Not Strictly Ballroom

Friday night, I went to The Great Hall for my first show in a larger venue. There was still a pandemic limit of 230 people but James Baley promised an extravaganza. I had seen them doing harmony for other artists as well as opening for U.S. Girls. They weren't just a singer but also active in fashion and other artistic pursuits. So in the Conversation Room, the Baley team has created a multimedia experience. From looping clips playing on old TVs, to a video projection under gauzy curtains, to various mannequins sporting custom design, it was a glimpsed into various facets of the artist.

The main concert hall was laid out with closely packed chairs. But during the show, about half the attendees stood on the 2nd-level balcony, probably to better dance and groove. So there was plenty of room on the ground floor.

Ceréna opened the show with a high-energy solo set. She reminded me of Regina Gently, someone else who could also engage the crowd and dial up the temperature. I wonder what they could both do with a live band and not just backing tracks.

I was expecting a night full of fun and sass from Baley. They definitely delivered that with appearances from 2 dancers and guest vocals from Twysted (Saviour, Banishment). But it was the emotional content (Call On Me, Clean Me) elevated by the sublime harmonies of Lydia Persaud, Ky Charter, and Zaki Ibrahim that stood out. Lit by a projected orb that was in turn the moon, the sun, and colourful gradients, Baley gave a wonderful performance. Tonight obviously took a lot of preparation and they were overcome with tears when the audience demanded an encore.

The Great Hall had huge crowds about a decade ago when there was a question mark about how many people it could legally host. Although the full renovation in 2016 restored its grandeur, the city bureaucrats drastically reduced its capacity during certification. Since then, I have never experienced the same level of energy here until tonight. The queer, BIPOC, and Black crowd whooped, clapped, and danced throughout the evening. I was sad that because of an early rise tomorrow, I couldn't stay to enjoy the after-party ballroom scene down in the basement venue. But it was a fantastic show to say farewell.

Curse of the Munchies

The stretch of Little Italy between Grace and Clinton has hosted several street food restaurants. But whether it was the tasty Moroccan vendor B'saha or the inedible Masalawala, none lasted long. The latter was recently replaced with Tut's. This seems to be a second location from the original on King St. It certainly tempted me more than the recent Nile River on the North side so I stepped inside on Friday for lunch.

I was nonplussed by the Asian staff but I recalled that even stalwart Portuguese Chicken Guy (a recent English renaming) has now hired Asian and non-Portuguese workers. Looking over the menu, it was clear that the combos were a better deal than a la carte. I opted for the smaller one ($11.50) with 2 sandwiches, dukkah fries, and a drink. I chose meat options because the veggie selections had tahini sauce which I'm allergic to. Both sandwiches were excellent with the Ferakh containing grilled chicken (although it had stronger than usual aftertaste that reminded me of Egusi) and the Soguk having tender beef sausage. But care must be taken with the soft, Bao-like eish fino bread. A woman near me had her sandwich fall apart as she tried to extract it from the container. The fries were crispy with the dukkah spice adding fragrance and flavour. They were as delicious as my favourite style of fries: Indian masala fries.

Given the quality of food and the strong foot traffic from both drop-ins and delivery pick-ups during my visit, I think Tut's will last longer than previous attempts on this block.

So Then

Thursday night, I went to the Ossington Strip for dinner. I do miss the Karaoke bars and modest shops that were here but you can't fight progress. I walked past old-school record store Rotate This (although it was also a recent transplant from its long-time spot on Queen St. W.) as they were closing up. I recognized some familiar faces and thought that they must really love music. To come back after more than a year to a job that probably pays minimum wage, and involves long stretches of standing around without customers, well there are other retail positions. Its contemporary Soundscapes on College St. has closed up shop. But there are always new contenders (Dead Dog Record, Grasshopper).

Japanese sushi bar Shozan Room never caught the buzz of the other restaurants so there was a table free right by the window. I enjoyed looking at the pedestrians passing by as I had some Kinpara Gobo ($9), Squid Tempura ($6.50) and a 10-piece chef's choice ($34). The Kinpara or burdock root was good though I've only ever had it as a small side dish with lunch during my yoga training. It was perhaps too much roughage as an appetizer. The squid came out as a mass of tentacles skewered on a wooden spit. It looked intimidating but turned out to be a nice balance between crispy tempura and chewy squid.

By its appearance, the 10-piece sushi plate obviously used better-quality fish. It was a wonderful main with good rice and mouth-feel. But I have only been eating cheap sushi (like here) over the last year. So the rich flavour and texture were a bit overwhelming. A thought occurred to me that paradoxically you'd want to start with the cheap, bland stuff for a newbie. Because I can't see someone who hasn't had sushi being able to eat this or would want to try again.

Bar None

Wednesday night, I headed over to Houndstooth at College and Ossington. This bar existed briefly in Chinatown before taking over a former Portuguese bar (Carlos) that closed in 2013 (briefly replaced by Lifetime Sports Bar until 2015). I remembered the old clientele since I've often wondered how did the mostly male, mostly older locals choose which side-by-side Portuguese bar (Carlos or Rosa Branca) to patronize. Rosa Branca is still around for those men but it was obvious Houndstooth is catering to a young, white crowd looking for a cheap dive.

Before the pandemic, I thought the new joint wouldn't last long even if it had an espresso bar during the day. But either word finally got out or the street patio program was a blessing because Houndstooth has filled up since then. It was amusing to see two different groups hanging out next to other. Lately, the owners even got around the ban on live music by having bands played inside while they angled the speakers out the window. Now with indoor concerts allowed at reduced capacity, you could sit inside.

Tonight was a different vibe with Emilie Mover doing a solo set. Given the noisy, more punk shows played here, I wondered how she will be received. Rather wonderfully, as it turned out. There were a few chatty folks at the back near the pool table and arcade games, but the really talkative ones stayed outside on the wooden benches. The rest of us enjoyed her great fretwork and dulcet voice on some old tunes (Be So Blind, Out of Shape, Alex) and some new ones (New York City, Water, Paradise). The latter song was dedicated to her new love who, Mover informed the crowd, she won over after chasing after him in spite of advice columns and internet posts. Appropriate for this location's past, she played a fast Chuve Chova. Townes van Zandt's Only Him or Me made an excellent closer but at the crowd's urging, Mover played as an encore Walking Through. She quipped that this song, being used in an Amazon commercial ("Alexa, play some morning music"), paid for her pandemic period.

Unlike the recent show at Monarch Tavern, there was no attempt to check vaccination receipts or do crowd management. This is likely the situation going forward as we get back to "normal". So I hope we get those vaccination numbers up. In any case, Emilie Mover is my favourite singer/songwriter. Given how rare her appearances are, and usually only in Toronto or NYC, this could be the last time I see her live. So kudos to Houndstooth for an excellent sound mix tonight.

Counting Down

On a bright, warm Tuesday, I went over to The Revue Cinema for a slow-burn psychological drama. Oscar Isaac played former soldier William Tell, convicted of prisoner abuses in Iraq, who has been released from military prison after 8 years. He now spends his days staying in motels and travelling from casinos to casinos, winning just enough at cards to fly under the radar of their security personnel. Outside of some casual acquaintances he meets on the gambling circuit, Tell has no human contact. He likes the fixed, non-changing routines but the question is whether or not this constitutes "living"? Well, that certainly hits close to home (not the violence or incarceration parts).

Even when The Revue was part of the Festival Cinema chain of repertory theatres, I only attended a handful of times. My preferred venues were The Paradise and The Royal. The Paradise shut down but has recently undergone a renaissance thanks to the deep pockets of its current owner. The Royal continued as a film editing studio during the day and movie theatre at night. Since the pandemic, it might have permanently converted to an Italian restaurant/market. As for the Revue, today was my first visit in more than a decade.

It seems that the people of Roncesvalles Village has supported it, financially and otherwise, as a not-for-profit cinema. Looking over its offerings for October, there were of course plenty of spooky movies. But there were also new movies, classic flicks, even silent films with live accompaniment. It was interesting fare and I should have come by more often.

Heading backing to Little Portugal along Dundas St. W., I noticed a photographer with quite a fancy set-up standing on the bridge spanning the rail-lines. I wasn't sure what he was looking but it was likely the skyline. Spread out below me was the old buildings of now gentrified Brockton Village. In the distance, the high-rises and CN Tower shimmered. The sunset lit everything in a warm orange glow. It was a beautiful view of Toronto.

Conjunction Junction

I was looking for a place to eat Monday evening when I found out that Kanto had opened a small restaurant in The Junction neighbourhood. I had previously only eaten at the shipping container at Dundas and Bathurst. Given the cooking limitations there, I have wondered what kind of food they could serve with a full kitchen.

It was bad luck that the proprietor opened in March 2020 just before the lock-down. They lamented about all the challenges that have happened over the last 18 months. They wanted to only do delivery for now (despite the hefty 30% cut by the various companies) but people wanted a dine-in option. So they compromised and had a small street patio and communal benches inside with cafeteria-style order instead of full service.

I looked over the menu at the counter and settled on fish balls ($5.50) and Bangsilog ($12.95). The first was a bigger item than the 3 pieces shown in the picture. In fact, there were close to 10 freshly fried but fluffy dough balls with a hint of fish inside. As for the entrée, I've had the fried rice and milk fish (bangus) dish before at La Mesa. I mentioned it to the owner who described that restaurant as fine-dining.

It was true that it was more home-cook here than kitchen razzle-dazzle. The rice was tasty but didn't have that deep, fragrant, garlic flavour. At first, the milk fish was a bit soft and so had a much stronger sea tang. But the rest of it was sufficiently firm and flaky. In the end, I quite enjoyed the food here. I promised I'd be back to try the filipino congee but given my tight schedule, I don't know if I can find the time.

Local Zoning

Sometimes I promise myself to return to a business to try something else but stuff happens. But with things winding down, I did make it back to Frank's Pizza House on Sunday to try his calzone, especially since BlogTO (or at least Tanya Mok) recently considered it in the top 10. I have never visited the Corso Italia neighbourhood on a quiet day so it was surprising how empty it felt. Many Toronto areas do slow down by Sunday evening but with 6 lanes of traffic (4 for 2 cars and 2 for the TTC streetcars) on St. Clair, it seemed almost desolate compared to the cozier Little Italy along College St.

I ordered online a baked calzone ($9.95) with some toppings ($1-2/each): black olives, hot peppers, onions, and capers. I arrived just as I received a text message that my food was ready. Settling in on a park bench near Earlscourt Park, I was flabbergasted by its size. This was an excellent calzone: a crisp crust with a hint of salt filled with plenty of gooey cheese. The toppings added little bursts of flavour but I didn't detect any capers though. Also, I didn't really taste anything but dough and cheese until the last 25% of the calzone.

This was my (minor) problem with the meal. Perhaps a price of buck or two means that a proprietor simply can't afford to use that much ingredient. And the sloshy inside will likely settle at one end so you'll end up with uneven stuffing. If so, I would be happier if the calzone was smaller with a cheaper base price. That way, every bite will include the toppings.

Art Of Noise

On Saturday, I decided to make a short visit to The Music Gallery for day 2 of their X Avant XVI Festival. Over the course of 8 hours, various artists will explore drone music, as a "sonic washing" with the idea of "sustained tone as a healing modality". This might be the brainchild of the centre new Artistic Director. In fact, I had encountered them about 2 years ago during my month-long yoga training. Despite 8 hours of class, Sanjeet Takhar was still up late organizing and attending raves. So they seemed good fit with this organization known for its experimental music programming.

I arrived at the midway mark just as Short Bloom was starting their set. Over a cycling, drifting sonic palette, they played around with various accents and short sustained melodies, mostly from an electric guitar. Since there wasn't much to watch, I laid down on one of the mats and focused on my breathing. Near the end, there was a section that had a lively bounce but in general, it was perfect music to enter into a meditative state.

I sometimes complain about the lengthy gap between band sets. They solved it by simply having two stages and blending one set directly into the next one. It certainly fitted with today's intent. But Kat Estacio's material was harder to zone out to. Using several effects pedals, they looped sounds of struck bowls, gongs, and cymbals over electronic buzz and glitches. I didn't mind the gurgling boops, beeps, and clacks but the repetitive clanging got a bit much. For some reason, I felt like I was in a scene from Charlie Chaplin's Modern Times.

I left before the end of this set in search of dinner. I thought about returning for the conclusion but decided it would likely put me to sleep (given my lack of nighttime energy).

You Do You

I met up with a friend on Friday to celebrate their birthday. Originally, I wanted to take them to Soos or another restaurant on the Ossington strip. Mostly to show its lively bustle compared to when they lived downtown and this area was Vietnamese and Portuguese businesses. But every place I called beforehand was full-up so we needed luck for a walk-in spot. They were late though and we would have lost our hypothetical reservation anyway. Also, the drizzle that turned into pouring rain would have killed the patio vibe.

In any case, they had a hankering for sweet pancake from Hodo Kwaja so we headed to the wallet-friendlier Koreatown. We chose Doo Roo Ae which was almost directly across from Hodo. Looking over the menu, we opted for the Spicy Tteok Bokki with cheese ($15.95) because they had seen it in Korean dramas, LA Galbi ($26.99), and Gam Ja Tang (pork-bone soup) Hot Pot ($29.99).

The tubular rice cake strips had a satisfying chew and the melted cheese added richness. The beef ribs was fragrant and though good, they could be more tender. I've only ever had Gam Ja Tang in a bowl so was impressed when they brought out the portable gas stove to cook/reheat it in a deep pan. But I didn't like it as much. A lot of the soup boiled away, leaving the meat exposed and made for a drier dish. Part of the enjoyment is slurping up the spicy broth. But the main draw of a Korean restaurant for me was banchan or the set of pickled and fermented side dishes that came with most meals. Doo Roo Ae didn't disappoint and my favourite part of the entire meal was sampling all 8 sides.

In a few days, their sister was heading to Texas pretty much on a whim in my opinion. How else to explain someone making the decision over a single month to sell all their belongings for enough funds to "move to the U.S.". Canadians can't actually work there or even stay for more than 6 months. Without a work visa, how could this be a permanent relocation? But then again, this person has always gravitated toward get-rich-quick schemes.

The Sum of It All

I was at The Monarch Tavern on Thursday for my first live indie show since March 2020. With individual tables scattered throughout, it had a loungy look different from its more neighbourhood bar vibe (though The Monarch was never a dive like The Silver Dollar). This socially distanced set-up was more fiction than fact since you share tables with other people and there was plenty of mingling. But since vaccination proofs were required, as well as being masked if you walked around, it felt safe enough.

Nyssa was the opener and her set of queer Americana was taken mostly from her album Girls Like Me such as Go Away Evil and Misty Morning. She also debuted some new material like The Mystery about a "pansexual love triangle". With her hair now dark instead of platinum blonde, there was a Carole Pope vibe with her look. Nyssa was compelling enough to get an encore call from the audience (Champion of Love) which reminded me of her last equally fun set at this venue. So much so, in fact, that Sir Babygirl asked Nyssa to tour with her in the U.S. after that show.

With Tallies first song, I immediately thought of The Cranberries. Sarah Cogan's singing had a slight lisp that sounded oddly like an accent to me. Yet even after that brain-fart, my impression didn't change. With a pulsing bass and shimmery guitar chords floating over top, their songs from their debut album had that same wistful pop feel. I was tired (even 10:30 pm was now past my bedtime) but Tallies' music contained enough interesting details (despite no straight-up hooks) that I stayed until the end.

Black and Blue

On Wednesday, I got off my train from Ottawa and headed to The Paradise Theatre. The Toronto Blues Society was hosting perhaps its first ever book-launch. Josephine Matyas and Craig Jones, a travel writer and musician respectively, chronicled their 6 weeks camper-van tour through Mississippi. Part travelogue, part historical archive, Chasing The Blues traced the roots of the Delta Blues through slavery, brutal sharecropper conditions, as well as the geography of both the richness (fertile topsoil) and the peril (flood of 1927) of the Mississippi river and its lands. Matyas and Jones also let the voices of current caretakers of the Delta Blues speak of their experiences and memories.

As interviewed by Richard Flohil, I was impressed by their ready knowledge. As someone who struggle to remember names of coworkers and friends if I haven't seen them, I was envious of their ability to quickly recall people, places, and events in abundant detail. They also touched briefly on both the economic and racial situation in present-day Mississippi which hasn't improved much in the intervening decades.

Both Flohil and a TBS presenter jokingly talked about the (now) mostly white audience for Blues music given its debt to Black Americans. So it was ironic that the majority of that white audience didn't stick around for Harrison Kennedy (Chairmen of the Board), a music veteran who now resides in Hamilton.

Throughout his solo set, I was struck by how much the Blues was about rhythm and beat. Whether with shakers, spoons, harmonica, banjo or guitar, he kept each song propulsively moving. Most of his tunes weren't about love or breakups (though Keep Your Coat On cranked up the sexual heat), but working-class conditions, social injustices, and human frailty. Kennedy was also a fun storyteller. His covers (Imagine, What's Going On) included his own stories about those well-known musicians. And over his long career, he has met many. His own songs were also prefaced with various family and professional anecdotes from a hard-drinking grandfather to a hound-dog cousin to missing out on a Grammy (which went to Clarence Carter) because a producer thought the Chairmen of the Board's song Patches was too country for their soul sound.

Despite being 79, his voice was strong and he had energy to spare. So much so that the presenter had to discretely ask him to wrap up his set after about an hour. For Kennedy, only "20 minutes had passed". He was still passionate about music and revealed that he was working on his next album.

No Time To Fry

On Friday, I headed to the movie theatres at Blair and Ogilvie to see the latest James Bond flick. I haven't seen any of Daniel Craig's Bond movies but it wasn't hard to intuit some of the backstories. It was reasonably enjoyable but there were 2 sticking points for me. First, most plots do tend to fall apart once you give them some thought. But this one seem to be more about wiping the slate clean for the next Bond incarnation as opposed to giving characters plausible motivations and organic development. Second, the bittersweet ending for Craig's Bond was a typical patriarchical/male fantasy which doesn't really correspond to positive experience for real-life people.

The movie played just before lunch so afterward I made my way to Gloucester Centre for a quick bite in the food court. The heydays of this mall were long-gone and if it weren't for its two anchor tenants, Walmart and Loblaws, it would be even sadder inside. But then the other Ottawa alternative, car-friendly strip malls, wasn't better. I opted for a Bagan, a "family-style" Indian spot, and chose the palak paneer ($9.95).

I was surprised that they fired up the burners but it made sense. Prepared food sitting under heat lamps go to waste if you don't have enough customers. It reminded me of unassuming but delicious Vatica, a vegan Indian location near my old workplace. The lunch was good though not as tasty as the latter. Vatica also offered a better deal. A one-option lunch would be under $7 there and for $10, you would get 3-choices plus fresh naan (it was $15.95 here).

This solidified some thoughts I've been having between Ottawa and Toronto. Namely, the cost-of-living was actually lower in the big city. From groceries and eating out, to transportation cost whether car or transit, everything was cheaper in the Big Smoke. The major advantage of Ottawa, cheaper real estate, wasn't true for everyone. A long-time resident may pay sub-1K rent, but a 1 bedroom in Ottawa will cost you around $1400. That may be a bargain compared to Toronto's $1700-2000 range. But in Toronto you have choices. Basement apartments, roommates, somewhere further away from a subway line or a downtown neighbourhood (or all three), you can find ways to bring your rental expenses down to $600-900 a month. A quick look at Craigslist posts for Ottawa and you'll realize no such options exist.

So paradoxically, if you are strapped for cash or living on a lower income, you'd be better off heading to the big city. The hard part is getting that first toehold if you don't know anyone. I haven't even touched on the larger number of job opportunities. This view may sound pollyannaish given the tent encampments that have sprung up in Toronto's parks, ravines, and underpasses (and the billion-dollar backlog of Toronto Public Housing). But even these homeless scenarios demonstrate that people feel they are better off living in Hogtown.

Yo No

On Thursday, I headed once again to The Rex for some Jazz and then later to a trendy Vietnamese eatery. I suspected that the 5:30 pm show with Jessica Lalonde won't be as fun as Marie Goudy's set but I have enjoyed Lalonde bel canto-trained voice in the past.

It turned out I was right. Her set consisted of more or less Jazz standards (Day In Day Out, Blue Prelude, Squeeze Me). It's technically impressive that Jazz musicians can play competently along to charts but it didn't thrill me that they were still discussing transitions and arrangements before the show. So I wasn't surprised that the playing was filled with walking bass, sax fills, plinking piano chords, and other stereotypical Jazz tropes. I'm not too enamored with Leonard Cohen so Dance Me To The End of Love wasn't improved as a Jazz cover (Madeleine Peyroux). I liked Lalonde's singing and I hope that she'll collaborate with composers (for example, her singing with John MacMurchy) on new music with a bit more vitality.

There was no reason to stay for the 2nd set so I headed up McCaul Street past OCAD to look for a dinner spot. I briefly considered stopping by Manpuku which I haven't visited in 2 years. But I heard some buzz about Dzo, a contemporary Vietnamese diner at Dundas and McCaul. With its bright, plastic lanterns, pulsing music, and young clientele, it exuded a night market meets trendy club vibe.

The papaya salad ($15) was good but it was too large as a starter. I would have preferred a smaller but cheaper (say $8) option. I was tempted by their Mi Quanh because most Vietnamese restaurants do not offer this central Vietnam noodle dish. But I was more intrigued by their Bo La Lot (betel leaf-wrapped grilled beef) Tacos ($19). That turned out to be a culinary disaster.

The wrap was more flat bread than corn shell. But that was an acceptable misstep. The main problem was the over-salted beef: I almost stopped after 2 bites. And instead of letting the smoky and unusual flavour of grilled betel leaf be prominent, some cloying hoisin-like sauce was slathered on. With the final bill including tax and tip close to $50 (and $25 for music/beer at The Rex), tonight was a disappointing hit on the pocketbooks.

Heading home, I noticed that the stretch of Baldwin between McCaul and Dundas was still lively with restaurants. Though with the addition of more Asian spots to mainstays like Ryu's Noodle Bar and Koh Lipe, there is a shift away from European fare like Café La Gaffe.

Come For The King

The casualties of gentrification include laundromats and neighbourhood Chinese-Canadian restaurants. The admittedly dingy China Ocean supplied myself with beef with blackbean sauce and other no-fuss dishes for years. With its closing, replacement stores bistro bar Briik and now cannabis vendor Green Merchant did not improve the area. Now, King's Chef (formerly House of Ann, formerly House of Cheung) is the only such resto left on Bloor between Lansdowne and Yonge, a stretch of road that otherwise has hundreds of other businesses.

So before both the restaurant (and myself) disappear from Toronto, I ordered a lunch dish from the location on Thursday. Despite its modest price, the shrimp with mixed veggies dish ($11.50) was a "galaxy of prawns". In fact, as I kept digging (and eating) into my order, more would surface. There were 20 or so large shrimps by the end. Along with the stir-fried veggies and liberal application of hot sauce and soya sauce from the packets, this was quintessential "big-city living (eating?)". Sure, these places are (used to be?) everywhere in even the smallest North American town. But walking by to pick up your order, that's urban, baby.

My fortune said: We must overcome difficulties rather than being overcome by difficulties.