Saturday Night Life

Unlike my 10-day outing before leaving Toronto that included several events, Ottawa has been mostly eating out. Primarily, it had to do with being far from the downtown core. Long transit rides make me reluctant to head out after dark. But it also seemed that any events here sell out; perhaps the lack of fun activities meant that any going-ons quickly fill up. So a trip to the NAC to hear a Peruvian musical show-case or seeing local bands covering other bands (similar to Death to T.O.) at the 27 club were no-go.

I had given up on continuing this exercise but then I remembered that near Laheeb on Montreal Rd was another grill place called Lazare's BBQ House. The curry goat at Royal Prince was all right but in general I have found African-descent food in Ottawa (Creole Sensations, Boukannen) to be disappointing. There was no 9 Mile, Pam's Roti, or the exquisite Afrobeat Kitchen. But I was glad I gave this spot a chance because it was a delicious dinner.

At first, I thought the owner was Muslim since the food was halal. But an open Bible on the counter and people singing at an African church on TV cleared up the restaurant's name. There were a few tables inside but it was obviously a take-out place. The quarter-chicken combo ($20.80) was substantial and filled with flavourful ingredients: chicken was smokey and tender, plaintain sweet and freshly fried, and the rice was a bit oily but so good. If I can forget that a half-chicken dinner at Sardinha (The King of BBQ Chicken) was once under $10 (and didn't now eat a mostly plant-based diet), I'd put Lazare on regular rotation.

Friday I'm not in Love

With the Blue Jays hosting game 1 of the World Series, I planned to be home on Friday. So while I was pondering what to do, this week's daily posts reminded me of the song by The Cure. In the early evening, I headed over to Chahaya Malaysia. Why? It was one of the last dinner my crush and I had some decades back. Before going, I should have consulted my entry about Chahaya because I ordered the same bad dish.

Found on busy Montreal Road, near a run-down motel and a condo construction (formerly an autoshop called Marier), the trip to Chahaya wasn't quite as romantic as strolling along the Rideau Canal from the university campus to The Glebe for its old location. They had long taken over half of what used to be Chinese diner Kung's Palace. From the utilitarian interior without much charm, apparently they haven't bothered with any upgrade in the decades since.

My vegetarian Sayur Masak Lemak (now $18) was spicy but not much else: tough onions, unremarkable young jackfruit, and a forgettable mix of veggies. I even missed the wok hei flavour of fast-food joint Thai Express. The bowl of traditional basmati rice ($4) was also a problem. The Nasik Minyak was dry by itself (nothing like chef Saha's) yet it retained a tasty hint of spices and ghee. But when you add the curry, the latter overwhelmed the rice. I might as well have chosen white rice and save $1. Mostly though, I mistook the dish's description of raisins and almonds garnishes (they were barely there) for another dish. I'm pretty sure my crush and I had Nasi Goreng, even if the typical preparation isn't vegetarian-friendly. Raised by hippie parents as a vegetarian, either we had asked for some changes or agreed to gloss over some of the ingredients.

Compared to the last few days of delicious eats, this was a major disappointment. I suppose the lesson here is that whatever magic (or so you think) happened back then, it's unlikely to be duplicated in the present day. Nostalgia is best left as a daydream.

Tuck-In Thursday

On Thursday, I had planned on visiting Old Ottawa South again. The venue House of Targ had a concert that promised some weird synth-pop. But in the morning I looked at the poster and realized despite being a 3-band show, doors was at 8 pm. A decade ago, comedy band Blimp Rock opined that "I see there's more than 2 bands on the bill, so I don't think I'm gonna go. Cause I wished it started at 7" (Let's All Stay In Tonight). They took the words right out of my mouth.

I then remembered that at the corner of Hemlock and St. Laurent, where there was an Algerian restaurant (Idriss) and an Indian diner (Mia's), there was also a new business with the odd name of Explosion persian style. It opened about a year ago in the old location for Golden Crust Pizza. A Persian-flavoured pizza sounded interesting but I wasn't sure I could finish one.

So I settled on the cheaper Bandari sub ($14.90), an Iranian street-food,  and a can of Coke ($2). In a nutshell, Explosion was the rare Ottawa spot that hit the trifecta of taste, portion, and price (sort-of). It was a large, crunchy sub stuffed with flavourful pickles, fried onion, potato cubes, and very messy sauce. I was thoroughly full and satisfied. 

But there were two caveats with my meal. One, there wasn't much sausage. The few slices I had was tasty, even though it mostly reminded me of bologna. Two, most of the wonderful flavour came from cheap ingredients like pickles and fried potatoes. Similar to my experience with the tacos at Vegena (and they had in-house vegan chorizo as the wow factor), I would have preferred a few bucks off. I'd gladly return if the Bandari sub was closer to $10. And given the other ones were $20 or more, Explosion would not be a regular dining spot for me. I might come back once to check out that Persian pizza.

Warming Wednesday

It has been dreary and raining since the week-end with only sporadic sunshine. Unfortunately, I think it's the same overseas for my mom on her trip. On Wednesday, I thought that a hot dinner might dispel some cold. During my childhood, there was only Fat Albert pizzeria in the plaza at Ogilvie and Montreal. Now the strip mall housed a few eateries. I ate at Creole Sensations regularly for a short period. But I finally had to admit that the $10 lunch special was a good price but the food was middling: rice was dry, fried plantain was tough, and the veggie stew was gloopy.

I stepped inside Pho-V to find two older women eating. Over the course of my stay, several diners, online deliverers, and take-out orders came. In the corner, two children sat doing homework. One brought me my water and even practiced taking orders from other tables. This was my second encounter this week with the cliché of good restaurants having children "employees".

After perusing the menu, I chose a medium bowl of Bun Bo Hue ($16). The version here was essentially a spicier pho complete with beef brisket, even if the flat noodle was replaced with a chewier round one. Missing was the rarer ingredients such as pork knuckles and congealed blood cubes. However, they could have included cha lua, which was easily available from other dishes.

In any case, it was a tasty soup with both broth and beef being better than the usual pho place. There was actually a generous helping of the latter: enough to last to the very last slurp. Pho-V wasn't quite at the same level as Ca Phe Rang in Toronto. But for an Ottawa business outside the city core, it offered a decent meal (if you are old like me, you have to forget that these mains used to cost $5.99).

Taco Tuesday

The second day of my 10-day outing was Tuesday. So without much debate I headed over to the Montreal Rd and Vanier Parkway neighbourhood for Latin American food. It remains to be seen what will happen to the area once all the condos are finished. But currently this two-block stretch hosted some stalwarts (Fontenelle diner) and a few relative newcomers. There was a mini-Hispanic zone with 2 restaurants and a handful of businesses (grocery store, electronics).

I arrived fairly early because, unlike Pastorcito in Toronto which remain open until midnight, Aztec Tacos closed at 7 pm. It was a cozy place with a small child doing homework, cheerful Mexican decoration, and TVs showing variety shows. I opted for 2 tacos ($5/each) and a Quesabirria ($8.50). Like all restaurants in Ottawa, it failed in portion size and price. But I'm happy to say Aztec delivered on the taste.

The pastor and chorizo were on par with Pastorcito with rich and fragrant stuffing. This was a better meal than I had at the old stand-by (albeit 2nd location) Latin World a few months back. The flavour of the quesa was also good, but wasn't the beef I was expecting. Then it struck me that this tender, but stronger, meat reminded me of the lamb shawarma (only $4.49 back in the day) I used to eat at The Empire in Bloorcourt. Sure enough, a quick search revealed that the original birria uses lamb or goat. So North Americans who equate quesabirria with beef (officially birria de res) might be in for a surprise. It was a messy entrée with tasty, but oozing, cheese and oil. So I consumed a liberal amount of cilantro and onion as a palate cleanser between bites. All in all, this was an excellent if not overly full dinner.

Messy Monday

Before I left Toronto, I went out for 10 days straight to enjoy my last days in the big city. This week being the 4th year anniversary of my departure, and with my mom going on her first overseas trip since the the pandemic, I decided to try to see if I could replicate it in Ottawa.

Monday wasn't promising with rain coming down all day. But it cleared up in the early evening by the time I made my way to Live on Elgin. This upstairs venue seemed to be a cross between The Burdock and a cleaner The Cave. I was curious about the headliner, as touring musicians don't usually visit Ottawa.

Opener Emma Bayash layered vocals, sound effects, and piano on songs about the ennui of modern-day dating and heartbreak (a recent break-up inspired 3 numbers). As a full-time nurse, her encounter with the highs and lows of the human experience also made it into her music. Sometimes she ventured a little bit into the clever wordiness of Penelope Scott. But in general, her earnest lyrics were a little on the nose. My favourite song was Lingerlust, which because of an upcoming two month stay in Montreal, Bayash had translated into a French version. I can identify with wanting great travel adventures but being happiest staying close to home.

Rachel Sunter (once Arsoniste) recently moved Montreal after a 10-year stint in Halifax. But it turned out this was a hometown show.  Her music was moody art-pop, punctuated with fragmentary and melancholic piano riffs. Although a classically-trained pianist, Sunter mostly sang or played guitar about inconstant Brit beau (nowhereman), emotional life (sad song), and moving on (goodbye to the purple room). Her composition was quite good with interesting touches and variety. Sunter must have played Toronto now and then. But being based on the East Coast, her Big Smoke gigs may have been infrequent enough that I didn't catch a show in the past 15 years.

It was too bad both performers suffered from poor sound. The mix was simply too loud given the room size and modest crowd presence. The high frequencies were clipping while the lower registers were muddy. This did not showcase Sunter's atmospheric pop and Bayash's balladic confessionals in the best light. The last time I left a gig that coincided with a championship game, the streets were loud with cheers. Tonight, the people in Ottawa wasn't as excited that the Toronto Blue Jays had won the ALCS in game 7.

Fed Full Sunday

The last two Sundays were pleasant for different reasons. After having fun traipsing through different areas on Saturday, I spent my last day in Toronto chilling out in the East End. Yet it was also a "typical" Toronto day that I don't have in Ottawa.

I woke early and finished off the last of my Ethiopian left-overs. Despite clunky sentences in need of an editor, these posts take over an hour to write. I then lazed around in bed reading magazine articles. I had remembered to bring some gym clothes for yoga this time but it was almost didn't work out. Toronto Yoga Co must have a vibrant community because every class was full. Luckily I was the first on the wait-list and a spot opened up.

It was a 5-minute walk to the studio. As it was my first time, I was given a quick tour. TYC wasn't quite as spacious as the old location of Yoga Space but it was bigger than most: a cloak-room with small lockers (and free tea), a Pilates room, and a yoga studio on the top floor. The class was excellent because the instructor gave detailed cues in a smooth cadence. I was impressed with her delivery and knowledge and looked her up afterwards. It turned out she was a Communications and Kinesiology double major before training for Pilates and Yoga.

I finished my chicken vindaloo for lunch. It was a big lunch for left-overs and still packed quite a kick so I rested for a bit just in case things went south. I felt fine so I strolled down to Gerrard Square at 3 pm. At Monarch Park, folks were practicing tai-chi, having picnics, and just hanging out. There was no good sneakers selection at Winners but I grabbed some banh mi (for dinner) and bao (for breakfast) from Huy Ky. A $5 mango lassi from Chai, Samosa & Chaat completed a simple Sunday meal.

This past Sunday back in Ottawa was also pleasant but it started out more stressful. To meet up with friends in Old Ottawa South, I took two buses through dense traffic. The local universities were having their annual football match and the roads were packed with students and cars. I got off at Riverdale and Sunnyside to walk through the neighbourhood. With poor transit, I have never visited this part of Ottawa. Older homes and tree-lined side streets, a busy main drag with numerous stores, there was definitely a Toronto-vibe here; this could have been The Annex or Dufferin Grove. I suspect this was why my friend, who briefly moved to The Big Smoke, raised her family here instead of in the suburbs.

My destination was a Korean restaurant called Table Sodam. We were five this day though we lost one person after ordering. A friend's spouse, who was a picky eater, decided to ditch the rest of us to go dine solo at Stella Luna after looking at the menu. The remaining 3 all chose the Bulgogi Bibimbap ($24) while I opted for the Dak Gang Jung ($23). It was a filling but average meal of fried chicken, banchan, and rice. Talk revolved around family life since several kids were wrapping up high school. One had sent her oldest to an out-of-town university in September. He was done with independence after a month and was ready to move back home. For now, there were daily calls to the parental units and no doubt many more to the high-school sweetheart. We made tentative plans for a December meet-up and bid adieu. With the game wrapped up, it was a quicker trip back downtown though the connecting bus to my East-End place still crawled along as per usual.