A little weekend chit chat.

One of the first things G and I did when we moved back to Toronto was buy all the ingredients to make a Ceasar--it's the Canadian version of a Bloody Mary but 10 times better.
There I said it. Don't make me come over there.
I once walked into a bar in San Francisco, and as G made his way to the loo he overheard me ask the bartender for a Ceasar. My request was met with a look of confusion: "We don't serve salads here."
Sometimes I forget. Silly little Canadian.

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G and I have put in a good effort trying to decide which pub will be our "local". We were wooed when one night we walked into one in our neighbourhood called the Old Nick and were treated to a night of 80s music. We sat there nursing our beers while reliving our youth and trying to beat each other to 'naming that tune'.
The next time we went, it was all vintage Depeche Mode. Just saying vintage in the same sentence as Depeche Mode makes me feel really old.
But either way, it sure made for a fun evening.

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I haven't been cooking much these days. Our stuff has still not arrived from the UK so while you may imagine we are well settled in, we are actually functioning with the bare minimum in our apartment. This includes all my kitchen things including our knives, my spices and my beloved teas. People, we don't even have a couch. Just 2 chairs- one of which folds up, while the other is on loan from a friend. It's been 6 weeks, enough said.

BUT I did make a trip to the St. Lawrence Market recently and I gotta tell you, that place can sure put a spring in my step. I picked up some red lavender strawberry jam and a blood orange and cranberry marmalade. I mean really, I can easily be wooed by a good jam combo. That night, with all my other purchases, I made beef tenderloin with a rosemary port sauce, buttermilk mashed potatoes and roasted golden beets. It felt like the first real meal I had cooked in over a month. But it was worth it. It kind of felt like I was getting my groove back. It might be an 80s groove, but whatever gets your motor running, right?

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Cream of Wheat has featured prominently in our household this past 10 days. While G fought the flu (as bad a case of it as I've ever seen) it was about the only thing he would eat. Which is basically just like eating a big bowl of flour drowned in milk. And because my G has a sweet tooth the size of Texas, he would then empty the sugar bowl on top of it. It was the stuff of my nightmares, I could feel my jeans getting tighter just watching him eat it.


I like the old school box.


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In a weird twist of fate, my upstairs neighbour revealed that not only has she lived in both Paris and Heidelberg as I have, she was also working at the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. at the same time as I was volunteering there.
How unusual is that? It's kind of Twilight Zone-ish, but in a good way. Plus, when I invited her down for tea, she brought me an apple-berry crumble. This is what it means to love thy neighbour, I'll tell you what.

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So that's it, until next time.
I do like to ramble, huh.

Exploring.

Look ma, no snow..

This settling in thing is actually working out pretty well. G and I have (sort of) gotten over our habit of cursing the wind and cold and have even managed to catch some lingering glimpses of the sun now and then. While living in Britain we were dangerously close to suffering from a Vitamin D deficiency, so a little Toronto sunshine goes a long way to keeping us happy.

My to do list on the other hand, is getting mildly overwhelming. Four years is a long time to have been gone and when I left I was a just a pup really, with a lot less experience. Travelling around made an explorer out of me and suddenly Toronto seems like a completely different city than I remembered it. And as far as exploration goes, this is one city that is going to take some time.

I've always lived on the East side of Toronto, and only now after living in a series of relatively compact cities do I realize how massive Toronto actually is. Those friends and family that live on the East side are easy to meet up with on the spur of the moment, while it takes a lot more planning and organization to hook up with those on the West side.

And so now maybe you understand why my list of places to explore is getting a bit hard to manage. After just 3 weeks back in town I have barely even made it out of my own neighbourhood.

On the weekend an old friend of ours came by at a crazy early hour (a luxury only good friends can indulge in) before he had to go to work. I thought I had it well planned out: brunch at the Globe Bistro while we catch up. After a mad flurry of hats, scarves, mitts, boots and chapstick, we finally trekked over to the Globe Bistro only to find that they don't do brunch before 11am. With the snow and wind blowing in our faces we hightailed it to the nearest greasy spoon, otherwise known as the New York Café. We did manage to snag a table, but I think it was stroke of luck. The place was packed and I soon realized it may have something to do with the super cheap prices and the smiley staff. Our server was so darn friendly I wanted to put him in my pocket and take him home with me.

So listen: 2 eggs, bacon, toast, homefries and endless cups of coffee for $3.75.
That's Canadian dollars, people. I'm still in shock. I even kept the receipt as a souvenir and it now sits snuggly in a box next to the one from our first day in Paris when the 2 glasses of beer we ordered at a sidewalk café cost us 34 euros.
Merde, right? I know.

Anyway, it was no gourmet breakfast, but for $3.75 we were all pretty satisfied.

Aside from that, I still find myself strangely intrigued by that whole phenomenon that is the Big Carrot -that magical place where vegetarians, vegans and even meat-eaters with a conscience like to shop. I am neither vegan nor gluten intolerant but I can't help but be curious. G has been shaking his head at me as I come home with yet another gluten free muffin or cookie, and my most recent acquisition of vegan chocolate made with rice milk.

Me and my curiosity. Vegan chocolate and a gluten-free muffin.

I think he's afraid I'll start enforcing a new lifestyle and he doesn't seem to believe me when I tell him how surprisingly tasty all of these things have been.

But don't worry, I'm not reinventing myself here by any means. Maybe a girl just needs a reason to regularly indulge in muffins and cookies? It feels much less sinful when it's in the name of research, you know?


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New York Café
757 Broadview Avenue
Toronto, ON