Fit To Be Fried

Two weeks back, during my stay in Toronto, I decided to go to Sunday yoga class at the old studio. I was prevaricating as the vigorous style was no longer a good fit for me. It was one of those days where I kept missing the next transit connection by a minute or two. But with frequent schedules thanks to the TTC, I made it just as class started. In Ottawa, I would have been at least 30 minutes late. And in some studios where they insist on promptness, I'd be out of luck.

Once again, it was an advanced and strenuous class requiring extreme cardio stamina, core strength, and flexibility. There were mostly regulars and a smattering of new yogis. Despite gaps of a few months between visits, I didn't see any "semi-familiar" faces. That is, someone who has been attending for less than a year. The instructor has been dialing up the difficulties over time to satisfy the old-timers. In my opinion, this has now left new attendees intimidated or frustrated, so they drop out after a month or two.

After class, I stopped off at Bobbie Sue for some mac and cheese. This was a regular spot when I was still in the neighbourhood. I don't remember the cost of the last few years but $9.95 for a small 5-cheese Classic was a bump from $6 back in 2017. I ate my lunch at a bench on College St. while people-watching and seeing how much business Barbershop Patisserie was getting post-pandemic. The pasta wasn't as satisfying as before, either due to nostalgia or the workers reducing the cheese amount so it didn't have the same gooey chew.

With detours and traffic, it took longer than usual to get back to my friend's house. I felt lethargic and this ennui lasted a few days. It wasn't just physical tiredness though. Leaving my apartment meant staying with a relative, a friend, a sublet, different airBnBs, or a hotel. Since none of these were my own place, I've felt a bit unmoored and not totally comfortable this past year.

On Tuesday, before my return to Ottawa, I went to Esquina Salvadorena at Jane and Lawrence. This eatery was eclectically filled with a combination of South American and Halloween décor. I ordered a quesabirria with soup ($24). Like my first taste of steamed tacos, my first experience of "fried taco-quesadilla" was outstanding. The crunchy shells held thick, melted cheese and tender stewed beef. More of that beef was also part of the tasty soup. This could make an excellent plant-based choice, perhaps with some shredded young jackfruit. Its substantial portion size would also be more satisfying than the vegan choices at La Bartola.

To catch the train at Union Station, I headed up to Weston Village to catch the southbound UP Express, a direct train connection between Pearson airport and Union. The first and only time I've tried this route was in the other direction. I was surprised by the number of morning commuters who were also using it. I supposed that if you were working downtown, it was a quicker transit option than local buses.

I've been sick since my return with something I probably caught at Massey Hall. But more worryingly, my other condition seemed to have worsened and become more chronic. More than just a source of neuroticism,  this could be an actual physical problem that requires medical treatment.

All Things Must Pass

I headed to Bloorcourt on Saturday. I saw that Café Paradise, once Caldense Bakery and now part of the revamped Paradise Theatre, has finally opened. Likewise, a presentation centre was operating at Bloor and Dovercourt for the 11-story condo that will be built there. I myself was in the area to see my dentist. Like all previous dentists I've used, they seem to charge more (3 scaling units) than for actual services rendered (15 minutes). But at least they did the cleaning instead of delegating to an assistant and only dropping in for a 1-minute checkup. When he asked me if I had received my Covid booster shot, I braced internally for an antivax screed. But he only wanted to tout the (alleged) benefits of Novavax over the other vaccines.

I made my way through Dufferin Mall to get some groceries at No Frills. The "Dirty Duff" has been nicely cleaned up for years now. But the surrounding area has gotten temporarily scruffier. 3 large schools (Bloor Collegiate, Kent School, and Brockton HS aka Bloordale Beach) are being demolished to make way for new construction. Once Dufferin Mall starts its own renovation and upgrade, traffic will be hell including for the loved/hated Dufferin "29 Sufferin" bus.

I dropped by for a short chat with the owner of Arabesque then walked along College St. until Spadina. The closures due to the pandemic or Toronto's crazy rent continued apace. Some like Tazak Kabob (once Burgatory, Hey Meatballs) barely lasted 2 years. But I was surprised that a number of decades-old stalwarts folded: Portuguese Chicken Guy (i.e., Churras Queira Oliveira), Kalendar (immortalized in a 2000s car commercial), and Mars Food (est. 1951).

When I returned to my lodgings, my friend had spent their birthday cleaning the house. They wanted to go to Pho 90 in the Stockyards for dinner, despite the food being "not that great" the last time. I was skeptical of the place even though my mom saw it profiled on youtube. But these videos felt like commercial shills.

It was terrible food. My vegan pho ($13.95) was bland even though they substituted the regular beef broth for the veggie one. The toppings were literally just raw greens thrown into the soup. According to my friend, their Bun Bo Hue ($17.95) used old broth on the verge of going bad. They barely touched their food. We both agreed that the runny mess of the Seafood Crispy Noodles ($19.95) ordered by their teen was a travesty of this dish. Only the mango salad ($14.95) was edible but overpriced. In fact, everything was too expensive. Finally, this experience confirmed my recent misgivings with online reviews and ratings because Pho 90 has stellar marks with Google and other websites. But being part of a busy outdoor mall, they'll breeze along for years to come.

Me Chuff for Massey Stuff

My sibling and their family came over for a Thanksgiving brunch on Monday before my trip and brought some chicken from Mary Brown's. Ottawa has gone gaga for this Southern Chicken by way of Newfoundland franchise. Oddly enough, I had never heard of them even though the GTA has had stores since the 70s. Staying in Toronto and being on a mostly plant-based diet meant that, like last time, I didn't visit any Caribbean restaurants in the Eglinton and Weston area (except for the vegan V's Caribbean). But since I already ate meat this week, I decided to finally sample some jerk chicken from a local business.

Stepping inside Meechies on Friday was a throwback to places like Vena's Roti and Caribbean Queen with faded menus and eager regulars. For $10.50, my small chicken dinner was overflowing with rice and peas, chicken, and macaroni. The rice was dry and could have used more of the oxtail curry sauce. But the chicken was glorious and flavourful. If Ottawa is flustered over heavily breaded chicken, how would they respond to nicely seasoned fare? On the other hand, the fact that Jerk King has several locations means Toronto wasn't immune to mediocre food.

For their birthday I took my friend and their teen that evening to a concert at Massey Hall. This was their first show in a real venue. The friend because some immigrants stay within their bubble and don't integrate socially with the mainstream culture. The child because they were still too young for shows: all-ages are rarer now in Toronto and popular artists (like their idol Olivia Rodrigro) cost too much. With millions in recent renovation at Massey, they were blown away by the grandeur inside.

Dwayne Gretzky was also an easy sell. My guests might not have known all the tunes compared to the capacity crowd but there were recognizable hit songs. Massey was a long way for this "cover band supergroup" from their start at the Dakota Tavern (their genesis was actually a little bit earlier). For this august occasion, Gretzky started with the one-two punch of In The Air Tonight and Don't Stop Me Now. Over two sets, the performers brought the big guns: I Will Always Love You (Meg Contini), Piece of My Heart (Carleigh Aikins), Under Pressure (Tyler Kite).

New-comer James Baley got some of the biggest cheers. His high-energy stage presence electrified Easy Like Sunday Morning and Sledgehammer. These songs were usually sung by Lydia Persaud but they still had some powerful performances including Somebody To Love to close the final set. This number soared with 7 singers on harmonies. It wasn't the only one that was goosed by such depth in backing vocals. When Jill Harris took on Like A Prayer, it was practically a religious experience for the crowd.

For the final song in the encore, though Dwayne was rushing to wrap things up before the 11 pm deadline, it was appropriate that Tyler (the "heart and soul" of the group) finished with Dancing In The Dark. The entire band took a well-deserved bow to thunderous applause.

17/10/2022: The jerk chicken lunch special ($5.99) at Meechie was excellent: moist and soft rice, tender chicken with crispy skin, and a nice kick to the sauce. From a recent picture hanging over the counter, the owner was 78. He looked to be in great health moving around the kitchen. But get your fix before another slice of old-school Toronto disappears.

The Replacements

I'm back in Toronto for a few days. One reason was the birthday of a friend. Last year just before I left, we celebrated in Koreatown with some eats. We have other plans for this year. Though I'm staying at their place, them managing two businesses means we only talked in short snippets. One good news was a troublesome sibling was moving an hour away for work, after years of failing at various MLM schemes and surviving on the family dole.

Thursday night, I headed down to The Horseshoe Tavern to see some local bands. Frank Moyo was first on deck. His bio described himself as a "busking bard" and there was some folky-pop vibes in the earnest lyrics. Yet the modern cadence and rhyme of songs like House in LA and Bedside Love Song, along with the chill vibe of the band, reminded me more of acoustic covers of forgettable R'n'B. There was also a paean (in 2022) to WWII soldiers (Boys of Major) and an Italian original (OK Dolce). The latter was my favourite perhaps because it departed from standard pop and I didn't understand the lyrics.

I was more into the second band headed by Rachel Bobbitt because she mostly avoided the typical love song and sang about problematic relatives (Call Inside The House), women not wanting children (More), and being a twin (Gemini Ties). At least half of her band (drummer, bassist) was a last-minute replacement due to Covid and other problems. I don't know if that was also the case with the lead guitarist because the harmonic interaction between them was outstanding.

The drummer and bassist also subbed in for headliner Housewife (formerly duo Moscow Apartment composed of Brighid Fry and Pascale Padilla). Their lead guitarist was also a sub which meant that Fry was the only permanent member tonight. This was inauspicious for their 1st EP under the new moniker. There were also problems with the backing/click tracks. So for few moments here and there things threatened to fall apart sonically. But Housewife was saved by the quality of the songs: body image (Annie), cat-calls (New Girl), toxicity (Awful People). All these folk-pop tunes were played live with a harder rock sound. Even the new You're Not The Worst (You want to write your poetry on the beach/But your poetry is shit) transformed into an Avril Lavigne punk-ish anthem. The absence of Padilla and the stage banter between them and Fry was sorely missed. I hope Padilla's no-show was only due to some temporary hiccup and not a departure. That would make Halfway, an ode to their friendship and musical collab, too poignant.

I don't usually include ticket prices (as opposed to food costs) in my posts but the $25 cover for 3 local bands (with small Baby G-sized crowds) crossed a psychological threshold for me. Thanks to time and inflation, gone were the $7 and $10 shows. That's to be expected. But the loss of local record shops selling tickets with a small markup is also a factor. Online vendors charge fees comparable to TicketMaster. A $15 show that became a $21 online purchase and then $25 at the door was quite a price-gouge. I don't envy young folks managing the high cost of living in Toronto, including ticket prices, while trying to have a social life.