Jazz In The Time of Corona

I thought to try my least favourite things before the end of the month since I'd probably wouldn't spend time during my limited visits to Toronto doing them and Jazz is on that list. There's something about most shows that feel dated and stale. However, I did enjoy the orchestral jazz that Marie Goudy composed for her 12-tet. It will only be her quintet on Sunday night at The Rex, but I did also enjoyed their playing previously.

The contemplative The Huntress was a nice start to an enjoyable show of new material. It turns out that during the pandemic Goudy also fell in love. So she joked that half of her new songs will be uptempo and life-affirming and the other half will be existential despair. Tunes like Made For Me, Hold On To Me, and Planes and Trains were definitely written for lovers. Meanwhile, a song like Dance To the Stars had a psychedelic, "what-is-life-even?" quality. In fact, without the constraint of overarching themes and motifs like her symphonic Bitter Suite, Goudy's music ranged from romantic "movie theme", to sexy blues, to swinging tropical.

As with her last show pre-pandemic, I felt her solos were strongest possibly because of her familiarity with the music. But her quintet stepped up tonight. There were stretches where one great solo would be the impetus to push the next player to new heights. Perhaps not playing for the 100th time Jazz standards set their creativity on high.

Singer Jocelyn Barth seems to be Goudy's only collaborator vocally. I still have a hard time squaring that circle. Barth's full-body emoting (she should sing Kate Bush or Tori Amos) was an odd contrast to Goudy's melody and lyrics (which strays into Tony Bennett meets musical theatre territory). It kinda works but was also distracting.

Overall though, I enjoyed their first set. I didn't stay for the 2nd because I'm not much for late nights anymore. But nothing reinforced Goudy's exception proves the rule than the easy jazz cover of The Girl From Ipanema playing in the background as I was leaving.

Off-beat

New bakery Là Lá Land was closed last Friday in preparation for their grand opening. So I headed back this Friday to try again. Five young Vietnamese entrepreneurs wanted a real store-front to sell modern desserts with Vietnamese flavours.

Though their IG posts showed long line-ups at other times, there was no wait for me this Friday. The tiny space at Bloor and Spadina was mostly kitchen with just enough room left for a front counter with a display case and two seats by the window.

I was intrigued by their savoury bent such as adding salted egg to croissant or pork floss to roll cake. But I was full from my Fresca pizza slices so I chose a more "typical" sweet dessert: a coconut mini-cake ($14). I noticed it was pleasantly less sweet than most North American desserts. The creamy top layer was fragrant with tropical flavour. The other layers of sticky rice and ground mung-bean reminded me of chè (Vietnamese dessert pudding). It was a good dessert though not impactful. Perhaps the durian version had a bigger punch.

I hope Lalaland will succeed. I applaud their owners' passion and drive but I see a few obstacles. First, less-sweet desserts are a hard-sell to the North American palate. Second, savoury desserts (as opposed to "appetizers") aren't common. Third, their location is a crap shoot. A few blocks West is pedestrian-friendly real estate in The Annex but around here cars have taken over the road. Finally, they'll also need to expand beyond their Asian clientele (a white woman came in behind me and spent barely 20 seconds looking around).

Of The Chill People

Instead of watching the first all-teen U.S. Open final since 1999, I was invited to enjoy a friend's updated backyard. Since I hadn't seen them in over a year, it was churlish to refuse. But our plan for me to watch the match on my laptop while they made banh xeo (Vietnamese crepe) didn't happen. We were engrossed catching up on personal news. I only had one of genuine interest: for the next while, I won't be spending too much time in Toronto.

They had spent thousands more since last time in DIY renovations to re-build their deck, add new fencing, trellises, as well as shrubbery and flowers. There were also luxury, spa-like furniture such as chaise longue, a hammock, and a pair of hanging chairs. This was in addition to tens of thousands in fixing up the main floor as well as the basement. But all of it transformed a tiny house in a working-class, industrial neighbourhood into a welcoming home.

Though they were of modest immigrant background, they didn't squirrel away every dime. Maybe they will have less money for retirement, but I couldn't help contrast this attitude with some of my family members. These relatives did not beautify their house despite decades of residence, but only spent money on essential items like roofs or windows. Recently, they paid for some landscaping and a vegetable garden. The pleasure they've gotten from this frill made me think how much more enjoyment they might have gotten from their place over the years with a few more non-essential luxuries.

A few weeks later, I visited another friend for a home-made Sunday lunch. I wondered how their early retirement was going. First, they had become a plant parent. Second, they delayed their return to university (because of the pandemic) but had enrolled in several classes including language lessons at Alliance Française. Third, they will be travelling cross-country by train to Vancouver in November before Via Rail mothballs this trip. The sole source of irritation was the late-night comings and goings of delivery people who were subletting the nearby frat house for the summer.

As we chatted, I thought about their life. On the surface, they seemed to be similar to myself: unassuming, introverted, averse to crowds. Yet they had quietly built an admirable existence: living in NYC for several years in the late 90s, spending weeks in silent meditation retreats or at half-empty Cuban hotels in the off-season, mastering Hebrew and Arabic to study ancient Judaic philosophy (and the latest Middle-Eastern tweets), the early retirement, and so on. They showed that you don't have to be "busy at living" to be living. I need some of that silent strength of character.

I followed Lowther Avenue and Barton on my way home passing by leafy streets, vintage homes, Huron Street Playground, Gwendolyn MacEwen Park, and St. Alban's Square. The condos at 387 Brunswick Ave., formerly The Loretto College School, also caught my eye. I liked these renovations more than those that only keep the front façade.

Thick Comme Un Brick

Recently I had read about French Tacos, a new fast-food that was an invention of North African immigrants living in the less glamorous banlieues (public-housing suburbs) in France. It wasn't actually anything like a taco but rather a cousin of the burrito.

As I walked through Little Italy, I realized that I didn't have to go to Paris (or perhaps Montréal) to try this hybrid. A new take-out spot called Brick'n'Cheese (a Vancouver franchise of a French food) had a board on the sidewalk proclaiming it had "original French Tacos". On Saturday, after doing a deep clean of my apartment, I headed to Brick to try one.

Looking over the menu, I opted for a Farmer Brick ($14.99). This flat, satisfyingly heavy, tortilla wrap came with grilled chicken, chicken nuggets, fries, shredded cheese and a mysterious "cheese sauce" that internet sleuthing suggested some combination of gruyère and other cheeses. I headed over to Fred Hamilton park to give it a go.

I anticipated a messy dinner from the sauce but it was surprisingly drip-free. The fries and nuggets gave both crunch and greasy goodness. The chicken was reasonably tender and was better quality than many shawarma spots. I mostly enjoyed the unusual flavour. It neither had the beans and guacamole taste of a burrito, nor the tangy, grilled offering of a falafel wrap. It was its own (pretty tasty) thing. As for the shop, many owners have tried this half-basement walkout. It's hard to do take-out in Little Italy. There's not enough office workers during the day, and people want that fancy/trendy restaurant experience at night.

After finishing my tacos français, I took a walk through Ossington. This strip has been busy during my afternoon Yoga classes, but it was hopping in the evening. Prior to the pandemic, there would still be a crowd but with most people eating inside, there wasn't the same buzzing vibrancy. I suspect most businesses want the curbside patios to be permanent.

I headed west along Dundas and noticed that there was an outdoor concert in the old Beer Store parking lot. The building was now a presentation centre for the condo that will eventually spring up here. But tonight, its painted brick and advertisement served as backdrop to a free show hosted by Lula Lounge. On stage, Eliana Cuervas sang both Spanish and Brazilian Latin-Jazz songs accompanied by her pianist Jeremy Ledbetter and a full band. I last saw her at The ROM more than a year ago. Their up-tempo music kept people dancing and grooving.

I would have stayed to see who else was on the schedule. But I had forgotten the lackadaisical fashion that concert folks prepare between sets. It took Cuervas' band 15 minutes to pack up (with lots of chatter). And with no sign that the next performers will be on stage soon, I headed home for an early sleep.