Edible Tulip

Local Bakeries

I used to move a lot and I usually had very few criteria apart from the decency of the apartment as to what the locale had to offer. In no particular order the neighbourhood had to have a good coffee shop, a green grocer with some ethnic offerings, one good local drinking hole, one decent eating spot, an LCBO in walking distance, access to the TTC, a library within walking distance, and a BAKERY. Where I live now I have all of that and more. I can even walk to and from work if I happen to be wearing sensible shoes that day.

Across the street is a lovely cafe with an old copper ceiling, gleaming stainless steel cappuccino makers, imported from Mississauga baked goods of which my favourite is a croissant sprinkled with icing sugar and lined with a delicate strawberry compote. And you have to love the owner - he's there every morning at 6:00 a.m. sweeping then spraying down the sidewalk where his patio furniture sits and he's still there wiping down his machines and busying around the place even when there's not a soul inside when I'm grocery shopping for dinner at 7:00 p.m. He works 6 days a week and he's never in a bad mood. Around the corner is another bakery. One I go to on Sundays when the first one is closed. It's one of four or so in the city under the Nova Era ownership. It's a Portuguese joint with cakes View this photo and breads and mini tartlets and a pyriamid of croissants to choose from.

Retro Lunch

I've had a pissy 9 days - a lovely date with disastrous repercussions, a bout of impulsive behaviour which makes me feel compulsively obsessive, acupuncture (it may be good for me but it sure ain't a massage), 2 completed then lost essays (one that mirrored falling in love with the umeboshi Japanese pickled plums - you try to find the mental energy to rewrite that!), cutting holes accidentally into my new stockings that I walked through a windstorm and 3 hours to buy, getting on the wrong bus in the dark and not noticing until I was so lost that I got off in what looked like a ghetto and had to chase down a cab, finding myself actually browsing over those 1.5 litre bottles of wine, dropping a lit cigarette into the radiator making me very late for work, and realizing after way too much money that natural deodorant just does not work. Things are looking up though. And I've just eaten a deliciously simple sandwich of health-food bulk bin naturally crunchy peanut butter spread onto Portuguese floured pada buns heated under the broiler and packed thick with dense spinach leaves and chopped iceburg lettuce. It's much much better than you would imagine. I wanted peanut butter because I wanted comfort and warmth but I didn't want sweet like grape jelly or marmalade so I opted for chlorophyll as a filling.

The leaves are still on the trees outside which is marvelous for mid November. There's nothing more depressing than the skeletal reach to the sky of bared limbs while the stores start to fill up with Christmas decorations.