Black and Blue

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

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

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

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

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

No Time To Fry

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

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

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

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

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

Yo No

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come For The King

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

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

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