Taste For Tango

I'm getting addicted to these curbside patios that mushroomed during the pandemic re-opening. Thursday night, I walked along a lively (even with social distancing) College St. between Dovercourt and Shaw. This stretch was usually more staid in normal times with people gathered inside since the patio-friendly spots were further East in Little Italy. Bar Isabel had a small wait list for its fancy tapas, the various regular and gastro-bars had set up seating, and even old-school, valet-parking Chiado had tables outside.

I sat down at Vos Restaurante Argentina. I was surprised when my bill stated that they have been around 24 years. When Vos landed here a couple of years back, they always seemed to struggle with a mostly empty dining room when I walked by. Even tonight, their set-up wasn't as busy. But since the closing of Porta Nova, I thought to give a different steak-house a try.

Their meat came from Argentina so I chose a Entrana de Ternera ($26), a side of Pure de Papas ($8.00) and a glass of Malbec La Linda ($15). The complimentary thick bread, lightly toasted, was accompanied by a pureed eggplant spread. The veal skirt came out as a spiral that I unrolled. It was soft and juicy and was nicely complimented by Chimichurri, an Argentinian parsley dip, and Criolla, a Salsa-esque mix of bell peppers, onions, and tomatoes. My side was creamy mashed potatoes mixed with roasted garlic and parmesan cheese.

As I was enjoying the combination of flavour, I remembered an old co-worker from years ago. They never liked any of the lunch buffet we went to. As an "Argentinian with access to fresh food", they insisted that salt and pepper was all that was required, "Spices were originally needed to disguise spoiled meat". This was a patently false myth. It's ok that some people never develop a taste for food different from that of their upbringing. But I'm glad that I acquired an enjoyment for all kinds of cuisine in my adulthood.

Drunken Noodle

I enjoyed eating lunch at Don Pollo's curbside patio on Sunday. Wednesday evening, I decided to look for another patio for dinner. But the setting sun was blazing down on the ones along Bloor St so I ambled over to Dufferin Grove to wait it out. The park tonight seemed more active than usual. There were still people sitting around chatting including a large birthday group. But most were involved in physical activities: playing ping-pong on the concrete table, working out at an outdoor Yoga/fitness class, practicing Capoeira in a large circle, running soccer drills, or off in their own world in a sort of free movement/contact improv exercise.

Finally, I made my way back up to Bloor and sat down at Idle. This bar started 10 years ago as Drift, part of the influx of trendy/hipster businesses to the Bloorcourt neighbourhood. It was packed early on, but the crowd dropped off after a few years. Then it was usually as empty as the older Portuguese bars. There were likely several owner changes since then, with a new name, and changing food menu.

Perhaps the new proprietors were Vietnamese since the menu was mostly this cuisine including spring rolls, pho, and banh mi. But there were also "Viet tacos", quesadillas, and pasta. Unfortunately the Vietnamese dish I wanted was only available on Friday so I opted for Singapore noodles ($12) and a can of Woodhouse lager ($6).

It was a good dish with a nice balance of flavour between curry powder, fish sauce, and sriracha. You can't go wrong with fried noodles. The only misstep was using chicken instead of tofu per my order. Unless they have some vegan secret that outperforms Beyond Meat.

These curbside tables are great for people-watching whereas normal patios usually cordon you off from pedestrians. The beer buzz was a mellow bonus; like that first visit to Drift, I made the "mistake" of drinking before eating. On my way here, someone complimented my band t-shirt. We had a quick convo about where we saw Tank and The Bangas (me: Danforth and Mod Club; them: Adelaide Hall a year earlier) and Sweet Crude (me: headliner at Drake Underground; them: opener at Adelaide Hall). I was patting myself for still being "with it" when they congratulated me on having great taste in music, "sir".

To Get To The Shady Side

I have been doing some Yoga in the park because being outside was sometimes cooler than inside my place. On Sunday after self-practice, I wandered along College St. looking for a place to eat. Numerous restaurants had patios but I was looking for a less busy one on the South side (where there was some shade) to hide from blazing afternoon sun.

Finally, just past Bathurst, I saw two tables in front of trendy hot-spot Quetzal. Similar to Ballaro and Mission Lasagna, they were offering a simplified chicken-heavy menu under the moniker Don Pollo during the pandemic. I opted for a chicken sandwich ($13.95) and a side of escabeche vegetables ($5.95). The brioche buns were stuffed full of sinaloa-style chicken, slathered in sauce, and piled high with coleslaw. The veggies were a fancy version of pickles. Nevertheless, the variety of carrots, cauliflower, et al went well with the grilled chicken meat. That sandwich was a bit messy because of the size and ingredient; good thing I was given several napkins. It was a nice lunch despite the intense heat.

The Side is Pie

Though I've eaten plenty of cheap but tasty pizza from 241 Pizza and Fresca lately, I had a hankering for better quality ones. I recalled that early on in the pandemic, I was walking through Ossington and saw just off a small side street a pizzeria called Blondies. So on Friday, I placed an order for a small (13") one called A Kissing Tigress ($15) for lunch. On my way to Humbert St., I passed by trendy Dundas St. W. and onto Ossington. They also have had sections of car lanes blocked off so that restaurants can install patios. Though some just put out small tables, others have upped their game complete with wooden fencing or chest-high planters and full-sized picnic tables. With its narrow lanes, Ossington now resembled a quaint European street. There were lots of construction too. A row of houses from 46-54 Ossington has finally succumbed to gentrification. Billboards have gone up advertising retail spaces for rent.

My pizza came in a pink box with white polka dots. The Tigress was essentially Blondies' take on a traditional Margherita. I sat on the grounds of the nearby (and temporary location of) University of Toronto Schools to take a bite. If I had known Osler Playground Park was so close, I would have walked the extra 2 blocks. The slice was tasty with soft dough, fragrant cheese, and some freshness from the basil. It wasn't quite as good as Maker Pizza as far as higher-end pizza went. And as I was eating my second slice, I realized that it wasn't as enjoyable, subjectively, as Fresca either. Though the latter used inferior ingredients including cheap cheese, its Margherita slices were more satisfying to gulp down. I wondered if it came back to the pizza makers. The dour-faced ones at Fresca have years of experience while the baby-faces here looked barely old enough to drive. They probably weren't planning to make a career out of it either.

Edit: The leftover slices were quite good cold from the fridge. The soft dough kept its toothsomeness and the cheese and basil seemed to have better, punchier flavour.

Not Clean-and-Jerk

On Tuesday, I couldn't make it to my regular lunch spots. Finding myself in the Wallace-Lansdowne area, I headed a block south to Fahmee Bakery, spun off from its Scarborough home, and located at the original Starving Artist diner. A number of people were waiting for their Jamaican orders. Looking over the menu, I settled on a beef patty ($1.75) and a Jerk Beef sandwich ($5.99). Since there were no suitable outdoor spot, I finally made my way to the Susan Tibaldi Parkette near Bloor and Margueretta. To be honest, I wasn't too keen to sit here either since the idea got into my head that the patches of brown grass were not from dry weather but too much canine business.

At first, things were promising with the beef patty. It was cheaper than Caribbean Queen of Patties ($4) but comparable in size. It turned out to be a good snack but not quite as mouth-watering as the latter. Sometimes you do get what you pay for.

But the sandwich was a disaster. Unbeknownst to me, the sauce had dripped through the paper wrap onto my clothes during my walk from the restaurant. You'd think it would make a less messy meal now. Unfortunately the meat was held together by bones and tough cartilage. It was the sort of cut that was impossible to bite through while trying to keep the soggy coco bread from falling apart. After several failed attempts, I left more than half of it uneaten. From what I tasted, the beef was alright. It had a slight sweetness that reminded me of defunct AF1 Canteen where jerk is a process not a rub.

Little things could have made this lunch better such as slicing up the meat when making the sandwich. There were dinner options with cutlery that may make more sense. But given its location and the quality of the ingredients, Fahmee is not a place that I would visit often.

Fair Weather Trends

This past week, Toronto's weather has been heavy and muggy until rain on Thursday reduced the humidity. So although both Friday and Saturday were still quite hot, they were pleasant and perfect summer days. I haven't been to the Kensington Market since late April so I wandered over to that neighbourhood. It has reverted somewhat back to its usual bustling self. No social distancing was possible on these narrow streets with pedestrians, a greater uptick of indigents hanging out (common everywhere now), construction blockages, and delivery vehicles parked on the sidewalks. There were even new restaurants such as Abu Hummus. I thought about grabbing one of the tiny outdoor tables at Veggie D'Light or Eat Nabati, both plant-based eateries. But with the sun in my face and barely any gaps for passer-bys, I'll return on a quieter day. I opted instead for empanadas from Jumbo Empanadas. The chicken one has increased to $6.50 while the smaller cheese one remained a $2.50.

But people seemed to crave patio space. Osteria Rialto at The Paradise Theatre has re-opened with a side patio. Restaurants and bars without a formal one have also taken to setting up tables in the car parking lanes. The city has blocked off short sections all along Bloor Street between Lansdowne and Ossington. Having dinner or drinks while cars pass by close enough to touch feels unpleasant to me, but apparently not to everyone.

Saturday morning, I was invited to brunch. There was less conspiracy talk than last time but perhaps it was due to some new faces. These included a retired senior who has recently accomplished their teen-age goal of becoming fluent in 5-6 languages. There was also an Eritrean immigrant who not only resembled a younger Obama but was equally eloquent in their speaking style. They had just received their citizenship but with Covid-19 delaying their Canadian passport, a trip to Addis Ababa to visit family was up in the air. I found their experiences more interesting than talks about mandatory vaccines and home cures. The brunch itself, a variation of a typical Ethiopian platter, was delicious though I struggled a bit with the liver. I haven't had that much organ meat in a while.

Nice and Oldie, An Al Fresco Treat

After several months of probation for inedible pizza, I went back to Amato in Little Italy for lunch on Wednesday. But the selection was even worse than that night: 3 forlorn slices in an empty display case. I wandered around a bit and decided to visit San Francesco Sandwiches. This shop on Clinton sat across from Bitondo, another long-running diner. This eatery opened in 1954 and has a few other locations in Toronto, though the one on Queen St. W didn't last long. The lunch-time crowd, a mix of pedestrians and dudes in trucks, vans, and semis, was heading to Bitondo for pizza. So there was no wait for me here and the order arrived quickly.

After I got my medium-spiced chicken sandwich ($8.99), I headed to Fred Hamilton Playground to have my meal. Similar to California Sandwiches and Vinny's Panini, this was a large soft bun stuffed full of sauce and meat. It was the least messy of the bunch and made for a filling lunch. It tasted better than California but Vinny holds a slight edge.

Property Bothers

On Sunday, I was invited to lunch at a friend's house. I hadn't planned on going since they lived in North Toronto and I didn't want to spend an hour on the bus. But then they offered to pick me up at a subway station closer to my place.

Even in their working class neighbourhood, trendier stores including a café, a bakery, and a cannabis vendor have moved in. They showed off recent renovations including a finished basement, wall paneling in the living room, new fences, and a deck complete with roofing. Given budget constraints, all were DYI.

For lunch, I was impressed with all the prep work needed for Mi Quang, a noodle dish from central Vietnam that has much less broth than pho. Along with the noodles, herbs, and leafy greens, there were also chayote, pork belly, prawn, garlic, roasted peanuts, and rice wrappers. It was a full meal though during the cook time, I was jumpy and unsettled. In the past, I have enjoyed visiting friends living amid the full domesticity of comfortable furnishings and well-loved possessions. But this wasn't the first time in recent memory that I have felt out-of-place in similar surroundings. Perhaps I am finding it harder to imagine myself living in that way.

I wasn't the only guests as their extended family also dropped by. These relatives were religious and sometimes into proselytizing. Also, one was part of a Prosperity church and keen to get you involved with herbal nutrition programs, cash-back rewards club, and more recently, crypto currency. But everyone was laid-back and relaxed today.

Spotted Chick

It has been several weeks of intense heat and humidity so I have kept my walks short and close to home. After a morning rain on Saturday, I decided to take a longer stroll. It was more pleasant than previous days, but still uncomfortable on the return leg.

I passed by the former Grasshopper near College and Spadina. This organic and vegan eatery was too pricey (with small portions) for me to eat at regularly. During my previous pandemic walks, I noticed there was a sandwich board advertising Naan Spot so I had planned to make a lunch stop here today. The menu posted in the window looked interesting with several unfamiliar dishes such as chicken dhaba. But there was no patio for dining and I didn't want to wrestle with curry sitting on a park bench. So I opted for chicken byriani ($9.99).

After wandering up to Harbord St., I found some picnic tables on the grounds of Central Tech. Opening the take-out container, I saw colourful fried basmati rice with some raita. Mixing in the latter, I found several large chunks of tender chicken. In fact, the whole dish was fragrant and delicious. Nothing extraordinary but still competently made. I hope to return soon to check out the other dishes when dine-in options are available.

Fear of Frying

With restaurants being allowed to open "outdoor spaces", I have noticed not just a re-opening of patios, but businesses putting out tables and chairs wherever they can. In The Annex, I even saw that a franchise of the fast-food chicken chain Popeye's had laid out outdoor seating on the sidewalk. This has given Toronto streets a bit of European feel but I wonder how people with mobility issues feel about it. Also, some of them were paying mere lip-service to social distancing rules on their patios.

On Saturday, I visited Little Italy again for another meal that does not lend itself to take-out: quality ramen. I settled in at Tondou Ramen's patio for a bowl of vegetarian ramen ($13.50) with some fish cake ($2). It felt safe as I was the only customer. Predictably, everyone has congregated across the way at Café Diplomatico; there was even a line-up. I never got the love since my one visit there decades ago was a disaster. Even as a new transplant whose experience of Italian cuisine was The Olive Garden and Eastside Mario's, I thought the food was sub-par. In addition, I was hosting friends from Ottawa and wanted to show them a lively Toronto spot. Between the lengthy wait for our food and their expressions when they finally had a bite, I was roundly embarrassed.

I was also in the neighbourhood for some chewy snacks. So after lunch, it was to get some gummies down the street. Then I backtracked to the Come See Me bar. But I wasn't there for boozy drinks from this recent (2018) replacement of long-time club Li'Ly (2002). I had seen a sandwich board for mochi doughnuts from pop-up Hachi Mochi. I was intrigued enough to get a Blueberry Pie one ($3.50).

At least for my pick, it looked like a common doughnut base and they simply dipped it into a particular coating given the order. Its metallic purple sheen was a bit disconcerting and didn't add much: messy and artificial tasting. The dough itself was interesting; it really was a cross between the two desserts. It had the chew of mochi, dialed down about 50%, but the fried flavour and texture of a doughnut. I would go back for more but stick to the simpler toppings like chocolate or cinnamon sugar.

On my way home, I saw a mama bird trying to guide a baby bird back into the trees. The latter was chirping and hiding behind electrical boxes and concrete steps at College and Dovercourt. It could only sustain short, ground-level flights. A frantic effort got it half-way across Dovercourt Road, barely missed by a car. But the fledgling was now in the relative safety of the greener patches of grass and trees on the West side of Dovercourt. Those branches looked awfully high, though I hope this situation was probably normal avian development.

Knowing The Way

On Canada Day, I talked to several people who were at various crossroads. For lunch, I visited a friend at their apartment. We haven't seen each other in months and caught up on work, life, and the health of our family. Though no one was affected by COVID-19, their relatives suffered from several new medical conditions. I was surprised to find out that they had crunched the numbers and felt ready for retirement. Perhaps not the golf and vacation in Florida kind, but definitely stop working and returning to university to study their passion. One wrinkle was the current situation since online studies was undesirable for them. So they were unsure about making a final decision.

Returning to my own place, I was invited by a housemate to join a backyard bbq in the evening. It was a dual Canada Day and their own birthday celebration. As several new renters have recently taken residence, I finally got a chance to talk to them. One had started working for a major bank office downtown after finishing their MBA. They were actually an ex-housemate as they quickly found a nicer studio apartment just up the street.

Meanwhile, one renter had previously abandoned their business studies in India and became a self-taught videographer. Their South Asian compatriot was looking for work in research and analytics. Both were recent immigrants lacking local contacts and experience and have been struggling to get interviews even before the pandemic shutdown.

The two youngest walked clearer paths but also had their own uncertainties. The subletter needed to decide soon whether to remotely wrap up their Masters this year or defer and hope that a more satisfying in-real-life campus life experience will be available again in the near future. The birthday host, an international student, complained about their large ($60,000) tuition fees despite numerous classes moving online. There were anxieties about the time-frame in which to find work and obtain enough time to apply for permanent residency before their student/work visa expires.

It was interesting to chat with people who were living major life events. In contrast, my own challenges were usually about what to have for lunch. Another surprise was the wonderful array of food today from a light spaghetti lunch to paneer, chicken tandoori, masala dishes, and other bbq dishes for dinner. So unlike my own lack of kitchen prowess, living solo did not correlate with poor cooking skills.