Good Enough

On Thursday, I live-streamed my 2nd paid show. I didn't love the dodgy quality of Sarah Slean's Zoom session but the ticket only cost $7. Yet Kathleen Edwards' (free) show was an excellent broadcast. I wasn't sure how it would turn out with Instrument Head Live. But Molly Tuttle was playing from her new album of covers. In addition, it was to highlight alopecia awareness month in September and some of the proceeds was benefiting the National Alopecia Areata Foundation.

Tuttle was her usual virtuoso self. The covers ranged across multiple genres including Fake Empire (The National), mirrored heart (FKA twigs), She's Like A Rainbow (The Rolling Stones), and How Can I Tell You (Cat Stevens). They all bore her deft touch on the guitar with her precise flat-picking and sonorous melding of chords and melody lines. But it was the "power songs" such as Rancid's Olympia, WA and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs' Zero that were perfect for her hard-driving playing and blindingly fast solos. Tuttle closed out the night with several of her own songs and Neil Young's Helpless.

Despite her talent, it was a frustrating show. At a live event, you can choose where to look. Personally, with someone of Tuttle's abilities, I would definitely keep watch on her hands. But I guess the producers thought that a static medium shot wouldn't be "interesting" so kept switching cameras and using pans and zooms. Also, they used their own video player and server instead of Youtube or another popular site. Not only did the quality got progressively worse as the player cycled down to lower bit-rates but eventually it disconnected a dozen times. At $20, I would be hesitant to pay for other live-streaming shows. At a bad venue, you could try to move around to get better sound and sight-lines. Online, you're stuck with potato quality or a spinning circle.

Pack It On

I have been going to Pho Linh at College and Dufferin since it re-opened. On Friday, I decided to try another long-time business there: a Portuguese restaurant called Ilhas de Bruma. There was a Vietnamese night club in the same building but Bruma has been there for more than a decade. It has never offered outdoor seating until the pandemic. After sitting down, I ordered a Caldo Verde soup ($4.00) and a Bife de Cortador ($27.50) from the daily special.

When the waitstaff brought out the soft bread, whipped butter, and salted olives, it reminded me of defunct restaurant Porta Nova. The server, with her hesitant English, also felt familiar. I wondered if she was also here on a work visa? I ordered the Caldo because I haven't eaten collard green regularly since African Palace replaced it with spinach for their platter. It was an all right soup. The veggie didn't impart much flavour and the chorizo was good but was on the tough side. I was spitting out gristle with every bite.

These Portuguese restaurants usually offer large portions. So I wasn't entirely surprised when my steak came out. It was a large cut and along with a pile of fries and sauteed green beans, broccoli, and carrot, my entree was quite a lot of food. The greens were cooked into British food territory but still edible. The meat was tender and soft. Instead of ketchup, the fries tasted great mixed into the steak sauce. Given the portion size, I can't imagine what eating their Rodizio (all-you-can-eat) meal ($55) on the week-end would be like.

Down By The Bay

On Wednesday, I met up with some out-of-town friends visiting on a short vacation. Like many Canadians, they have opted for local trips this summer. I used to mingle with the Harbourfront crowd during summer week-ends as there were always some festival, event, or show. I'm now only in the area typically for an evening dance recital when the daytime mob has already dispersed. I knew with the pandemic, it wouldn't be bustling but I was a bit shock at the sparseness. Visitors may still think things were lively but I knew what a busy week-end used to looked like.

We ended up at Kinka Izakaya for dinner. Though this location was relatively new, Kinka was the first Izakaya to open in Toronto on Church St in 2009 under the name Guu Izakaya. Most izakayas in the city seemed to be an offshoot of a Vancouver establishment. So my friends, more Vancouver-philes than Toronto lovers, were planning to dine exclusively at Vancouver-based izakayas throughout their stay here.

After sitting down at the curbside patio, we ordered Okonomiyaki ($8.90), Karaage ($9.90), Yaki Udon ($12.30), Kakimayo ($9.30), Salmon Natto Yukke ($12.30), Japanese prawn "risotto" ($12.30), and a pitcher of Sapporo beer ($9.90). It was a tasty meal with fun conversation. I remembered the excitement when izakaya first came to town; every dish was eye-opening and exotic. Izakaya is literally Japanese bar food and so it was interesting that a decade on, it has normalized in the same mental space in my head as chicken wings, nachos, and other North American pub fares.

Under Pressure

I haven't visited the area of Queen & Bathurst much since the pandemic closed my Yoga studio. So on Saturday, I walked there to try a vegan pizza from plant-based Pizzeria Du now that Virtuous Pie has closed. On the way, I passed by Alexandra Park which, like other parks in the city, has become little tent cities for indigents. But here they weren't clustered together but spread throughout the park. It might explain why there were few park visitors except for families with kids by the playground.

I ordered the Florence ($15) and the 10" pie came out smaller than expected, closer to a personal pan pizza. It was a nice lunch with a good crust and piled generously with mushrooms, shallots, grape tomatoes, and pesto sauce. But overall, it was disappointing given the price to food ratio ($19 with tax and tip). The crust had a good chew (better than Virtuous Pie) but middle-of-the-pack for Toronto. I was hoping for more given articles highlighting the fact that the chef (who had passed away suddenly) spent two years perfecting it. The toppings were surprisingly bland for sun-dried tomatoes and pickled shallots. The mushrooms lacked an enticing earthiness; perhaps they should have been grilled separately. The only note-worthy ingredient was the almond and cashew ricotta which had a rich and creamy texture.

If someone was strictly vegan, then this would be a good visit. Otherwise, you could find or assemble a vegetarian pizza from any number of better candidates.

Freedom 20

I stopped streaming online concerts because the quality was frustrating. But artists have begun broadcasting from live venues though without an actual crowd. It should be an improvement with proper sound and video equipment. So on Friday afternoon, I tuned in to see Kathleen Edwards and a full band play her new album from her café Quitters.

It seemed a wasted effort at first. The video was excellent but there was no sound for the first song Glenfern. After bouncing between Facebook, Twitch, and Youtube, I finally settled on Youtube after the sound was fixed. I saw her in 2012 as a guest singer with Sarah Harmer and haven't really heard from her since. It turns out that after a decade of slogging, she was burnt out from touring for the album Voyageur in 2011 and suffered from clinical depression. She decided to abandon her music career, returned to Ottawa, and opened a coffee-shop with the tongue-in-cheek name suggested by band-mate Jim Bryson.

Edwards is a wonderful songwriter. The lyrics were honed sharp: everything in this house breaks (Hard on Everyone), you know how to spend my money (Fools Ride), I could teach you five words to close a door I don't love you anymore (Feelings Fade). The sad verses were accompanied by a rich, complex sound that grew driving and muscular during the extended jams. After the new songs, Edwards showed that she always had this talent on older numbers such as Goodnight California, Six O'Clock News, and Sweet Little Duck. It was a nice surprise that they covered another great Canadian songwriter, Neil Young's Comes A Time.

This album had several roots. But one of its genesis was a gaslighting, toxic partner she dated during her time away from music. It seemed like this relationship was rosier back in 2018 when she played a one-off at Massey Hall. Edwards is now engaged to someone else. In that way, she reminded me of Basia Bulat. The latter also suffered from a devastating break-up that lead to the album Good Advice after a crazy cross-country drive. Bulat is now happily married in Montréal and has another album (Are You In Love?) to prove it.

A live stream has several advantages. First, the mix came straight from the soundboard with no echos or muddiness from bad acoustic. Second, from the chat posts, you know in real-time how much fans, from all over the world, were moved or enjoying certain songs or passages. Finally, any questions were immediately answered. I didn't need to wait for the introductions at the end. By then, I already knew that in addition to Bryson, Edwards' band comprised of her ex-husband Colin Cripps on guitar, Jon Hynes on bass, Aaron Goldstein in pedal-steel, and Peter Von Althen on drums.

Don't Have A Cow, Hombre

Passing through Little Italy during the lock-down period, I saw that a new Mexican place at College and Clinton called La Bartola was in renovation. With stage 2, they were opened with a few tables curbside. Since we were now in stage 3, I decided to pay them a visit. I wanted to sit inside because I had visited this place when it was Frank's Kitchen (but not the short-lived Abbiocco or Chez's).

Gone was the low lighting, lush curtains, and a general air of gentility. It has turned into a bright space with big, colourful paintings, blue pinwheels, Judy Garland as Dorothy in a Mexican dress, and a giant, illuminated TACOS sign hanging from the ceiling over the bar. But this wasn't kitschy Latin, La Bartola was upscale Mexican dining à la Quetzal, still something of a rarity in Toronto.

The other pleasant surprise was that the entire menu was plant-based. When I eat at other Mexican and Latin-American restaurants, finding good non-meat options was usually a struggle. Gus Tacos does offer an excellent mushroom torta. I chose a Green Ceviche Tostada ($9), Chorizo and Cactus Tacos ($13), and a Sope de Jackfruit Pibil ($11).

All of the options were delicious with subtle flavour; it was obvious that everything was made in-house. It started excellently with the Ceviche, a great balance between maize crunchiness and tangy freshness. A hint of smoke from the charred habanero mayo punched up the taste. In contrast, the tacos was a slight let-down. The cactus was too mild and the rice gave it a weird texture. I also wanted more toothsomeness from the tacos. But dinner finished strong with the Pibil. Jackfruit, the go-to for pork substitute, made a great impression. A wonderfully smoky refried beans and corn tortilla served as a solid foundation for the dish.

La Bartola was also similar to Frank's in that it served a delicious, beautifully presented meal that wasn't completely filling. Luckily, if you have a big appetite, Burrito Boyz is still in business across the street.

A Tell of Two Cities

After a recent encounter, family suggested that I could temporarily relocate back to Ottawa during these uncertain times. I was amenable to it since I could see elderly relatives more often and even started making tentative plans after a long chat with a sibling. I began clearing out old and unused items from my place. Despite living a monkish life, I threw out bags of stuff and still had several bins of personal belongings. Compared to anyone else, it was sparse. But my youthful days of being able to leave with just a suitcase was over.

Thursday night, I felt tightness and an ache down my left side and needed a short Yoga practice before bed to loosen up. The next morning, I knew anxiety had caused that bodily response. I took a walk through several neighbourhoods to settle my thoughts. It became clear there were 2 competing visions. Ottawa, in the large, had family and security but the day-to-day was dull. Toronto, in daily life, was pleasant (like this walk), but featured isolation and precarity in its overall arc.

I grabbed a slice of pizza near Spadina Ave and talked to the proprietor. Their story was similar to many immigrants to Canada. In the early 80s, they bounced around the slum tenements of Parkdale before their family escaped to the green lawns of Mississauga. After decades of hard work, their children now lived comfortably in Markham and elsewhere. The Canadian winter was hard on their bones and they thought to flee its windy clutches for a few months every Christmas.

I decided to get a little pick-me-up and enjoy the sunshine. Mango Like Desserts has taken over from Pink Canary at the entrance into Kensington Market. After looking over its menu, I chose the Mango Grass Jelly Rainbow Mochi ($8). As the name suggested, it was a colourful concoction. I couldn't really taste the coconut milk and the main texture was chewiness. But it was a nice, light follow-up to that pizza. This small shop was also the downtown site of Ida's Cookies.

Little things like greasy pizza, long-acquainted owners, and new discoveries make daily living enjoyable in The Big Smoke. But come night-time and I think about home-cooked meals and blood relations. "Summertime and the deciding ain't easy/Summertime when the Covid is nigh".

Siri, Where Is Flavour Country?

 Starving Artist and Boom Diner have been serving brunch side-by-side around College and Ossington. But despite being there for more than a decade, the elder Boom closed up shop during the pandemic. I noticed that a Thai restaurant called Siri Kitchen took over recently. I'm fond of that location because in the early 2000's, a cool Jamaican bar was there. It served food I have rarely found elsewhere including Jerk Salmon and a refreshing house-made pink fruit punch. At a time when that block was all local Portuguese businesses, that bar was ahead of its time.

Thursday night, I dropped by to order some Tom Yum soup ($7.99) and Gang Keaw Wan ($15.99). The former was a bright red, rich soup with tasty chunks of king oyster mushrooms (which I thought was tofu at first glance) and shrimp. It had a nice heat that slowly builds instead of being too spicy. Meanwhile, judicious bites of the cherry tomatoes help cleanse the palate. The broth was thicker than typical and I was spitting out kaffir lime leaves and galangal all night. But that was a small price for the added flavour.

The green curry was also thick and fragrant in comparison to other restaurants that serve watery curry. It also had big pieces of crunchy bamboo, soft winter melon, and toothsome chicken. The rice was a tad mushy but it still had enough texture to absorb the delicious curry. Overall, Siri is a welcomed new contender for best Thai restaurant in the area.

For Your Information

On Saturday, I met up with a friend for brunch. Since restaurants weren't taking reservations, we met at Brunswick and Bloor to maximize our chances of finding a spot on a patio. We settled on the Middle-Eastern café By The Way. Unlike my recent restaurant eats, you had to register your phone and email info for contact tracing purposes.

We were served by a very gregarious server. I'm usually stand-offish about instant chumminess but perhaps the extended isolation has made me more open to friendly interactions. I opted for a Shakshuka entrée ($18) and a strawberry and rhubarb tart ($8). The version of this dish here was heavily tomato-based and came with two poached eggs. Although I enjoyed my brunch, the Shakshuka came in last when ranked against other local ones. The dessert had a nice mix of texture and flavour. A light wrap-up to brunch but not worth the price.

My friend elaborated on their recent epiphany regarding finances. The strategy was propounded by William J. Berstein and Jack Bogle: a slow and steady approach to building a retirement nest-egg via a balanced set of investment buckets and ETFs (Exchange Traded Fund). The authors also had advice about sunk-cost, the long view, financial discipline, etc. It seemed as good an approach as any. But I forgot to ask them how this translated to their plans to "retire" early. Even if they started decades ago (which was unlikely), Berstein's advice only claimed 15 years of retirement funds (the other 10 would come from government aid) for 25 years. Furthermore, this was meant for a retirement at 65. Where would regular income come from? Did they mean to generate it from selling ETF shares instead of re-investing everything?

Limp Biscuit

On Friday, I dropped by Madras Masala at Christie Pits Park again. With Toronto in stage 3, perhaps the restaurant had reintroduce sit-down dining? No such luck, it was still only take-out. However, guests could eat their meals on the patio since tables were set up for use. There was even a cooler of ice-water and paper cups on hand.

So I ordered a dosa masala ($10.99). The Indian crepe was folded up inside a styrofoam container with the chutney sauces, sambar soup, and potato filling in separate cups. It was a wasteful amount of one-use items but plastic reduction has taken the backseat since the start of the pandemic. The entrée itself was only a partial success. It was nice to finally taste a proper dosa after these months. But it could not retain the crispness and most bites were soft and doughy.

After an afternoon nap, I visited a house north of Dufferin Grove to look at a possible residential move for me. I was unsure about it since this new location included a room-mate. But the apartment itself, occupying the 2 top floors, was gorgeous. It was partly from good foundation including hard-wood flooring. The landlords, who lived on the main floor, obviously kept it in good shape. But the current tenant had a major hand in it, too. They had furnished it with welcoming accoutrements from comfortable sofa to homey kitchen table to a collection of well-maintained plants.

I was won over by the idea of a ready-made Eden to replace my current minimalist set-up. But I didn't love some privacy aspect. Though there were 2 bathrooms, one for each of us, they were next to each other instead of being on separate floors like in my imagination. But mostly it fell apart because my prospective room-mate was lukewarm to my approach. I wasn't ready to give notice to my landlord until I had a promise in hand. I guess my cautious ways instead of, in their words, a "leap of faith" was a turn-off. In real estate, as in romance, lack of commitment will kill the deal.

Update (Dec 2020): I have been obsessing over rental ads during the pandemic. Over the last few months, I realized too late that this unit was a rare gem. There has been none that matched its qualities (except for ones that were much more expensive).