Tuppence A Bag

With a forecast of all-day rain on Wednesday, I headed out in the morning to grab a breakfast wrap ($7.95) at Uncle Sid's. The street was full of parents dropping their kids off at the elementary school. There were a few cars but most came on bike or foot. This was the beauty of a dense urban neighbourhood. The downside was the gentrification, as can be seen by all the houses with new porches, windows, and other renovation. So I couldn't identify the ground-floor apartment of an acquaintance from my YMCA Yoga days. She paid rent as a personal Yoga teacher and a nanny (for mostly rich people's kids). I wondered if she still lived around here.

I asked the shop owner (the son-in-law of Mr Siddiqi) to cut my wrap. Stuffed full of sausage, eggs, and hash brown, half was more than enough. I could save the other portion for my trip back to Ottawa. I didn't get much work done before lunch from meetings. The company All-Hands lasted 90 minutes and I'm still not used to this gung-ho American spirit. I briefly encountered it from a short stint working remotely for a California start-up just before the dot-com crash. 26 years later and I'm still baffled. The chicken chengazi leftovers was reward enough for sitting through all the talking heads.

I went out again in the late afternoon and met an old man on the sidewalk. He told me with his strongly accented English that he knew my rental's owner didn't speak much English either. But he wanted to buy some "seeds" for his own garden. Looking over the verdant lettuce growing in the front-yard, I understood the allure. I promised to forward his request, which I later did through AirBnB to take advantage of its automatic translation. On Tuesday, the tailor at Sew Perfect in Dufferin Mall promised that he could repair the hole in my backpack by restitching the enclosure. But upon my return, a different worker stated that, in his opinion, this was not possible. Well, one of these two was bad at their job.

I stepped inside Mont Bianca because its sandwich board touted Pappardelle Bolognese as a daily special. Since my last visit, they have updated the interior to be less sports bar and more trattoria. But the price has also gone up. At $24, a dollar cheaper than Taverniti North, I wasn't too disappointed that it wasn't actually available. I opted for the Rucola ($17) because the last few days lacked any greens and the Tonnarelli ($20). The salad was tasty with sharp pecorino, earthy mushrooms, and juicy cherry tomatoes. The main ingredient of arugula was only so-so. Most bites were bland, some were bitter, and only a few had that perfect balance of fragrant crispness. The hand-made pasta was nicely al dente. Its square-shape cross-section gave it a chewier feel than spaghetti. Chef couldn't hide with the simple cacio e pepe sauce. It wasn't quite at the level of Enoteca Sociale but it was decent.

Before I left, I lamented with the server of the days of $10 Pappardelle at Davenport and Christie. She actually knew of Annabelle's since I couldn't recall the restaurant's name. She pointed out that back in the day, her and roommate shared a 2-bedroom for only $1500. In 2026, a two-plate meal with tax and tip set me back $50.

In with the New

Tuesday morning, I visited my dentist but it was a dental hygienist who worked on me, possibly the same one from two sessions ago. They were diligent but slower at 45 minutes than my dentist who usually take less than 15 minutes (but charges for 45 minutes). This time they didn't ask about my brushing habits.

I had skipped breakfast because of the large dinner at Pho Linh. I was hungry early on but by lunchtime, I had a normal appetite. So a veggie slice ($5.50) from 241 Pizza was more than enough. Two school-age teens behind me, perhaps being their first time here, marvelled at the portion size for the price. The newer Freshslice advertised a cheaper (but smaller) slice at $3-3.50 but was empty inside. Maker Pizza has thrown in the towel for a Bangalore take-out called The Dum Spot. Mumbaikar also gave way to Byriani Flames and decades-old The Empire has bowed out to Grille and Wrap Express. The latter was still a shawarma place but they also offered rice, fries in addition to typical ingredients. The only winners were the landlords.

With the temporary closure of the Gladstone library branch, unhoused folks had to stay out in the sun. One woman slept in front of the A&W fast food joint; the one with the shopping carts sat on the side of the library with, alarmingly, a squirrel clutched in one hand; the old man, after my donation, told me to "keep loving her". Lovely advice but no one has ever asked that of me.

In the evening, I headed to the College Park for fancy food-court dinner at BHK Roll. Chef Saha was working so I got the delicious Chicken Chengazi ($21). The Jollof stall has closed, the Chinese Noodle spot only had 2 customers, and a Korean BBQ was set to open next to BHK. The only one doing gangbuster business was the combination Taco Bell/KFC.

While waiting for my order, an older Asian man nearby harangued someone on the phone to not be a "stupid Chinese" because there was no financial security here. The smart ones were heading back to Hong-Kong, Malaysia, and other Far East cities after a few years of scrimping and saving. Given how competitive it was over there, I would have thought the ones here were those who couldn't "hack it" over there. Case in point, before I left my long-time apartment, I talked to a new boarder who was making a go of it here (even during a pandemic) because Singapore work culture was brutal. Back at my short stay, I heard two young, Chinese women preparing dinner in the kitchen. Were they living in this rooming house to save up and return to the motherland?

In with the Old

On Labour Day Monday, I headed to Toronto. The last time I travelled during a holiday, the bus was packed. Although it was mostly full this time round too, I did not have to share a seat. This wasn't the first time some Mennonites boarded in the West End. They were likely heading back to the Kitchener-Waterloo area. But I wondered if they were visiting like-minded communities around these parts.

They weren't the only folks with a hankering for the past. Four young women, on their way to a concert in The Big Smoke (probably BabyMetal), also carried "vintage tech" in the form of a digital point-and-click camera and a CD player. The sad thing was that these were later models and not the shiny new hotness from my days. Those might be considered antiques.

At Kingston, with Fat Bastard no longer in "retail jail", I ordered a veggie burrito ($9.99). I also used its larger washroom compared to the bus. I blamed the harsh lighting because a ghoul stared back from the mirror. Early retirement? I looked like I was already a few years into regular retirement. 

I was back in Bloordale but I wasn't staying at the usual spot. However, this new location did share something in common with the former. That street included the gentleman's club named Club Paradise. My new AirBnB stay was on Margueretta, which also had a sinful den called The House of Lancaster. With the closing of Brass Rail Tavern and Club Zanzibar, Bloordale had the last two strip clubs in Toronto.

When I saw the second floor layout (plus the fact that the owner's hosting history was only 4 months old), I knew this was a rooming house. When I heard people knocking about in the kitchen next to my room, I guessed that there were still long-term tenants. This admixture was reminiscent of my stay in Montreal but even more intrusive. A quick search on the website showed that the owner had stop actively listing my room (no available dates for the next 4 months), probably due to noise complaints. A separate basement unit was still available though. The room itself was larger than some bachelor condos, but the other units on the second floor didn't seem as spacious. Mine would likely be the dining and living room in a normal house.

All in all, this reminded me of my 7-year stint in a similar situation back in the day. Unlike that room, this one had its own bathroom. The downside was its slovenliness. If you aren't fanatical about cleaning, don't be an AirBnB host. Also, why did I live for 7 years in a rooming house?! I was making decent enough money at a start-up. To be fair, I left that company unwisely and spent the dot-com crash years working a lower-paying IT gig. Still, even that wasn't poverty wages.

Perhaps this walk down memory lane also led me back to Pho Linh. This venerable Vietnamese spot was my go-to spot in those first few years. My main complaint with the "3-colour rice" dish (steamed egg, pork chop, and crunchy pork skin) wasn't the $17.50 price tag. It was that the portion was huge. Give me a half-portion, knock off $6, and I'd be thrilled. Though most people come here for the beef soup, this item was a secret gem because one, the flavours were quite good and two, they actually use "broken rice" (with its quinoa-like texture) while other restaurants usually substitute steamed rice.

At Lansdowne and College, I was surprised that the former car wash was already torned down. But it has been a year. Attached to the construction fencing was a sign touting mixed use retail and 9-story apartment building. A group of snarky teens passing by, looking around at the older homes, remarked that they must have taken a wrong turn into the ghetto. I must looked like a local indigent to go along with the area.

Into The Void

On Wednesday, the extended family gathered to bid farewell to my grandma's ashes. It has been one year since her passing. Originally, we had planned on bringing her back to the old country. My uncle, the one who sponsored us, wasn't keen on the idea. He wanted to bury her urn with my grandfather here in Ottawa. He also re-hired the priest, who was at her bedside on the final day, to perform a short ceremony.

My grandma wanted none of this. In fact, given her pragmatic nature, she simply wished to be scattered in a river or lake. Her reasoning was that no one was going to visit anyway. She wasn't wrong as I haven't gone to my grandfather's grave in 30 years. My younger cousins have never been since he had died before they were born. A few older relatives, like my mom, came by sporadically over the years.

On the walk to the lot, I didn't recognize any landmarks. His small headstone (all that we could afford back then) was hidden among the many larger ones in what once was an empty field. After the rite, I placed her urn in a prepared "vault box". Other people added flowers inside the container as well. We could have included other mementos but neither my uncle nor my mom, who coordinated with the cemetery staff, had informed us beforehand. Otherwise, I might have brought her favourite magazine or a keepsake. The box cover was sealed in place, the ground crew lowered it into the ground, and that was that.

We went for lunch at the nearby Boston Pizza. As a chain restaurant, it had space for the 18 of us and a choice of menu items. No one was familiar with "A Canadian company with an American name founded by a Greek sailor serving Italian food" as was emblazoned on the wall. So we started with 3 plates of beef nachos as appetizers. Some shared pizzas with names like The Meateor while the rest chose from the lunch menu various combos of pasta, salad, burgers, and fries. I covered the bill at $469.88 (tax + tip) and we agreed that the food was run-of-the-mill as expected. Some foodie cousins were intrigued to hear about Idriss, which would have been my choice if we didn't have picky eaters. The cousin who recently attended a wedding will be going to another funeral soon. A friend died young but his memorial will be at the decidedly more upscale Harmon's Steakhouse.

D'oh!

Saturday morning, I did an early grocery run and stopped off at Dough Re Mi around 9. This new bakery occupied the location of long-time convenience store (Mac's) and the briefer Pit Stop. Renovation on the place started around the time of my winter sublet yet they did not open until this week. The inside was somewhere between a trendy cafe and a Middle-Eastern diner with its rattan seats and domed oven. Unfortunately, the food was no better than store-bought. The croissant ($5) – they took $2 off the final tally – was obviously a day-old. But its solid interior meant it lacked the layers of a quality croissant. So a new one wouldn't improve by much. The apple danish ($5.75) suffered the same faults. I saw a baker starting to place items into the oven. A self-described bakery (and coffee shop) should not open without freshly made items. I might return to try the manakeesh, but DRM was DOA for me.

At lunch time, married friends came by to drive me to La Bonita. I haven't been to this Mexican joint since my second visit with my mom several years ago. My friends' picky teenager was off at a cottage with our mutual friends. There will be 7 teens celebrating the last week of summer. They wanted to know about the odd lunch since they weren't there. Then our talk turned to our parents who were entering their "slow-go" years. His mother had more health problems than mine while her father, though in good shape, was now too old for the long trips back to the old country.

Then I asked them if they were considering early retirement to maximize their "go-go" years. Since she didn't have a pension, he was contemplating another decade (if I read between the lines correctly). I said they might want to sit down and actually put some hard numbers on their assets instead of going by "vibes". With savings, a pension already approaching 30-years of service, and a paid-off house, their anxiety might be unfounded. As for my own future, it was already doable for Ottawa. But if I wanted to head back to Toronto (with its fun times but high rent), along with some big-ticket item like life insurance premiums and covering some my mom's expenses, it was closer to 7 years. I did not mention other reasons to return to The Big Smoke.

Inflation was one of the factor contributing to the anxiety. Case in point, our lunch of 3 dishes (nacho appetizers, chicken enchilada, and beef quesabirria) came to $133 (with tax and tip). The upside was the large portion size. There was so much food that I was still full by dinner-time. The downside wasn't just the price but that only the quesabirria was above average. The next time they crave Mexican in this part of town, I will suggest Aztec Taco.

Remember The Time

On Saturday, I visited another take-out at Montreal Rd and St. Laurent. Grilled (with a shawarma spit for the I) offered the ubiquitous Middle-Eastern fare. This new location will have to compete with Sham Shawarma and Malak Al Tawouk on the same block. At $14.30 ($11.50 + tax and tips), this wasn't a cheap wrap. The beef was tasty but like defunct Pit Stop, they used a small pita. So I was still peckish after my lunch. I often say that Ottawa restaurants have smaller portions and higher prices. Laziza in Toronto, my go-to Sharwarma spot in Bloorcourt, has a large (probably 30-40% bigger) wrap for $10.99. Even more starkly, their vegetarian platter was only $14.99 (up from $8.99 a decade ago) compared to Grilled's plate at $23.20. I can guarantee it will be larger too.

On Sunday, I took a trip across town to my youngest uncle's house. The last time was on the day that my grandma passed. The front yard was covered with hydrangeas; he said that they were planted because the tulips stopped budding after she was gone. The extended family was gathering on the 1-year anniversary of her death with a pot-luck spread of noodles, BBQ pork, and various rolls. I didn't get a chance to interact much with my younger cousins and their toddlers. One of them had attended her brother-in-law's wedding the night before at The Rainbow Bistro, a bar and music venue in the Byward Market. The officiant was dressed at Death from the movie Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey and there was a live band. This sounded more exciting than my last wedding.

My brother was in China a few weeks ago. His family, especially the teen daughters, enjoyed the varied experience there: cultured (Beijing), chic (Shanghai), hi-tech (Shenzhen), and trendy (Hong Kong). The highlight of the trip was a visit to a less touristy section of the Great Wall of China. The 2.5 hours taxi ride was worth it to climb the wall, grab food a local vendor, and contemplate the vista from a tower while sipping a beer. I mentioned that I was thinking of buying an older condo for mom and I. Our new rental unit had problems (leaky faucet, leaky fridge, and more) that were not repaired despite work orders from us. We both agreed that a mortgage this late in the game would make it difficult for me to retire early.

Everyone was there except for my cousin in Vancouver. But they had a "good excuse" since they were getting married that same day. It was strictly friends though because neither side of the family could fly to the West Coast. But there will be one (or probably two) additional receptions back here later on.

On the way home, I reflected privately that there were two other reasons buying a condo was an iffy proposition. First, if my mom's support for The Orange One and conservative viewpoints increase, I might not be able to live with her anymore. Second, I could not support a mortgage and an apartment in Toronto. And with my recent sublets, I want to be back in the Big Smoke before my neighbourhood gentrified completely.

Winner Winner Chicken Dîner?

In the last 3 weeks, I went for lunch twice at a new Lebanese fast-casual restaurant near Montreal Rd and St. Laurent Boulevard. Malak Al Tawouk replaced an old location of the Circle-K convenience store. Apparently, it was a franchise that started in Lebanon in the 90s. Inside the 3rd location in Canada, you ordered from a counter situated in front of the open, glass-enclosed kitchen. The remaining space had two rows of hard-tops and 4 banquettes for larger groups. On my second visit, the beige-ish seats were already starting to stain.

I dropped by about three Wednesdays ago and looked over the menu. True to their name, Malak mostly offered grilled chicken as a "shawarma sandwich" or a platter. There were also 1 burger item and fries as a side. I opted for the classic platter ($20.99) which consisted of several, tender chicken pieces, pickles, slaw, and pita. It also came with fries. It was a fragrant meal with more than enough for leftovers.

On Saturday, I came back for the a regular sandwich ($13.99) and upgraded to a combo ($5.50). Showing their French colonial past, the drink and fries add-on was listed as a "trio". The second time wasn't quite as satisfying. The fries were still excellent (golden and crispy) and the wrap started out fine. In fact, the lightly grilled pita gave a nice crunch. My mom had skipped the first leftovers because she thought all  chicken breast dishes were dry. She had a point as the sandwich turned into a slog to finish.

Overall, the platter was the better meal. It was only $1 extra compared to the combo and you got more chicken. The dryness of the chicken was better balanced by the pickles and slaw. But with both coming in at $26.09 and $24.22 with tax and tip, the price was too pricey for me as a lunch option.

Gnarly Semones

I stay home in Ottawa because travelling to venues was an ordeal. But the show ($25) on Monday was  downtown and should only take 30 minutes on transit. I arrived at Club Saw about 15 minutes after doors. The space was full with young folks pressed up right against the stage.

Opener Jahmeema, accompanied by her beau Matt Evans on keys, was a bit jazz-pop and a bit R'n'B. Still quite young at 25, she played new songs (some were written this year) and older ones that she wrote at 17. How were her prospects? After nearly a decade of performing in in a small, local scene, I don't see any big breaks. Her music lacked the catchy hooks and melodies of pop and her lyrics were too wordy for the genre. But the verses didn't have the clever wordplay and flow of good R'n'B. I wonder how her French songs compared.

This was Mei Semones first ever show in Ottawa on her way to the larger Montreal JazzFest. But she already had a large fan-base here. I saw her KEXP show on Youtube and was impressed by the band's virtuosity including her speedy guitar riffs. Like Laufey, Semones drew inspiration from Bossa Nova, but she amped it up with muscular bass and drums, segueing into head-banging (light) rock, and added a touch of chamber pop. This was especially true near the end of her set with the early "hits". The middle third, when Semones showcased almost 15 minutes of new material, was more experimental. My only complaint (as I am a sucker for catchy tunes or driving rhythms), was that the music seemed to change every 8 bars. This gave variety and was interesting for a few songs. But over the course of an hour, this tendency was both too random and yet also boringly repetitive. If Semones (and her band) channeled their talent on more cohesive compositions, I'd be on board.

Flaming June

Sunday was the Summer Solstice and certainly it was a long, hot day. Originally, I was only going to wash my bedding and leave my clothes for the last day of my sublet. But I decided to combine both loads so I wouldn't be rushing on Tuesday. While doing laundry, I revisited and took photos of the murals on Galt. There was someone outside with their dog, and though I wanted to, I didn't ask about the residential situation at the buildings connected by a skyway. I went back for my final samosas (a steal at $3 for 2) from Samosa and Chaat. I noticed that more than a decade later, there was still a line-up at Maha's. Their Egyptian brunch was good, even though I have had nothing but weird vibes from them. But it was the lack of competition that has sustained this business. In the West end, they would be just one of many "pretty good" restaurants.

During this stay, I haven't had exquisite "food-court" Indian from BHK Roll. But I decided to stay closer to home and got a veggie pide from Pizza Pide on Monday. This allowed me to leave half of it for my leaser for when they fly back late from B.C. This wasn't the full portion of vegan miso stew from Afrobeats Kitchen I bought back in 2022 for them. On the other hand, my sublet rent has gone up to $1550 from $1250. In any case, the pide was also quite delicious.

I usually take an early bus back to Ottawa. But with two full bags, I wanted to take my time on Tuesday to pack and have a leisurely breakfast of banh gio ($3.50) from Huy Ky. The later start also let me do a final Yoga practice. When I caught the streetcar just a little past 9 a.m., people were still getting on for the morning commute. We weren't getting into Kingston until well past lunch-time so I had a bao ($3.50) to tie me over. But it turned out that was enough of a meal for me.

With work dead-lines, I mostly stayed inside back in Ottawa. Not that there was much around to do except jog through residential neighbourhood in the morning. On Saturday, after my grocery run, I visited Frys Guys for an Italian sausage ($6.50). The sausage was still the same price but everything else has gone up by $1. Since the owner was also from the old country, we had become friendlier since last year. They asked about my stay so I talked about the convenience of restaurants and shows. Two of their children also lived in Toronto but on the outskirts so their experience of The Big Smoke was noisy highways.

Family Business

I headed over to the main Chinatown on Spadina just before lunch on Saturday. Traffic was still light so the streetcar trip was pleasant. I was looking for knock-off World Cup t-shirts but none were found. There were plenty of German tourists in the area as their country will be playing later on at Exhibition Place.

Stopping off at Jumbo Empanadas for a small cheese empanada ($3.50), I noticed the For Lease sign at the front. I found out from the cashier than the owner was retiring. I later checked online for more details: it was a combination of age and rising prices. Case in point, the empanadas here were now $8.50 from $6.75 back in 2023. More specifically, Irene Morales didn't want to lie awake at night in her 70s being stressed about work. The sign went up in February when I was in Toronto but unknowing. It looks like there has been no takers as of June. From the decades that I have visited the store, I knew that Morales had a daughter and that she used to also own a clothing store just up the street. I didn't know she already had a grand-child in 1999. Before I left with my order, I briefly spoked to an older customer. I admired that unlike other seniors, he did not move away from the city. In fact, he got even closer to the downtown core, now at Queen and Spadina because Bloordale wasn't central enough! I was less impressed with his "Trudeau's immigrants caused the housing crisis" attitude.

Then it was up the street to grab my favourite slice of pizza in the city. It was still busy only 20 minutes after opening but not quite the packed mob whenever I passed by. This gave me a chance to talk to the owners except it was more bad news. Their son had lost $2M playing the stock market. The money came from their condo, houses, and bank accounts since he was a co-signer to these assets. With their savings wiped out, it was unclear what the future holds. I was dreading their business closing up shop soon but I don't want them to keep working past retirement.

Speaking of family ties, I got a call from a cousin on my father's side this week. With my parents divorced decades ago when I was a child, and with him remaining in the old country when we emigrated, I was rarely in touch with anyone on that side of the family including my father. This was doubly true after he died in 2016. In any case, his second wife also passed a few years ago. It turns out her children could not sell the family home because I was also an heir since she did not leave a will. Were they looking for me but don't have my contact or were they waiting out the period of my claim? Who can say as money makes people do the darndest thing.

Quantum Quesa?

More work news: the person that I "faux interviewed" has accepted our offer, the team lead who was supposedly off for 2 months will now be back on Monday, and my co-workers continue to blame others and don't follow directions. Speaking of blame, I joined the tail-end of a meeting with an external customer. That was awkward because I have never encountered such passive-aggressiveness with mild-mannered business-speak for you-bunch-of-morons.

On Thursday, I went back to my dentist to pick up my mouth-guard. Since they now used a digital scan, the lab not only supplied the piece, but it came attached to a 3D-printed copy of my upper teeth. So now I have a model of my mouth I could use as a decorative display. Lunch was a panzerotti from 241 Pizza. Even though only 10-minutes elapsed between my order and my visit to the dental office, the pizza pocket was already deflating. Still it was as tasty as ever and not so mouth-scorching hot. With a dark sky and big gusts of wind, the streets weren't crowded as I ate on the steps of the church. The new pizza place on the ground floor of Motto condo at Dovercourt, which promised free pizza for a year and other prizes for the 1st ten customers, will finally open on June 25th. But I'm heading back to Ottawa 2 days before.

On Friday, despite my aim of only revisiting favourites, I went to a Mexican place at Gerrard and Marjory. La Cantaritos took over from La Cubana in 2024, but Google Maps also showed that Frida-House and Don Grilled Steak Taco (both still listed as open) had the same address. Whatever business was here, it was too cramped. A bar top occupied most of the space, leaving only 2 small tables on the side. I ordered an Esquites ($9) and a Pastor Quesadilla ($19). My meal came with complementary fried corn chips and dip. The Esquites was fresh corn covered with melting cheese. The combination of creamy dairy with lime was odd at first but won me over. I really enjoyed the quesadilla: the meat was juicy, the tortilla was oily but not overwhelmingly so, and it still retained its shape and crunch unlike the messy version I ate at Aztec Taco in Ottawa.

P.S. I Love You

For the final week at my sublet, I was getting food from my favourites. Monday was naan and lentils ($13) at Lahore Grill. Although this corner diner opens until 5 a.m., it was only getting started at 6 p.m. so some main items were still on the stove (like a vegetable curry). The upside was the cheaper price compared to the usual $17. On Tuesday, I went back to Samosa and Chaat for chicken byriani ($10). This place was the true hidden gem with cheap mains and appetizers like samosa ($1.50) and pakoras ($6). Wednesday I got a vegetable stir fry ($18 if paid in cash) from Yummy House. Reluctantly, I had to admit that Yummy wasn't a great deal, not compared to the other spots and certainly not when stacked up with South Pacific with its combination box ($10) and veggie stir fry ($10).

Tuesday night, I was at Dundas St. West and Bathurst to see a show ($31.75). Hard Luck Bar was up a flight of stairs and maintained its indie vibe (dark, dank, walls covered with band stickers) compared to its trendier neighbours like Carolina, a recent replacement for Queen Margherita Pizza (this location was a low-point for me). Both bands tonight were top-notched. Opener Feura had great stage presence whether chatting up the crowd or belting over some punk and alt-rock songs. They came from a small-town (Feura led the audience in a short line-dance), but with swagger (I'm The Man) and a jean jacket covered with pins and buttons, Korol Pikulik had energy and anger (Lose Your Head) to spare. Mixed race and queer, Korol Pikulik encountered a lot of bullying growing up. They were joined by Horse (someone wearing a horse-head and the eponymous tee) for a dance and later, gave the stage for Nancy Reagan (Dae Conrod from Buddies' RED) to rap about "conservative values". You won't find a stranger (more ironic) audience chant: "I say neo, you say liberal".

I didn't think head-liner Panic Shack could have upped the energy level, but they succeeded. Not quite at Wet Leg-level buzz but the 5-piece already had fans (both young and older) who knew the lyrics to their garage rock songs. The 4 women at the front (guitars, bass, vocals) kept up the braggadocio (Jiu Jits You), ironic brat (Tit School), and fem power (Thelma and Louise, SMELLARAT). But this wasn't 3-chord punk with dancing bass line, punchy riffs, even a touch of psychedelic progression here and there. The older folks (and those new to Panic Shack like myself) kept to the side, leaving the kids to bash each other in the mosh pit. I got a t-shirt from Feura ($20) but with the line being 20-deep didn't hang around for some Shack merch. Next time in Toronto, Panic Shack will be opening for the Sex Pistols so this will likely be my only encounter with their brash and delightful music.

Let It Rain On Mi

There were some Luminato festival events including aerial circus down at The Harbourfront. On Saturday, I went to Huy Ky for some bao before my trip to the lake. But while waiting for the Jones bus, the sun was so unrelenting that I headed home. In the afternoon, with years of gentrification, I couldn't think of any remaining Brazilian venue in the West End where I can watch them play Morocco.

On Sunday, perhaps to punish me for wasting a sunny day, the weather gods brought rain. I was able to get my laundry done before the change in weather. While waiting for my clothes, I wandered nearby streets such as Galt. At the North end where it was blocked by the train tracks, there were some interesting hidden sights in the car garage lanes. On one side, just before the stairs leading to the back of Gerrard Mall, sat the tiny Danforth Music School, recently painted up with a bright mural of kids, instruments, and various animals. On the other side, just before the exit to Jones, was another mural created in 2025 to commemorate the Asian population who used to live in the area. Oddly, between the two buildings was a short skywalk. These now looked to be residential units (including the skywalk) so I wondered what former businesses needed that connection.

Rainy days were perfect for pho so I jumped on the streetcar to head to Mimi in East Chinatown. This place was recommended by someone I met at the laundromat. The restaurant was busy with every table full and a short line-up at the door during my time there. I got the last free table before the rush. The verdict on a large bowl ($16.95) was good but not great. Everything was fine including the beef slices and brisket, the bean sprouts, and the noodles. What it lacked was a really good broth: this one came in about average. I've had worse but at $23 (tax + tip), Mimi did not make my go-to list.

In the evening, Andrea Romolo with Kalascima was the closing act at The Taste of Italy. Since her show in Ottawa, she has found more opportunities as a collaborator (singer and dancer) with this traditional band from Southern Italy. But East End lethargy struck again and I stayed home to watch World Cup matches on my laptop.

The Beautiful Game

My Friday morning run was just a little before sunrise. The overnight rain had let up but there was still patches of light sprinkling. With some clouds remaining overhead and the sun below the horizon, the world was lit in orange sepia tones. The small strawberry patch in the front-yard had a dozen or more fully red fruit but I don't think my sublet's owner will be back in time to pick them. I chased a rainbow along Gerrard then headed south to Queen St. East. I didn't reach that main road this time but explored the little side-streets.

This being an extra rest day, I headed to Little Italy in the afternoon for the Canada vs Bosnia-Herzegovina game. Even the bar patios outside the main stretch were filled though it was mostly young people as I did not see the old Portuguese men. With the World Cup opening days coinciding with Taste of Little Italy, College St was closed from Shaw to Bathurst. They have moved the main stage into the Metro Grocery parking lot. Various vendors were still setting up: Japanese tacos, Brazilian pizza, Ice Cream In A Fruit. The main hub was Cafe Diplomatico at Clinton which already a line-up outside. But the other restaurants at that intersection all had patio TVs including Tondou Ramen. With no free spot, I watched the 1st half from the sidewalk then went home via the Dundas streetcar (it was detouring from College St).

I took a rest after a tasty meal of Congolese cassava stew (pondu madesu) and Indian pakoras. So I missed opener Maria Gabriella at The Burdock. Next up, Clara Smallman played with a 3-piece band. Similar to the 3 performers at the NXNE show on Wednesday, her audience were mostly parental units and friends. I am ambivalent about this sort of thing. With her wistful pop, Smallman liked alternate tunings and one-word titles (Fingernails, Carpet). She also did Shania Twain's You're Still The One. When she said that the cover was in tribute to NXNE as a local festival, I was bemused. I wouldn't consider megastar Twain to be a symbol of anything local or grassroots. But Smallman wasn't wrong about NXNE being local now. I haven't seen any non-Ontario acts at either shows. And a large mainstage with big names was a thing of the past.

The last two sets had more seasoned performers compared to Smallman (and Levy, Kovacs, Sully at Dina's Tavern). So I appreciated finally seeing some people's "A game" on stage. Willem James Cowan had engaging stage banter ("Willem as in Dafoe") and some clever, folky lyrics. His 3 bandmates were also assured. He played a few older songs from his 2022 debut but mostly presented material from his upcoming release. It will be a breakup album and although that could be metaphorical (a breakup with music on Nothing Left To Say), it was mostly literal. The ordeal was so devastating that Cowan left Toronto for London 2 years ago. His set ended with Back In The City about his dissociative feelings whenever he returns here for a gig.

 I came to this show specifically for Teagan Johnston despite her being on the last slot at 11 pm. I have seen Johnston only once back in 2018 when she was Little Coyote. But I own her newer releases on Bandcamp so I was curious to see her live again. Johnston brought a roster of accomplished friends including Thomas Kelly (Tired Kid) and Skye Wallace for a rich and layered 5-piece band. From the opening number My Luck, the closer Big Time, and others like FMJ (eff me Jesus), Deep Cut, and Neon Schoolgirl, the set had 3-part harmonies, intricate guitar, pulsing synth, and a solid foundation of drums and bass. Music as therapy (about your family, significant others, life in general) with deeply confessional lyrics never sounded so good.

Midway through the set, Johnston revealed that recently she had a nightmare that she was playing a big show without her favourite piano. So maybe tonight was to make up for it. Unfortunately, she deserved a larger audience than the few who had stuck around. But the small audience grew during her performance, slowly moved closer to the stage, and cheered louder and louder. To me, that was a better proof of talent than a packed room of known well-wishers. Now, Johnston just needed a lucky break.

Run in Place

On Thursday, I did an early morning run though I was out at a concert the night before. I headed East past Little India into the Eastwood area. There were plenty of trees and charming old homes. Though I have noticed that for some reason, on most streets in Toronto, the South and West side usually have better buildings or amenities. One such house at 77 Eastwood, looking like it belonged in a small town, apparently fetched $1.7M ($263K over asking) last April despite the current downturn in the market.

Lunch was leftover uyghur noodles from Kebab House. Just before I signed off for an extended weekend (thanks to the company's policy of treating the 2nd Friday of each month as an extra rest day), I conducted yet another interview. This was a solo effort since the Team Lead was off for two months. The face-to-face (via remote meeting) was a bit of a farce because before it even started, my VP strongly hinted that he wanted this candidate. And we "agreed" afterwards that they were a good fit. But if so, we should have simply made an offer without this extra interview. Certainly, their experience covered a skill gap on the team. And they were near the top of the ones I've talked too. But they were the sort of technical, hip-deep in the weeds, nerd that failed the good communication of an interview.

The rain cleared just long enough for me to head over to Nganda to get dinner. With rice at home, I chose the vegan Pondu Madesu ($11.90) and fried plantain ($6). The tables in the restaurant were named after African cities. Each one should have a laminated card with a menu QR code on one side and a photo with a travel blurb about the city on the other. But they were all kept on the counter instead. So while waiting for my order, I read about Accra, Lagos, Dakar, and so on.

The pondu and plantain went great with my jasmine rice. The vegan part was probably the omission of salted fish in the stew. I didn't know that pondu (cassava leaves) needed to be pounded or boiled to be non-toxic. So thank you to whoever did that laborious work. The madesu or beans added a soft chew and overall, it was fragrant and delicious.

West By North West

I headed to my old neighbourhood to visit my dentist on Thursday. Since I arrived early, I went to the No Frills at Dufferin Mall, which was larger and better stocked than the Coxwell location, for some small groceries. Both the regular and express buses along Dufferin will be carrying attendees to the FIFA World Cup down at Exhibition Place. So the glass facade of the subway station was covered with World Cup colours, logo, and welcoming messages.

I received not just a cleaning but measurements to get a new mouth-guard. My dentist has gone digital 2 years ago so instead taking an impression with putty like back in 2020, he jammed a wand into my mouth. The intraoral scanner must be emitting only tiny laser pulses because it took awhile to complete the process. After the cleaning, I asked him why despite my daily regiment and 3-month visits, it was still rather "messy". He claimed that I was actually doing a good job but some locations, like below the gums, were not accessible. Still, given the state of my mouth, I think his "A grade" assessment for my effort was done "on a curve".

I hadn't had lunch yet so I made my way to the best 241 Pizza in the city. The owner was there and I explained that I haven't visited since March because I don't live in Toronto anymore. We chatted about the World Cup where he will be cheering on Iran. He revealed that he lived in Woodbridge, but liked his business location for the busy view of passer-bys. I agreed wholeheartedly and ate my slice ($5.50) on the steps of the nearby church to people-watch. A young couple joined me with tacos bought at Gus Taco from just across the street.

In the evening, I went to Dina's Tavern for a NXNE concert. I originally chose the venue so I could go to Fresca, too. But 2 pizza meals in one day was overkill. I started going to NXNE 16 years ago but it has been 7 years for me. Some things remain the same like amateur photographers with their gears and media pass. Some were new: there were more young POCs today. But it might have been because the 3 performers tonight were mixed.

Ley Vara and Lauryn Kovacs presented solo sets. They sang the usual love songs composed by young artists. But Kovacs did write a tribute to her mother called One In a Million when she spent a month in L.A. There were a few covers: Vara did Like A Prayer (Madonna) while Kovacs sang Save Me (Aimee Mann). It was dedicated to her dad because he loved the movie Magnolia. I saw that film in the theatre when it came out in 1999 so yeah, generation gap. Of all the acts playing tonight, Kovacs had the strongest material.

Chai Sully was a shift away from the wistful balladry of the first 2 sets. With the help of her producer, standing behind a sampler and a MacBook, Sully leaned into an R'n'B vibe. Her songs were short (almost snippets) that flowed into each other in quick succession. I know this "compilation" style is also typical of rappers. This would play better in a club/DJ show but in a small concert setting, it made her songs sound unfinished.

The final set was a full band starring Vara and Kovacs called Frank. But I had to get back to the East End early enough to work tomorrow. Some German tourists waited with me for the streetcar. They got off at Yonge St. while I kept going. The East End is definitely "grungier" than other parts of Toronto. I thought a bare-chested man was going to harassed some young women. Luckily, he only spoke to them briefly before getting off a few stops later at Broadview.

Steppe-ing Out

With my sublet winding down, I will switch to only visiting favourites soon. But I wanted to give another new place a try since Hana Ramen was a bust. On Tuesday, the College streetcar took me directly from my apartment to Jarvis. I walked south down Mutual, one of those side streets that I have passed by many times. Its old homes and mature trees was a callback to the heydays of Granby Village (a small enclave within the Garden District neighbourhood). The surrounding, derelict areas have now been mostly replaced with condos and commercial buildings.

Charcoal Kebab House, a recent replacement for Tenda Sushi, was housed in an older 90s loft conversion called The Merchandise Building. This Uyghur restaurant sat in an unlovely spot next to the entrance to the indoor parking garage. But the interior was nicely decorated with cloth on the table, cushy chairs, paintings of people and scenery, and a bust of Mahmud al-Kashgari.

The single-page menu got straight to the point. There were 2 main categories: kebabs and noodles. So I got a lamb kebab ($8.95) and Uyghur Soman ($23.95). The kebab was excellent: spiced with cumin, soft, juicy and went great with NangBing (flatbread). I would say that 2 skewers would make a reasonable, lighter meal. When the Soman came out, it resembled spaghetti-os as the hand-pulled noodles were diced into little pieces. I only finished about one-third of the plate due to the large portion size. The noodles had great chew, the sauce tangy but not too acidic (its richness was closer to a stew in mouth-feel), and the tomatoes, celery, and spinach added bursts of freshness. To me, the beef/veal didn't add much to the dish only because it wasn't as wonderful as the kebab. Forget your typical Italian diner, get your pasta from places like this.

Since Kebab House was closer to Dundas St., I took that streetcar back to the East End. Regent Park and the surrounding areas have been revitalized, but the run-down sections and its indigents still peeked through here and there.

12/06/2026: I had the noodles leftover in the last few days. Each time, there was an odd, tingling sensation in my mouth. Either I've developed a mild allergy to celery or there was szechuan peppercorn in the soman. 

One Life To Live

Sunday morning, I got a better look at the long-time renter living in the basement of my sublet. He was gathering up dead leaves in the backyard. Peeking through my kitchen's window, I revised his age downward: he was closer to mine. So it was a case of me not recognizing a peer and therefore misjudging how I appeared to others.

Leaving him to his chore, I went to Udupi Palace for lunch. The new location was a better fit than the old one. The latter seemed too cavernous for the number of diners Udupi hosted. The menu informed me that Udupi was a reference to Udupi cuisine, a mostly vegetarian style from Karnataka. Since the dosa was actually from there, I ordered a Pav Bhaji Dosa ($13.95). Normally, I don't mind eating with my hands but the mashed veggie ingredient was too soft to pick up cleanly. Along with the chutney and sambar soup, it was a delicious meal. I overheard the owner and waitstaff talking to a long-time customer with his new wife (1 year in Canada and baking at Bobbette and Belle). From the snippets I learned some lore: Udupi opened in 2004 while the proprietor arrived from Bombay in 1990. He gently chided them for not sticking to a pure vegetarian diet but the woman countered that while she used no eggs in cakes back in India, here you couldn't do without in a mainstream shop.

On Monday, I found out that the "new" Team Lead has taken a two-month leave of absence from what was originally a short vacation last week. This was the 3rd time they have taken time off to deal with health issues since they joined 3 years ago. As they were at least 20 years younger than me, I gave more thought to my own retirement. Especially since I also have some problems, although not as serious yet, from dentition to digestion. But what would I do and where would I live?

Back in 2019, when I did my training, I thought about changing (to a less lucrative) career as a yoga teacher. With the pandemic in 2020, I never got my chance. Since then, yoga studios have shuttered en masse (Toronto's yoga golden age was between 2008-2018) and there were now 7 years of new graduates. Also, the idea of having intestinal problems while teaching (all those folds and twists) was mortifying. It happened once at Downward Dog as a practitioner but luckily it was at the end of class. Still, I had to explain to my bemused instructor that there was "hot fire below". So would I just spend early retirement doom-scrolling all day? 

As for a place to live, if I become increasingly reliant to being close to home because of the same gut problems, then Toronto was it. My old neighbourhood of Bloorcourt and Bloordale had everything within walking distance. But living on a "fixed income" in an expensive city was financially less prudent. But in Ottawa, would I just spend early retirement doom-scrolling all day?

Give Or Take

A summer of activities is in full swing in Toronto as seen by the packed crowd at Do West Fest. Several events were on my radar during the week. A wet forecast for Saturday made them all tentative but with the rain coming in early on Friday, the day looked to be beautiful. So it will be an overstuffed day of big-city living. Gentle reader, I did none of it.

First, The Citadel was having a dance recital of two works: Dixit Dominus and Svaha. It sounded intriguing and it has been a long time since I have seen student dancers (part of the Svaha piece) in a production. Second, the Festival of New Musicals were showcasing several in-the-works pieces. I wasn't sure what that entailed: a sort of "table read", a rehearsal without the costumes, or something closer to the final show. Most of the performers were POCs so I definitely regretted not supporting this. Finally, there was a brand-new "festival" called TOgether at Nathan Phillips Square. With the current divisiveness in the world, this one-day event was meant to highlight the inclusivity and unity of Toronto by raising money for its hospitals. There were family-friendly activities during the day, culminating in a free concert in the evening with Canadian heavyweights Broken Social Scene, Alessia Cara, and Feist. Only in a big city can you get 20+ corporate sponsors including various banks (CIBC, TD), consulting firms (EY, KPMG), and others businesses like Kraft, Rogers, Fitzrovia (luxury rental), and MRG (concert promoter) to bankroll events like this.

What I did do was cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, did groceries at Food Basics, and stopped off at Huy Ky for a fried egg banh mi ($6). They sell other home-made items so I grabbed a banh giay ($2.50) and a banh gio ($3.50). With such tasty and cheap snacks, I sometimes wondered why I even bother risking $30 on disappointing meals. Also, the ground floor apartment currently sits empty. I thought about asking to sublet it after this sub-lease expires in 2 weeks. But paying $1900 to then stay home seemed a waste of money.

Tongue-Tied

I thought the chance of rain was over when I headed out around 7:30 p.m. on Friday for the Dundas West Street Festival or now more commonly known as Do West Fest. Since I was stuck in traffic the last time, I decided to try the subway instead. Luckily, the Greenwood bus, one of the less frequent route, came quickly. Everything proceeded smoothly until Ossington. The bus was at least a 20-minute wait so a large contingent of festival goers streamed out of the station to head south. As a long-time resident, I knew to avoid the car-heavy vibes of Ossington street by heading one block west to Concord.

When I got to Dundas and Dovercourt, about one-third of the way into the party zone (which extended from Ossington to Lansdowne), the street was packed. Do West has survived the street festival battles (there was a time when Toronto was crazy about having a street festival almost everywhere) and, being more or less the 1st one on the calendar, positioned itself as the official start of the summer. At first, I walked down the middle to check out the various food vendors. But like a good number of visitors, I then moved over to the sidewalk for the relatively lighter traffic. Though a crowd at a Baby G show just down the street was usually young, they do feel a bit indie. I haven't been among such a huge number of mainstream 20-somethings in their going-out clothes in a long time. I was struck by their youthfulness (eager, lively, joyful) and postulated that a large number of the hundreds of thousands coming here every year must be young folks. Given the expensive cost of living in Toronto, someone older might decide to save their money and avoid the big-city life.

My destination was a concert stage across from The Garrison. But with a new condo at the old LCBO parking lot, it was now placed right on the street. With the bar itself extending its outdoor patio to cover most of the other side, there wasn't much room for both concert and festival attendees. So the amount of listeners wasn't much more than at the Baby G. In previous years, it might have been several hundred.

Both bands were plagued by intermittent rain but they still did a bang-up job. Shilpa Ray and her band from NYC alternated between slow, broody numbers (reminiscent of a DIY Massive Attack) and fast-paced punk of furious chords and screamed lyrics. I was there for Mother Tongues, having skipped their concert last year due to a fever. I knew of front-woman and bassist Charise Aragoza, who started out as a back-up dancer with her brother for Maylee Todd, and later became a musician who played with acts like Luna Li. But somehow, for about a decade, I always missed them by a few hours.

I was pleasantly surprised by their set. The 90s dream-pop on their album rocked harder live. Aragoza light vocal still floated over the music, but now it was backed by driving drums and feedback-drenched guitar. Her bass kept a steady pulse though Mother Tongues liked to segue between languorous verses, driving refrains, and almost jammy extended codas. The older folks at the back by the Garrison entrance enjoyed this evolution of their era's music. At the same time, the young crowd at the front grew bigger and bigger, and even beginning to block the foot traffic. It wasn't quite a mosh pit, but there was definitely people (and sometimes umbrellas) bouncing up and down.

I stayed for Mother Tongues' entire show which lasted until 10:50 p.m. Afterwards, I walked back up to College St. Luckily the rain kept most people inside with Little Italy being noticeably empty. So my streetcar made excellent time to the East End. Compared to the 2.5 hours trek last Friday, I got back to my sublet in 40 minutes.

A Bowl Of Sadness

Hana Ramen took over from G-B Hand Pulled Noodles on Gerrard. I passed by it often to do groceries or eat dinner. With the window covered by cheerful, cat-themed decorations, I couldn't tell if it was busy. Missing out on pho from Mimi, I finally decided to give Hana a try on Thursday.

Inside, there were several occupied tables. One of them was mad for the dumplings and fried chicken. But this was the worst ramen I've ever had. My combo ($22) started out auspiciously: the green salad (cucumber, tomatoes, lettuce, dressing) was large and fresh. The agedashi tofu with bonito flakes was acceptable even though a crispier skin would be nice. But my plant-based chashu ramen was terrible. There was another vegetarian ramen option that had a tomato-based broth so I wasn't sure if mine was also plant-based. Its cloudy appearance resembled typical tonkotsu. In any case, it was flavourless and bland. But the ramen was even worse: soft and soggy, lacking any chew. If you have ever left your instant ramen sitting too long, that was the quality of the noodles. Unless you have no taste buds, Hanaramen must be a one and done for anyone. On the other hand, it seemed like the table that was effusive about the food here was a repeat customer. And they had bowls of ramen and did not just eat side dishes. As for me, the $30.66 bill (tax + tip) was the biggest dining regret I've had in a while.

Pizzazz Pocket

I headed to East Chinatown on Wednesday for two reasons: stock up on groceries at Galaxy Fresh Foods and eat pho at Mimi (a recommendation from a laundromat chat). Mimi didn't happen because oddly, it was closed. Restaurants usually have Monday and Tuesday off.

I stepped inside Lee's Dumpling House. This was supposedly a family-run business though with 3 locations, was it an extra large family or just the owners were related? Someone who looked like a teen home from school did take over for an older lady while I was there. It was less dingy than 4 years ago with new banquettes, painted walls, and the workers dressed in uniform. They should have only 1 row of tables because it was cramped in this small space. Also, with the sauce bottles sticky from residue and melamine plates, it still felt a little cheap.

Dinner for me was Spring Onion Pancake ($7.95), 6 Har Gow dumplings ($9.95) and 4 Pan-fried Buns ($8.95). The pancake and buns were winners for me. While scarfing down the former, I mused that some sort of fried dough dish must be common across all cultures. The vegetarian (mushroom, carrots, vermicelli) buns were also tasty if not quite as good as defunct BauzZa. However the shrimp dumplings were also-ran. When they came out gloopy on a dish and not translucent in a bamboo steamer, I was worried. Luckily, the thicker shell was still soft and the shrimp had a good chew but still mediocre though. Along with the free shrimp chips, this was a filling meal with leftovers for lunch. I received some fortune cookies but they turned out to be ads for online sports betting site Tonybet ("You may soon discover a new kind of thrill").

As I rounded the corner to my sublet, I saw an older man ride his bike into the backyard. I knew the long-time tenant in the basement was unlikely to be a young person living in their first rental. In fact, my cousin spent their university years in Toronto sharing a basement with 3 other students in Chinatown. I was too far from campus (in their opinion) to be a room-mate. Still, the idea of someone collecting a government pension living underground felt dystopian. But in gentrified Toronto, I'm sure many older folks have to contend with a shrinking stock of affordable housing.

Burger Time

On Monday, I tried to get over my recent pizza disappointment by having dinner at Pizza Pide. This time, I chose the assorted veggie option ($16.95). But once you learn about the pizza gum line, you see it everywhere (or maybe imagine it). If it was actually there, it was quite thin and with ingredients that held a lot of moisture like spinach and mushroom, I wasn't as judgmental. During my wait, the male half of a couple went to the washroom and stayed there for almost 10 minutes. I've had my share of intestinal problems (like last Friday) but they were afterwards and not during a dine-out meal.

In Little India, there were 3 Desi Burger joints with almost identical names. I thought that one was long abandoned but recently I saw some people inside. It never seemed to be open. One only had a smattering of visitors but I liked it back in 2022. But the final one was most popular: old men sitting outside people-watching while diners bustling in and out.

On Tuesday evening, I finally gave it a shot only because burgers are a lunch meal for me and Desi Burger did not open until 2:30 p.m. Probably because like Lahore Grill, they stayed open until 5 a.m. It ended up a hit and miss affair. The hit: a samosa ($1.50) sprinkled with masala powder. That made perfect sense since masala fries are fantastic. Two misses: the mango lassi ($4) wasn't thick enough and felt more like a smoothie. As for the chicken burger ($5): I didn't mind that it was generally soft and "soggy". This seemed to be this style of burgers. But it wasn't a chicken patty but rather some mixture that was maybe 20% chicken. To be honest, I couldn't taste any chicken at all and spent my meal wondering if they had mixed up my order with an aloo burger.

We Are The World

I spent the week-end mostly doom-scrolling. First, my bedroom's window faced the side of neighbour's house so it was usually dark inside. So I tended to forget that it was bright and sunny outdoors. But even with the good weather, my East End neighbourhood was quiet and there wasn't much pedestrian traffic. I wasn't a flaneur to wander about aimlessly. I was balking at going to the livelier West End due to a gut scare on Friday.

On Saturday, I briefly ventured to Huy Ky for a chicken banh mi and some glutinous rice. Sunday was laundry and then to No Frills and Dollarama to restock the kitchen. On the way back, congregants at the buddhist temple Hoa Nghiem were streaming out. When I was here during the pandemic, it was closed during my entire stay. These temples usually have a vegetarian lunch (with food prepared by the attendees) and privately distribute any leftovers within the community. I wished there was a way for a stranger like myself to buy some because the food was often delicious. So it was the remaining fried rice from Yummy House for me.

The highlight of the week-end was going to an "African Street Food" seller called Nganda. This restaurant has replaced the brief Nutmento. I suppose that similar to Drake (as a mural on its wall), the latter could not go toe-to-toe with The Real Jerk, the local Kendrick Lamar of Jamaican food, just a block away. Nganda has replaced Aubrey with prints of African art. Behind each table was the name of a major city on the continent. The owner was likely from one of the former French colonies since Lagos was the only English-speaking metropole. I sat in Dakar, Senegal.

The ginger taste of Stoney Tangawizi ($6), an African Coca-Cola product, was refreshing and reminded me a little bit of kombucha. The bottle-cap indicated that this version was imported from Uganda. The main was equally delicious: Zota ($25.95) was a bowl of char-grilled chicken (5 pieces), moyo sauce (a tangy tomato, green pepper, and onion mix), plaintain, and a lot of couscous. I ate my dinner with gusto and marveled at its similarities but also differences to Jamaican dishes like Jerk. It wasn't as rapturous as Afrobeat Kitchen (but that chef was professionally trained) but heads and shoulders above French-speaking, African spots in Ottawa. If a usual dish of this cuisine was executed this well, I'm hopeful that on my next visit, the vegan ones will be just as good. However, with the final tally of $41.46 (tax + tip), I'm not sure how Nganda will fare on this (still) working class stretch of Gerrard.

What, Me Worry?

On Friday, I ate leftover injera and fried rice. They were perfectly fine on Thursday but caused some intestinal issues this time round. Of course, it had nothing to do with the food. The real issue was some sort of digestive problem. But I avoid that uncomfortable premise and will facetiously blame other factors. This time round, I pointed the finger at work.

I ate at home because I had no time to leave the apartment for lunch due to a deadline. Also, I reviewed the work of some co-workers and some frustrations leaked through. Not enough to get a write up from HR but I did leave some exasperated comments. Anyway, I need to find some equanimity because this job wasn't worth my health.

In in the evening, when I got on the College St streetcar heading to The Baby G ($20) in the West End, I was already feeling some gut pangs. But I blamed it on my widening mid-section pressing against my jeans. I didn't mind the slow trip as I watched people enjoying themselves at restaurants and patios. But the discomfort was worsening. By the time I got off at Brock an hour later and walked to Dundas, I was so certain that I needed to get home soon that I went to an ATM and got money for a taxi.

When I scanned my ticket inside, I headed straight to the washrooms in a small hallway next to the stage. They were empty because everyone was watching opener Sno Daze. I have abandoned concerts plenty of time before for stomach problems but usually while still at home. I only recalled 2 occasions when I was already out. Once at the Phoenix Concert Theatre but I don't have any memories of using their decrepit facilities. So I must have flagged down a taxi. I did have to use the washroom at The Mod Club. That time, I "blamed" standing pressed against the bass speakers (those low frequencies vibrated my innards!) and never did it again at any other concerts.

The bad news: it took 5 rounds of flushing before I felt more composed. The good news: it never got to the liquid stage like it often does. I was impressed that despite the graffiti the washroom was quite clean. Lee's Palace could never. In any case, I only caught the last two songs from Sno Daze so they sounded very much like other indie bands to my ears.

Though worrywart was the headliner, they were up next. This Toronto gig was 5 weeks into a 7 weeks tour which will end in their hometown of Vancouver. I liked the combination of cacophonous guitar and 3 part harmony. Combined that with a 34-city work ethos (most small bands might do 10 cities), which reminded me of Bright Light Social Hour 15 years ago, and they got $35 from me for a tour t-shirt. When I asked where they played in Ottawa a few nights prior, it was at House of Targ. In Ottawa South on a Wednesday, that was probably a sparse gig. I wasn't surprised that they were looking into Rainbow Bistro in the Byward Market for the next time.

I was preparing to leave when I saw that Blosum had 4 female members and a male drummer. This was an inversion of the typically band. I was intrigued and stayed for most of their set. It wasn't quite shoe-gaze (not enough knob fiddling) but there were some catchy numbers. But I hung around 1 song too many. Missing a streetcar heading East by literally 30 seconds cascaded into a 2.5 hour return trip due to a combination of traffic, being stuck on the tracks (and waiting too long due to my indecisiveness), and finding alternate routes. I couldn't even grab a taxi, because since the arrival of the pandemic and Uber, I don't see idle ones patrolling Toronto streets anymore.

Rice Is Nice

There was a follow-up personal practice on Tuesday, but I still felt sore from my Monday Yoga class. So I decided to do a morning run on Wednesday to bring blood flow and movement into my muscles. I headed East toward Gerrard Mall and up on the pedestrian bridge. This gave me a chance to look at the construction for the new subway station at Pape. They have demolished the old building and dug up the parking lot and surrounding land. But for a surface-only stop, there hasn't been much work. I continued on Pape and turned on Frizzelle. There was a trail that eventually connected with Kempton Howard Park and the old cemetery on Blake St. Then it was home via Myrtle and Harriett.

Wary of uncooked dough, I stuck to good old rice for the next few days. Samosa and Chaat was unexpectedly closed on Wednesday so I ate a Salmon Bento Box ($15.95) at Gerrard Sushi. It was a full lunch though you got bigger portions and more variety at defunct Mazz Sushi. For Thursday's lunch, I stopped off again at Yummy House for egg fried rice ($10) (fortune cookie: "You have common sense and a lot of charm"). I asked the owner's son about Yummy's age and was told it was 23 years old. He was probably around that age, too. I saw a pinned Toronto Star article about students at the local high school visiting this venerable and cheap establishment. It made sense that they got some business from the teens. But whenever I was out at noon, I usually see them at the 241 Pizza or the various fast-food places at Gerrard Mall (Popeye's, Tim Horton's, Little Caesar's). Some older ones might sit on the patio at Dineen Cafe.

In the evening, I headed up to The Danforth via Prust and other side streets for an Ethiopian dinner at Abugida. The vegetarian platter ($17) was delicious as usual. They provided more injera bread than other places so I packed up a large doggie bag with leftovers. Danforth was hopping in the warm weather with folks sitting on the patio at The Wren and other spots. I took a chance walking home despite the full meal. But in case things acted up, it was by the most direct route along Greenwood Ave.