Eat On The Run

I was in Ottawa for Easter when I noticed a sign on Montreal Road advertising "Drive Thru Pizza". It was the second day for new joint Drive Pie. Aside from their hook for drivers, they also had a few tables inside for walk-ins. The brochure claimed that the owner wanted to bring back his mom's special dough from the old family store called The Pizza Stop. But there was likely some Middle-Eastern background as well since their "open-face meat pie" were obviously lahmacun. Too bad they weren't ready to make those yet.

So I settled for pocket pies at $2.99. Both my choices were the spinach and feta cheese option. The dough was very soft, apparently a specialty. The spinach was fresh and tasty. But there wasn't enough cheese. I'd rather have a smaller roll or pay more to get more dairy goodness. From the taste, I suspect that this was a variation on fatayer.

New v New

On Saturday, I was at The National Ballet for 3 dance pieces. The last piece, Cacti, was a "loving" critique of contemporary dance. Certainly, parts of it were played for laughs including some ridiculous poses and portentous voice-over from a "modern arts critic". But it was the most warmly received for its kinetic choreography as well as some truly humorous passages. Humour is often missing from modern dance, but classical as well.

The first two pieces were from Balanchine. For this evening, they acted as as bridge to the past since Balachine usually used classical techniques in modern ways. So the Four Temperaments felt of a kind with Cacti, in its focus on technique and non-narration. In contrast, Rubies with its evocation of group dances and village life seemed a musty throwback to a hermetic ballet repertoire.

Quel Horreur

On Monday, I had another encounter with younger purveyors of shiny technology. Once again I'm reminded that they can do flash well, but the basic foundation is usually suspect. Lunch at Jules Bistro at Queen and Spadina was the finalizing period to that thought.

To be fair, this French diner predated all this disruption, all the way back to 2000. And their sizzle isn't that dazzling, but their core is certainly creaky. Any spot that calls itself a French bistro and put out a French onion soup comprising of cuts of carrots and thin blobs of melted cheese should hang its tête in shame. As for the sandwich, anybody can do bland chicken, and they didn't disappoint.

Trunk Food

There's always some new eats in Kensington Market. So when I was passing by on the week-end, I stopped off at Grand Trunk Road, a stall that promised Punjabi street food. The 3 guys behind the counter seemed to be still getting the hang of working a commercial kitchen (no matter how small) but the menu promised fresh local ingredients. The only food available is parota (identical to paratha but made with maida flour) with various stuffing. I opted for butter fruit ($5) and a lassi ($3). It turns out butter fruit was spicy avocado, which went great with the various chutney. I appreciate freshness of the lassi but it had too many "herby bits". In fact, the best part was how fresh everything tasted. Those chutney were much better than in Indian restaurants. The downside, without a place to sit inside, these messy eats are better consumed in the summer.