Edible Tulip

Junk Shop Finds -- Pictures and Pitchers

Today was the day I was going to start eating my way up the block on Yonge Street. As with most plans, as soon as you make them, something comes up and veers everything off course. In this case, my dog got sick yesterday, we spent several hours at an emergency clinic, and unwilling to leave him alone, I took the day off. So I'm not even anywhere near Yonge Street and eating a Caribbean roti is about the furthest thing from my mind. Fingers crossed this whole blood in urine thing is an antibiotic treatment away from optimal health for Simon. He's been in the black swampy sewers that hide themselves in the wetlands in the ravine and I'm hoping, because the other diagnoses were much more serious, that he simply picked up a little bacterial bug that decided to hang around in his nether regions a little past due date.

Given the vet bill, it looks like I won't be eating out for, well, the foreseeable future. So, I'm turning my focus to Where To Find Good Things Cheap in Toronto and Refurbished Relics. I tend to find thriftiness a great trait in a person, creative thriftiness even more attractive.

In addition to urban antique stores and sidewalk sales, check out estate sales at auction houses (Ritchies in Toronto, in most small towns held each Saturday morning) where you can often buy a lot for $1 which might include a box of books, old kitchen appliances, picture frames, glass bottles, etc.

1. An antique wood carved picture frame. 50 cents. Refurbished with a piece of mirror cut to size.

2. An enamel jug found in a junk shop for $2 that has become my favourite wide-mouthed vase.

 

What's For Lunch on Yonge Street?

Toronto, how I've missed you.

In the short block north from my office, I can get a tattoo, enjoy a jerk chicken dinner for $2.99 (if I was male, I'm sure I could also get a jerk to go if you know what I mean), and browse adult porn at Kinky Times. Yonge Street is an odd stretch of commerce, prostitution, and panhandling, a street the blends government offices with homeless shelters, a street flooded with public servants and those they serve. I stand in line to get a coffee and I chat with the young boy who is all bitching and complaining about having to go up to the second floor. I know what he's talking about, it's where the provincial courts are. It's like trailing a migration pattern watching the young men flock to the entrance to the correctional services. The street outside is sketchy and melancholic. It will exploit you the moment you look away. It's a neon strip, a sleazy tack of fly paper, a short story in a Raymond Carver novel. The narratives are dark and they are dirty. I am not a street urchin comfortable with oily embraces. I often turn away. I do not groove to the urban hum of bass from open windows. I steel my glance to the pavement, away from the crazies, the pimps, the teenage trannsexuals.

But they are here, and they are living large, on Yonge Street, and combined with the student population just south at Ryerson, the staff at Women's College Hospital on Grenville Street, and the various government offices along College and Bay street, it's a transient hive that expands exponentially during the day, specifically at lunch hour. I figured there must be good eats out there. Good, cheap, hole-in-the-wall food. Food that might reflect the complexity of the people and the location in itself. I took a walk north to Maitland and spotted Caribbean jerk, Nepalese, Napolitan pizza parlours, Korean Barbecue, Persian/Iranian, Middle Eastern, Halal, Thai, Mexican, and too many Japanese sushi and fusion Asian joints to list. Next week I begin my Yonge Street culinary exploration.

** In the realm of sharing good finds: Grace at 503 College Street (new spot in the former digs of Xacutti) is having an incredible Thursday night barbecue deal. For $10 you can savour a plateful of chef Dustin Gallagher's slow-braised pork shoulder, char-grilled chicken, and house-made sausage, sided with roasted Indo-spiced corn on the cob, coleslaw, and potato salad. A complimentary domestic brew is included. Only after 8 pm. And first come, first served.

"Mixing Up The Ingredients For A Great Picnic" in Oneonta, NY

In just a few short weeks, I've gone from country girl fending off wild beasts and insouciant thugs in small town Ontario near Georgian Bay to living in one of the ritziest neighbourhoods in Toronto (first I found my dream apt there and second of all it has the best dog walking for 300 miles, okay, maybe 3 miles, but still - foxes, birds, bunnies and, yup, SKUNKS) and working as a public servant. I'm not complaining about the government job, in fact, I'm enjoying it immensely. It's nice working on a team entirely made up of men. They don't make snide comments or get all passive aggressive out of the blue. The things I don't love about the provincial government offices are threefold: 1, the A/C is out of control. If they turned the temperature up a few degrees then people wouldn't put space heaters under their desk. They should be leading the efforts on reducing energy consumption in office environments. 2, communal washrooms remind me of what sloths we really are. Well, not me, but most people. Who can feel good about herself all afternoon after she tinkles all over the seat, leaving it for someone else to sit in, and leaves a bloody or stooly mess in the toilet not bothering to flush, or flush again. I feel a bit nauseaus as I even think about having to go to the restroom but a fear of a urinary tract infection keeps me from holding all day until I can make a break for home. 3, the outfits. The place is a cesspool of older women in baggy polyester beige suits and younger women in totally inappropriate (thank you for showing me you did not put on underwear today) leggings. Stockings are not pants. Especially, when you are 80 pounds overweight. I am sorry to sound judgmental but coming to work at an office for the government is not a Saturday afternoon at the mall. 

A few weeks ago I got an email from a food writer and reporter from a newspaper in the "heartland of New York State" called The Daily Star. She was writing a piece on picnic foods and wanted to feature my potato salad recipe using apple cider vinegar. This is one of the reasons I write a food blog, to exchange recipes, to share age old ideas surrounding good food and beverages, and to create a bit of an online modern "oral food culture". I liked her article so I'm linking to it here.

  

Toronto, My Unsung

Toronto, as seen from above, from a random rooftop garden, of which there are actually a surprisingly many. So good to switch perspective sometime and look up, look out, look over. Especially in a city. You can tell a lot from its canopy. Or lack thereof.

Toronto is a spectacular place; it's a thriving metropolis of small villages clumped together to form an intimidating swarm of people, diversity of crowds, range of services, and every growing spread of range. It started small and wishy-washy and grew to be mighty and proud. I am proud to return to call it home.

Just in case anyone got confused about a post I wrote very recently about "city folk" which may, understandably, have presented my stance as being a bit, well, negative, I'd like to refract on what I wrote. I got a few emails about it.

Most of my favourite people in the world are city folk. They live and work and call a city their home. Because for most people it is what's possible and what is tangible. Not to mention affordable and, well, reasonable. There are as many kind and quacky individuals in a city as there are in a small town. They are just usually on their bicycles or too busy buried under paper work in university office basements to have time to wave hello. My post "deriding" city folks wasn't intended to poke a finger in the eye of all of those who celebrate in urban living, it was simply to tell a story, to illuminate a particular kind of person, who "seasons" somewhere but doesn't care to understand the what or the who that THAT where is all about. I saw it from the other side this last year and thought I'd narrate it from the bottom up. I was perhaps a bit harsh.

That said, and as with all things in life, nothing is the way it seems, or especially measurable, and for all the tales I have of my year of obnoxious weekenders showing up and blowing their horns through town, I have an equal array of experiences with an array of local towns folk that I wouldn't wish you to meet under the best of circumstances -- lit street, lots of people around, lack of controversial subject matter in any direction. I had my run-ins; don't necessarily want you to as well. Small towns, for all their friendliness and humble charm, can be incestuous and downright dangerous. Drugs and crime run rampant. If you live alone, like I did, and you don't want to cause trouble for yourself, you often turn an eye. You look away. You do not pursue the very things you have always been taught to fight for, to fight against, to make right -- child welfare, domestic violence, petty crime, animal abuse. There are things you learn that are simply NOT YOUR BUSINESS. Sometimes, being anonymous, in a bigger city environment, gives you a bigger, more anonymous voice, a voice to use. And sometimes being in a smaller environment you can use that bigger voice but what you say will come back to mark you. And thsoe who do that, against the odds, are small town heros, to be sure. I wasn't a hero this past year, just an observer.

Toronto Food Policy Council

For those of you based in Toronto, learning about the TFPC might interest you. I have been subscribing to their newletter and articles for a few years now. Here's an article that describes a bit about them. And if you know Wayne Roberts, well, he's the brains behind it all.

Toronto Food Policy Council- An Example for the World

Posted in Models, RDAG by Devin Maeztri on April 16th, 2009

The City of Toronto created the Toronto Food Policy Council (TFPC) in 1991 in the absence of federal and provincial leadership on food security.

TFPC partners with business and community groups (including City Councillors and volunteer representatives from consumer, business, farm, labour, multicultural, anti-hunger advocacy, faith, and community development groups) to develop policies and programs promoting food security - the TFPC has been instrumental in putting Food Security and Food Policy development squarely on the municipal agenda in Toronto

aim is a food system that fosters equitable food access, nutrition, community development and environmental health. They operate as a sub- committee of the Toronto Board of Health, have a small staff and modest budget. They have no authority to pass or enforce laws yet are free to make their own decisions on food policy issues.

This innovative and effective arrangement has gained international respect from public health, community food security and sustainable agriculture organisations. The staff and council members serve as catalysts and brokers bringing people from different organisations together to help them find new ways to solve old problems.

The Council is a forum for discussing and integrating policy issues that often fall between the cracks of established departments and research specialities. Staff and members advocate for policy change at the municipal, provincial and federal level.

To find out more about the Toronto Food Policy Council visit http://www.toronto.ca/health/tfpc_index.htm.

This is from "Social Innocatins in Victorian Food Systems,' case studies by Ferne Edwards.

Toronto Tree Tour

When I lived on a river that backed onto hectares worth of forest, the trees were my backdrop so I didn't give them much notice. I woke to their leaves rustling, walked beneath their majestic canopy, and stalked my cats who in turn stalked every living thing smaller than them. I have a dozen tree books from second hand stores and as much as I tried to educate myself with bark identification tests and leaf diagrams I still felt confounded when I came upon a tree I thought I knew in new different season. Call me a tree geek or a wanna be arborist. In the city, I'm devoid of much exposure to trees, so when I came upon a chance for a free Tree Tour in Toronto I leapt at the chance. I knew it might be odd. Who goes on a tree tour in downtown Toronto on the Saturday of a long weekend? Well, me, and apparently a sold out crowd of other nature lovers.

The tour was led by a quirky, witty, urban arborist and we met on the steps of 401 Richmond (which I've written about before but if you haven't been you must, must check out this space!). We proceeded inside and into the courtyard full of chirping birds, climbing ivy, and splindly tall trees growing skyward in search of sunlight. There was a spiral staircase that led to the rooftop and we were encouraged to climb or take the elevator. I am afraid of heights especially when you can see through a grate many stories below to the ground. But nobody made a move to the elevator and I sort of got swept in the crowd like I was being carried on the top of a mosh pit of elders and I began the climb. Once I got climbing I couldn't really turn around so I kept climbing. Anyone else that is afraid of heights knows that the higher you get the more intense the vertigo becomes - you begin to vacillate between pulling yourself away from the edge and wanting to leap into it. We emerged onto the rooftop garden and were embraced by a variety of potted plants, a naturalized green roof, an apiary for budgies, a greenhouse and a humbling view of sky, skyscrapers, and canopy cover all through the lens of green.

Bicycle Basket Lunch - Pho Hung Spring Rolls

Such a yummy picnic lunch to pick up on your travels through chinatown in Toronto. Pho Hung on Spadina on the outskirts of Kensington Market has a selection of small packageable goodies to pack into a bag or place horizontally in a bicycle basket. It was late morning when I swung into the busy restaurant and there were lots of people seated in the exterior room where the windows can be rolled down for breezy days or pulled up tight with the blinds at half mast on hot summer days. They seemed to be slurping down soups and noodles and various pork dishes in great delight. I was looking for something refreshing to have a snack before I started out on my organized Tree Tour of Toronto and I only had 1/2 an hour to eat so I ordered the large vegetarian cold spring rolls to go. 3 minutes later and $6.95 broker I left. I found a park somewhere south of Queen Street and east of Spadina to sit at a picnic table and dip my perfectly wrapped lightly mint and coriander flavoured spring rolls in a delicious tamarind sauce. Of course, 2 hours later I was ravenous but it got me through 2 exquisite roof top garden tours and a bike ride home.

Olé for the "Little Bull" - Torito Tapas Bar

Veronica Laudes, owner of Torito Tapas Bar with partner Luis Iglesias, zips around the cantina with her hair in two cute buns coiled under her earlobes. She's got the laughter, the exhuberance, the energy associated with Spain* and tapas - the midnight eating, the flamenco clackety-clack, the romantically seedy back-alleys of cities like Madrid and Barcelona. And although the place gives off that European edge (narrow interior restaurant, warm brick walls, bullfighting posters, festive vibe, hot hot hot Spanish-speaking bartender), it's a perfect fit for the grime of Kensington Market's Augusta strip. Torito can be easy to miss, especially in winter when the front patio is absent, so I've taken a photo of the sign - follow the bull's nose ring.

I was out for dinner with my brother View this photo to enjoy some one-on-one sibling time before he departs for a 2 year teaching commitment in the caribbean. While listening to him talk about his ocean view and the scuba diving lessons he'll be giving in his role as Phys-ed Teacher, I drowned myself in the best tasting ceviche I think I may have ever had (I've been across Spain and up the entire coast of Portugal and tried many a rubber ceviche in T.O.). It's made with tender white bass, lime, and coriander and served with a combination of fresh corn niblets and cooked corn kernals that taste alternately sweet and smokey. We drank Spanish white wines and moved onto crab croquettes - delicately pan fried sweet breadcrumb engulfed bites of heaven served with parsley aioli; grilled sardines served over fava beans and chopped fresh herbs - the sardines were just a bit too small resulting in a make up of 75% bone to 25% flesh, look out!; and a salad of arugula, fresh parmesan, sugared roasted almonds and the subtlest of dressings tasting. I have been to Torito before and can also attest to the delicious qual glazed with a light pomegranate reduction and excellent lamb sausages. Last night was too hot, too sticky, too appetite stifling to order much more than a few fish dishes and a fresh salad but hey, that's why we went out for tapas. Popular dishes around us on the patio were braised beef tongue and cheek, garlic shrimp, and what I can only think was roasted piquillo peppers stuffed with something white like salted cod being thoroughly enjoyed until the only thing to do was sop up the flavours with bread.

Everything is so fresh, so tasty, so perfectly done at Torito that it's hard to think back to a few weeks ago when looking for a place to eat down by Harbourfront in advance of catching a concert I ate at Lusso and had just about the worst most excessively overpriced meal I've eaten out in a long time and sadly all I had was a salad with grilled chicken and bruschetta. I prefer to stay away from the throngs of tourists and stick to grotty old Kensington Market and the good stuff.

Torito Tapas Bar. 276 Augusta Ave. Toronto. No reservations. #647-436-5874.

* Most people associate tapas with Spain and Spanish cuisine, as do I. I realize the owners of Torito are not Spanish; I believe they are Chilean and the chef, if it's still Carlos Hernandes, is Ecuadorian. Apparently there's been an in-city restaurant brouhaha about this. I do not care. Their food is delicious. Their menu is a sincere and genuine celebration of tapas. Now if only a couple of Swedes would open a Mexican restaurant in Toronto.

Uncle George's Place - Home of the Living Food

Some people go to St. Lawrence Market to buy fresh lobster out of the tank or to get the butcher to pull down one of those ginormous ham bones strung up by a hook and free floating like a pinata waiting to be struck. Me? I go for the sprouts.

Down in the basement of the main market building, set in behind the main space bakery, is the home of the living sprout. Grown in small containers in hydroponic conditions or soil grown are sprouts like broccoli, spicy lentil crunch, vitality blend, rapini, mustard, red cabbage, super power blend. Granted they look pretty similar - tiny reedy shoots with little kernals on top - but they taste pretty unique from one another and you have to try different kinds until you decide which one enhances the flavours you tend to prefer. There are also packages of sunflower sprouts and golden pea shoots as well as bags of baby salad greens and arugula.

Sprouts are living foods. Store bought fruits and vegetables, while nutritious in their own right, begin losing their vitamin content as soon as they are picked. Add time and mileage to get to the store and what you're eating has lost much of the finesse it had when still attached to the tree or resting in soil. Sprouts are complex in vitamins, proteins and enzymes. And they taste pretty fine and crunchy tossed into a salad.

So make a trip to St. Lawrence soon for a sticky bun from the north market and a visit to Uncle George's down in the basement of the south market.

World Food Day 2006

Come join me and other food enthusiasts to discuss issues on food policy, food security, local governments, volunteer opportunities, and nibble on some local food snacks at the same time!

Register by calling: 416-338-1604

Event details:

Wednesday, October 4th, 2006
10:00 a.m. - 12:00 noon
Toronto City Hall
100 Queen Street West
Members' Lounge