Great Scott!

There were 3 bands playing at a show at The Velvet Underground on Monday. But since I was visiting a friend and then grabbing dinner afterwards, I didn't make it to the venue before the second act. Similar to other all-ages show, this one was packed from the get-go. But with this club's flat layout and low stage, I barely got a glimpse of the musicians from near the back of the room. Some of the shorter teens had to watch the show through their smartphone raised up over other people's heads.

Fanclubwallet was actually from Ottawa. I thought about checking out their show at Club Saw earlier this month but found out they were playing on this tour. They had an indie sound big on fuzzy chords. But there was also some punch to their music thanks to some early 90s Weezer-esque rhythm.

Head-liner Penelope Scott was a product of social media. Her self-produced music reached her audience via viral TikTok videos and Spotify streams. It was a testament to its big-city status that everyone plays Toronto, even extremely online artists. I was here because I had heard Rät, her critique of tech bro culture (it was originally titled Elongated Muskrat). The other old folks were probably here to watch their kids.

Scott writes verse after verse (after verse) of whimsical observations. She reminded me a bit of Ben Caplan. But whereas the latter was big and bombastic, Scott was wry and self-effacing. Her solo set was divided into a guitar part, a piano middle section, and a final third with backing tracks. It was interesting that her lyrics felt different to me because of that. Scott on guitar was confessional (Dead Girls), musical theatre on piano (Montreal), and winkingly ironic with electronic beats (Cigarette Ahegao). I preferred the latter with its dancey, 8-bit bloops and blips.

All-ages audience tend to know their lyrics. But I was impressed that they could sing Scott's densely-packed verses. I can barely remember what I did last week. She debuted a few new tunes that had shorter, more pop lyrics, but they were less memorable. Scott's strength was her verbiage so she should look to Tori Amos and Fiona Apple as artists who had long careers with wordy songs.

Doggone It

Monday morning, I walked to my checkup; one reason why I chose this AirBnB in the Bloordale area. Although I should return to my room and work remotely, I haven't been that motivated since the pandemic. Luckily, my company has not installed monitoring software (that I know of). A potential lunch fell through as my friend had a last-minute emergency. A co-worker had a death in the family and they wanted to drop by and offer emotional support.

So I wandered down to regular spot Le's Sandwich on College St. I bought some vegan dishes to take back to Ottawa and chatted with the owner. Their daughter graduated just before the pandemic in the summer of 2019. She was doing contract work but has now found permanent employment. Oddly enough, it was remote work for an Ottawa company.

I should also have bought a banh mi from Le's but I wanted to try a new take-out place at Bloor and Lansdowne called Saigon Sandwiches. It replaced Indian Home Cooking, a mediocre place that I only visited once. With better options at Dosa Mahal, Vena's Roti, Queen of Patties, and new-comer Roll and Bowl, Home Cooking was an also-ran. Unfortunately, Saigon was a dud. They won't last long if they don't improve quickly.

The two workers (co-owners?) looked like they've never operated a professional kitchen. With my order of a Chicken Banh Mi ($8.25) and a Viet Fried Dog ($5.25) and 1 other customer in the store, they changed disposable gloves close to 10 times. You don't need the extreme frugality (and questionable sanitation) of re-using plastic gloves several times (like at much missed spot Qian He Chinese Pancake) but inefficiency was a sign of other problems.

A traditional banh mi includes a strong-tasting pâté spread. This works when they (used to) cost $2 and had cheap meat. When you have nicer ingredients like grilled-to-order chicken, slathering on the pâté killed all other flavour. The condiments and baguette were sub-par, too. Deep-fried hot-dog and mozzarella wrapped in rice paper and breading sounded like a fun alternative to Korean corn-dogs. But when the cheese did not melt (and was at room temperature) and you were wondering if you are eating raw hot-dog, it didn't make for a good lunch. The saving grace was with 10%-off for cash and the fried dog being a daily special ($3.99), lunch was less than $15.

I didn't get a chance to find a good place for dinner. I dropped by my friend's restaurant to inquire about her co-worker's state of mind and catch up on personal news. I was also seeing if her spare bedroom was available for future visits, at least until her brother immigrated to Canada. But since last time, a distant cousin was now living there temporarily. I bid farewell and walked back to the AirBnB, grabbing some pizza from 241 Pizza on the way.

Hot In Herre

I'm not usually inconvenienced by public transit in Toronto but I think that the TTC has cut back service for certain time periods ever since the pandemic. So Sunday night, it took longer than I anticipated to get from my AirBnB to The Horseshoe Tavern. As such, I had completely missed the neo-soul band Brainstory as opener. To make matters worse, there was a gap of close to 40 minutes before the headliner came on even though the equipment was already set up. This was irritating since The Horseshoe was the rare bar that usually enforced promptness. But combined with 35C degree with high humidity (there was a rain shower outside) and no AC at the venue, everyone was stewing (literally and figuratively).

Lady Wray's fans were divided into two groups. Middle-aged people who knew her as a 17-year-old singer signed to Missy Elliott's label in the 90s and younger twenty-somethings who found her through numerous singles and collaborations of the aughts and 2010s. I first encountered Wray as a backup singer for late bloomer Lee Fields and then part of the short-lived Lady.

Her set spanned more than 20 years of R'n'B/Soul from Make It Hot (1998), If I Was Your Girlfriend (2003), to Guilty (2016) and Piece of Me (2019). Everybody enjoyed the groovy vibe and there was even a fair bit of dancing. The older folks seemed more familiar with the classic tunes. I was off to the side because I couldn't imagine being jammed close to the stage underneath the lights. I didn't stay for the whole show because the sweltering heat was becoming too much.

More Dale

If it wasn't for the sublet, Sunday would have been the first time I return to Toronto in a few months. To keep one foot in the Big Smoke, I have kept all my medical providers. This gives me a reason to visit now and then, take care of business, and enjoy the city for a few days. I didn't book with the mediocre (but now familiar) Victoria's Mansion because with Pride Week-End, the Church St. area would be too party-central for a quiet stay.

When I got off at Union Station, Toronto was livelier than usual because of Pride and many tourists. I headed to the old neighbourhood of Bloordale. Despite my misgivings, I had found an AirBnB house a few minutes from Lansdowne Subway. It was nice to see folks enjoying the sunshine. Duffy's Tavern was "temporarily" closed due to lack of staff. Not surprising that Duffy's would feel the employee crunch, wages being what they are for a dive bar.

Being not yet completely gentrified, numerous businesses were closed on Sunday evening as the crowd thinned out so I had a hard time finding a place for dinner. I stopped off at Mumbaikar, an Indian restaurant in the spot of former Idle and Drift. The new owner kept the location's bistro-bar root and has gone for a contemporary feel with pop-art scenes of bustling South Asian streets.

The food wasn't as funky as the décor though. It started well with the unusual Sabudana Vada ($9.99). The street food was a deep-fried combination of tapioca pearls (i.e., bubble tea), potatoes and various Indian spices. These balls had interesting texture and flavour, especially with yogurt and chutney.

Unfortunately, both the veg Kolhapuri ($14.99), a curry from Kolhapur, and the plain naan ($4.99) were disappointing. The main was middling curry and what looked to be mostly frozen veggies, pricey for run-of-the-mill food. The flatbread was bland without any fragrance. When a hole-in-the-wall spot like Lahore Grill can put out cheap and delicious naan, a fancy sit-down diner has no excuse. Most other eaters were sticking with Pav Bhaji (curry with soft bread rolls) from Maharashtra. If that was their specialty, Mumbaikar should ditch their everything-but-the-kitchen-sink menu.

Half-Full

Ever since I left my sublet in May to return to Ottawa, I haven't gone out much. During the winter, it was the freezing conditions (or so I thought) that kept me inside. With the warmer weather, I should be motivated to be outdoors. But a quick visit to a relative reminded me how unreliable local transit was. I was also surrounded by suburban streets which were much emptier than even quiet East End Toronto. Finally, social media posts reminded me that fun stuff like CMW (Canadian Music Week) and NXNE were happening in the Big Smoke. So I had no motivation to go out. Even a 2-show stint this week from multiple Juno winner Charlotte Cardin didn't elicit any personal interest.

But Friday was almost 30 degrees and sunny. Since I haven't done anything but remote work for 4 weeks, I decided to venture out for lunch. I arrived at the corner of Blair and Montreal but the falafel food truck was gone. Perhaps they left because the site was slated for condo development? I walked for a bit and debated whether I should go back to the taco truck. But lo and behold, Falafel On Wheels had simply relocated a few blocks to the strip mall housing Golden Crust Pizza. I ordered the Falafull-Fries ($7.10) for lunch.

This was a desolate stretch of pavement but I remembered just off the main road there was a small parkette. My meal was filling but not very appetizing. First, I made a mistake. I thought it was a shawarma stuffed with extra fries like I've had elsewhere or even a hybrid like French taco. But it was simply falafel balls on fries with a sprinkling of tomato and parsley. If I wanted fries for lunch I would have gone to the Frys Guy one parking lot over.

The dish was bland with the falafel being too hard and lacking the chewy, nutty flavour of a good recipe. The fries were fresh but they could use an exciting kick like masala spices. There wasn't even a public garbage bin anywhere so I had to carry the trash back to the apartment. Yet another disappointing Ottawa eats to add to the tally.