instead of grander narratives. This was also the first time I have seen her play an instrument during a 4-song acoustic section with her childhood friend Zack Burgess. Her penultimate song, Ann-Margret's It's a Nice World To Visit (But Not To Live In), may be the most obscure cover I've witnessed but appropriate for 2020.

This show didn't engage me as much as previous Nyssa shows. As a relatively unknown musician, she often plays to a new crowd. Part of the magic is to watch her magnetic stage presence convert a disinterested audience. Without people there, it wasn't as fun to experience. Furthermore, this was a pre-recorded show with voice-overs, post-production video editing, and so on. This makes for a slicker presentation but at least for me, takes away from the live show aspect. I'm not in the habit of watching an hour-long music video.

I'm also feeling the equivalent of Zoom fatigue. I've been reading my old reviews of shows and even just a few years on, many only elicit a few seconds of remembrance (maybe due to my aphantasia?) There are even some where I don't remember being there at all. So frankly, I doubt these virtual shows during the pandemic will create lasting memories for me. In fact, an even more nagging question: should I even bother with actual live events once things go back to normal?

Songs For A Winter's Night

It's not quite winter yet in Toronto on Thursday though there was apparently a glorious sunset. Here in Ottawa, there was snow on the ground. I normally miss The O'Pears' annual Christmas show (except for 2017 and 2018), but they were live-streaming this year.

Their stage, in a living room or basement, looked too big to be inside a typical semi-detached house in Toronto. They must be ensconced somewhere out in the country. It looked cozy and welcoming, even the plastic partitions between the singers were decorated with garlands. At first, I was skeptical watching this over Zoom; a show early on with Sara Slean was only so-so. With a small "crew" handling multiple cameras and a professionally mic-ed set-up, it was much better tonight. Video quality could probably be HD on a different platform but it was reasonably crisp and audio quality was superb. The big advantage was that we could watch other viewers and the band could see our faces. Since many included friends and family of Lydia Persaud, Jill Harris, and Meg Contini, the ladies were quite emotional at various points in the evening.

An O'Pears show is all about those glorious harmonies and they delivered in spades. From beautiful originals like Morning Song, Lady Winter to covers (Joni Mitchell's River, Have Your A Merry Little Christmas), they wrapped the audience in layers of sonic warmth. Having a full band was also a treat especially tonight. Steve Lavery (drums), Joshua Van Tassel (piano), Ben Whiteley (bass), and Christine Bougie (slide/electric guitar) all played on The O'Pears sophomore album. But this was the first time they were together as a "real" band. Some proceeds from tonight was benefiting grass-root organization Toronto Indigenous Harm Reduction. The O'Pears also took the time to highlight emergencies that has come to the forefront this year including the BLM marches, homeless encampments, and Indigenous reconciliation.

Revolution 3

Thursday night was the second installment of a Molly Tuttle show from The Basement in Nashville with Annie Clements and Megan Jane. Tonight's theme: songs about social change and revolution. It started with Big Yellow Taxi (Joni Mitchell) and ended with (What's So Funny Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding (Nick Lowe). In between were numerous tunes challenging the status quo.

There were only few songs about actual revolution, if we are talking about collective action, like Talking 'Bout A Revolution (Tracy Chapman) and We Shall Not Be Moved (Labour Version)(Woody Guthrie). There were plenty of numbers highlighting injustices in the world: Working Girl Blues (Hazel Dickens), Ohio (Neil Young), What's Going On (Marvin Gaye), and War (Bob Marley). Tuttle also covered songs about an individual's challenge to societal attitudes like Rebel Girl (Bikini Kill), Born This Way (Lady Gaga), Not Ready To Make Nice (The Chicks) and The Man (Taylor Swift).

As in her previous show, she brought a virtuosic playing and often a blue-grass feel to the song. Even on her electric guitar, I noticed that her solos tended toward crisp, clean notes instead of the stylings more common to rock (string bends, pedal effects, whammy bar). Her cover of Anais Mitchell's Why We Build The Wall was excellent. Without the swell of voices repeating its verses, it didn't have the thrumming gravitas that electrified me when I first heard it. But on the other hand, Tuttle's solos for that song was outstanding.

On the technical side though, the show was a mess. The sound was excellent but the video was out-of-sync for the whole evening. In addition, many people were unable to log in to watch. So the live chat filled with more complaints than praise. It was distracting like chatty barflies at a venue. The mismatched visuals also detracted from the experience as part of the thrill of seeing Molly Tuttle is to watch her work the frets. Because of these problems, the platform Mandolin offered a 24-hour replay option for ticket holders unlike the first broadcast.

Command & Conquer

Friday night, I was back at The Horseshoe (but only virtually). As part of NAC (National Arts Centre) live stream showcase on Facebook, a sister act named Command Sisters was doing an acoustic set on stage. That was their actual names since several other Command(s), mostly from their childhood home of Alberta, showed up in the chat to cheer them on. Charlotte and Sarah played a few tunes off upcoming their debut EP: I Can Do What I Want Too, Low Profile, Lonely Lullaby. But they were relatively new so their set had numerous covers such as Hey Ya! (Outkast), Blinded By The Light (The Weeknd), and Free Falling (Tom Petty) or songs written during the pandemic (the Christmas adjacent Steal Your Heart, the Tindr diss Someone Else's Dream). On the latter, Charlotte revealed that Sarah finally found her "berta boy" not on dating apps but Zoom.

They both played guitar but split duties with dark-haired Charlotte on vocals and platinum-blonde Sarah doing harmony and guitar solos and fills. Their sound had a 90s RnB feel updated with the hip-hop style of the last several years. Combined with a good set of pipes, they won over some new fans who were watching because of the NAC sponsorship or had stumbled upon the live feed.

The sisters moved to the Toronto suburbs of Scarborough a few years ago but now lived in the East End. The "Legendary" Horseshoe was one of the venue that they frequented regularly for shows. They had met the singers of the B52s at NAMM who still remembered playing there in the 80s. So it was a special moment for the sisters to finally play here even if there was no physical audience. It was a nice sentiment but I've to numerous no-cover shows there so it isn't that hard to get on that stage.

With their musical chops, fashionable outfits, and photogenic looks, I wasn't surprised to hear that they signed with Republic/Universal about 2 years ago. But I didn't find their mainstream sound as compelling. I checked out their official videos afterwards and the electronic pop meets synthesizer rock sounded a bit generically corporate. Compared to tonight's set, sometimes less is more.

Black Swan

On Friday, I enjoyed my first live stream dance recital thanks to Citadel & Compagnie. It was a one-woman show with Syreeta Hector called Black Ballerina. First shown as part of Summerworks, she continued developing it at residencies in Belgium and Canadian Stage. Tonight was perhaps its most complete form with props and multiple steadi-cams.

Once you know that Hector has Black and First Nation (Mi'kmaq) heritage, the premise and symbolism of the piece were clear. The strength of the dance was in its execution. Hector laid on the stage, clad in black sweat pants and a hoodie. Slowly, she rolled and twitched as skittering, moaning noise echoed. At one point, she raised the hoodie's cowl high overhead with an extended arm, turning herself into some giant, mysterious spectre.

We still haven't seen her features. When she uncovered her head, it was with her back to the cameras, to reveal a cascade of long blonde hair. A documentary voice-over narrated about the mimic octopus, a creature that can hide and even resemble other animals, while Hector moved through nascent and tentative classical ballet movements.

Her internal conflict became apparent when she finally removed the wig, put one pink pointe shoe, and one gold sneaker. Hector danced in a stop-and-start manner with a mix of ballet and street, hampered by the mismatched footwear. The recital moved into its most free-flowing acts when Hector replaced that pointe with the other sneaker, and reveled in contemporary and hip-hop steps as A Tribe Called Red and Kendrick Lamar played. At one point, she flashed a grin at the camera. The final act had her return to her ballet roots complete with a soft tutu. Under a spotlight, she moved through various positions while a white powder drifted down to cover her face and torso.

The show was followed by a question-and-answer between the virtual audience, Hector, and artistic director Laurence Lemieux. The dancer talked about growing up in the Maritimes and not being taught (at home or in school) about her heritage or history. This erasure obviously had an effect on her. But I also felt that the looping back to ballet after joyously dancing to Lamar's Be Humble also revealed another conflict. As much as Hector identified with other Black artists, her reality of growing up in Halifax did not overlap fully with living in Compton or other heavily Black (and poor) areas in the U.S. Her "tribe" was as complicated and multi-dimensional as her racial background.

These live streams are becoming interesting. Like acts of faith, the audience was larger than one that would fit in the actual physical space. They also watched from everywhere, including places where these small productions would never tour. As for myself, even though I could attend this performance if allowed, having it virtual was a net positive. Being an old geezer, I often nap in the afternoon nowadays. I woke up only 15 minutes before the start time and would have missed it if I had to travel cross-town. But tonight, I even had time to start dinner before settling down to watch.

Said The Whale

On Wednesday night, I saw a live stream concert that left me disappointed. It wasn't so much the performer but the choice of platform. The set opened with Maggie Koerner growling a bluesy drawl on If I Die. It was a good start but I was nonplussed. This seemed a departure from what I knew of the artist. Then I laughed because all this time my brain fart had me thinking it would be Maggie Rogers.

In addition to the virtual audience, there was a smattering of live attendees since the show was taking place at The Chloe in New Orleans. It was a duo set with Joshua Starkman on guitar, and later on Zack Feinberg to close out the show, to celebrate Koerner's birthday IA good performance with original material like Love Drug and an excellent cover of Funkier Than A Mosquito's Tweeter, but it didn't have the fire of her show in Toronto last year.

I didn't enjoy this concert and my first experience with the platform StageIt. They gave a viewer the option to tip the artist "gift coins" where 10 pieces would be $1. So the chat screen, instead of being full of insightful or appreciative posts like Molly Tuttle's last show, often filled up with different tip amounts.

I don't begrudge paying a performer; artists sometimes put links to venmo or paypal as a virtual tip jar. But I became astonished tonight to see some viewers were contributing hundreds of dollars. I then noticed in the show's description a list of rewards for top supporters. The #1 supporter, if they contributed at least $444, would get a private performance. No doubt this structure was meant to follow StageIt's FAQ that "rewarding top supporters often incentivizes fans to tip who otherwise may not have."

 

It was nice payday for a $1-ticket show, probably worth thousands. After all, I noticed that the #3 supporter tipped almost $400. Yet there were still 2 others ahead of them and another 80 behind. I wondered if they thought getting a sticker and a koozie was worth it. This online platform felt cynical and grubby: tipping without limit, displaying your current rank in the queue, showing the top 5 but of course not their contributions ("Maybe if I keep tipping I'll move up!"), and that bald-faced FAQ.

 

StageIt's monetization scheme was of a kind with paying streamers and youtubers (which can lead to them churning out right-wing and polemical content to keep their fans' "engagement"), loot boxes, in-app purchases, and chasing microtransactions big-spenders. It's nasty business and I won't use them ever again. But they weren't the only guilty party. Koerner anticipated (and incentivized for) $400+ from a single viewer. She should give that private performance to at least her top 5 supporters.

The Devil Wears Stola

On Saturday, I watched my first live-streamed play. Local theatres and dance companies have offered shows during this pandemic time, but they were mostly pre-recorded. Tonight, Factory Theatre was premiering on Twitch a one-person play called acts of faith.

It opened inside of a city apartment with its bay windows and water radiator. A young black woman (Natasha Mumba) proceeded to tell us a joke about Jesus on the cross. This was the titular Faith who grew up in Kitwe, Zambia. At the start of each new scene, she would regale us with another religious joke including several with the well-known "... and a rabbi" set-up.

Faith engagingly told us about her life, mostly between 13-years-old and her current 18. A "miracle baby" who arrived after several miscarriages, she lived with her mother while her father and brothers were off working the copper mines. She became an actual miracle to her neighbours when Faith convinced a snobby class-mate to stop her bullying ways by pretending to channel God's Words. This lie caused the first major rift with her mother.

The second, which led to 3 years of estrangement between them, came after Faith visited her cousins in Lusaka. There, she met "Father Hot Stuff" with his English accent, tousled blonde hair, tattoos, and hip sermons. But Faith quickly found out this holy man had grabby hands. Unfortunately, her mother could not accept her daughter's testimony.

Disillusioned with the church, Faith sat in the back pews with all the "sinners" and away from her pious mother. Things came to a head when Father Cody, after making his Instagram-documented missionary tour through various African cities and always with his arm around a young girl, came to Kitwe. We then found out what happened next, why Faith was now living in Toronto, and the uncanny experiences that followed.

I first saw playwright David Yee back in 2016. Given the magical realist tone of Acquiesce, I wasn't surprised with the seemingly supernatural elements nor the push-pull between parent and child, filial tradition and youthful modernity in acts of faith. But as essentially an oral memoir taking place in a single setting, the latter lacked an immersiveness that would allow an audience to, well, have faith in the material. As such, I felt some details seemed cliché when recited whereas a bigger production might imbued them with more truth.

But Mumba was excellent in her role. She believably combined mischievous irreverence, heartfelt belief, and painful loss. Faith was a woman you were happy to talk to and sad to hear about her trauma. We left her not knowing whether there was a happy ending for Faith, but we were hopeful of a miracle.

So You Think You Can Blanche

With rising cases, Toronto has moved from Red zone into lock-down effective Monday. So on Saturday, I decided to visit a new restaurant called Musoshin Ramen on Boustead. This side street was near the triangular intersection where Roncesvalles merged into Dundas St. W. It was about two blocks north of the more gentrified area of Roncesvalles Village.

The little shop, painted all black on the outside but with a cheery interior, resembled some charming place you might stumble over in Japan. But with current restrictions, we were limited to just a few tables outside. These were all snapped up for lunch time despite the cold weather. During my time there, a regular stream of customers came by to order. I'm thinking the locals were excited for the opening since previously the closest ramen shop was a 30-minute walk away.

I ordered a white miso vegan ramen ($17) with some extra vegetables ($2.50). Let's start with the good news. The noodles had a good chew and I enjoyed the unusual toppings like okra and roasted sweet potato. Typical ingredients like bamboo shoots were also tasty. Now onto the negative stuff. First, my broth came out barely luke-warm. It might be cold outside but not fast enough to cool down it that quickly. It had acceptable flavour but not exceptional despite the oohs and aahs from the table next to me. In fact, this profile recounted how the chef here was trying to perfect her technique using zoom (because of the pandemic) with the head chef in Kyoto. I remembered in the documentary Ramen Heads there were apprentices who worked long hours for months and years before striking off on their own.

Also, I don't know if they forgot my extra vegetables because if not, then the regular order for the vegan bowl would not have much toppings. So it was serviceable ramen (at $19.50) from a somewhat newbie that was 50% more expensive than an equivalent vegetarian bowl ($13.50) from Tondou Ramen. The other choices were more competitive price-wise but the vegan option was definitely not a good deal. However, I can't speak to the quality of those broth or the chashu-pork slices.

The article made it clear that, originally, local chef Yoshida was to handle desserts only and not pulling double-duty here. So I might return to try the interesting cube-shaped milk bread (Shokupan) or desserts (Yogurt Cheesecake, Strawberry Mochi). But Musoshin isn't high on my list for ramen.

I Streamed A Stream

On Thursday, Molly Tuttle was playing live from The Basement in Nashville. Perhaps inspired by her recent album of covers, But I'd Rather Be With You, she had scheduled 3 shows highlighting other people's songs. The first one tonight featured music from her childhood home in the Bay Area of California.

The virtual audience, some of whom were well-known blue-grass musicians, was treated to what someone described as Molly's "Dylan Goes Electric" moment. Indeed, she strapped on an electric guitar and opened with White Rabbit (Jefferson Airplane). It turned out that the singer Grace Slick wasn't the only musician showcased tonight who also attended Tuttle's alma mater at Palo Alto High School. She would go electric for a few more songs but mostly rotated through her acoustic guitar collection on numbers like Didn't I (Darondo), Basket Case (Green Day), and Diamonds and Rust (Joan Baez).

The Bay Area has a strong blue-grass community and Tuttle did a solo set paying tribute to her predecessors and often personal mentors: Diamond Joe (Laurie Lewis), Broken Tie (Kathy Killick), Across The Great Divide (Kate Wolf), Cabin On A Mountain (Vern Williams). Her fingers flew over the fret and her picking hand had "a 140 IQ" as marveled by one awestruck viewer.

Her versatility ran from punk (Rancid's Olympia Wa), to 70s rock (CCR's Lodi, Steve Miller's The Joker), and dreamy pop (Chis Isaak's San Francisco Days). Except for the recent Disco Man (Remi Wolf), I noticed that these selections were decades old. But her bluegrass fans seemed to skew older so they loved these classics.

It was my first time seeing a non-solo Molly Tuttle. Megan Jane on drums and Annie Clements on bass and harmony added richness to the set. Tuttle's complex playing often sound like a full band, but it was still great to finally hear more fullness especially on her songs Take The Journey and the new Golden State of Mind. She laughingly pointed out that she was from The Bay, too, so why not do her own material.

This was an excellent set and I felt, like others in the chat, that it would have been even better to have seen it at that venue. However, these live streams have allowed people from around the world to attend a concert together. Tonight, those tuning in from Europe and even Australia experienced live a magical moment that would have been impossible otherwise.

You Take The Good

Last week saw Toronto moving into the Red zone with new Covid restrictions coming on Saturday. So I enjoyed the little wins even if nothing was without problems. First, the weather stayed pleasant enough to still have lunches in the park. I wasn't happy with the take-out wastes though. For example, my bibimbap from Roll & Bowl came in 3 separate bowls plus disposable spoon and chopsticks. Let's see if they'll re-use their (washed) plastic bowl when I return. I have been looking for exact substitutes of typical take-out containers.

Second, my observations to my former landlady was sound. My knee problems cleared up after I visited Origin Wellness for some massage therapy. Even the usual small twinges I feel walking up stairs disappeared. It wasn't a total cure since now and then, some innocuous movement would still temporarily shift something internal to the "ouch" position.

Third, I had brunch on Saturday with a friend I hadn't seen in a few weeks. It was originally scheduled for the back patio at The Three Speed but they were worried about Covid fines. I didn't think we were at the stage where inspectors would randomly check that social groups were only from the same household. But they felt more comfortable eating at home. I wouldn't normally eat A&W take-out but it was more for the company than the food.

They had some personal good news. Their refugee sponsorship of their sibling was finally accepted. If all goes well, the brother will arrive by next summer or fall. Hard to say how the economy will look then but hopefully a good job in the trades awaits for someone with 25 years of carpentry experience. Their room-mate, a young female refugee claimant, was taking pre-law university courses. Meanwhile, the room-mate's boyfriend finished his year-long Canadian accreditation as a foreign-trained midwife and found work at The Midwives Collective. So amid uncertainty for many people, it was nice to hear about good things happening.

I'm The Squat Man

On Sunday, another beautiful day with bright sunshine and shorts-wearing weather, I sat in Dufferin Grove eating a vegetarian roti from Vena's Roti and enjoying the Fall foliage. I thought about Ottawa and its advantages such as home-cooked meals, spending time with elderly relatives, helping out, and receiving help as well (if my knee troubles worsen).

I would be giving up live shows (music, dance, theatre) and conveniences like local shops and restaurants if I leave Toronto. Selfishly, I thought that it was losing them anyway. The mom-and-pop businesses I preferred were either being gentrified out or their owners were near retirement. But now the pandemic was destroying every else's livelihood too including cultural venues like bars and concert halls. Toronto will always be a vibrant place but it may take a few years to recover and in the process likely become something different. Younger folks will scoff at my nostalgia and older people will claim that Toronto was already past its best in the 90s or 80s.

But with my various strolls I realized I will lose something unexpected: parks and trees. Toronto has intense densification with all the condos in the downtown core. Even its older neighbourhoods teemed with people, even if residential housing are considered low density compared to European cities. Yet there were tree-lined streets and parks everywhere. I haven't touched on the truly big areas like the Don Valley or Humber River. Could Ottawa be less green despite its supposed active lifestyle and bike trails?

I certainly don't recall spending much time sitting around with friends at a picnic. So I pored over Ottawa with Google maps, aerial, and street views. There were a few large, "destination" parks like Britannia Beach and Andrew Heydon even if they were not on par with Trinity-Bellwoods, Cedarvale, or the huge High Park. But generally most neighbourhoods don't have an outdoor space. And in photos, the few that existed rarely had people or contained any benches or tables.

There's a quip that "Toronto goes out for fun, Ottawa stays in" because Toronto people enjoyed living it up at bars and clubs while Ottawans preferred dinner parties. But maybe it's also that there's nowhere to gather publicly in Ottawa. It wasn't just about having less restaurants and cultural events; you literally couldn't even sit outside. During these anxious times, I really appreciate having the option to just sit at a tree, with the comfort of other people nearby (but not too close), and decompress.

In any case, it wasn't all about weighing gloomy options this afternoon. There used to be an old man who roamed around feeding squirrels. Well, I've recently taken over his noble work and make my daily rounds including today. I hope to grow into that role because city squirrels can live into their 3rd decade. Another thing I would miss about Toronto.

I ran into my old landlady by the playground. Since her husband died, she has moved away while her daughter has taken over the house management. She was sad because she was alone most of the day with her grand-kids at school and their mom at work. Unfortunately, she couldn't really live on her own though I would love to have her back in the house instead of all the recent boarders. Also, she thought that her recent health troubles were caused by her late spouse's restless spirit. I reassured her that her knee problems will improve with the doctor-prescribed exercises and massage therapy.

Parks and Recreation

"A city within a park" is the motto of Toronto's Parks and Forestry division. Their vision is to connect all of the city's green spaces. Saturday proved yet to be another hot day so I decided to visit a few more neighbourhoods and their parks. Old Weston Road and St. Clair was a place in transition. Its industrial setting has not been converted to the friendlier open-air big-box mall of The Stock Yards further West. Yet the forlorn building at the corner (housing apartments and Peter Pan K Convenience) and its brethren a few blocks East hinted that this area was more vibrant at one time. Well, people may soon return if perhaps not interesting architecture. Several condos were in development including a complex of condos and townhouses at this corner: 6 "blocks" of housing units will span from St. Clair north to S.A.D.R.A. (Silverthorn and District Ratepayers Association) Park.

This long but narrow park within an active hydro corridor started at Old Weston and ran several blocks to Blackthorn. It nestled between the backyards of modest houses and provided greenery, a children's playground, and even an outdoor calisthenics gym (think dip and pull-up bars). Some homeowners had put in gates in their fences for easier access. Blackthorn Ave led to a bustling St. Clair with businesses like Marina's Casa Da Comida.

I headed south along Hounslow Heath Rd to Wadsworth Park. This area felt more gentrified with couples and their young kids grabbing coffee at Hounslow House, fixing up their front yard, or kvetching by the playground. I kept along Gillespie and then Uxbridge until Pelham Avenue Playground. This neighbourhood on both sides of Davenport must have had a significant Polish population to support St. Mary's (est. 1915). Pelham was quiet though the empty lot at Kingsley and Perth had a condo project in pre-development since 2015. This small park would be overwhelmed if those multi-story buildings (the highest at 16 stories) were built.

I headed back up Perth (past a house with a motorized windmill in the frontyard) to Davenport and then up Wiltshire. This street officially ended at Rutland but a desire path meandered through another hydro corridor, past the ends of several streets filled with new townhouses, and finally exiting onto the parking lot of Tavora Foods.

I was at my main goal: Earlscourt Park. I have passed by here several times including my first year in Toronto yet have never visited the park proper. But before exploring around, it was time for lunch. I thought about stopping at Dairy Freeze (est. 1952) but its patio faced car-heavy Caledonia Park Rd. Tre Mari Bakery (est. 1960) had full curbside tables and a long line-up. I finally chose Frank's Pizza House (est. 1965). They didn't do per slice before COVID, but now you can get one for $3 before 5 pm. I got two and made my way back to the park. Chef Giorgio Taverniti interacted cheerfully with myself and other customers by the open window but apparently he is suffering a double whammy of vision loss and drop in business from the pandemic.

Earlscourt extended from St. Clair all the way to Davenport. Yet it was light on visitors compared to a park downtown. It had a dog park, tennis courts, a soccer field, an ice rink, and even a running track. The community centre housed a swimming pool, bocce court, indoor soccer, and gymnasium. With all that, there was still a lot of grassy fields dotted with mature trees. I chose a park bench facing a small open amphitheatre (est. 2000) for lunch. The pizza slices were delicious, combining the satisfying gooeyness of a cheap joint with a toothsome dough from a nicer bistro.

I debated whether this round amphitheatre, a 2000 Millennium project, had ever satisfied its aim to "showcase the work of many of the community’s artistic organizations and youth endeavours". Certainly within Toronto's indie scene, I've attended many outdoor concerts at Trinity-Bellwoods and Christie Pits but never here. But it seems at least one festival, Brazil Fest, has often showcased dancers and musicians at this venue.

I spent some time relaxing at Earlscourt before wandering through the newer townhouses along Foundry Ave. The "mommy and me" set were out in full force at the Davenport Village Park. I must be a hipster at heart. Because as I gazed upon the few remaining old buildings left intact and hosting gentrified spots like Balzac's Cafe, Century Park Tavern, 30 Powerhouse St., and The Foundry Lofts, I wondered if anything more interesting happened around here 20 years ago.

The final leg of my trek took me through a series of parkettes along another hydro corridor: Primrose, Beaver Lightbourn, Chandos Park (North & South), and Brandon. The last one seemed familiar. Oh yes, I had sat here enjoying a take-out dinner before a concert. I never did go to that show because at the height of summer, the first opener wouldn't start until at least 10:30 pm. And I was getting "too old for this shit".

On the other side of Dufferin St., through a gap between metal fences, which some day may turned into a Green Line path, I continued on through Bristol Avenue parkette and finished at Bartlett. This space was packed with folks picnic-ing and drinking beer from Blood Brothers Brewing. If you're young and have a "personal style", you're not a hobo for boozing in public. But why crowd together when there was an empty park right beside this one? I finished off my trip with matcha ice cream from Knock Out. I enjoyed this stroll through some eclectic neighbourhoods and will return to try Marina's food and also Frank's calzone.

Health Is Wealth

For a few weeks, I've experienced more aches than usual from little things that come out of nowhere. I did hobble about after falling a while back, but recently what started as small muscle ache during a morning run turned into a persistent pain in my calf. I was able to explore Forest Hill but I had to move around with care in my daily activities.

Last Friday, I finally felt well enough to try a slower jog. But on Saturday morning, an innocuous climb up the porch steps suddenly bloomed into a sharp jolt in my knee. This time, using the stairs and even walking became quite arduous. I abandoned any plans to go outside for the Blue Moon Halloween that night and have stayed in my apartment ever since.

My chronic joint troubles will affect my future plans. One, living up several flights of stairs is difficult and daydreams of relocating to a walk-up or above a store seem foolish. Two, vigorous physical exertion is likely a no-go. I haven't felt comfortable with skiing, tennis and other sports for years; smooth or repetitive motions like yoga or jogging are doable, but activities with rapid and sudden movement feel questionable. So although City Dance Corps and Second Sky Circus had recently moved into the glass building (Hamilton Gear Building) at Dupont and Dovercourt, it's wishful thinking to imagine taking classes there.

Finally, my leisure goals may need to change. Clearly from my posts I have exclusively spent time between Toronto and Ottawa over the last decade. Having total aphantasia, I envy the average person who has good, and perhaps even full, sensory (sight, sound, etc.) memories. My recall is limited to a dry recitation, not unlike (ha!) blog posts. I think this condition has also affected my desire to travel. I have no strong feelings about what few vacations I've taken; the "collect moments not things" mantra don't apply. Furthermore, I do not get excited thinking about going to some exotic locale because I literally cannot imagine the place.

Nevertheless, I think I should do more travel, if only before full climate change makes life hellish. But perhaps river cruises and bus tours are more my speed instead trekking the Machu Picchu trails or climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Whiter Shade of Pale

On Saturday, I returned to Claxton to finish my exploration. Instead of looping East to the start of Cedarvale Park, I descended the stairs at the Glen Cedar pedestrian bridge. The Cedarvale Ravine meandered West from beneath that structure. Being wetlands, it retained something wilder than a city park with untended bushes and trees, head-high reeds, and small water ways. Yet you were still aware that the ravine was in an urban environment: the path was paved or graveled and dotted with lamp-posts; underneath the susurration of the wind, you heard the slight hum of traffic and rumble of the subway passing nearby. But it still provided a peaceful and contemplative stroll.

At its Southern tip, I exited onto the Heath St. entrance of the St. Clair station. Lower Village Gate was a gated community comprising of 2 low-rise condo buildings facing a row of townhouses, all fenced off from the surrounding streets. Pedestrian walkways gave access to it during the day. At the Eastern end, the ravine merged into Suydam Park and Forest Hill (South).

At first, this neighbourhood didn't live up to its chi-chi reputation. But further exploration of streets like Dunloe, Hawarden, Vesta, Burton, and Delavan revealed enormous homes where the second car was a Mercedes or BMW. Afterwards, I looked at satellite images and saw that they hid large backyards complete with swimming pools and even small basketball courts. The architecture was eclectic but none of it felt old. I suspect Forest Hill's new money reputation played a role; it was as if the suburban enclave of Oakville was dropped into Toronto. There was almost no one around except for tradespeople fixing roofs, paving driveways, or landscaping front yards.

Finally, around Spadina and Lonsdale, I found pedestrians amid a cluster of old buildings housing apartments and shops. They barely covered a city block and didn't stand out: bank branches, Subway, Starbucks. Perhaps the residents of upscale Forest Hill mostly drive elsewhere for restaurants and other amenities.

Time To Reap

On my way to Beast Bodega, I passed by record store Rotate This. After a quick chat I found out they were still handling refunds for cancelled shows. So I came back in the early evening to return tickets of concerts (Vagabon, Kate Davis, Austra) from March through May. With the afternoon heat still lingering, the patios on Dundas St. W and Ossington were hopping. I couldn't find a seat and vegan restaurant The Grow Op had shuttered.

But I spied that in a basement unit next to The Painted Lady, there was a new take-out spot called Season Six. Their sandwich board listed vegan dishes so I descended down to take a look. Apparently, they aimed to serve seasonal ingredients across "six seasons of vegetables" with a menu change every 2 months. Husband-and-wife duo Brett and Lara had the bad luck to open it in April at the height of the pandemic.

Being at the tail end of the Fall Harvest, I opted for The Oktoberfest ($13). It arrived as a warm and hearty semi-stew of white beans, kale, and big chunks of beet. I couldn't believe how "authentic" the smokey bratwurst tasted, though I had a niggling doubt. After I checked their menu online, it was a "real" sausage after all. Season Six had vegan-friendly dishes, but it wasn't a plant-based outfit. I had already eaten meat today with a Bolognese pasta, so that was all right.

Altered Beast

Friday was a bright beautiful day with temperature in the mid-teens, perfect for one last sit at a patio. Yesterday, I went to Dosa Mahal for a vegan lunch and made myself some pasta in the evening. So I thought I would visit Beast Bodega, a small restaurant at King and Tecumseth, to try some "Indian pasta".

Normally, I don't frequent a place like Beast anymore. Chef Scott Vivian reveled in meat-heavy items which don't match up with my mostly plant-based diet. But he recently posted on social media about a Cavatelli Masala Bolognese ($26) dish to honour his Indian mother and Italian father. According to the description, it had garlic, ginger, ghee, cumin seeds, asafoetida, san marzano tomatoes, and other ingredients.

I sat down at a small table with a Blood Brothers pale ale ($5) in hand. I was expecting the entrée to have strong contrast (similar to Rasta Pasta) but I couldn't really taste the South Asian flavour. So I had to judge it based on its Mediterranean merits. Firstly, it had less ground brisket, chuck, and sauce than in the posted photo. This made for an anemic topping compared to the typical stick-to-your-ribs Bolognese sauce. Secondly, the pasta shells were 30 seconds on the wrong side of al dente. I would normally give these small missteps a pass but this dish was $8-10 dollars more than Enoteca Sociale's. It was even pricier than Piano Piano ($24). After my meal, I was reminded that I had been on the look-out for a real "homey Bolognese" place after I read an article on this sauce.

Better Late Than Never

On Friday, I watched a streaming show broadcasting from The Burdock that felt like a real concert for several reasons. Firstly, there was an opening act to start the evening. Lia Pappas-Kemp is better known as an actor (Anne With an E) with a burgeoning Youtube channel featuring mostly covers. But it was all original material tonight with songs like In Toronto and Road To Oblivion falling on the sad side of indie-pop. There was a touch of hard-won experience with lyrics hinting at an older romantic interest that was less "cool" when viewed through wiser eyes.

Secondly, head-liner Moscow Apartment may be young (though one of them finally graduated high school) but they were assured on stage. So in between mature songs that tackled misogyny (New Girl), body image (Annie), and toxic masculinity (Awful People), there was plenty of cheerful banter. Brighid and Pascal not only talked to each other but also to the unseen audience. Lia read out a number of chat messages and questions for them to respond to. There were only 2 negatives with their set. It was originally a full band show before the second pandemic wave scuttled that plan. Their March fund-raiser showed they can also rock out. Also the mix was unbalanced. For some reason, the mic vocals for both acts were primarily in the left or right channel. It was all right when they sang in harmony but quite irritating when there was only one singer.

One advantage of watching a show at home was that I could make a late dinner. I had been asleep until 9 pm. It has been a long time since I needed to eat a full meal after a concert.

Give-er

I didn't head back to Ottawa for the long week-end because that city was also in a modified lockdown because of recent outbreaks of COVID-19. Since the start of the pandemic, I haven't become unmoored like some folks. But I don't quite recall how the time passed over these few days.

I remembered visiting the fancy mid-town neighbourhood of Cedarvale on Saturday. That evening, I ate Yoshoku or Japanese-style Western food at COO. With no indoor dining, they were doing take-out but there was a two-table curbside patio at the entrance. I sat down for some Crab Cakes ($8.75) and Omu-rice ($18). The croquettes had yam stuffing which lent it some Thanksgiving flavour. This was my first Omu-rice, though I have seen videos showing the runny inside when you slice open the omelette. It was a good dish though later on, I didn't enjoy the demi-glace as much. It clashed with the fried rice for my palate.

I noticed the streets weren't bustling with cars, pedestrians, and cyclists. So not much people-watching during dinner. And the city seemed to empty out even more throughout the week-end. Perhaps people were clearing out, hunkering inside, or both. All the parked cars on my street have vanished. At some point on Sunday or Monday, I wandered Bloor St to the edge of High Park. There were a few closed businesses but not as many compared to other areas. The shops along Dundas St. W. leading to Lansdowne suffered a double whammy. A large section of the road was closed for major renovation. So it felt surreal walking along here, without city noise or human activity.

Welcome To Cedarvale

Earlier this year, I visited a nice part of the city for a dinner party. I had planned to return to get a better look in the summer but with the pandemic, it slipped my mind. With probably the last warm Saturday of the year, I went back to have a bit of a stroll.

Claxton Boulevard was even prettier in the daylight with a gate at one end and a roundabout at the other. But now I realized that the tree-lined median separated two social classes. On one side, the houses and a few buildings were more worn and sub-divided into apartment units. On the other side, they were large single family residences, well-maintained or in the process of a rebuild. Connaught Circle led me to the Glen Cedar pedestrian bridge that spanned a wooded ravine just starting to fill in with Fall colours.

Across the bridge, streets like Glen Cedar and Strathearn were lined with huge, stately homes. There was lots of indoor space, lawn, and backyard here for social distancing so it seemed almost unfair that they also backed onto even more green space. Just off Ava, a path marked the start of Cedarvale Park. It was likely almost as large as Trinity Bellwoods Park downtown and included a dog park, sports fields, tennis courts, and even an arena. But instead of young folks packed cheek-to-jowl, there was plenty of room for older couples, families with kids, and nannies pushing strollers. If the 1% lived around Macpherson, then we're getting into gradations in these parts.

I started walking down the trail that would lead me through Cedarvale Ravine to the even fancier Forest Hill neighbourhood. But some threatening clouds stopped me near the bottom of the bridge. I climbed back up to retrace my footsteps and took a detour onto Vaughan Road. What a difference a block made. Low-rises crowded the streets with people either moving in or moving out. Tiny houses filled in the gaps between the buildings.

I finally found myself on busy St. Clair Avenue. Originally, I was going to sit down at a restaurant for lunch. But with Toronto back in a modified lock-down, I hopped onto a streetcar to head home.

Uncommon People

Friday was a gorgeous day, bright sunshine with just a slight nippiness. I took advantage to do a bit of strolling through Bloorcourt, Brockton, and Little Portugal. Wise Bar at Dovercourt Rd has pivoted to Wise Bagel with a soft opening on Thursday. Same owner but now that the business was stocked with traditional Jewish bagels (Bagel Oven), arctic char lox (First Fish), jams, mustards, and other offerings, it was a place to cure your hangover rather than cause one (though craft brews were still available). The new look seemed to be a success. I ordered a bagel with cream cheese ($4) and returned on Saturday to get a half-dozen ($7). It was a great bagel, almost Montréal style but not quite as sweet. They even had vegan ones (no eggs, no honey). However, at 4 times the cost of the bulk buy, I was hoping for more cream cheese on my bagel.

Near Dufferin St., Komi Banh Mi Bar was also new to the neighbourhood. The welcome gift by the counter suggested that a young Vietnamese couple were the owner. It was pricier banh mi than in Chinatown or at Galaxy T & T near Lansdowne but they offered fancier choices (a la Banh Mi Boys): grilled pork, lemongrass chicken, etc. I chose Calvin's Style Beef ($9.89) and it turned out to be tasty BBQ, freshly grilled when you order. I wish them luck but they have stiff competition including Tim Hortons, A&W, Popeye's, and (the mediocre yet immensively busy) Jerk King.

After passing through Dufferin Mall, I reflected that this mall was like Brockton Village. Given its current bougieness, who'd believe that it was a lot sketchier back in the day. As to the latter, from Lansdowne to Ossington, Dundas St. West has totally transformed into blocks of trendy shops and restaurants. There were a few hold-outs and its' stock of storefronts and low-rise were mostly intact. Only a handful of condos have arrived, and like the one at Sheridan that replaced a gas station, did not destroy anything of historical interest. Looking over a number of For Rent signs in upper windows, I realized that I've never lived over a shop or in a walk-up.

As I approached Ossington, I stepped inside Geste Croissanterie. This business was also new and seemed to be owned by young folks. They showcased a selection of bread and baked goods. I wanted to try the basics first and chose a simple butter croissant ($3.25). It was flakey and rich. This was a good and yummy mouthful but it didn't quite have the crisp, dense layers of an expertly made croissant.

Yummy In The House

On a walk I found out that Vinny's Panini has kicked the bucket after more than 15 years. I returned on Sunday to try out its' replacement, Salvadorean eatery Casamiento. Similar to predecessor, it had a simple menu: 4 dishes with a choice of ingredients. I ordered 2 cheese pupusas ($5/each) and an eggplant quesadilla ($10).

They were great dishes though I preferred the pupusa. First, the corn flour (masa) was likely fresh because the flavour on both was wonderful. Rich but subtle, it lingered in your mouth. The cheese stuffing had a fragrant smokiness as if it was grilled. But the oily eggplant had less interesting taste and texture when compared to the rest. Gus Taco has revealed to me the beauty of roasted mushroom and bread. That would be a better vegetarian option than the eggplant.

By George, They've Got It

Wednesday night, I was scheduled to watch 2 online concerts. First up was Hannah Georgas live at Taurus Studios playing from her new album All That Emotion. Then Moscow Apartment was celebrating the 3-year anniversary of their debut EP at The Burdock. I supposed for the latter, given their youth, that would be a significant milestone. Unfortunately, with the recent surge in COVID cases in Toronto, they had to cancel their show. The small space couldn't safely accommodate a full band plus AV crew and staff.

Georgas has been on my radar as a local talent but I've only seen her in a guest role. My first experience of this artist will have to be through a screen. It was a better tech set-up than Molly Tuttle's show. Instead of delays and downgrade, the streaming site had a DVR feature. When I lost connectivity, I could still watch since it buffered and gave me a time-delayed view. But since I was only a few seconds behind, I simply skipped forward to the live stream. The cameras were also less busy but multi-camera selection would have been even better.

With a 3-piece band, Georgas' set was mostly mid-tempo folk/pop songs. Playing on piano/synth, and singing in a light, high voice, she reminded me of Lisa Conway (L Con). No song really resonated with me with this first listen. Georgas also didn't interact much with the audience either via camera or by reading the chat messages. So I wasn't sure if this was live or just a "premiere" of a pre-recorded show. So with the lethargic, hermetic feel to the set, I actually fell asleep and missed the last 15 minutes.

Four On The Flour

As I was eating ice cream at Knockout Ice Cream at Geary and Westmoreland, I saw people driving up to a business hidden just out of view. They would return with a pizza box. Was there some sort of hipster/trendy pizzeria?

I returned on Wednesday to find out. At The Artisan Factory, which hosted Knockout, Canvas Gallery, among over twenty small businesses, two were tucked down a narrow hallway: Look Again and Gaucho Pie. The former was some sort of custom/bespoke eyewear studio. The latter made Argentinian treats with the specialty being empanadas. They had non-traditional ingredients like Jerk Chicken. But even rarer: a rotating array of non-meat choices. A dozen or more would be cheaper but you could get individual ones for $2.75.

I opted for 2 Jalapeno Peppers (vegetarian) and 2 Roasted Mushrooms (vegan). They came out in different shapes depending on the ingredients. Both styles were excellent and I inhaled all four pieces. The peppers had the slightest hint of heat inside gooey cream. The mushrooms were sautee until they were full of earthy fragrance. I tried the Sweet Corn and Fugazetta on Saturday. I didn't like the corn: too runny and messy, and the corn flavour was buried. But the creamy fugazetta was also a winner. Gaucho is going on my regular lunch rotation until the weather turns too cold.

Show Me The Green

To and from my brunch at Caren's, I took the opportunity to do some walking. On the way there, I strolled mostly along Dupont and on the way back, through the streets of North Annex. There were several business closures between Ossington and Spadina, perhaps pandemic related. I was surprised that Vinny's Panini had shuttered. I thought it would be there for another decade or two. Casamiento, formerly a food stall in Kensington Market, has taken over. As I moved East, Dupont became trendier. But once past Davenport, it was full-on fancy residential.

When I crossed Avenue Rd, we were in the homes of the 1%. Streets like Macpherson and Roxborough had immaculate houses and old, stately trees. Even the city park was better. Ramsden Park stretched over 13 acres from Avenue to Yonge St., with tennis courts, rink, and walking trails. It was calm and pleasant; no homeless encampments here.

On the way back, I explored North Annex mostly along Bernard and Olive. These areas were also quiet oasis with abundant trees. Some of the houses were even larger than those on Macpherson. But given their more lived-in conditions and the presence of many 20-somethings around, they were now likely small apartment units. However, parents with young children at Jean Sibelius and Vermont Square Park hinted that the well-off professional class were taking over. I'm biased to neighbourhoods south of Bloor but North Annex could actually be better than its counterpart.

I stumbled upon The Wood Cake House (with the related Bugmobile) at 473 Clinton St. In retrospect, it seemed par for the course since several "weird houses" are located in this part of Toronto. Several baseball games were taking place at Christie Pits and there were plenty of folks gathered on the grass enjoying the sunshine, convo, and food.

Caren Is Sharing

On Sunday, I visited the Yonge St. area between Rosedale and Summerhill. Since it lies between two subway stations on my way to elsewhere, I have never walked here at street-level. The area was quite fancy since it abuts the priciest neighbourhood in Toronto. There were a number of tony shops and restaurants including an enormous LCBO housed inside an old railway station. Possibly only the Rosedale Diner with its slogan "real food for real people" was for the hoi polloi. With the rising street elevation, looking South was an impressive view of all the gleaming condos and buildings marching down to the lake.

I was there to meet up with a friend for brunch at Carens. Its regular menu skewed French but the brunch items were more diner-style from an egg breakfast to a mac and cheese entree. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich ($16) and a Stella Artois ($7). This wasn't Kraft slice but a tasty mix of emmentel, gruyère, and raisin walnut bread. But it was grilled a little too hard for my liking; those hard edges could cut up some gums! The red pepper jelly spread added a touch of sweetness, but it was even better mixed in with the salad.

We sat in the bright sunshine and caught up on matters. For them, an operation went well and their family member was making a full recovery. For me, plans for a family investment in real estate fell through with too many conflicting desires. But most significantly, they were going ahead with semi-retirement and will stop working at the end of October. It was a decision that took close to a year but it was finally made. I was impressed with their gumption given the current uncertainties around the pandemic.

Thicker Than Water

I go to Geary for old-school Porta Nova, even though there has been an influx of trendy businesses. I did, however, once attended a concert inside a brewery. But with the Portuguese restaurant gone, I might as well embrace the newcomers.

Looking around on Saturday, I finally decided to grab a half-pint and a sandwich combo ($11) at Blood Brothers Brewing. The Black Hand ($4.75) was a rich stout with a chocolatey aftertaste. It paired well with the portobello sandwich. The latter came with arugula and goat cheese, neither of which were too strong. But the thin fries, or perhaps thicker shoestring fries, went even better with the beer.

Afterwards, I wandered up Bartlett past the convenient parkette across from the brewpub, filled with people enjoying BB's beer as well. The houses were well-maintained with many new renovations, either just the front facade or the entire house. But these weren't the typical modern reno of boxy outlines and dark wood frame surrounding large windows. They were what I usually associate with established Portuguese families: gabled roof, pale bricks, perhaps some bay windows.

As I walked up and down these side streets between Geary and Davenport, I stumbled upon Knockout Ice Cream on Westmoreland. They had an entire wall of flavour but only the lit-up ones were available. I could have chosen the more unusual ones but settled for a mint chocolate ($4). It was good, smooth, and no frozen ice bits. It tasted a bit familiar and so I wasn't surprised to find out Knockout shares the same DNA with Bang Bang and Bakerbots.