Category: Family

Smooth, shaky and anxious.

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The 72% cocoa chocolate we got from Suite 88 (the chocolate boutique we visited in Montreal) might just be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

.:.

Montreal lost again tonight, for the second time in three nights. I’m not too worried; they can basically clinch a spot with one win in their three remaining games or a loss by Atlanta. Still, I wish they’d just get it over with so I can breathe a little easier. And I’d almost rather see them finish in 8th if it means playing the Senators in the first round instead of the Hurricanes…

.:.

I’m still waiting for the 2006 album that blows me away.

Holy crapinaw!

Dan Dickinson

After years and years and years of waiting, Nellie’s wishes have finally been answered. Season one of The Young Riders has been released on DVD. I’m not kidding. She was squealing with joy as she opened the packaging.

.:.

I’m watching the Leafs and Canadiens play on TSN. Even though the game’s in Montreal and TSN’s usually a fairly impartial network, it’s like watching the game in a Toronto bar ’cause Joe Bowen and Harry Neale are calling it.

.:.

Just ordered our festival pass for Hot Docs. By the time I get back from my course next wek the lineup should be announced. I love Hot Docs; dollar for dollar it’s the best festival value in the city.

A damnable doctrine

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I was listening to an old episode of Alan Cross’s Ongoing History Of New Music podcast, in which he talked about the cocktail party effect.The Wikipedia article talks about recognizing one voice in a crowded room, but Alan talked about being able to recognize a song playing on a stereo, even in a very crowded and noisy room (like a bar). My brother and I have always been really good at this, to the point where I can sometimes name songs that no one else hears. I could never understand why that was; do my brother and I just subconsciously listen for music in the background? Could be. Do we happen to know way more songs than most people and therefore recognize something? I doubt it; I know a lot of songs but I’ve been in bars with people who know as many or more and who didn’t hear what I heard. Are some people better at “source separation” than others? I have no idea. Maybe I’m like Bruce Willis in unbreakable and this is my superpower. ‘Cept not-so-super.

Does anyone else do this? Identify songs from hearing one or two measures here, a couple of notes there, scattered in the background of a noisy bar? Is it that no one can do it? Or that no one but us music obsessives tries?

.:.

Salon has an interesting interview with Edward O. Wilson about “why we’re hard-wired to form tribalistic religions, denies that ‘evolutionism’ is a faith, and says that heaven, if it existed, would be hell.”

“Possibly the greatest philosophical question of the 21st century is the resolution of religious faith with the growing realization of the very different nature of the material world. You could say that we evolved to accept one truth — the religious instinct — but then discovered another. And having discovered another, what are we to do? You might say it’s just best to go ahead and accept the two worldviews and let them live side by side. I see no other solution. I believe they can use their different worldviews to solve some of the great problems — for example, the environment. But generally speaking, the difficulty in saying they can live side by side is a sectarianism in the world today, and traditional religions can be exclusionary and used to justify violence and war. You just can’t deny that this is a major problem.”

It’s good readin’. It also reminds me why I’m eternally grateful to my parents for making me read and think, as opposed to memorize and recite.

.:.

[bragging uncle] My nephew, who’s 6, finished second in his age range in a chess tournament last week. [/bragging uncle]

Fortunate son

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A lot of times, when I read the news, I realize how lucky I’ve been. Everything’s kind of been stacked in my favour for my whole life. I’m a healthy, straight, reasonably affluent, atheist white male who lives in a prosperous, peaceful country that’s all but devoid of natural disasters. I don’t have to worry about racism, mudslides, discrimination due to religion or sexuality, poverty, sexism, or gunfire.

Does this make me The Man? Am I keeping somebody down? Is my foot in someone’s ass? I hope not.

Ready, set…spaz!

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

From the Grope and Flail: MySpace a dangerous place for teens, authorities warn. In other news, so are shopping malls, playgrounds, schools, cars and the stretch of sidewalk directly under cranes lifting pianos and/or safes. Best to keep them indoors and away from the windows. Actually, just chain them to the floor. That’s your best bet.

After reading the comments in that Globe story, I’m reminded why my parents belong in some kind of hall of fame.

Hunting is for pussies

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OK…I’ve managed to hold off on making fun of Cheney for the whole shooting thing…the White House delay in reporting it, the blame-throwing, and the, you know, shooting of an old man in the face. But the part that really gets me is this ranch they were hunting on: you drive up to a spot where a bunch of birds — who’ve been raised in pens and had their wings clipped — are placed, you get out of the car and you shoot them. How fucking sporting. Just when you thought Cheney couldn’t be any more of a shit, he goes and one-ups you.

[UPDATE] By the way, The Daily Show was a tour de force last night. Crooks & Liars has the video.

.:.

Oh, by the way…

Dude, I would *never* use a red lightsaber.

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Apparently this is how my brother sees me. In South Park terms, anyway.

He’s done drawings of a few of his friends as well, but the funniest one is our other brother. I howled when I saw it. Killer.

.:.

Inside Deep Throat (imdb | rotten tomatoes) was an interesting documentary. I’ve not seen the titular film, but apparently I’m the only one…it’s the most profitable film ever made. It never gets tiresome to watch a small segment of society throw a complete spaz about some Valhalla of decadence that’s sure to bring society crashing down around our ears, only to see it become completely mainstream a decade later. See suffrage, abolition, inter-racial dating, same-sex marriage, women showing their ankles in public, Elvis’s hips, etc., etc.

.:.

I hate figure skating. It’s boring, the scoring system is incomprehensible and corrupt, it just looks fucking goofy. So when I came home from work today and flicked on CBC’s Olympic coverage, I was annoyed that I had to wait out the last few minutes of the “pairs long program” or some such. But I saw something that blew me away…a Chinese skater, who can’t weigh more than 90 pounds, fell so hard after being thrown that she landed in a splits position (hello, groin pull), smashed her knee into the ice and rammed into the boards. Everyone thought for sure they were done, but she actually managed to fight through it and complete the program. She managed to do some more jumps and throws and stuff, and lo and behold they win the silver medal. Pretty frickin’ tough for someone who weighs about as much as my leg and competes in a sequined skirt.

Wild boar & pork belly. Who knew?

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Yup, my baby’s 30. We celebrated the milestone in fine style last night, having dinner with CBGB at Luce and spending the night in luxury upstairs at the Hotel Le Germain. Quel decadence.

First of all, the hotel: Le Germain is known as one of the best boutique hotels in Toronto, and it definitely lived up to our expectations. The hotel is gorgeous, from lobby to rooms…far nicer than the Soho Metropolitan. The decor, the raindrop showerhead, the king bed, the high-tech desk chair…the entire room was just perfect. It made for a pretty nice pre-dinner lounge and post-dinner slumber.

And, of course, there was dinner downstairs at Luce. Nellie and I had a drink at the bar while we waited for CBGB to arrive, and once they’d arrived at 7:30 we all sat down to eat. We had a quick look at the menu, but within a few minutes we all agreed that the best option was the tasting menu. And manoman, was that ever the right choice. We tried food that we would’ve never ordered on our own, but hey, what better time to try a whole bunch of new stuff than on a milestone birthday? At the end of the night they were nice enough to print up a quick list of the food (and matching wines) that we were served; it’s incomplete, but I’ll do my best to remember everything we had.

  • amuse bouche: quail egg on a salted potato fingerling.
  • zuppa: Vanilla scented lobster bisque with a scallop on cornbread. The wine was a 2004 Rallo Carta d’Oro from Sicily.
  • antipasti: Cannoli with asparagus, provolone & asparagus pesto, pappardelle with sea urchin and bison steak on a bed of barley and oyster mushrooms. The wine was a Majolini Franciacorta from Lombardia.
  • pasta: lobster-filled ravioli in squid ink with calamari, and quail with linguini pepperincino. Wine was 2003 Cocci Grifoni offida pecorino.
  • pesce: Cod with cod mash and pancetta paired with pork belly, and grouper with radicchio. Wine was a 2004 La Tunella Tibolla Gialla from Friuli.
  • carne: wild boar paired with something polenta-y, and rack of agnello. The wine was 1999 Villa Marianna Salice Salentino Riserva from Puglia.
  • formaggio: something that looked like brie but wasn’t, and a citrus sorbet.
  • dolce: four small blocks of baked chocolate mousse, and ‘Happy Birthday’ written out on the plate in chocolate.

It was easily one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten, and I think the others shared my opinion. I would have never guessed that I’d enjoy lobster bisque or lobster ravioli in squid ink, let alone something called “cod mash”, but enjoy it I did.

The service was fantastic: plates and utensils being placed and whisked in a flash, napkins folded the moment you stepped away from the table, background on each wine from the sommelier. There was a weird mixup with a cheese plate — it was placed on our table, then taken away a few seconds later — after we’d had a few bites — and taken to another table (!) despite our warnings. The servers had a brief but panic attack; we thought it was funny, but I’m not sure that other table would’ve thought so. It certainly weren’t cheap — I’m sure my father felt a chill go down his spine when I signed the bill — but how many times do you get to eat a meal that’s amazingly delicious and completely adventurous at the same time?

The meal had lasted three and a half hours. A final drink at the bar — CBGB stayed out late on a school night just for Nellie’s 30th…thanks guys! — and we retired to that beautiful room.

Pretty sweet.