Goo Fellas

Although I don't plan on visiting sit-down restaurants anymore, I wanted to support small eateries if possible. On Tuesday, I visited a take-out spot on Montreal Rd called Kin Malebo. It was next to the strip mall containing Golden Crust Pizza. The server didn't speak any English and I had only high school French. But we finally agreed that I wanted 4 samoussa ($3.50/each). They were stuffed with beef and were closer to Sa'hara's sambusa than an Indian samosa. Unfortunately, they weren't that good as they lacked the speckled texture of the former and the fragrant flavour of the latter.

On Sunday, I returned to the same area to try the last of the 3 food trucks. Whereas the other two served tacos and falafel, Frys Guys was your classic chip wagon: burgers, hot dogs, and fries. The medium poutine ($8 all-in) was comparable to the Great Poutinerie with thick gravy and chewy curds. Good portion size and fairly cheap? Sounds good to me.

While I was waiting for my order, an older man noticed the zombie on the back of my Alex Lahey's band tee. No, I wasn't really into horror movies. Our conversation led to an astonishing story about his friend's cousin who has been "possessed" for 25 years. Over 40 exorcisms failed to cure her, leaving her to live an isolated life with her elderly parents. The friend was also a priest so his own visits were usually fraught and tense. I was silently bemused: don't we live in modern times with better diagnoses like mental illness or neurodivergence? But once he mentioned that this was in some remote place in Southern Quebec, a lightbulb went off. Outside of cosmopolitan Montreal, la belle province can be a bit stuck in the past.

Blast From The Past

I attended a few shows during my first months back in Ottawa. Soon enough, the terrible public transit and heavy car traffic killed my desire to go out. I went out when I visited Toronto but it has been almost two years in my hometown. On Wednesday, I headed to the Byward Market to see Texas-based The Bright Light Social Hour at the 27 Club (formerly Zaphod Beeblebrox).

I was so impressed by them at The CMW more than a decade ago at tiny Supermarket that I saw them again a few nights later for a 2 a.m. set! They came through Toronto a few more times, getting progressively trippier. Their Ottawa show at Mavericks was actually cancelled. But at the last minute, the owner of Zaphod reached out (they apparently played there last time) and the concert was back on. Perhaps this was why it was a sparse crowd tonight. But they bought a lot of merch, so hopefully it wasn't a total wash.

The surprisingly great sound system at 27 Club was better than muddy Mavericks. TBLSH played high-energy, complex music and all the components including vocals, guitar, drums, synth were balanced and clear. The bassist recalled an early review calling them "hillbilly disco". Well, yee-haw because opening number Back and Forth and the penultimate Shanty still brought the funk. New tunes (Most High, Prefecture) from their latest album Emergency Leisure had a hint of pop but were still rocking. Even numbers from their psychedelic Space Is Still The Place I & II seemed more muscular for this show.

I loved (and so did everyone else) that their encore was the blues-rock Detroit. With the loss of the original drummer and keyboardist/background vocalist, I didn't think they would play it anymore. A big part of the song was a heavy metal-esque drum solo that segue into a coda with a soaring falsetto harmony. This version couldn't quite reached those heights but the new members did an excellent job.

I haven't enjoyed myself like this in some time. Tonight was better than the last time I was at Zaphod's and it certainly was better than my first time here some decades back. My lovesick delusion started at a show by The Shuffle Demons (also sparsely attended). I was already gaga for my crush for about a year but that night was the first of our solo outings. My hope was sparked when they wanted a non-group hang. It only grew when confided that they had ended an intense relationship.

If only my older and wiser self could talk to that callow youth. They were high-school sweethearts who tried to maintain a long-distance relationship in college with letters, phone calls, cross-country visits, and summer vacation back in their small town. People don't move on from experiences like that for a while. Also, here is an apropos quip from the future: "They're just not that into you". I'd thank myself for the advice and avoid 4 years of heartache.

Another Year Round The Sun

On Sunday, my mom and I headed to the other side of Ottawa. We wanted to save some money so took public transit to downtown first before hailing a cab for the rest of the trip. But the extra $20 in our pocket wasn't worth that hour-long commute because the distance to downtown would have taken 10 minutes by car.

My grandma was celebrating her 95th birthday. We don't usually host family gatherings at my youngest uncle's place since it was a smaller home. But ever since her fall earlier in the year, she hasn't left the house, not even for a get-together last Easter. There was just enough room because, even though there was still a lot of folks from the extended family, 8 people were on vacation. The food was home-cooked fare such as spring rolls, lo mein noodles with shrimp and beef, egg fried rice, glass noodles with fresh veggies from the garden, and green papaya salad with maple syrup beef jerky. The one exception was a Tiramisu birthday cake from Costco.

I caught up on the latest family going-ons. My cousin brought her second newborn (there's a big age gap between me and most of my cousins). Her partner was a bus driver and confirmed my suspicion that there was no active monitoring with the OC Transpo. So it was up to each driver to keep to their schedule or not, depending on their work ethic. No wonder transit was so bad in Ottawa. Another cousin had upgraded from their starter home because of a rambunctious first-born. It was a nicer house but these sort of decisions (in my opinion) continue to sustain the housing bubble. A few aunts were planning a trip back to the old country for next year. Speaking of which, my uncle who sponsored us all to Canada all those decades ago made an appearance. Other than my grandma, we haven't seen him since the start of the pandemic.

At the end of the evening, as we were packing up, my eldest cousin dropped by for a quick hello. They had just landed after a 3-week trip to Europe. An avid traveller of the "squeeze as much in as possible" kind, this time it was London, Brussels, Budapest, Prague and Vienna (and places close to those cities). I reflected on the contrast between us. In the last 25 years, I've lived in Toronto with its big-city amenities but rarely travelled. Meanwhile, they resided in suburbia but have visited 100+ places all over the world as vacation time permitted. On the whole though, I prefer my sedate lifestyle but filled with the daily pleasures of local shops, modest eats, park hangs, enjoyable routine, music, art, and culture.

A Bus Named Expire

The new CTO of my company has been making changes. During a meeting earlier this week, it was clear that he expected us to put our noses to the grindstone. It didn't matter as I decided on Friday to leave (remote) work early and head out for a longish lunch.

I didn't want to take the bus to get there. The route used to be the number 2: considered to be the worst bus route in Ottawa. After it divided into the East End 12 and the West End 11 some years ago, these buses still ranked at the bottom. I'll have to take both, but there was no shorter ride to my destination.

My bus made its way down Bank St. and then headed along Somerset West to Chinatown. The local BIA had installed a Chinese Royal Arch more than a decade ago to beautify the area. Since then, they have also added stone lions and other Asian street art. But the gentrification of the neighbourhood continues with non-Asian stores now outnumbering the old stalwarts. When the bus climbed an overpass, I realized that below was an entrance to the industrial complex containing the bakery Art Is In. I usually get there from the other end via the O-Train.

I got off at Hintonburg where Somerset merged into Wellington St. My family briefly settled in this working-class area more than 4 decades ago but I have never returned in the intervening years. The old buildings now housed fancier businesses including a Christmas decoration store (Tinseltown Christmas Emporium), a yarn shop (Wabi Sabi), and numerous restaurants and pubs (La Bonita, The Senate Tavern, Taco Lot).

We lived in a small apartment above a groceteria at the corner of Melrose and Wellington. I don't know when the store opened but, according to old photos on Google Map, its end came some time in the late 2000s. A pizzeria called Tennessy Willems has been on the site ever since. When I stepped inside Tennesy the waft of stale urine greeted me, but no other customers remarked about this odour during my time there. This seemed at odds with the trendy gastropub vibe. Perhaps I was hallucinating a phantom smell?

I ordered the capricciosa pizza ($22). Though it was a serviceable pie, it wasn't worth the price (almost $30 with tax + tip). There was no fragrant aroma or toothsomeness from the dough. Both the tomato sauce and the fior de latte needed more time in the oven. The olives, mushroom, and capicola ham were alright, but the artichoke didn't have that smokey tanginess (shout-out to the delicious Bianca slice of the late-lamented Amato Pizza on College St., even if its final days were sad). The chefs looked young and probably didn't have experience with pizza-making as opposed to simply making pizza.

Tennessy was another disappointing Ottawa restaurant. I might still visit cheaper options like Creole Sensations and Great Canadian Poutinerie. But given the poor transit, the general meal cost and lack of food quality in Ottawa, this was likely my last dine-in meal in my hometown. As for Hintonburg, I'll check out the neighbourhood again in another 40 years if I'm still around.