Metamorphosis

Friday night, I took the streetcar to Little Italy for a concert. The Mod Club was a victim of the Covid shutdowns but quickly re-opened as The Axis Club. Once I got inside, I saw that the new owners had done renovations. Most notably, the lounge benches on the right side have been removed. This gave the audience more room to be closer to the stage. There were also cameras for live-streaming.

It was a good-sized audience for opener Grae. The pink-hair singer already had loud fans who cheered her on pop numbers like Forget You, Room In The Desert, and Boxes. She had airy, Lorde-esque vocals but this venue was still quite bass-heavy (from its club days) which muddied her voice in the mix.

Hannah Bussiere Kim (Luna Li) was flabbergasted that the hometown crowd was around 400-500 people. No wonder as the last time I saw her just before the pandemic, there were maybe 30 people at the Monarch Tavern. She has played to big crowds but only as an opener. In the last few months, they toured extensively with Japanese Breakfast and also had a head-lining tour with their debut album Duality. This showed with the assured stage presence tonight. At previous concerts, sometimes Bussiere would kill a set's momentum by taking too much time switching between guitar, violin, and harp. But with more experience (and stagehands), everything ran smooth enough for even a mid-set wardrobe change

I'm certain the pandemic changed the trajectory of Luna Li. Bussiere pointed out that she has played her songs at many sketchy Toronto spaces (I agree, because I was there). Even in 2020, there was only a small audience. It didn't look like things were moving in the right direction, unlike Michelle Zauner (Japanese Breakfast) who returned to Toronto to larger and larger venues. In fact, Zauner will playing at the 2,500-capacity History theatre in July. I won't be there as Toronto isn't my turf anymore and her concert tickets have now exceeded my budget.

But during the height of the pandemic, a series of 1-minute jams with Bussiere playing all the instruments went viral on social media as well as streaming platforms. It led to a "jams" EP and record deals. Not surprisingly then that halfway through Luna Li's set, they played 4-5 of those jams as a band. Many of her new fans were seeing her live for the first time tonight. But for every one (like the young lady beside me) who was awed at Bussiere's versatility, there were others who had already memorized all the songs (Silver Into Rain, Star Stuff, What You're Thinking). I was glad that Luna Li has found success (and leaving my orbit) but I did regret that they didn't play Opal Angel.

This transformation was serendipitous as Luni Li's "brand" is the butterfly. I'm pretty sure Bussiere has a butterfly tattoo. It's certainly in the band's name, on their merchandise, and one of her guitar is in the shape of a multi-coloured lepidoptera. Here's hoping her emergence lasts more than one summer.

I noticed how every West-End neighbourhood was busy. Some businesses/restaurants in the East-End did have customers, but on the other side of town, they were on the street walking or driving around, packed tight on the patio, and spilling out in long lines outside venues. After the concert, I saw that the line for club Revival across the way was stretched down the block all the way into the parking lot of the Metro grocery store.

I hadn't planned on taking the Greenwood bus ever again, but I took a chance for my return trip. Well, I didn't sit in a wet seat this time. But as I got off the subway, someone who was too busy staring at their phone slipped on and fell into a huge puddle of vomit. Their jacket and jeans were splashed with yellowish goo and bits of detritus. Yikes! This stop is cursed.

Dosa Method

I visited New Town diner partly because numerous Indian restaurants were closed on Tuesday. So Thursday evening, I went looking for a South Asian dining spot. Since it was partly below ground, I didn't realize how large Udupi Palace was until I stepped inside. It was nearly as big as fancy Nirvana in Mississauga but more utilitarian in furnishings.

Looking over the menu, I opted for the spring dosa ($11.75). I chose it because unlike the usual stuffing of potatoes and onions, this one promised a medley of vegetables. It came out pre-sliced into thirds with sambar and coconut chutney. Udupi was better than South Idian Dosa Mahal but not as good as Madras Masala. Mostly it lacked that crispy crunch of an excellent dosa. I did enjoy the mix of potatoes, cabbage, peas, tomatoes, and onions. Like other restaurants in Little India, Udupi doesn't stint on the spice. So you'll want to adjust your expectation and ask for a lower heat level than your go-to choice.

Out of the Loop

I had several errands in the West-End on Wednesday. First, it was off to get an eye exam. Despite being on the pricey end of the scale ($185), I guess they still couldn't afford the rent at Queen and Spadina. So the optometry/glasses store has relocated to the 8th floor of an older building. It was a great view looking North since their neighbours were still low-rise units. But 30-stories constructions were starting to crowd in. In any case, they won't be getting much foot-traffic anymore.

Afterwards, I was delayed getting to College St because there was a shouting match on the streetcar. Both parties were in the wrong in my view. The older gentleman didn't have to sit across from the two young women. On the other hand, they shouldn't have put feet up on the seats. Furthermore, it was pretty rich to yell about Covid distancing when you weren't wearing masks yourself. So I have to come down on the side of the old geezer.

I stopped off at Fresca to get my slice of "Toronto pizza" at the tail end of the lunch rush. The margherita, fresh from the oven and covered with Vietnamese scallion oil, was delicious. No pizzeria in Ottawa, and not many in Toronto either, can compare. I explained to the owners that I'm not around much anymore and I wished I had the cooking chops to learn their pizza-making secrets. Was the era of the 6six-style pizza nearing the end? Because 3 years after major throat surgery, one of the owner had diminished energy. They were re-evaluating their future plans to do more travelling and maybe closing up the shop.

To wrap up my West-End trip, I took the College streetcar to its terminus at the High Park loop. A family member will be visiting to see the cherry blossoms. On a map, it looked perfect: a single tram ride from the East-End at Greenwood Ave to its end-point. But it was a long, meandering walk from there to get to the trees with significant downhill and uphill sections. My relative is too old to make that trek. So it was good I had scoped out the terrain today. Instead, we'll have to start at High Park subway station. It will still be lengthy but mostly downhill. Then perhaps we can finish at Lakeshore and grab a bus back.

What's New is Old Again

A few weeks back, I went 3 stops past the Greenwood subway station to Main. From there, I was able to jump on the streetcar heading to Gerrard. I wanted to see if this was faster than taking several transfers to get home. It also gave me a chance to see other neighbourhoods.

When the streetcar turned from Coxwell to Gerrard, it passed by an old diner called New Town Family Restaurant. With its faded awning, this was no recent business to the area. I felt a sense of déjà vu because I have in fact passed by this exact spot before. Years ago, I had an idea to take every transit route from one terminal stop to the other endpoint. The theory being that I will see most of Toronto that way. I never did more than a handful of routes but I did take this one. I saw this particular restaurant back then, thought about returning, but never did.

On Tuesday, I finally made it inside for lunch. A poster claimed that the diner opened in 1948 even if the owner didn't look old enough to be the original proprietor. But the 2 women behind the counter and kitchen looked to have worked here for a while since they were on first-name basis with the local clientele. It was a simple menu of breakfast and lunch items like pancakes, bacon, and sandwiches. I ordered a chicken burger deluxe ($10.95).

It was a reasonable meal. My guess was that all the ingredients came from a bulk supplier like Sysco. But the fries were golden and crispy, the coleslaw neither too raw nor too sour, and the chicken burger had a good crunch. It reminded me of the old-school diner at Bloor and Dovercourt. That one got a second wind a few years back when the gentrified hipsters joined in with the regulars. I wonder if New Town was busier on the week-end or if the young folks were mostly hanging at joints like Black Pony and Lazy Daisy's. I'll be back before I leave for good.

Free Love

Over the last month, The Baby G venue has been offering free concerts on Sundays. I kept meaning to go but I often didn't want to venture all the way to the West-End on dreary Sunday nights. But for the final show, it was nice enough that I didn't mind the commute.

Since it was an indie show, soundcheck was still happening when I arrived. So I walked around the neighbourhood to see what's changed on Dundas St. between Dufferin and Lansdowne. Pasta Forever was the new shop of former restaurant-chef-turned-Instagram-hustle Jessica Maiorano. I started following her during the pandemic as she pivoted from unemployed chef to home delivery and now storefront. A Spanish tapas and cocktail bar La Piscina has taken over Safehouse Coffee at Brock. It was hopping inside in these early days but I mostly knew it as an old-fashioned convenience store. Neopolitan pizzeria Slow South Pizza is located in a former Portuguese insurance business turned revolving-restaurant-ventures (Cafe Bar Pasta, Toro, Sapori). I remembered when this block had enough of a retro vibe that it was a stand-in for an old-timey New York City location.

The first act was Lydia Persaud. With an album out next Friday, she ran through her new songs with the help of Christine Bougie on guitar. As Persaud thrilled the crowd with numbers like Good For Us and Unsung, I realized that unlike her debut album where she still kept a foot in folk/americana (similar to her work in The O'Pears), she has fully embraced R'n'B. Yet in her smooth delivery and heart-on-sleeve lyrics, there was a throwback quality to her songs, like that of a 50s jazz crooner.

Robin Hatch was a bit of a let-down. She had left her avant-garde classical piano phase and was now exploring synth vibes. This new sound developed with a residency in Calgary on Tonto, a famous 70s era analog synthesizer. But with equipment trouble, fiddling around with settings, and generally a rough performance, her set had no momentum. Hatch needed to be more disciplined and assured when switching her synth sounds, queuing samples and tracks, and combining all the different inputs. Otherwise, she should put everything on backing tracks and concentrate on live vocals and her main synth.

I would have stayed for Omhouse if they had played early on. 10 years ago, they specialized in off-kilter indie rock. So not being my kind of music plus the long ride back East, I left before their set.

Dreading the Boards

Toronto's iconic Massey Hall underwent a massive renovation 3 years ago. That was a bit of "serendipity" because over the last 2 years of the pandemic, venues were closed anyway. During the final stages, they were offering seat dedications to non-corporate financial donors. I couldn't cough up the bucks to get one on the main level, but I did snag a seat up in the galleries to honour my family.

On Sunday, management invited us supporters to visit and check out our seats as well as the new changes and restorations including hundred-year-old stained-glass windows. I also wanted to explore the backstage and walked out on the main stage. I did arrive early but hung around Dundas Square and The Eaton Centre. When I finally made my way there at exactly 1:30 p.m., I wasn't too surprised that there was a line-up at the venue's doors.

However, when I realized that it went not just around the corner but continued on for blocks, I was flabbergasted. I crossed to the other side and stared at the crowd for a bit. I talked to a couple near me and we agreed that neither of us have even been to a real concert with this level of demand. How were they going to fit everyone into the 2-hour window of the event, especially since people will be spending time exploring the space? I remembered that the original invite (before the 5th wave shutdown) spanned several days with different time slots. I guess the organizers felt that cramming everyone in for 1 afternoon was sufficient.

I wasn't going to stick around since I've been a previous victim of a slow-moving line. They were staying since they had booked the entire afternoon off. Maybe you only had to make it inside by 3:30 because the venue itself would remain open? I wished them luck and walked north on Yonge to catch the streetcar home. I enjoyed the towering new complexes (so big city) but also missed all the eclectic businesses and buildings that have closed. The World Food Market, a small outdoor market, at Yonge and Gould had a bit of that old vibe but it was still felt ersatz.

Holy Moly

The Holy Oak café, venue of numerous local shows, shuttered back in 2017 due to gentrification. Some of the musicians who was the backing band for these revue concerts stayed together as the Holy Oak Family Singers. They played at various locations pre-pandemic but on Saturday, I finally saw them (as HOFS) at The Tranzac.

It was clear that a good half of the audience at the smaller Southern Cross was left over from the 8 pm show. But they were pretty good about shushing up when Robin Dann (Saint Bernice) welcomed everyone to a "quiet evening of music". It was 2 sets of about 6 songs each from The Roches, The McGarrigles, Emmylou Harris, Phoebe Snow, Leonard Cohen, and Donna Lewis. The mostly female singers were joined in the second set by guests including Alex Samaras on a beautiful rendition of I Don't Know (The McGarrigles).

There were several highlights for me. The vocal harmonies of Dann, Dorothea Paas, and Ivy Mairi was heavenly especially on Hammond Song (The Roches). The latter group was also a new discovery for me and their songcraft on Hammond and Down The Dream was superb. Much better than Cohen (IMO) even if Luke Kaplowsky closed the evening with Alexandra Leaving. That was only palatable thanks to harmonies from Paas and Mairi. Finally, the range and power of Dann's vocals surprised me. As Bernice, she and Felicity Williams often used light airy vocals in odd melodies. It was a pleasant shock to hear her rich voice as both lead and background in more traditional folk/pop songs.

Toy Stories

Since Riverdale on Gerrard St. doesn't really have many (cheap) lunch options, I decided on Friday that I would head over to the Bloordale/Bloorcourt area and buy an entire week's worth of meals. Transit took around 5 minutes to arrive, which would be wonderful in Ottawa. But in Toronto that was slow enough that I changed my mind. So I walked south on Jones to Queen St to look for a dining spot. Most places weren't open at noon (the perils of gentrified restos) and hip spots like Pasaj were full up. I thought about Ok Ok Diner but by the time I turned around, it was also at capacity.

So I headed back to Gerrard St to Pizza Pide. In any case, I wanted to eat here regularly before another decade passed. On the way I passed by The Doll House, a home on Bertmount whose front yard is covered with dolls and toys. This was similar to the Wood Cake House I saw in the West End but the back-story wasn't as sad. Amazingly, I think these would still sell for over $1M nowadays.

It wasn't the only head-scratching property in the neighbourhood. As I walked through the side-streets of the houses that had their backs to Dundas St., one home at Marjory and Dagmar was distinctly trapezoidal: bigger on top with a slanted brick patterns.

Instead of taking home my pide, I ate it at the restaurant. I was rewarded with the largest "charcuterie board" ever placed in front of me.

Fill The Tea

The sunset was beautiful on Thursday so I followed it westward to Chinatown East at Gerrard and Broadview. I thought about ramen but realized I already had the instant version for lunch. Instead, I stepped inside a store at the corner with several signage outside. They weren't remnants of old businesses though. Inside there were actually 2 restaurants (3 if you're picky). But this wasn't a ghost kitchen set-up. It seems like the owners were managing multiple businesses. So from Dac Hoa (Tom's Kitchen), I chose the Veggie Fried Rice ($8.45). And from Boba Boy, it was a Grass Jelly Milk Tea ($5.29) with tapioca pearls ($0.60). They also had a display rack of macaron and French desserts from Rahier.

I took my meal over to Hubbard Park near the heritage Don Jail building and the Bridgepoint Health hospital. The fading sun painted everything golden but the rice had its own glow. I wonder where the colouring came from since the dish didn't taste like curry or cumin. It was scrumptious but let's be honest, that was because of the oil coating every grain. Dac Hoa might have sported that minimalist Scandi look of modern Asian joints but its fried rice (and the rest of the menu) was old-school Chinese take-out. I also enjoyed the bubble tea as it has been awhile since I've ordered one. It was hard to get at the grass jelly through the drinking straw so I finally removed the sealed lid.

On the way back, I went along Victor Avenue. The houses along here were large and well-maintained and the street had tall, mature trees. I have noticed that despite the East Side's reputation as the cheaper, less desirable part of Toronto, I've seen roads that sported nicer homes than the West End.

Hip To Be Square?

I went to the nearby mall on Wednesday to look for some household items. It turns out Home Depot doesn't carry camping-adjacent equipment like coolers and inflatable mattresses or sleeping bags. Gerrard Square is like a sibling of Dufferin Mall. Both have Walmart, Winners, a large dollar store (Absolute Dollar vs Dollarama), and a grocery chain (Food Basics vs NoFrills). But whereas Gerrard has accepted dowdiness (the low-traffic stores) for extra financial security (Home Depot, Staples), Dufferin risk-taking over the years has resulted in a successful and bright future. No, I am not projecting.

After my shopping, I headed over to The Real Jerk for a veggie roti. Its parking lot was full for lunch with numerous cars pulling in for a pick-up. I had high hopes because my dinner there was quite good. Sadly, my roti was a bust. The dhal puri shell was excellent and would make a great wrap for the meat choices. But the veggie stuffing was poor: unsalted potatoes, raw cabbage, and a smattering of peas and green beans. It didn't compare with Vena's Roti hefty mix of potatoes, sweet yams, spinach, and chickpeas nor Caribbean Queen's anything goes approach that usually has okra, plantains, and a smorgasbord of veggies. Unfortunately, Mr. Siddiqi has passed away and the queen had recently switched to a heavy dough. Maybe there will be better luck with Veggie D'Light or One Love.

Red-Hot Chili Pepper

Tuesday evening, the sky hinted at rain so I quickly headed to Little India in search of a quick dinner. I stepped inside Hakka Flame since it has been a while since I've eaten Chinese-Indian food. My favourite was Wang's Kitchen in Mississauga near my old work-place for its Honey Crispy Lamb dish. There was no such item on the menu though this spot had a larger variety of Chinese regions.

I picked some veggie dishes: Szechuan paneer pakora ($2.00) and Gobi Machurian (dry) entrée ($13.99). I chose medium for the spice level but both had quite the kick so prepare to dial down your heat scale. The pakora was quite interesting with a paneer (cheese) stuffing. Usually it's fried batter and onions. The Gobi was also tasty with a fried chewiness that melted in your mouth. I couldn't tell what the pieces were even though they had a tofu-like texture. After talking to the chef, it turned out they were marinated cauliflower.

This place had some dishes worth going back for though you have to be careful with the spiciness. I noticed that the receipt was for a Chickooos Peri Peri Flame which was briefly active in Waterloo. I guess the owner has left that town for the bright lights of Toronto. However, that could mean they know their way around chicken.

Backyardigans

I'm usually in Ottawa for Easter but my extended family has not gathered since the pandemic started. There was a get-together this week-end but still not as large as before. Because of the sublet, I was in Toronto this year. But a friend did invite me over for a BBQ on Sunday.

They have spent much time and money renovating their backyard. Although the weather was still cool, they assured me that we will all be warm and toasty. Their deck was not only enclosed, but they have purchased several propane patio heaters with prices ranging from $200-600. My own family have never bought extravagances like this. The upside was that hardly anyone needed to wear a coat.

The meal was mostly a lot of meat and shrimp with a smattering of lettuce, green herbs, sour mangoes, and vermicelli. One person brought a small plate of mock-meat made from various tofu products. But outside of myself, no one touched this vegetarian alternative.

Unlike last time, my friend's entire clan was there including cousins, nieces and nephews. Many of these people I haven't seen in years especially the young folks. A decade ago, they were still in elementary school. Now all were finishing up university. So I could not tell who was whom. But I still remembered most of their parents even if we were now all older. There was one gentlemen who had gone completely grey. For the life of me, I could not place him until his wife spoke up. That was embarrassing as I had previously visited them at their house.

There were over 20 people but no one wore a mask. I generally have been diligent about this at concerts, restaurants, and on public transit. But I have lapsed too, mostly at Yoga classes. We needed higher vaccination and masking rates to break the infection cycle because no one can be 100% vigilant. Unfortunately, that never happened and now most people thinks the pandemic is over.

Over 9000

I have returned to my old Yoga studio in the Ossington area during my sublet. But I didn't want to make several cross-town trips on Sunday since I was going to an Easter BBQ later on. So I looked for a studio in the East-End to practice.

The owner of Chi Junky has been in the news over the last 2 years. She was one of the business owners local media has interviewed numerous times about the impact of the various shutdowns and government aid packages. From her social media posts, I knew not only of her frustration and anxiety, but she has accumulated a lot of debt trying to keep the studio running. I'm not business-savvy so I've often wondered about the game plan? Because even if things get back to normal eventually, how many years will it take to pay down that debt?

When I got to the studio, I can understand her stubbornness. It was one of the largest, most beautiful Yoga space I've been to in the city. It would be tough to close something she obviously worked so hard on. As for the class, it was hard-paced with loud energetic music. I enjoyed it for myself but it was hard watching people practicing with poor alignment. But in this environment, I don't know how a typical attendee could learn the proper techniques. This isn't a criticism of this class. I've encountered similar things at a venerable school. Even in an advanced class at my old studio, some yogis capable of crazy postures (to the average person) still have alignment issues. Also, one can get carried away in the moment and do too much. I wasn't immune to it at this class either.

Leslieville is the most gentrified neighbourhood in the East so I wasn't surprised to see many fancy businesses and restaurants on my walk to the studio. But some of its working-class roots were still visible. So after my class, I noted that one side of the street had a line-up for fresh pastry and coffee from Bonjour Brioche. Meanwhile, people were waiting on the other side to get take-away lunch from Fontbonne Ministries.

The Northern Pike

On Saturday, I went to Tea - N - Bannock on Gerrard. This Indigenous restaurant promised a modern take on traditional food ("where the past meet the present"). I looked over the menu but settled on the pickerel dinner ($21) because one, I don't often eat freshwater fish, and two, it was the day's special so there was a $4 discount.

I wasn't sure if it was only for show but my table was held up by a single tree branch anchored to the floor. The restaurant had numerous decoration including elk horns, Native cradleboard (tikinagan), and a large mural of a peaceful lake view. The entrée came with pan-fried fish and tartar sauce. It was good but to be honest, all fish taste the same once fried. The sides included coleslaw, buttery mashed potatoes and my favourite, sautéed wild rice with mushrooms, onions, and other veggies. The rice had a chewiness that reminded me of barley or quinoa. The bannock was fresh and hot, perfect for slathering on some butter.

The only negative was that I was charged twice for my meal. The machine was out of paper so after that was fixed, it seemed as if my credit card tap didn't go through. So we went through it all a second time. I suspected there was likely an error and checked online when I got home. I saw 2 payments listed in my account. I went back and the owner issued me a credit refund. But as of this writing, the charge-back hasn't appeared on my statement.

22/04/2022: The extra charge was removed from my credit card bill. So everything worked out fine.

Music Soothe The Savage Breast

The last live show I attended before the first pandemic lock-down was at The Tranzac in March 2020. I remembered the performers offering prayers to hard-hit Europe. I still went to a few restaurants the following week but by the week-end, cancellations and closures were escalating rapidly. Friday night was my first visit to this venue in 2 years.

The opener was Alex Samaras. I knew of him from his stints with The Big Sound and very briefly as a vocal coach for a Maylee Todd outdoor show. I had foolishly replied to her request for background singers (no experience necessary). He was very kind to me but let's just say I can barely sing a melody let alone do harmony.

Tonight his original material (The Map, Time + X) was somewhere between musical theatre and experimental pop. It didn't engage me until Samaras covered Rufus Wainwright (Dinner at Eight). Afterwards, he invited a guitarist collaborator named Sean Donald. The latter's songs were folk-pop (There Within, Caving In, Pretty Cyril) and their voices blended beautifully.

I stumbled upon Zinnia (Rachael Cardiello) on Instagram during the pandemic so had only seen her performances online (often pixelated and choppy). So I was curious to finally see an in-person concert by her. Accompanied by Chris Pruden on a baby grand, and joined by Sam Gleason on guitar through the middle section, she blew me away with her set. Cardiello's voice ranged from soft and quiet to a full blown diva-esque blast that reminded me of Sarah Slean, then Cate le Bon, then My Brightest Diamond. Lyrically though, her dense thoughts was in The Weather Station territory. But whereas Tamara Lindeman's emotional landscape is hidden behind a cool and analytical visage, Zinnia was raw and unfiltered. Her viola and guitar were the cherries on top. I haven't been this flabbergasted by a first show in a long time.

With a divorce that happened during Covid, she had plenty of material for harrowing new songs like Rebound. But there was also unflinching honesty in older numbers like Blueprint and Requiem. Zinnia had a strong stage presence, cheerful enough that it didn't seem weird to the audience to sing along to a song about her ex bringing his new lover to their old spots or the ups and downs of a bipolar episode (Lithium). I don't know when this Montanan made her way to Toronto, but I'm sad that I won't be around to see more of this dynamite musician.

Crunch Lunch

It was a dreary Thursday morning as I was doing remote work in the apartment. But I wanted to stretch my legs. The owner of my sublet had also wanted me to mail them any important letters half-way through my stay. After a few minutes outside, the sun came blazing out behind the clouds. It stayed clear and warm for the rest of the afternoon.

I made my way south through the streets bordering Little India to the Greenwood and Queen St. area. There were a few shops but it was mostly dominated by a TTC streetcar maintenance facility and a historical Quaker estate. I first came here a decade ago for some pizza. I was last here about 5 years ago for some food and music. But I couldn't tell if that Gallery/Studio was still opened.

I stepped inside Maru Japanese Bistro next to the pizzeria. It opened about 8 months ago and inherited a bright, airy space from the previous tenant despite being partially below ground. Maru offered sushi and seafood dishes with a Western flair from the Cordon Blue-trained owner/chef. So for my first time, I wanted to try something different. As such, I settled on the Ebi Katsu Burger ($20). The dish name said it all, it was a panko-breaded and lightly fried shrimp patty on brioche buns. The whole thing was thick and toothsome. It was nice but needed some aioli or other sauce to put the burger over the top. The potato waffle fries was outstanding. Thin, crispy, and lightly coated with some grated parmesan, this was Pringle chips after finishing school. I have only a few weeks left in my stay, but I hope to return for another meal.

As for the mail, it was good I didn't drop off the pre-paid manila folder in the mailbox on Gerrard. When I got the package weighed at the Post Office at Queen and Carlaw, it was short 50 cents. I paid for the extra shipping charge and made my way home to wrap up the workday.

Elseworld

Wednesday night, I headed over to Massey Hall for a concert of Japanese taiko drums. The rain didn't bother me because I was aboard the streetcar which dropped me off at a subway station. One benefit of big city transit. But when I got off at the Queen St. stop, I didn't see anyone else outside the venue except for one other person. We exchanged puzzled looks before they told me that the ticket was actually for 2023. I rechecked my phone and dang it!

I partly got this sublet because I had postponed shows from as far back as 2020. I still have some left but I didn't want to buy more tickets for future dates because I'm making fewer visits to Toronto. In any case, back in Ottawa, I would have regretted this unnecessary commute. But with a more convenient transit system, I could walk around a bit (including checking out Farm Boy, an Ottawa grocery chain that was making inroads in the GTA) before heading back.

On the return trip, I reflected that over the past few weeks, Riverdale feels like my neighbourhood now: walking around, doing groceries, and visiting various restaurants. Earlier in the day, I straightened out a couple who weren't quite sure where they were. I also visited a local grocer to see if the specialty mangos from India have arrived yet.

In another life, I might have lived like this. Not this exact East-End area because the work commute to Mississauga would have been brutal. But buying a modest home, living on one floor, and renting out the rest. It would have saved everyone money including the renters. With a small mortgage, I'd have no need to raise rent.

I would also have furnished my place with many knick-knacks and mementos. With my previous rentals, I never wanted the hassle of packing up dozens of boxes in case of eviction or relocation. So I never bothered keeping much stuff. My "Sliding Doors" musings ended as I stepped off the streetcar and headed on home.

Oui Madame

It was a bright, warm (although sometimes with a nippy wind) Tuesday so I decided to head out for lunch. The nearby high school was on its lunch break and students were congregating outside. One of the perks of living in an urban location was the many choices for food. Most students brought lunch from home but the next most popular options were 241 pizza and Popeye's or MacDonald's from Gerrard Square. Sadly, the Vietnamese banh mi shop had no traffic. I was a bit surprised to see some older kids hanging out inside Dineen Outpost having coffee/tea, cookies, etc. When I was young, we weren't cool enough or lived in a hip enough place to have a barista shop. At lunch, we crowded the local convenience store which had a side-room with 5-6 arcade games.

I kept walking to Logan and stepped inside Madame Levant. This little café promised Turkish coffee and Middle-Eastern fares. My last encounter with Levantine cuisine was a fusion with Italian pizza. I ordered a black mint tea ($3.75) and a Halloumi Zatar sandwich ($14.50). The server said the drink would be better than Arabesque's Blood of the Pigeon tea (though he didn't know what that was). I was skeptical when I saw the lipton tea bag. It didn't wow me like Arabesque but the sugar and fresh mint leaves did improve the generic base.

The sandwich, or more aptly flatbread/sharwarma wrap, was better. The combination of zatar, fried Halloumi cheese, and a mix of tomatoes, olives, and arugula had a nice balanced flavour. The space was bright, airy, and felt local. It was a small lunch for $24 (with tax + tip) but I'm slowly getting used to modern prices.

Far East Eats

Living in an East End sublet, I should visit Chinatown East as I have only dropped by a handful of times. On Monday, I walked along Gerrard St until Broadview looking for a place to eat. Like the main Chinatown on Spadina, the area has seen better days. Gentrification has started to encroach bringing paradoxically fancier businesses but also closed storefronts. Finally I stepped inside Dumpling House.

At first, I thought they might only do take-out as a pandemic-era plastic sheet completely blocks the front area. Then I realized that there were booths available, but you had to duck down underneath the barrier to get to them. This was the narrowest Chinese place I've been to with barely an aisle dividing the booths.

I skipped on the dumplings because although they (and the hand-pulled noodles) were likely the house specialties, they came in orders of 12 and were mostly meat-based. So I opted for chive-and-eggs pancakes ($8.95) and braised eggplants with rice ($11.95). As expected, they were the sort of stick-to-your-ribs dishes you find in these unassuming places. They were alright except for some details that bothered me. The pancakes were crispy and not oily but the stuffing was a bit too salty. Similarly, the eggplants were soft and tender. However, there was sweetness to the sauce that was off-putting after about half-way through. I would have preferred the spiciness that was promised in the "chili sauce" menu description.

Maybe I should have gone with the dumplings. So I probably won't be back unless I figure out a way to eat them all. Dumpling House had 2 other tables occupied but they did a brisk business with pick-ups and online delivery.

Mother of the Pide

A decade ago, my first encounter with Turkish pide (a kind of half-folded pizza or calzone) at Pizza Pide was a great one. I did return one other time, but it wasn't really convenient to visit the Gerrard Square area from the West End. Since then, I've tried other places but they were all forgettable.

Since my current sublet was a short walk away, I re-visited this spot on Saturday night. I would have come by sooner but it always looked closed. I was apprehensive because given the other mediocre places, perhaps it wasn't as good here either and my memory has fooled me. Secondly, I was pretty sure that the restaurant had changed hands. Now there were 2 women (or a mother/daughter pair) behind the counter instead of a middle-aged man. These small spots don't usually have other staff besides the owner. Do they have the same touch?

When I got my spinach and feta pide home ($14.60), all my worries vanished. This was a delicious dinner: crispy, fragrant, packed with flavour. I appreciated all the extra sides like pickled chilis, parsley, and raw onions. They made for a nice crunch and palate cleanser between bites. The price has basically increased by 50% but with a decade of inflation, what can you do? I have turned into an old grouch who can't believe how much things cost nowadays.

Se7en

Dwayne Gretzky, supergroup cover band, did their 6th annual ode to the 90s (Big Shiny Dwayne) back in 2019. But because of the pandemic, it wasn't until Friday night that they returned to The Phoenix for the next edition. With the 90s now 30-years-old and rapidly fading out of view, most everyone there was getting long in the tooth. But people were still enthusiastic enough to cheer and sing to every song.

Early Dwayne shows, including Big Shiny, tended to be male-heavy and leaned toward rock numbers. But the women have now achieved parity in the set list. This was a good thing since it also added more genres and variety to the music. It would be ridiculous to ignore the calibre of female singers in the band: The O'Pears (Jill Harris, Lydia Persaud, Meg Contini) and Carleigh Aikins. So we got indie (Hand In My Pocket - Alanis Morissette), pop (Never Ever - All Saints), ska-lite (Don't Speak - No Doubt), and ballad (It's All Coming Back To Me Now - Céline Dion).

It's always fun to hear the classics return like I'm Not Sick But I'm Not Well (Flagpole Sitta), My Hero (Foo Fighters), Just (Radiohead). But it's more fun to hear new songs in the repertoire. Tonight, we got such disparate numbers as Everything is Everything (Lauren Hill), Crash Into Me (Dave Matthews), and Blue (Eiffel 65). For the latter, Nick Rose sang it while dressed in a green zentai suit. As bandleader Tyler Kyte pointed out: only at a Dwayne Gretzky show will you hear these songs together.

There was no boy-band/girl-band choreography tonight but we did get Rodrigo doing his usual over-the-top performance of a cheesy song. This time it was Santana's Smooth. The encore wrapped up the night with the one-two punch of All My Life (K-Ci & Jojo) and Tubthumping (Chumbawamba). The first with its' sing-along heart-on-sleeve chorus (All my life/I've waited for someone like you) with all 6 singers harmonizing got the audience right in the feels. The second with its' defiant lyrics (I get knocked down but I get up again) seemed to be the pandemic anthem to get everyone jumping in a frenzy.

Eating Exuberant

On Friday, I headed to the North York Centre via subway for lunch at Petit Potato. I was meeting with current and ex-coworkers and this Taiwanese restaurant was a good spot for everyone's commute. Given its premium location and size, we wondered how much was rent and if, with office workers still mostly working from home, they were making any money.

We ordered in 2s: appetizers, mains, and desserts. The deep-fried tofu with mushrooms ($7.99) was light and not too oily. The sous-vide chicken salad ($10.99) tasted best with its Asian ginger vinaigrette. I couldn't tell if the chicken was more tender than usual because of the sous-vide. I enjoyed the Salmon teppan pepper rice ($14.99) more than the Chicken teppan spaghetti ($12.99). The latter's sauce was mostly bland while the former had good flavour and toothsomeness. The Matcha soufflé pancake ($15.99) was a hit: soft and spongy. The grass jelly sago ($10.99) was refreshing with its mix of fruit and chewy jelly.

For us working folks, we mostly complained about the company's messed-up situation since 2019. It's kind of amazing the executives still think there's something to salvage (and find the funds to keep us limping along). For the retiree (or at least on temporary hiatus), they were busy making plans to travel: visiting Poland to see the ancestral homeland and a week-long hike through Scotland. Of course, there was also our aging bones and our aging relatives. Health was a top concern since we knew people who already had major surgeries like triple bypasses. With remote work and job exodus, it was good to remember that our colleagues actually exist in real-life.

New Testament

Thursday night, I headed over to the St. Lawrence Market area. The Esplanade is a pretty street but it hosts mostly touristy businesses like Bier Markt or The Keg. But Bar Cathedral, which shares space with The Old Spaghetti Factory, was a small, welcoming space with soaring ceilings and stained glass windows. I was there to see two young musicians.

First up was Allegra Jordyn with a solo set. She sang love songs (or at least its drama) like Numb, Ruin My Life, Lead You On on piano and guitar. She reminded me a bit of Mieke but I suppose there's never a shortage of broken hearts. Jordyn had some good pipes even if, for the moment, her lyrics aren't quite at the level of Dreams, her Fleetwood Mac cover.

Avery Raquel was having a CD release party tonight. I first heard her four years ago in a showcase of female Jazz singers doing standards and pop covers. I was curious to hear her own material tonight. After the first song, I thought "Amy Winehouse meets Nikki Yanofsky". Raquel admitted that her biggest influences were Winehouse and 70s music. So there was a Winehouse cover (He Can Only Hold Her) with a bit of Lauren Hill (That Thing) but also segues into Winehouse and Carol King during her own songs. Whether Please, You Said, or Helpless, her big voice was ably backed by a band leaning into that punchy 70s R'n'B. Despite her age, she had 4 albums of music to draw on including Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing that she wrote at 13. Raquel finally got the crowd to stand up and dance on her final number Put Your Love On Me.

One downer was that the audience were almost all friends and family. An artist need to perform in a space where new fans might be found. But she announced during the show that her new album debuted at number 5 on iTunes Canadian R'n'B chart. So hopefully next concert, she'll find her peeps.

Stew Martinique

I have been visiting Little India lately. So Wednesday evening, I headed in the other direction along Gerrard. At the corner of Carlaw, I stepped inside The Real Jerk. I haven't had traditional Caribbean fare in a while because it's meat-heavy (though Veggie D'Light and One Love are vegan) and Bloorcourt only had the immensely popular but bland Jerk King.

You don't often see a Caribbean restaurant with sit-down service and a bar. As such, Real Jerk reminded me of only one other such place on College. Long defunct, it became Boom Breakfast Diner for more than a decade, then a Thai take-out, and now cheap sushi. I was even more excited to see on the drinks menu that they may have that same pink fruit punch I had decades ago.

The menu did have some vegetarian and fish options but I decided that for my first meal here, I would get something more typical. I settled on the curry chicken dinner ($14.95) and a rum punch ($9.99). The drink was refreshing but wasn't quite the same. But it has been years so I can't say either way and the alcohol probably changed the taste profile. The dinner was huge and packed full of flavour. The chicken was tender and tasty and the rice mixed with the curry sauce was divine.

The Real Jerk had wonderful food and was a cheap eats, too. This dinner could become two meals with added veggies at home (it was very meat-heavy). The rotis could also be split into two portions. All in all, this restaurant was a win for the neighbourhood.

On the way there, I passed by Gerrard Square and saw a police stand-off with a man holding a knife. The crazy thing was not that a few people were still trying to enter or leave the mall, but that most of the cops standing around (only 1-2 were negotiating) didn't redirect them or do any active crowd control. After dinner, I walked through the neighbourhoods behind the Pape pedestrian bridge and met a one-eyed cat.

Yoga of Action

Monday morning was a special milestone. It has been 100 days since Boxing Day that I started my early morning yoga practice. I've been a regular practitioner for a long time but never with this level of consistency. As each day progressed, the asanas became slower. Now and then I still go a class that is more vigorous. But it's interesting that my own practice now is about the same "speed" as my first classes at the YMCA with a traditional Hatha yogi named P.K. Also, with the commercialization of Yoga in the West, he was the only Indian teacher I've practiced with.

In the evening, I wandered over to Little India and stopped off at Karma Kitchen. There aren't too many Nepalese restaurants in the city although similar ones can be found in Parkdale. I chose the veggie thali ($13.99). It came on a metal tray with rice, lentil soup, bamboo curry, dry potato curry, and some sautée greens. Overall, this was a tasty dinner especially the potato and lentil. I have never seen bamboo curry but this version didn't stand out. The waiter forgot my cutlery but they were new on the job so I didn't care that much about the spotty customer service. I will return for more lentil soup and probably some momos, too.

All Things Together

Given my love of public laundromats, I had to see a movie about a Chinese-American woman running a laundromat. On Saturday, I headed to a downtown cinema to see Everything Everywhere All At Once. Once again, though I had planned for a 1-hour trip (plenty of time, I thought), the Greenwood bus part of the commute was so slow that I arrived as the lights went down. I also had accidentally sat in a wet seat. So I spent the trip wondering what my jeans was now damp with?! For the rest of this sublet, I'm going to avoid taking this bus.

This movie was fun, funny, and fantastical. Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh) was an immigrant with failed dreams, struggling with work and family life. In the movie, she finally had the opportunity to experience adventures since she was called on to access the skills and memories of her alternate selves to save the multiverse. In real-life, the feeling that failed choices has left a person at a dead-end is a familiar one.

After the show, I walked through several downtown neighbourhood to arrive at Kensington Market. A Peruvian Sushi take-out called Fussion Sushi has opened on Baldwin Street (despite the fact that the owners live in Milton). With Japanese immigrants in the 19th century, there have always been Peruvian-style Japanese food. With the advice of the cashier, I opted for the most "iconic" of the menu choices. It turns out the AVC ($15) was fried shrimp, avocado, and lemon mayonnaise.

This tasted like the typical "new" sushi found in various restaurants over the last 20 years. But it was interesting that what was lumped in with Asian Fusion has been actually part of the Peruvian food culture all this time. However, this moniker has a poor reputation (because of the numerous failed attempts). So it's unfortunate that the business has chosen to represent themselves as "fusion food".

More Than Meets The Eyes

I was rushing to get to Fleck Dance Theatre on Friday night. The Greenwood bus was as bad as transit in Ottawa and my allocated 1-hour was barely enough. This was DanceWorks' first recital since they had shut down for the pandemic. As such, I thought there would be a full crowd but it was only about 40% full. Toronto missed out on a great show.

Fila 13 Productions came from Montreal to present Lina Cruz's Morphs. The title seemed to have two meanings. The first was about transformation or metamorphosis. The most obvious was when a male dancer was strapped into an evening dress while his female compatriot strutted around with a LED-lit cod piece. But throughout the show, things and people changed: clothes get re-purposed, props are manipulated into different configurations, dancers contorted into various shapes to suddenly burst out with sharp, staccato choreography. The second was about snippets of sounds and words (morpheme). In addition to pre-recorded sounds, an older gentleman provided percussion by tapping on objects, played a piano, sang several numbers (Radeau Médusé, Ferré's La Lune). But the dancers also knocked on the stage, clapped rhythmically, and harmonized song snippets.

With mismatched costumes of jutting pads or clear, plastic helmets that glowed, the show reminded me of an apocalyptic Mad Max but set in the gentler future of Station Eleven. They could have been a troupe here to entertain us with props made from the detritus of the 21st century. It was a fun show, lacking the seriousness of some contemporary recitals in Toronto. There was something French or Montreal about its whimsy. One of my favourite blink-and-you-missed-it was a performer's laughs that became for a few bars the famous Queen of The Night aria.

Mommy Dearest

Though there weren't too many East End venues, my sublet was actually convenient for several larger theatres. So it was a short street-car ride on Thursday night to get to The Phoenix. It is slated for condo redevelopment so there may not be too many shows left in its future. While waiting in a line, a young woman told her friends that she had skipped on a show Wednesday to be "responsible" (budget reasons?) but maybe the singer will return in a year or two. Despite Toronto being one of the top music destinations in the world, depending on that musician's circumstances, they may never return (so yolo).

I was at the back for opener Zoon. It was an atmospheric, grungy garage sound with higher-pitched male alto. From the cheering, they had some fans. In fact, it was pretty full for the early set. But I was able to get much closer by using a secret from my experience at previous shows. If you head to the left side of the room, there are enough spaces between (not as tightly packed) people that you'll end up only 2-3 metres from stage left. It wasn't until I snuck back just before the encore that I realized how close I was compared to the folks in the rear watching behind hundreds of people.

Soccer Mommy (Sophia Allison) started as a bedroom-pop musician but quickly became the face of the genre with several top reviews. She has come a long way from playing a solo set or to a sparse crowd. An almost capacity crowd hung onto her every words and often sang along. Most songs got a loud cheer with the first chord intro. Her newer numbers did have more propulsion than older hits like Still Clean thanks to the drummer.

Like last night's show, this will likely be my final encounter with Soccer Mommy for the same reason: their style of wistful confessional music does not sound great to me in a big venue. Also, two sets of mostly mid-tempo songs had me nodding off on my feet. But plenty of people tonight thought differently. Given how incredible Thao's performance was to about 50 people, I think that 20 times (or 30 times for Men I Trust) that number tonight would have loved (and added so much to) her high-energy set.

Play Through

Just before Wednesday night's concert, I went back to Little India. There were 3 "Desi burger" places next to each other and I wanted to try the middle one. Lahore Chaat's site claimed that their hours started noon but last time I ended up at Leela's because they were closed.

I ordered an aloo burger ($3.49) and 2 samosas ($0.99/each). The burger was tasty but messy. I liked it more than most plant-based patties because they included cumin/curry in their aloo. Added to that a slathering of chutney and you had something that tasted different than your typical dry veggie burger. The samosas were run-of-the-mill but quite filling for the price. In fact, at $6 (all-in no tax), this was an excellent cheap eats. Unfortunately, I asked the waitstaff directly about their hours and they didn't open until 4 pm.

Originally scheduled for a single night at the 800-capacity Phoenix 2 years ago, Men I Trust was now doing 2 shows at the 1500-capacity Danforth Music Hall. The opener, Tess Roby, had a deep voice that reminded me of Kaili Kinnon. Her band's synth-y loops and Roby's lyrical imagery evoked a modern-day Kate Bush. Men I Trust started with a driving Tailwhip. In fact, those who associate them with chill vibes might be surprised by how bopping their music can be complete with extended guitar solos (which got plenty of cheers). But there were plenty of slow numbers (Sugar, Lucky Sue), too. Their two encores was the popular Show Me How and the rocking Say Can You Hear.

I felt a bit sad at the end because this was likely my last show with Men I Trust. It wasn't because they now have fans lining up 30-deep for merch at 7:30 pm. But as the (touring) band grows and they move from The Horseshoe to bigger and bigger venues, their songs don't translate well to live anymore. The clean bass, wobbly synth, and Emma's shimmery guitar chords sounded like thumping, muddy indie pop. It's better to bid farewell to a band on a high note instead of trying to keep hanging on.

I walked to the venue to check out more East End neighbourhoods. There were cute houses on Myrtle and Strathcona. But the area around Blake was a bit bleak. It wasn't just the dense number of old apartment tenements in this public-housing neighbourhood. There were also numerous row houses, all bricks and tiny windows. I've never seen such unusual (and grim) construction that discouraged outdoor socializing. Kempton Howard Park at the end of the street was cheerier. It faced an old Jewish cemetery. Blake is completely surrounded by wealthier neighbours whom I'd guess would not venture into the area.

It's a Hard-Knock Life

Tuesday night was my first visit to Crow's Theatre at Dundas and Carlaw, one of the few theatres in the East End. It was a spacious space, complete with a bar/music stage. It was good to see a main-floor tenant of a condo other than a pharmacy or a bank. The theatre area was also a good size and can seat several hundred people. Tonight was the 1st night (preview) of George F. Walker's Orphans for the Czar, a title appropriate for our times.

We were back in Tsar-ist Russia, where two orphans Vasley (Paolo Santalucia) and Rayisha (Shayla Brown) eked out poor, "peasant" lives. Rayisha was still hopeful but Vasley thought her blindness shielded her from the reality that there was nothing beautiful in the world. He was then sent to Petersburg to live with a book-seller only known as Master (Eric Peterson).

The living situation for the masses there wasn't any better. Revolution was in the air and in the thoughts two frequent visitors to the bookshop: bourgeois sisters Olga (Michelle Mohammed) and Maya (Shawna Thompson). Meanwhile, Makarov (Patrick McManus) managed a network of Czarist spies including violent henchman Sasha (Kyle Gatehouse). It was clear to them that people who read books full of foreign ideas needed a close watch.

Vasley spent his days catering to the whims of Master and supplying him with young women, and after being beaten by Sasha, spying for Makarov. Another villager Yakov (Christopher Allen), who had later also brought Rayisha to the city, worked in a factory full of subversive dissidents. Then everything exploded (literally).

It was an interesting play with parallels to our current times between people fomenting unrests and government crackdowns. Back then though, it was clearer who was the "bad guy" when it came to the people vs the elites. The language was in modern vernacular (which often elicited laughs) but characters sometimes spoke dialectically to each other which I bounced off hard.

Side note: I walked through various laneways to get to the Theatre and passed by an old, fenced-in Jewish cemetery (Holy Blossom) behind a rec centre. On the way back, I mostly walked down Dundas St. E. Between Bermount and Jones, I saw something I've never seen in Toronto. The houses had their backyard and garage facing the street (their entrances were on side streets) as opposed to being tucked behind them in garage lanes. So that block of Dundas felt hostile with a suburban-through-street feel since there were no "housing", just fences and garage doors.