Category: Food / drink

The wall of the terrace at Cafe Rose Red, Brugge, Belgium

Amsterdam & Brussels, or: "Don't get drunk on Heineken!"

Dan Dickinson4 Comments

In a year that’s been filled with short trips, last week was kind of the big one for us: a week in Brussels and Amsterdam. We’d never seen either city, and were in the mood for a relatively simple and very relaxing trip to beervana. This fit the bill pretty well.

Saturday

First order of business: getting there. Unlike a few years ago when we prepped for our trip to France by adjusting our body clocks a week in advance, this time we — now veterans of a more epic journey to Australia — just jumped on the plane and went. We actually broke up the flight somewhat by hopping from the island airport to Montreal, where Air Canada originates direct flights to Brussels. We marveled at the expense management system of the couple sitting next to us and scarfed down greasy food — smoked meat sandwich for me, poutine for Nellie; it was Montreal, after all — since we didn’t trust we’d get decent food on the flight. (Note: we trusted correctly.)

Sunday

I wasn’t able to sleep for more than half an hour or so, but with a couple of movies and magazines the 7-hour flight whizzed by. Getting out of the Brussels airport was a chore — we seem to have a knack for getting into terrible lines —  and we somehow got hosed when taking a cab to Brussels Midi train station…not sure if it costs more when getting a cab from the airport, or whether the cabbie had messed with his meter. Anyway, there was nothing to be done; we had a coffee to stay awake and waited for our Thalys train to Amsterdam. Our fare included free wifi (which was helpful) and free lunch (which was horrible) and got us to Amsterdam Centraal in under two hours, so our journey was finally done. A quick stroll from the train station and we were at our Amsterdam digs, a very cool old canal house called Mauro Mansion (tripadvisor).

We knew we had to stay awake, so we dropped our stuff, brushed our teeth and headed back out. We walked down the Geldersekade canal to the Nieuwmarkt, getting a contact high just by dint of being outside in that part of Amsterdam, stopping for a beer (Me: Barbar Honingbier | Nellie: Hopus Blond) and some much-needed grub at De Beerkerde Suster. It was when we looked at the menu that we realized we didn’t understand a damned word of Dutch. So we ordered something random, which turned out to be croquettes of some kind and pretty tasty. It also turned out that every single person we encountered in Amsterdam spoke English, which made things easy…though I did feel like an inconsiderate tourist.

We began exploring more of the city, walking through the infamous Red Light District. Just…so tacky. Also, the whole area was full of drunken yobs and sleazy dudes, so we didn’t exactly linger, though we did see plenty of classic Amsterdam architecture.

We got back up to Centraal and considered taking a canal cruise, but they all looked cheesy. We decided to keep wandering around, checking out the city, and maybe have another drink instead. We walked down the very crowded Damrak, and the even more crowded (like, somewhere between Bourbon Street and downtown Halifax on a weekend) Nieuwendijk to In De Wildeman, but it was closed. We walked a little further to Café Belgique instead where we sat at the bar and drank more semi-unfamiliar beers (Dan: Blanche de Bruxelles, Kwak, Brouwerij ‘t IJ wit | Nellie: Chouffe du Soleil, La Chouffre, Karmaliet Tripel) and listened to French pop like Francoise Cactus.

At this point, even though it was still light out, we were beginning to fade. We walked back toward our hotel, through the red light district, stopping for some snacks (note to self: one can probably become very wealthy selling snack food in the touristy section of Amsterdam) and finally, after ~32 hours with little/no sleep, crashed on our still-made bed. Fully clothed, lights still on, curtains still open, stuff strewn everywhere…just crashed.

Monday

Twelve hours (!) later we stirred from our slumber, but only because we were cooking in the sun streaming through our ginormous window. Our hosts Marcel & Berry had prepared a fantastic breakfast downstairs, a serious upgrade on the traditional Euro breakfast fare of meats, cheeses, and coffee, adding fresh bread and a special treat each day — today’s was chocolate-filled crêpes. This breakfast plays a not insignificant part in their #1 rating on Tripadvisor. Anyhoo, their free wifi helped us plan our day out seeing the city through non-sleep-deprived eyes.

We had two objectives for the day: go to the Museum District, and take a canal tour. We walked to Centraal to catch a tram to the museums, but noticed a sign for a canal tour that stopped at all the major museums in the city. Two birds! One stone! Better yet, when buying the ferry tickets we could pre-buy our tickets to the Van Gogh museum, which we did. We tried to buy tickets for the Anne Frank House as well, but the pre-sale tickets for the following day were already gone.

We hopped on our tour boat, wishing we’d brought sweaters with us, and got underway. We looped out into the North Sea Canal before entering the Prinsengracht. We began noticing how all the houses have pulleys at the top of the their peaked roofs (staircases are too narrow to carry large objects to the top floor, I guess) and figuring out that you can get pretty much anywhere in the city’s core via a canal. We stopped at the Anne Frank House, and saw the lines we’d later have to contend with, in the shadow of the Westerkerke (literally, the western church).

We continued down the Prinsengracht, ducking under bridges and brushing through willow trees, before turning into an outer canal which went past the Hard Rock Cafe (note to Amsterdam visitors: if you’re drinking Corona at the Hard Rock Cafe, you’re doing it wrong) and eventually jumped off near the Rijksmuseum. Turns out that stop is also near where you go for the Heineken brewery tour, so as we disembarked our tour captain told us ” don’t get drunk on Heineken”. Not an issue for us.

We actually skipped the Rijksmuseum entirely and went straight to the Van Gogh museum, feeling pretty smart about buying our tickets in advance as we were able to skip a line about 100 people deep. It was a great museum: attractive modern building, a nicely varied collection, informative about Van Gogh, not so long that you go numb but not so short you feel ripped off. All in all, a very worthwhile stop.

We walked back toward the Jordaan neighbourhood to find De Zotte, another beer place on our list, but alas it was closed. Nearby wine bar Vyne was also closed, so we figured we’d better just stop in whatever place we could see serving food. As it turned out, we did pretty well at this place called Mokka: a chicken sandwich for me and pizza bruschetta for Nellie, all prepared fresh and in-house. Afterward we had coffee and fresh apple pie (it was my birthday, after all) on the patio and absorbed the warmth.

We walked back up the Prinsengracht to the Anne Frank House to see if the line had gotten any shorter; it hadn’t. We jumped back on our canal tour boat and decided to let it loop us back around the city. We continued along the canal, turning into the Amstel river, emptying into the North Sea canal once again and returning to Centraal. It really was a great way to see Amsterdam, and amazing to see how much of Amsterdam lives on the canals themselves. The only place they seem to spend more time is on their bikes. Seriously, North Americans just can’t conceive of a place this bike-centric until they’ve learned to look both ways when crossing a bike path.

We weren’t done yet though. We walked down the Singel, past the Poezenboot, to t’Arendsnest, the top-rated beer place in Amsterdam. It’s unique in that it serves only Dutch beer, not Belgian beer which dominates in the region. After inspecting the list and realizing all the beers we’d assumed were Belgian but weren’t, and trying half a dozen we’d never even heard of before (Dan: Texels Skuumkoppe, Venloosch Alt; Jopen extra stout | Nellie: Snab pale ale, Hop Met de Gijt, Texels tripel) it occurred to us that we might like Dutch beer better than Belgian beer. Also, it was here that we figured out bars in Amsterdam (and Brussels, as we’d learn) don’t really carry food, beyond some cheese and some sausage, and maybe some nuts or bread.

After leaving t’Arendsnest we decided to re-try In De Wildeman, the second-highest-rated beer place in the city, which had been closed the day before. This time it was open and we took a little table inside. It was far more rustic than t’Arendsnest (which was very clean and quiet and was bartended by people in crisp shirts and little vests) but was a ton of fun. We had fantastic beers (Dan: Maisels Weisse, Jandrain IV Saison, De Molen Mout & Mocca, Emelisse Imperial Russian Stout | Nellie: Witte Klavervier Blond Hoppenbier, Cristoffel Weiss, In De Wildeman Farmhouse, Duvel triple-hopped), watched the barman (who was awesome) shush loud Americans and Dutchies by yelling “Gentlemen! Gentlemen!“, ate Trappist cheese and raw beef sausage (okay, the sausage was mostly me) and talked for an hour with a former Iowa state senator (seriously, we confirmed it) who seems to be crazy now. Or least decidedly eccentric. He’s starting a new science magazine. We have some of his writing. It’s FAN FUCKING TASTIC, no joke.

It should also be noted that beer in Amsterdam is frigging cheap. Granted, we were drinking 250ml glasses most of the time, but it was ~3€ for a glass that would cost us $9 in Canada. Anyway, Nellie’s refusal to eat raw cow meant she was hungry, so she did the very typical touristy Amsterdam thing of getting takeaway fries piled in a cone and doused with mayo. It was pretty tasty, I have to say. We walked home through the red light district, which was in full swing now now that we were seeing it at night, and felt sorry for the sleepy-looking prostitutes sitting in the windows of the house on our quiet deserted little street.

Quite a birthday.

Tuesday

During breakfast (delicious, again) it began to rain, so we hung out in our room and waited for it to pass. I watched the Olympics; Nellie made a mimosa from the room’s minibar. Eventually we couldn’t wait anymore and headed out. The Voorburgwal had a different feel on a wet Tuesday morning, but the cheesy men in their frayed suits still stood outside their sex clubs, looking to entice in the stoned tourists. We didn’t mind; the rain made it less crowded. We did a little shopping, then stopped at a place called Lust. Now, before you jump to any conclusions about what we were doing in an establishment in Amsterdam with that name, it was just a café. Quite a good one though. We managed to get a seat outside, which was nice. But there were girls next to us smoking Camels and Lucky Strikes, so that wasn’t nice. But there was a puppy on the other side of us, so that put things back in the nice category. Our food was good, even if it was preceded by our server dropping joppiesaus on the sidewalk which then flew up and all over our table (and, to some degree, us). No matter; she made up for it by re-filling Nellie’s wine gratis.

We did a wee bit more shopping, and then checked into the final top-tier beer joint in Amsterdam: BeerTemple. As good as In De Wildeman and t’Arendsnest had been the day before, this place was our favourite. It’s meant to be an American beer bar, but we stuck to the tap list and had lots of great Dutch and Belgian and Danish (who knew?) beers. We just had so much fun at this place. I sang along to Arcade Fire and LCD Soundsystem, and the Danish guy at the next table over sang with me. We watched Canada in the finals of the women’s Olympic gymnastics with a group of Americans. We traded suggestions with a group of Brits on a beer holiday like we were, but in reverse order. We got along great with our bartender, who actually knew about Bar Volo, our favourite Toronto beer place. We had great beer (Dan: Hertog Jan weizener, Mikkeller Jackie Brown, Mikkeller Barbie coffee stout, Kujo Coffee stout, Jopen Holy Smoke | Nellie: Templebier Dutch IPA, Flying Dog Raging Bitch IPA, Mikkeller Nineteen IPA, Mikkeller Not Another Wit, Mikkeller Funky Easter | Shared: Westvleteren 12), obviously. We even split a bottle of Westvleteren 12, rated the best beer in the world. Pricey, but it was worth it. We stayed there later than we’d planned, but the idea was to get to the Anne Frank House late anyway in order to avoid the lines. Besides, we’d loved it so.

Our plan nearly backfired on us though; even at 9PM the Anne Frank House lines are not to be reckoned with. We got in around 9:05, with the guide warning us that we’d have less than an hour. We figured that would be enough.

So I, like every other kid in Canada who went through junior high, read The Diary of Anne Frank. I know the story and I know what ultimately happened to Anne Frank, so I thought this experience would move me the way Vimy, or Juno Beach, or the 9/11 Memorial moved me. I was wrong. It was much, much tougher. I got increasingly emotional as we moved from room to room. It was little, personal things: the marks on the wall where Edith marked the height of her growing daughters, just like my mother did on her door frame; the pictures Anne had used to try to liven up their cramped bedroom. But what finally broke me was walking down the hallway outside the bathroom; looking out that hallway window, you could see the the Westerkerk…this towering symbol of human accomplishment and religious sanctuary and artistic beauty, right outside their window, and they probably never saw it. They would have had to keep their blinds closed the entire time for fear of being seen. For whatever reason, the idea that they couldn’t see the Westerkerk, but that they knew it was right outside, just tore me up. I walked into the next room, turned to face the wall so my back was to the crowds of people all around me, and cried. I haven’t cried since I was twelve and my kitten died, so it felt pretty weird. I forgot that you kind of can’t stop once you start. I pulled it together long enough to finish the tour, and broke down again once we got outside. It was weird. But, not really, I guess. We walked home through some increasingly heavy rain, stopping at the very pretty Homomonument and the beautifully-lit Dam Square.

We couldn’t find any place that would serve us food that late, so we chugged one last beer and walked home. Thank goodness for our hotel’s honor bar. We were to leave Amsterdam the next morning, so we packed and began to think about Brussels.

Wednesday

After having the last of our fantastic Mauro Mansion breakfasts we walked to Centraal to catch our train back to Brussels. Apart from seeing what I’m pretty sure was some kind of newly-purchased-former-Eastern-Bloc-bride situation, it was an uneventful ride. We took a (much more reasonable) cab ride to our hotel, the Hotel Café Pacific (tripadvisor) near the Bourse. This was not the #1-rated hotel in Brussels, but it had a very solid rating, and was close to the action, and looked cool, and I got a killer rate. Anyway, it was good, but I could only recommend it to a few people…you’d have to consider “stark” a plus in terms of design, and be very comfortable in close proximity to your travel companion’s bathroom activities. ‘Nuff said.

So anyway, we were starving. We went around the corner to Place Sainte-Catherine where there are loads of restaurants, and had a proper Belgian lunch: moules et frites for Nellie, a big pile of duck for me. I found it hard to switch back to French here; I’d become so accustomed to a) not knowing the language and b) everyone speaking English that it was a struggle to remember that I spoke the language here. After lunch we decided to visit the top-rated beer place in Brussels: Moeder Lambic, just a few blocks from the hotel. We sat on the terrasse, drank a few (Dan: Jandrain IV Saison, Geuze Tilquin, Mont Saleve Bitter Sorachi Ace | Nellie: De Ranke Guldenberg, Brasserie de la Senne Band of Brothers S01E01, Thiriez Etoile du Nord) and noticed that most people would come to the patio, sit by themselves, have a beer, and just read. The bars here were much like cafés anywhere else — indeed, we saw people come to this world-class beer bar and order only tea and coffee — and it was nice to see. Also, this was where I had my first geuze, a very Belgian-style beer…very sour, but somehow tasty. Also also, notice the name of Nellie’s second beer: someone had named the beer after the bittorrented file of episode one of Band of Brothers. Bizarre et awesome.

We got back to the hotel, got cleaned up, went for a little walkabout and then hit a little place across the street called Bonsoir Clara for dinner. It had been a while since we’d had a proper dinner, so we were ready to go. I had scallops and lamb; Nellie had an enormous salad and an enormous pasta dish. We split a fantastic bottle of Pinot from the Cote de Beaune, and moelleux de chocolate for dessert, followed by coffee. That hit the spot. It took the servers a little while to warm up to us, but that always happens. By the end we were full and they were happy, and we were ready to fall asleep any minute. Luckily we could throw a frisbee from the restaurant to our hotel, so fall asleep any minute we did.

Thursday

It turns out that Brussels’ main historic area is really small. As in, you can walk across it in fifteen minutes. So we knocked out all kinds of sightseeing in the first few hours: Eglise St-Jean-Baptiste-au-Béguinage, Jeanneke Pis, Rue des Bouchers, the gorgeous Grand Place, the giant mob around Manneken Pis, Church of Notre Dame de la Chappelle, trendy Place du Grand Sablon, Place Royale, the Musees Royaux des Beaux-Arts, and the Magritte Museum (during which it started to rain). That was about 90% of our to-do list not involving beer, so it was then that we realized that we did not need three full days in Brussels.

We went slightly off-target for lunch: an Italian place called Toscana 21. No faux Italian place this; my squid-ink pasta came wrapped in paper, and our servers were straight outta Tuscany. Our server was also very interested to find out that we were Canadian; he’d been camping in Alberta and BC with his family in recent years and wanted to know more about the east coast for his next visit.

Happily the rain stopped while we at our lunch, so we enjoyed the sunshine as we walked back to the Place du Grand Sablon and raided Pierre Marcolini. Then we made that sunshine our bitch down the hill at Poechenellekelder, where we sat on the patio and drank awesome beer (Dan: Geuze Girardin 1882, Caracole Nostradamus | Nellie: Brussels Calling blond bitter, Goliath tripel) and watched the throngs of tourists take ridiculous pictures of Manneken Pis. Note: don’t go to Poechenellekelder if you fear giant puppets. They’re everywhere in the place. Fair warning.

We decided to have a couple more at the Delirium Cafe before it got too late. Apparently it turns into drunk kid alley after dark, so we ducked in and headed down to the basement where they had a real bottle list. We had some very good beer (Dan: Ellezelloise Hercule stout, De Struise Black Albert Imperial Stout | Nellie: Urthel Siasonniere, Witkap-Pater Tripel) but also some mishaps: I spilled half of my first beer all over Nellie, and my second was a 13% stout which turned her stomach just by smelling it. Yeah. So my stouts killed my wife. Also, by this time we were falling prey to the Belgian beer curse: we hadn’t had many, but they were a) preceded by a bottle of Chianti at lunch, and b) all incredibly strong. We didn’t want another big dinner, so we just grabbed a delicious Ellis Burger and scooted home.

Friday

Since we’d all but done Brussels proper the day before, we bent to peer pressure on Friday and bought train tickets to Brugge (aka Bruges). It’s only about an hour away, though that hour feels significantly longer when you’re sitting next to a family of yelling children and tuned-out parents. Grr. But Bruges: it’s pretty, sure, and looks reasonably medieval (until you walk past the H&M and such), but it’s just so enthusiastically touristy…horse-drawn carriage rides, tacky restaurants, and so on. We saw the canals and the market and the burg and the quiet cloisters behind the cathedrals, but it was all a little too much.

We escaped to the quiet little terrasse in back of Café Rose Red (named after a Stephen King miniseries?) and had a bite of cheese and sausage and a couple of pints (Dan: La Trappe bockbier | Nellie: De Struise Rosse) although Nellie’s had a twist: she ordered the wit, and the bottle that arrived was a wit bottle, but it was actually a rosse (amber) that had been mislabeled. Fun!

We tried to hit another beer place, the top-rated Brugs Beertje, but it wasn’t open. We figured that was a signal that we were done with Bruges, and we walked back to the train station. We welcomed ourselves back to Brussels with another drink at Moeder Lambic (Dan: Mont Saleve Bitter Sorachi Ace | Nellie: Thiriez Etoile du Nord) and dinner around the corner from our hotel at a place called Publico. It wasn’t anything spectacular — we’d made a point of keeping meals simple on this trip — but it had a nice mix of decent food, cool atmosphere, good service and proximity to our hotel (important; it was raining). Our server was funny: if we needed anything we just had to yell “Costa!” and he’d arrive. The biggest problem was that they sat us upstairs, where it was hotter than an Olympian’s armpit. I sweated out half my dinner. Thankfully our hotel room was cool with the windows open so we could sleep, though drunken idiots did wake us up at 2:30. Turns out drunk idiots in Brussels are just as annoying in the middle of the night as drunk idiots anywhere.

Saturday

Our last day of vacation. Sad, usually, but you know when you reach that point where you’re ready to go home? That’s where we were. But we’d screwed up the tail end of some vacations by turning that feeling into a day of doing nothing, and we were determined not to do it this time, so we came up with a minor plan. The objective was not to do nothing, but also not to do too much…to make it a relaxing day, not a busy-tourist day. We walked up to the St. Michael and St. Gudula Cathedral, and took a stroll around Brussels Park, and admired the view from Place Royale, and explored the Grand Sablon neighbourhood a little.

We had lunch at Brussels institution La Fleur En Papier Doré: I had sausage and giant pile of spinach stoemp, while Nellie had onion soup, and a couple of beers (Dan: Orval | Nellie: Hoegaarden Rosé) to wash it all down, and it felt like a proper Belgian lunch. We walked back across town and had a drink (Dan: Duvel | Nellie: Karmaliet Tripel) sitting under the trees in Place Sainte-Catherine. We stopped in at a Pain Quotidien for lemon and caramel tarts and coffees. Really, we couldn’t think of a more appropriate way to end our time in Brussels than yet another traditional beer place, so we popped over to Aux Bon Vieux Temps. It was, quite frankly, claustrophobic. So we left and walked over to A La More Subite instead. This place was gigantic by comparison, and quite busy. The house specialties were lambic and geuze; I had one of each (the geuze was room temperature and incredibly sour) while Nellie had an Alken-Maes Judas. It was then, just then, that we realized we were all beer’ed out.

It was time to go. We scarfed some food and packed and watched our last night of Olympics-in-another-language and prepared for the journey home.

Sunday

Taxi, flight, flight, ferry, taxi, home. I can barely remember the trip (apart from being yelled at by some power-trippy baggage security employee in Montreal…”Sir, look at me…look at me!!“) which means it was an easy one, which means mission accomplished.

Like I said back at the beginning of this epic tale, what we wanted out of this trip was relaxation…and maybe a tiny bit of enlightenment. I mean, we were going to beer heaven, and chocolate heaven, and moules-frites heaven, right? I don’t know if beerchocolatemoulesfrites heaven was really achievable, but we did have some pretty memorable travel experiences. Like finally trying Geuze and Lambics. And meeting John the crazy ex-politician scientist. And having a full on melt-down at the Anne Frank House. And drinking a Westvleteren 12. And giving advice about the Cabot Trail to an Italian waiter in Brussels. And watching hordes of people flock to see a little boy statue pee. And seeing three Unesco World Heritage sites. And trying dozens of new and amazing beers on the way to discovering that we may actually like Dutch brews better than Belgian. So, with all that, I think we were successful.

Unfortunately I fell ill with the flu right after returning home (that happens a lot; I blame the plane) and we can still scarcely get a solid hour’s sleep without one cat or the other waking us up to remind us that they love us and please could they fill their food dishes again. But it’s a pretty small price to pay for beervana.

Next on NBC: Crotch Mahogany & Sweetbreads McQueen

Dan Dickinson2 Comments

On Saturday, not two hours after returning the rental car that took us on our cottage excursion, we were off to Enoteca Sociale for dinner with some old university friends. Since there were eight of us we sat in their private room downstairs amongst the wine, and were served an amazing meal in the family style: several common plates shared among us. Using their menu and my fuzzy memory I think I can piece together roughly what we ate that night:

  • a 4-foot long board full of charcuterie and some very boozy pears
  • beef carpaccio
  • some kind of salad with dandelion in it
  • smoked sweetbreads w/ sweet pea & fava bean salad (note: this was my first team eating sweetbreads, and they were delicious)
  • whole roasted sea bream w/ linguica sausage & romesco
  • rigatoni w/ pork, tomato & pea
  • mussels
  • asparagus & ricotta ravioli w/ mint, hazelnut & parmigiano reggiano
  • PEI 20 oz grass fed striploin w/ roasted bone marrow & rosemary potatoes
  • sticky toffee pudding w/ homemade vanilla ice cream

We had to out of there by 9, so we walked a few blocks down the street to Midfield for some more wine. We just let Chris pick out a couple of bottles for us; I remember the Sigalas Assyrtiko; I don’t remember which Portuguese red he brought though.

Finally we retired back to a friend’s place, where we proceeded to drink his wine and beer and gin while sitting on his roof, admiring the view. We also admired his red Alexander McQueen pants with black splotches and his giant egg-shaped crotch mahogany whisky display case. And lest anyone think I’m making either one of those things up, here be proof:

Drive it in

Dan Dickinson4 Comments

It’s not often we get out of the city on a weekend to spend time at a cottage. Luckily our friends Kaylea and Matt are awesome and invited us up to their place on a quiet, pretty lake on a near-picture-perfect weekend. We ate a lot of food and drank many, many drinks and swam in Bat Lake and cracked up pretty much the whole time. A few of the highlights:

  • A warm lake, perfect for swimming in and boating on
  • A whole brined+smoked+grilled chicken that melted in our mouths
  • One of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve ever seen
  • Cherry pie
  • Impromptu dance party
  • Lake of Bays mini-keg!
  • Being the only one of the four of us not to drop a bottle or glass…I did, however, accidentally drop myself into the lake
  • “Give me some ringolos, I’m f*cked!”
  • Ten great bottles of wine, including a special treat: the 2001 Closson Chase Chardonnay I bought at auction a few months back — it seemed a little funky at first but ended up being pretty amazing…it was pretty special to share it at sunset, sitting on a dock with great friends

(7 x 7 – 1) = 48 = we need a bigger condo

Dan Dickinson1 Comment

“It’s always exciting for Niagara wineries when you come to town!” –Rick VanSickle

It’s been more than eight months since we last visited the Niagara wine region, and guiding our friends CBJ+M around seemed like a perfectly good excuse. Last weekend we decided to see what kind of fun we could get up to with thirty hours and an Autoshare Prius.

We decided to keep it to a very respectable five or six wineries per day (what?), and give them a mix of small and large wineries. Within reason, mind you; we can’t deal with the crowds at Jackson Triggs or Inniskillin or what have you. We started with Southbrook, then did a tasting at Ravine before eating lunch there (next to Jason Spezza), then moved on to Five Rows and Colaneri.

Five Rows (whose website I would link to except that it seems to be infected with malware) might have been the highlight of the whole trip. It was only our second time there, and it was as every bit good as the first. We had a great chat with Wilma Lowrey; we recounted our first visit and she told us no end of stories while pouring us wine. We learned the history of their labels (best: their ‘Single Press’ ice wine) and bought an 08 and 09 Cab Sauv. She actually gave us bottle #1 of the 09 (they hand-number the labels of all their bottles so customers can record them on their website) and we can’t wait for the day we’re able to open it up.

After that stop we did a 180 and hit Colaneri, the palatial and showy winery a little further west. Sure, it looks like a Disney-fied Tuscan villa from the outside, but we’d heard they were making good wines lately. I thought the wine was okay, but the tasting room rammed with tourists (and Jason Spezza again!) was hard to deal with after the personal, intimate experience we’d had at Five Rows. Nice bathrooms though. We grabbed a bottle or two and moved on.

Our penultimate stop was Kacaba, where they were happy to have interested, paying customers at the counter and not party-goers trying to scam multiple samples. Us, we left with a case. By this point we were running out of afternoon, so we zipped up to Vineland Estates to hit their tasting room. Again, we quickly became staff favourites for not asking bizarre questions or trying to scam free tastings. We delved into the Pinot family: Grigio, Blanc, Meunier.

We figured that was enough wine for one day (we had 24 bottles already; guessing CBJ+M had about 10) so we drove the few clicks to Black Walnut Manor, our B&B. We were greeted warmly, taken to our rooms and prompted to come have wine and cheese and cantaloupe jam by the pool. So we did. We said hi to the other guests and played with their dogs and took long, cooling swims and felt pretty goddamn happy, thank you very much.

For dinner that night we returned to Vineland Estates, and ate on their patio under that huge tree, overlooking the vines and trees and lake in the distance. I had east coast lobster bisque w/ vanilla chantilly; Upper Canada ricotta gnocchi w/ Cumbrae smoked chicken, grilled zucchini and rich cream; and marinated lamb loin w/ sous vide lamb sausage, celeriac and salsa verde. Nellie had the lobster bisque; fresh linguine w/ roasted peppers, sea asparagus, eggplant caviar and Toscano shavings; and Cumbrae beef tenderloin w/ blue haze, smashed mini reds and Shiitake reduction. Most of us split a bottle of Vineland’s 05 Cabernet; alas, I was driving and couldn’t have much. None of us had room for dessert; in any case it’d grown sweltering hot outside around the second course, so I was ready to head home to some air conditioning and chilled wine. We spent a few minutes on CBJ+M’s deck, drinking the Pinot Grigio we’d picked up at Vineland that afternoon and trying not to wake the other guests with our talk of Gordon Lightfoot and Stan Rogers.

The next morning, after another swim, we inhaled Carole’s unbelievable breakfast, featuring sausage and ricotta-stuffed french toast made from a chocolate croissant. Followed by a sticky bun. Even for a guy with an industrial-strength sweet tooth it was pretty rich, but I’d asked for it in a tweet about a month before, so I couldn’t very well back down at the moment of truth. I must say though, my oatmeal this morning was a sad replacement indeed.

We had five more wineries to hit, so we said goodbye and went on our way. We stopped at Tawse so they could ooh and aah at both scenery and wine, and then drove up the hill to Megalomaniac for more scenic views and a tour of the cave. We snapped them back into quiet low-key winery mode with a visit to Daniel Lenko (where we snapped up another case), and finished them off with stops at Hidden Bench and Fielding. By this point the trunk was full to bursting; we either had to come home or start carrying boxes on laps.

We stopped at Good Earth for some lunch — inside, alas, since the fly epidemic remains. After that it was a pretty uneventful ride back to Toronto, except for the last few kilometres when we drove into yesterday’s miniature monsoon season on the Gardiner. There was standing water being shot every which way by speeding cars, waves crashing over the median…it was nuts. It took us a little longer to drop CBJ+M and unload our wine at home than we’d planned, but that’s the joy of Autoshare. A few clicks of the Android and we had an extra hour. Once we dried off we took stock of the new additions, and set about trying to find them a home in the various fridges and racks.

Here was the final haul, not including the bottle we got for Nellie’s mom and a gift for another set of friends:

  • Colaneri 2009 ‘Unita’ Cabernet Franc
  • Colaneri 2010 ‘Cavallone’ Pinot Grigio
  • Daniel Lenko 2007 Signature Chardonnay
  • Daniel Lenko 2007 Old Vines American Oak Chardonnay (x2)
  • Daniel Lenko 2007 Viognier
  • Daniel Lenko 2008 White Cabernet (x4)
  • Daniel Lenko 2008 Unoaked Chardonnay
  • Daniel Lenko 2008 Unoaked Chardonn(g)ay
  • Daniel Lenko 2009 Reserve Riesling (x2)
  • Fielding 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon
  • Fielding 2010 Viognier
  • Fielding 2011 Lot 17 Riesling
  • Fielding 2011 Pinot Gris
  • Fielding 2011 Gamay
  • Five Rows 2008 Cabernet Sauvignon
  • Five Rows 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon
  • Five Rows 2009 ‘Single Press’ Icewine
  • Hidden Bench 2008 Felseck Vineyards Chardonnay
  • Hidden Bench 2009 Felseck Vineyards Pinot Noir
  • Hidden Bench 2009 Nuit Blanche
  • Kacaba 2007 Reserve Meritage
  • Kacaba 2007 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon
  • Kacaba 2008 Cabernet Franc (x3)
  • Kacaba 2008 Syrah
  • Kacaba 2009 Cabernet Sauvignon (x3)
  • Kacaba 2011 Reserve Riesling (x2)
  • Kacaba 2011 Rosé
  • Megalomaniac 2008 Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon
  • Megalomaniac 2011 ‘Pink Slip’ Rosé (x2)
  • Ravine 2009 Sand & Gravel Sauvignon Blanc
  • Ravine 2010 Piccone Vineyard Reserve Cabernet Franc
  • Southbrook 2010 Triomphe Chardonnay
  • Southbrook 2011 Connect White
  • Tawse 2010 Sketches Riesling
  • Vineland Estates 2008 Pinot Blanc
  • Vineland Estates 2011 Pinot Grigio (which we drank Saturday night)
  • Vineland Estates 2011 Pinot Meunier
High Line and Empire State

Spitzer's & Bayard's & Pony & Mugs

Dan Dickinson1 Comment

I’m not sure why we booked last weekend’s trip to New York, to be honest with you. I think we’d gotten this close to booking an impromptu weekend in California earlier in the year and we were so disappointed when it fell through that we used points to book a trip to NYC instead. In other words: two incomes + no kids (+ no house) = hooray!

Thursday

I met Nellie at the airport, after misleading her about the presence of a new Mill Street Brewpub in Terminal One (it’s there, it’s just on the Canadian side) which forced us both into the {shudder} Molson pub. After a couple of flight delays — not our last on this trip — we were on our way. We landed at LaGuardia and crossed the Williamsburg bridge to our hotel, The Nolitan, a nice little boutique hotel in, uh, Nolita. North of Little Italy, geddit?

Even in the dark we could tell we had a great view of the Manhattan skyline to the north, and we could lean out over our balcony to see the Williamsburg Bridge all lit up. Speaking of that skyline: it doesn’t matter how many times we visit New York, it’s always thrilling to see it for the first time.

We were starving, and a quick look at our handy Google Map told us the nearest spot for a bit and a bite and a drop was the Epistrophy Cafe. We ordered some interesting wine (my first Cannonau; hearty!) and a board of meat & cheese to nosh, and then I spent the rest of the time there being warm and feeling inadequate. I swear, four out of every five people in that place looked like a model or an actor. I don’t know what was going on, but it was too common to be a coincidence. It was like a hot person nexus. Even the hotel described it as the place where the beautiful people dine. I need to lose a bunch of weight and buy some new clothes before I even consider returning to that place.

Friday

Hey, look at that view. Even better than we expected when we rolled out of bed and onto the balcony. Hooray for the almost-top floor.

We didn’t have many plans for Friday. Truth be told, we didn’t have many plans for this trip at all. We went with only a couple of must-sees, and as it turned out we nailed two of them on the first day. After some breakfast we headed west toward Soho.

About two blocks after setting out we were filled with regret for wearing jeans — it was bloody hot. In fact, it would feel north of 40°C the whole weekend. We had some coffee and bacon (vacation!) at Vins et Fleurs on Thompson, bought Nellie some cropped jeans at a 7 store and dropped in at Meg Cohen Design to see if we couldn’t replace the scarf Nellie had picked up last year and since lost. Verdict: no dice, but she wanted to check at the office and would we come back Sunday. Sure, why not? Off we went again to buy some new Converse, namely slip-on Chucks: great for hot summer days + airport security lines.

We circled back to the hotel and dropped off our shopping bags, changed, and left again in search of a cab. We had business on the west side of town. It took us forever to catch a cab; we don’t have our New York cab-fu down pat yet, to be sure. Eventually we grabbed one who took us into the West Village and dropped us near Bayard’s Ale House, the top-rated New York beer place on BeerAdvocate. While Bayard’s was a perfectly good place, it raised some suspicions about those BA ratings, since it was nothing to write home about, and certainly not deserving of a score higher than, say, Volo or The Avenue Pub. Anyway, here’s what we had:

  • Me: Weihenstephan, Sixpoint Sweet Action, Harpoon UFO
  • Nellie: Brooklyn Lager, Sixpoint Bengali Tiger IPA

A few blocks north of Bayard’s was the entrance to the High Line, a park built on an abandoned rail line running up the west side of Manhattan. It was terrific — this crazy green space running over busy downtown streets and through buildings.

There were small cafes, and even (blessedly, given the heat) a wine bar called Terroir! We stopped for a drink of some wine from New York’s Finger Lakes region, and I somehow ended up with a temporary tattoo. More on that later.

We climbed down off the High Line around 20th street and started the long hunt for a cab. At rush hour. On 10th Ave. Not our best idea. We finally flagged one and crawled slowly up 10th. $28 later (bear in mind, in Toronto it would have been $50+) we arrived at the favourite find from our last trip: The Pony Bar. It was just as awesome as last time, and we had the same delicious plates of sausage and pretzel as last time. They’ve updated the system so that the bartenders no longer climb up on the counter to change the draft board, instead updating it via an iPad. But they still ring the bell.

And here’s that temporary tattoo I was talking about:

Alas, I drank a truly awful Stone Smoked Porter which just killed me, so we ended the evening a little earlier than intended, but we still made a pretty good dent:

  • Me: Penn Weizen, Empire White Aphro, Brooklyn Ale (on cask), Stone Smoked Porter (ugh!), Empire White Aphro (again)
  • Nellie: Capt Lawrence Golden Delicious, Peak Organic Summer Session, Magic Hat Elder Betty, Stone IPA

We got out of our cab home a block early and topped off our stomachs with some Asia Dog — basically, small hot dogs with Asian-inspired toppings. For example, mine had scallions, cucumber and pork belly. Dee-lish! We scarfed it and went down for the count.

Saturday

Saturday was all about Brooklyn. All of our past New York trips had actually been Manhattan-only trips, so we decided we’d better see another borough. Or part of another borough. We picked Williamsburg, right across the, um, Williamsburg bridge.

Our first stop was at Mast Brothers chocolate, a must-see tip from our Rather guide. It wasn’t open yet, so we began walking northeast toward some parks. Brooklyn was much quieter than Manhattan, filled with people walking dogs, young parents walking kids, various hipsters on fixie bicycles, and so on. We decided to check out the East River State Park for the views of the Manhattan skyline. We found it, but it was what was happening in the park that made our day: Smorgasburg! It was a big food fair, with tons of vendors selling just about everything you could imagine. We loaded up on food and ate it in the the park next to the fair, looking out over the midtown skyline.

Nellie had empanadas; I had the best pulled pork sandwich I’ve eaten since our lunch at Cochon in NOLA. We shared lemonade and savoured the shade, happy for our good luck at having found the place. Sadly, we couldn’t stay there long because of the spectacularly annoying lady standing near us who kept droning “water water water water water water one dollar one dollar water water one dollar water water…” and on and on and on and barf.

We walked a little further to the northeast to McCarren Park and…did nothing. Seriously. We sat in the grass in the shade of a giant tree and watched a mixed league slo-pitch game. ‘Cause really, what else did we have to do? We were very, very on vacation.

And you know what else we like to do when we’re on vacation? Drink beer. So we walked a couple of blocks to Mugs Alehouse, one of the top-rated places in Williamsburg. We only stayed for two drinks each, but lots of stuff happened in there. We discovered that the bartender grew up in New Brunswick, a few hours away from us. We heard about his recent trip (as in, he got back the day before) to France, Belgium and the Netherlands. We also survived a close encounter with a large, loud gang of home brewing aficionados from Pennsylvania doing a tour of Brooklyn breweries. But most of all we enjoyed their killer beer lineup. Here’s what we tried:

  • Me: Brooklyn Sorachi, Oskar Blues Ten Fiddy
  • Nellie: Blue Point white IPA, Ithaca Flower Power

After leaving Mugs we walked back from whence we’d come, roasting as we went, to Mast Brothers. It was cool (literally and colloquially) in there so we lingered for a bit, sampled some chocolate and bought a bar to bring back with us. It was meant to flavoured with “crown maple”, though I couldn’t taste that at all, and I know from maple. It just tasted like rilly, rilly good dark chocolate to me.

We grabbed a coffee a couple of doors down at Modca and, suspecting it would be difficult to find a cab in Brooklyn, summoned an Uber car. By the way, this is like a whole other blog rant, but Uber costs the same in New York as it does in Toronto. However, in New York Uber trips are 50-100% more than a cab; in Toronto it’s maybe 10%. In short, Toronto cabs are asstastically expensive.

Anyway, it took us a while to crawl back across the bridge, to the point where we just jumped out and walked the final few blocks because it was faster. By this point we were getting a little peckish again, so to tide us over we had some more tiny Asia Dog hot dogs.

Hot? Check. Sweaty? Check. Little bit tired? Check. Therefore, our two tasks for the evening were to a) shower and b) find a decent place for dinner. We didn’t want to go far and we didn’t want something overly fancy. With a little help from the hotel and a little Googling we landed on Barmarché, just up the street from our hotel. It was exactly what we were looking for. It was nice inside, but understated. It felt elegant, but cozy. The host wore a trucker hat and thrift shop tshirt, but the dinner service was of a standard you’d expect from a top-tier place. And the food was excellent: Nellie had an enormous watermelon salad and some seafood pasta; I had a delicious apple/fennel salad and the chicken breast. We again stayed local with our wine choice, but it was even more local than we’d expected: a Chardonnay from Bedell, in Long Island. I didn’t even know they made wine in Long Island. Not only do they make wine, they make good wine if the one we had was any indication. Then we ended up splitting churros for dessert. Zing!

We weren’t quite done for the evening, so just before getting back to the hotel we stopped in for a drink or two at Xicala wine bar. God, what a mistake that was. There was only one person working (the room is tiny though…you could fit twenty people in there, tops) and she greeted us with…something between indifference and a scowl. We just seated ourselves; after a few minutes she took our drink orders. No personality whatsoever, just a nod with our order and plopped two glasses in front of us a few minutes later. We chalked it up to her being busy. We drank our wine — mine went faster than Nellie’s; I blame the heat — and selected our next victim from the menu. We waited for her to come around again. And we waited. And waited. And waited some more. She took orders from everyone else in the room. People ordered food. People got that food. And still we waited. We tried signalling; she never looked over at us. I thought about going up to the bar, but at this point I didn’t even want another drink. Then it just became a curiosity — how long, in a room smaller than our living room, with fewer than fifteen patrons, could we be ignored? The answer turned out to be about forty-five minutes. She asked if we wanted something else; we laughed and said we just wanted the bill. It came to $21.78; we left $22.00. Now, those of you who know us know that a 22-cent tip is an extreme outlier for us. And let’s be clear: we would have been happy to leave no tip whatsoever, but we couldn’t be bothered to wait for change. I can’t remember the last time we tipped that poorly. We leave a tip when we have mediocre service. We leave a tip when we have poor service, just because we give the server the benefit of the doubt, and assume they’re having a bad day or that the kitchen screwed up or whatever. But this was just…wow. At least it was so bad that we could laugh about it, and it didn’t ruin the pretty goddamn awesome day we’d just turned out. Down with Xicala; up with Barmarché and Mugs and Mast Brothers and pulled pork and Brooklyn parks and even the droning one-dollar one-dollar water lady.

Sunday

Happy Canada Day! We celebrated in the ways we each like best: Nellie slept in while I read the Sunday edition of the New York Times.

Nellie had a notion, once she was up and about, to visit the 9/11 memorial. I had no problem with that as I wanted to see the huge new One World Trade Center building. We walked through the stinking hot streets and got on the even stinkinger hot subway and got off at Wall Street. A few blocks later we were at the memorial which, as it turns out, you need tickets to enter. Tickets bought in advance. Tickets we did not have. OK, so never mind then. On the plus side, we had a great view of the new tower, and got to see lots of portly policemen holding machine guns. So there was that.

We took the subway back to Soho with the intention of checking back in with Meg Cohen. On the way to her store we passed a restaurant I’d noticed two days earlier, mainly because of the French name: Le Pescadeux. We noticed a sign in the window saying “Happy Canada Day!” and pointing out their special Canada Day brunch menu. Well, we’d been trying to think of a cool way to do something Canada Day-ish in New York, and this was it! We were forced to sit at the bar because of an incoming wedding rehearsal brunch; little did they know the bar is our preferred spot. I ordered a giant breakfast of Canadian bacon, sausage, eggs, and pancakes and got a Caesar to wash it down. I don’t even like Caesars — I just couldn’t believe they knew how to make one! Nellie had a mimosa and some Montreal smoked meat poutine. It turns out the owner is from Quebec, and we just walked by it on our random way to hunt for a scarf. What an awesome and tasty way to celebrate our country’s 195th birthday.

Anyway, from there: the return visit looking for the scarf was a bust so we walked home. Sunday must have been the hottest day of the whole trip, ’cause we were baked when we got home. Back in the cool shower for us, and then we set out looking for a place a) blasting air conditioning and b) showing the Euro2012 final. Because we were on the very fringe of Little Italy there were no empty seats for the likes of us, so we went hunting up the street away from the “Ita” part of Nolita. Getting very frustrated and very warm, we stumbled into Barbossa, a small Brazilian joint. We took seats at the bar, smack in front of the TV, just before it filled up. I tried to drink a beer but it was just too hot. We ended up drinking mojitos and caipirinhas and micheladas all afternoon. Basically I was just GIVE ME ALL OF YOUR DELICIOUS ICE and I finally managed to cool down while Spain thumped Italy.

This being our last night in New York we had a lot of decisions to make about how we’d spend the time, what with all the options laid out in front of us in the shape of Manhattan oh whatever obviously we found a place that served craft beer. Spitzer’s Corner, to be exact, which ended up being maybe our best find of the trip. We sat on a low bench; our table was the ledge of a large window looking out over Ludlow Street. We drank outstanding and interesting beer, and ate sliders (me) and truffled mac n’ cheese (guess who?), and watched New York’s lower east side happen in front of us. Our sampling lineup:

  • Me: Allagash White, Widmer Dark Saison, Ommegang Rare Vos, Goose Island Sofie
  • Nellie: Ommegang Witte, Peak Organic Summer Session, Southern Tier Hop Sun, Flying Dog Raging Bitch

We had small meals at Spitzer’s mainly because we wanted to leave room for a New York cliché classic: Katz’s Deli. Those of you who haven’t been there will probably know it from this famous movie scene (RIP Nora Ephron) but those who have been there will know it both for its crazy ordering process and for the absolutely immaculate pastrami on rye. We got our orders (seriously) from the security guard (seriously), got our sandwich and got out. We walked home, watched HBO, packed, and scarfed down one of the best sandwiches I’d ever had in my life.

Monday

There wasn’t much up our last day there: have breakfast, finish packing, head to the airport. Simple. We got to LaGuardia with no traffic problems. We’d done web check-in the day before, and cruised through security in mere seconds. We walked down terminal B’s ugly little hallway to our gate, but that gate was already full so we camped out a section away. I had to walk near our gate to get to the washroom, and happened to see on the board that our flight had been canceled. Great! Of course we didn’t hear the announcement since we were sitting far from our gate, so we joined the back of the massive Air Canada counter lineup. We eventually got to the front and found out we’d been booked on a 2:30 flight, so we had a good 3 hours to kill. Luckily we have lounge access courtesy of Priority Pass, so we enjoyed the United lounge’s comfy chairs and open wifi and free drinks and snacks.

Our flight eventually got delayed again, to 3:30 — the same time as another Air Canada flight, also going to Toronto, boarding at the next gate over. You can imagine how smoothly that went. We saw some people snarling at staff and generally forgoing human decency, though if you’ve spent an extended period of time in LaGuardia terminal B that won’t surprise you. Anyway, long story short: we will always, always take Porter to New York from now on. Always.

Luckily we had no pressing need to get back to Toronto early, no timetable we were trying to keep. And really, that was the theme of the whole weekend: no schedule, no agenda, no expectations. Just see and do and eat and drink and explore parts of New York that we hadn’t gotten to on previous visits. In that, I’d say we succeeded nicely.

Photo by Subsetsum, used under Creative Commons license

If I was in a band, "Fahrenheit Bayonet" would be the name of our next album

Dan Dickinson1 Comment

About twelve years ago, while visiting an aunt (and my mother, who was visiting from out of province) we did a quick side trip to the Aberfoyle Market. No, I don’t know why either. While there, I decided to buy an old bayonet from an older gentleman selling war memorabilia. It was marked ‘1903’, which I took to be the year, and seemed to have a few Arabic characters scratched into the bottom of the blade. I’m not sure why I bought it; it’s possible I was re-reading books about WWI, or was just bored and saw something at the market that seemed interesting. I held onto it for all these years too, through two or three moves, even though there was never really anywhere to put it. I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it; there was craftsmanship to it, and it clearly had a story. I did hope it wasn’t a bloody one though. A little interwebby sleuthing tells me it was actually a British Enfield P-1903 1st Model SMLE bayonet.

A couple of weeks ago I walked into my favourite recent addition to my neighbourhood, Fahrenheit Coffee. I don’t even like coffee, but I like their coffee, and have become accustomed to drinking one of their Americanos each morning. They’re cool guys in there too — friendly and funny, and they remember my drink and mark my prepaid card for me so I’m in and out quickly. Anyway, that day a couple of weeks ago two of the staff were talking about collectibles, and one of the guys — Benny — said he collected bayonets.

O RLY?

A couple of days later I went back for another caffeine boost. Benny wasn’t working, but I left the bayonet with Benny’s colleague Brad. He thanked me and said he’d get it to Benny, who’d be pleased. Great. Cool. I went on my way, happy that Benny’s day would probably be made when he came in. A week or so later I was in and saw Benny behind the counter; he thanked me profusely and comped my coffee. Greater! Cooler! I made somebody happy and got a free caffeine burst. The universe works.

Yesterday I dropped in on the guys for my usual hit. I knew I’d nearly run out my prepaid card so, once they’d filled my cup, I made to buy a new card. Sameer and Brad smiled and told me it wasn’t necessary. Benny had bought me two prepaid cards to say thanks, and just not said anything. What a guy.

So yeah, I have a month of free coffee, basically. All for a bayonet that I’d held onto for years without really knowing why. The universe works even better than I thought.

Anyway, the moral of the story is to always buy your coffee from a local independent coffee shop. And to always have a spare bayonet.

.:.

Photo by Subsetsum, used under Creative Commons license

Shouldn't the second Session99 be called Session100? No? Okay then.

Dan Dickinson2 Comments

“What better way,” we thought, “to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon than drinking Ontario craft beer?”

We couldn’t agree with ourselves more.

We returned to 99 Sudbury for the second annual Session99 Craft Beer Festival, and immediately found it to be far more busy than last year’s. Certainly it was easier to understand: last year there was a confusing — and, I think, fairly ripoff-ish — method of advanced tickets + per-beer tickets, whereas this year a single charge got you entry, lots of food, and unlimited beer samples.

Here’s what we tried, round by round:

  1. Two Augusta Ales from Kensington Brewing
  2. A Blueberry Wheat and an Ambre de la Chaudiere from Mill Street
  3. F&M’s Pepperazzi (made with jalapeno) and a Kensington Watermelon Wheat (Nellie seemed intent on trying the fruity wheat beers)
  4. From the new Bellwoods Brewery, the Picket Fence Wheat for me and the Sharkwitch IIPA for her
  5. My first of two Spearheads, the Moroccan brown ale, and the first of Nellie’s two collaboration brews, the Black Oak Daily Bread (w/ Sawdust City and Cheshire Valley)
  6. I had the second of my two Spearheads, the Belgian Stout, while Nellie hit the head
  7. Our first stop at Sawdust City yielded two fantastic beers: a very hoppy Golden Beach Pale Wheat for me, and a mixture of the Cockpuncher (seriously, cockpuncher!) IPA + Belgian witbier for Nellie
  8. I had a Hogsback Brewing traditional Scottish ale, but was annoyed with myself ex post facto for having visited a booth manned mainly by hoochies…I just didn’t notice until after they’d poured the sample. I have a general no-hoochie-booth rule at beer events…it’s a good indication that their beer will suck. I’m looking at you, True North Brewing. Meanwhile, Nellie had her second collaboration beer, but for the life of us we can’t remember what it was. Something from Amsterdam maybe?
  9. Perennial favourite Great Lakes gave us two new ones to try: the Lake Effect IPA for Nellie (even though I thought she should have tried the Armadildo) and some kind of porter for me…I forget which, but it definitely wasn’t the 25th anniversary Robust (which I have in my fridge, just waiting for me)
  10. Still ahead of Nellie, I had a Wellington Iron Duke, mainly because I can now officially say I got to 49/50 of my Project FiftyBrew beers
  11. Flying Monkey’s sample list had something called the Raped By Grapes, which was too sweet for Nellie (and also about which I suspect they received a few complaints) while I had the scotch ale, which was decent but not great
  12. Back to Sawdust City for the straight up Cockpuncher IPA (me) while Nellie had the Belgian Dubbel IPA (which I think was made in conjunction with Black Oak and Microbrasserie Charlevoix)

At this point it was nearly 4PM — the end of our session — and it was only then that we really figured out the food situation. We managed to squeeze in a few tiny cupcakes from The Sassy Lamb, including the peanut butter + maple buttercream icing + bacon “Canadian Mancake” which I so loved last year, and a pineapple-y one made with Spearhead’s IPA. We didn’t get burgers from Burger Bar, or gourmet corndogs from Cowbell, mainly because we’d stuffed ourselves before heading to the festival. Lesson learned for next year.

Highlights: Bellwoods, the two new Spearhead beers (for me), and the two collaboration beers (for Nellie), but most especially Sawdust City. I loved everything I tried from these guys. And to my earlier point about the relationship between beer quality and booth personnel hotness? Sawdust City was manned by a guy sporting a handlebar mustache and a giant dude with a mullet. That drew me like a magnet, and now we will never not order their beer if we see it on a menu.

By the time we walked down to King, I needed two things: a little more food in my belly, and a urinal. Beerbistro fit the bill on both counts (bonus: at Beerbistro you can watch vintage beer ads on screens above the urinals, and marvel at just how racist advertising used to be!) and we turned out to be hungrier than we’d thought. Then we walked home, drank a Muskoka Summer Weisse on the patio. Not long after that we nodded off and slept for ten hours. Summer!

Image from j_philipp, used under Creative Commons license

"That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn't notice. But we did."

Dan Dickinson1 Comment

Somehow, in the couple of months that it’s been in theatres, we’ve managed not to see The Avengers (imdb | rotten tomatoes) even once. Finally, with a little bit of time to spare during the week, we rectified that error.

But first, a bite to eat: I met Nellie at The Oxley, which has quickly become my favourite watering hole in Yorkville, mainly because all other Yorkville watering holes suck huge, save the flight deck at The Pilot. It has a smashing burger and interesting beer and a fantastic back patio, which is more than enough to make it my new work local. Anyway, when I arrived Nellie had staked out a position on the patio…which would have been fine, except that Toronto has been hotter than a marathoner’s armpit all week and I was wearing a dark suit. Anywayanyway: food good, drinks cold, back to theatre.

So we were a bit dawdly getting there and actually had the time wrong, so we got there five minutes late…or, in today’s theatre-going experience, just before the ads finished playing and just before the previews began. We each had time to pee out all remaining beer before the movie even started. Unbeknownst to us, though, we had elected to see it in 3D. Which I hate. Super, super-hate. But I’ll try not to let that ruin my impression of the movie.

That impression: it was great. Lots and lots of fun, and funny. Especially The Hulk; he had a couple of classic comedy moments, which I appreciated far more than Tony Stark’s non-stop sarcasm. But it was everything a comic book movie should be, and the special effects were stellar. I don’t know if I’ll bother buying it when it comes out on DVD — there’s not a lot of heft to it, if you know what I mean — but I’ll certainly watch it over and over when it comes on TMN. You know, two years from now.

.:.

Image from j_philipp, used under Creative Commons license

SoHot Climaxxx: not a porn star

Dan DickinsonLeave a comment

After last weekend’s trip to PEC and the subsequent week of eating rather poorly, Nellie decided to undertake a wee project this past weekend: make fantastic meals all weekend and eat them at home. It sounded good to me. I’d been away at meetings for three days and wanted some real food. We decided we’d (finally!) set up the balcony for summer, take care of some shit around the condo and enjoy our meals at home all weekend long. So naturally we started off with drinks and snack down the street at Origin.

What? Look, it was Friday afternoon, the sun was out, we got out of work/meetings early and I wanted to have a bite and a glass of cold wine on a patio. So we ate overpriced snacks and drank some good wine (Norm Hardie Melon de Bourgogne and Riesling; Hidden Bench rosé, and some Vinho Verde that I can’t remember) and soaked up the day’s remaining sun.

Friday night we aimed low: nachos, beer (Denison’s for me, Coors Light — seriously — for her) and Project X (imdb | rotten tomatoes) on TV. We were saving our strength. The next morning we got up early, bought seventy pounds of stuff at St. Lawrence Market, had bacon and eggs and tomatoes for breakfast and got to work on the balcony. We got the tile down and the benches cleaned off just in time for us to have lunch: prosciutto on fresh ciabatta (mine: pecorino cheese, spicy bordeaux mustard; Nellie’s: parmesan, honey, black pepper) and grilled veggies, with the bottle of Lighthall rosé we picked up in PEC the weekend before. I don’t normally like rosé, but this one (a Cab Franc) was pretty good.

Not a bad setting either, right?

While we continued to work around the condo and begin the prep for dinner Nellie made us a fantastic batch of lavender lemonade, with lavender from our stop in PEC. We also opened a bottle of Le Clos Jordanne 2009 Village Reserve Chardonnay. Between that and knowing we’d have more Chardonnay with dinner we found ourselves in the mood to watch Bottle Shock (imdb | rotten tomatoes) so, with a little downloading, watch it we did.

Dinner that night was a new one: saffron chicken & basmati rice. Admittedly it needed a little extra flavour, so we threw in a little SoHot Climaxxx sauce (lime, garlic, cayenne) to perk it up. But the real star of the show was the Hidden Bench 2008 Tête de Cuvée Chardonnay. It was beautiful and creamy and buttery like a California chardonnay, but somehow still tasted like Niagara. We both wanted to marry it. Marry it hard.

Apologies for the poor-quality photo…I wasn’t paying attention to the exposure on my Android and had to use a pic from Nellie’s old iPhone. Anyway, there was no dessert — unless you count the rest of that bottle of Clos Jordanne. Which we did.

Sunday I was up early and availed myself of the St. Urbain bagels, strawberries and raspberries we’d bought at the market the day before. Then, by the time Nellie was up and we’d run a few errands, it was time for lunch: maple & chili glazed trout with a thai cucumber salad (w/ lime & fresh basil). I’d decided to pair it with a Clos Jordanne 2009 Village Reserve Pinot before I knew the trout would be in that kind of sauce, so admittedly the wine didn’t go at all. Still, all components of the meal were tasty on their own, so we toughed it out.

Note that Nellie needs a napkin, whereas I am generally able to not spill food on myself. Anyway. Partway through the afternoon I realized that lunch hadn’t been very substantial, and so made another prosciutto-on-ciabatta. It was just too good to let go.

Some cleaning up and bedroom-rearranging later, it was time to start prepping the final meal of the weekend: pizza two ways (the rest of the prosciutto with a shredded pecorino cheese, and a spicy genoa salami with a softer, melted pecorino), both done with Nellie’s homemade dough and marinara sauce. I’m never sure what wine goes with this kind of pizza, so we just had the bottle of St. Laurent we picked up at Harwood last weekend. I’m not sure it matched, but it didn’t not match either. So we’ll call that a draw.

So how did we do? Well, first and foremost it was all delicious. What’s more, a little math suggests that we spent about $90 on all the ingredients that went into all seven meals, notwithstanding the wine (which was paid for long before Nellie decided to do embark on this adventure). That’s less than we’d spent at Origin for a link of chorizo, four curry shrimp and two glasses of wine apiece, before tip. So yeah, there might be something to this whole eating-at-home thing after all.

"Honk if you've come for wine"

Dan Dickinson4 Comments

Sometimes your first trips to a place aren’t great, but you learn enough to make a fantastic repeat visit. Other times your first visit is a great one, and no return trip ever lives up to your first memories. However, once in a blue moon a first trip to a place so good it doesn’t seem repeatable is followed by a second trip that’s very nearly perfect. This past weekend, our second time in Prince Edward County (after a very good first visit in 2010) was just that: very nearly perfect.

Friday

That’s right, kids: we took the day off work to go drink wine. The night before we left we decided to have some extra fun on the way: we met our good friend Kaylea for lunch in Port Hope. She gave us a box of chocolates made right there in Port Hope and treated us to a tasty meal on the patio at Gusto overlooking the river, where we drank some Closson Chase Pinot Noir, gave her a bottle of Benjamin Bridge Nova 7 and her fiancé Matt’s USB charger (which we’ve had for months), and saw a deer run up-river.

We said our goodbyes and returned to our car not ten seconds before it was about to get slapped with a parking ticket. We hadn’t even noticed the meter behind a large sign. Or maybe the cop had seen our rental sticker and given us a break. Either way, it was an early bit of luck, and luck like that is what perfect weekends are made of. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

We drove a little further and entered Prince Edward County at its west end, making our first stop By Chadsey’s Cairns. We’d never been before, and hadn’t planned on going this time either, but a friend’s request via Facebook to pick up a bottle swayed us. We pulled into the farmhouse, met Richard, and walked around the lane to the little apple house where they now sell their wine. We spoke with him a while, picked up a few atypical bottles (like their Gamay/Pinot blend) for ourselves and the friend-requested Chenins, and continued on down the road. Just then, it felt like a switch had been flipped: we’d been in the county less than ten minutes and already we felt right at home at this pace, among this scenery, with these people.

Our next stop was a favourite from the first visit: Keint-He. As we got out of the car we saw a deer, the second that day, on the edge of a field across the road. It stood stock still, and we wondered if it was a decoy the locals put up to make the tourists gawk. Self-conscious, we walked into the tasting room and ran their table, walking out with four bottles. The deer was gone. We sighed with relief and tried to look confident.

A few minutes later we checked in at the Newsroom Suites, our killer lodging find from the previous visit. Seriously: a roomy, convenient, non-frilly suite with free wi-fi situated directly across the street from the best restaurant in PEC. There wasn’t even a question of staying anywhere else. We dropped our bags and turned right back around, though — we had more wineries to hit.

We’d planned to visit Closson Chase next, but realized we’d drive right past The Old Third on the way. This had been a ‘maybe’ on our list, but a tweet from Rick Van Sickle (“Please don’t take all the Old Third Pinot!”) had piqued my curiousity, so in we pulled. And Rick wasn’t kidding about the Pinot…it’s all they sell (the sign outside didn’t say “wine” or “tasting room open”, it said “Pinot Noir”) and they do a magnificent job of it. We walked out with two bottles of their 2010 Pinot, got to the car, then realized we needed to go back in and get one of the few remaining bottles of the 2009. There wasn’t even a label on that one. I loved that.

Then: back toward Closson Chase, as planned. We loved everything we got there on our last visit, and all their wines we’d tried since. We left with four things: three bottles, and their opinion that the 2001 Chardonnay I won at auction a while back should be drinking beautifully right now. Thank heavens; I was worried I’d won some vinegar.

We had one more new winery to visit: Stanners. It was good. Not great, but good. And not expensive either, which is always welcome in PEC. We left with two bottles.

Our final stop of the day was the one most likely to be the busiest: Norman Hardie. We bought four bottles for ourselves and one for a friend, and dished some dirt with the employees about our mutual friend Duarte.

We had an hour or so to unload the car and relax in our suite before dinner at East & Main, definitely our favourite restaurant in the county, and right  across the street. We had a fantastic meal, even if we (okay, I) probably annoyed our server a little. Pro tip: don’t ask the vegetarians where they can buy cured meats. Anyawkward, here’s what we ate:

  • Dan
    • seared scallops w/ double smoked bacon, onion soubise, crispy parsnips
    • breast of moscovy duck w/ frites, fresh berry demi-glaze
    • maple crème brûlée
  • Nellie
    • fresh ravioli w/ braised beef, highline mushroom
    • 10oz grass fed striploin w/ celery root & potato purée, caramelized onion sauce
    • lemon tart w/ fresh fruit
  • Both
    • Biale 2007 “Party Line” Zinfandel from Napa (I know, I know: it was sacrilege to leave the County’s bottle list, but we couldn’t find a Pinot that we thought would hold up to Nellie’s steak. So we went with an old favourite from our Napa trip)

After dinner, relaxing in our room, all we could think was: that was one badass first day of vacation.

Saturday

We slept in a little, despite the bird outside our window that sounded like a car alarm, then got up and had breakfast just down the street at the Tall Poppy Cafe. Nellie had a “Bob”, which was kind of like a McMuffin for grown-ups, while I had some killer French toast. Suitably powered up, we resumed our winery pillaging.

We aimed for the southern part of the county, to some less-frequented but well-regarded wineries. The terrain changed again here: more twisting roads, more rolling hills. It felt a little bit like home…there was even a community named Athol. Along the way we saw yet another deer sitting calmly in a field, with only its head and neck sticking up, looking at us like we were interrupting brunch.

Our first stop in the area was Lighthall, a winery we’d never heard of until Kaylea recommended it earlier in the week. We weren’t expecting much, but…wow. Great find. Glenn, the winemaker, was so friendly, so informative, so helpful, so funny. And the wine was terrific: we left with two bottles of wine and two, ahem, bundles of top-secret material about which we’re sworn to secrecy. We’d thought about picking up a bottle of the 2009 Reserve Pinot Noir, but it was slightly pricey for something we couldn’t taste, especially when we’re already so well-stocked for pricey Pinot.

We finished our time in that part of the county with a visit to Exultet (where we got a nice crisp white and a top-flight Pinot that’s going straight into the wine fridge) and Long Dog (where we found zero dogs, sadly, but one very affectionate cat, a loud and somewhat annoying tour group, and a few nice bottles of plonk) before turning back to the north.

Since Fifth Town Cheese is now out of business we stopped in at Black River Cheese, but — apart from the ice cream-loving biker convention outside — it was pretty disappointing. As was Waupoos, by the way: it certainly offered a pretty venue, but when we parked the car and looked inside the tasting room we just…we couldn’t do it. It was too crowded, too touristy, too much. We started the car and got back on the road. Nearby tourist attraction Lake On The Mountain wasn’t terribly impressive either (looks-wise, at least…it’s still kind of interesting), but the views of the Bay of Quinte from up high were worth the stop.

At this point we were getting hungry, so we stopped for lunch in Picton at Buddha Dog, a magical place where tiny hot dogs come covered in interesting sauces like jerk and red pepper jelly and beef chili. We listened to 80s music (Frankie Goes To Hollywood!) and drank local root beer, and had three dogs each, and it all hit the spot perfectly. Full of mini-dog, we rescued our car from the Giant Tiger parking lot and pressed on.

We stopped briefly at the Marshmallow Room in Bloomfield to arm ourselves for dinner that night: meat, cheese, bread, and preserves to go with the dessert we’d picked up that morning at the Tall Poppy. Our plan was to have a simple meal at our place that night along with some of the wine we picked up that day.

But first, we had three more wineries we wanted to visit. Hinterland was all about sparkling, so not my bag, but certainly right in Nellie’s wheelhouse…and also appealing to the bachelorette party that came in after us. Grange of Prince Edward was disappointing — busy, touristy, and with lacklustre wines. Frankly, when we pulled into Karlo next we were expecting more of the same given all the cars and tour vans, but we were pleasantly surprised — we left with three bottles (though they charged us for only two, for some reason) including a Petit Verdot. And this helpful crowd control tip:

We passed a few hours back at our hotel, snacking and drinking wine on the porch. We watched the staff of East & Main get ready for their dinner service across the street, thinking back to how great our meal had been the night before. We kept thinking about it, and thinking about it, and comparing it to how our compilation-of-the-county dinner was going to be, and before long we said “fuck it” and called East & Main to make a reservation for that evening. That’s right, the same restaurant two nights in a row. Don’t judge us.

Our second dinner there was even better: the food may actually have not been quite as good on the second go-round, but two other things really made the night: first, they had the Lighthall ’09 Reserve Pinot that we’d eyed earlier in the day; second, our server was amazeballs.

Ze lineup:

  • Dan
    • fresh ravioli w/ braised beef, highline mushrooms (yup, we just flipped the apps from the night before)
    • pork loin w/ grilled vegetables and lentils in a mushroom and merlot reduction sauce
    • cinnamon apple pie ice cream
  • Nellie
    • seared scallops w/ double smoked bacon, onion soubise, crispy parsnips
    • fresh rigatoni alfredo w/ shrimp, grilled red onion, highline mushrooms, spinach, garlic white wine cream
    • lemon sorbet (but only because they were out of the lemon tart)
  • Both
    • Lighthall Vineyards 2009 Pinot Noir Réserve (Having visited Lighthall earlier that day and seeing what this bottle cost retail, we knew that it was a STEAL here)

Like I said, our server — Laura — was sweet, and seemed to find us amusing, and really looked after us. At one point we forced her take a bite of my dessert even though it’s against the rules, just because it felt like we should. Years ago we realized you get far more out of being great to the people looking after you in bars and restaurants (sometimes they buy you lunch and give you chocolates and invite you to special occasions) than you do by being mean or bossy, and this was a perfect example of that tenet. Even though the meal didn’t quite measure up to what we’d had the night before, I’d rank it among the best dining experiences we’ve ever had.

Sunday

I let Nellie sleep in Sunday morning while I went for a somewhat greasier breakfast back at the Tall Poppy. Bacon, eggs, toast, cappuccino: everything a growing boy needs. We took our time getting ready, packed, and loaded up the car with our wine purchases (at this point we were pretty close to the three dozen mark) and took off. Our only plans for the day were to visit a lavender farm (seriously), eat some pizza, make one more winery stop on the way out of the county and make haste back to Toronto.

We stopped at PEC Lavender, where they had lots of (brace yourself) lavender, as well as a well-maintained Farmall that reminded me of my youth, even if it wasn’t quite the same model I grew up with.

Not long after that we were sitting outside at Norm Hardie’s winery, eating thin-crust pizza baked in wood-fired ovens, drinking glasses of his Chardonnay, chatting with a lovely British gentleman named John. The pizzas were superb, the weather was perfect, and the wine was — as always — immaculate. We bought a lone bottle of the Melon de Bourgogne, re-packed the trunk to minimize bottle-sliding and bid John and the rest of Hardie adieu.

Nellie did have a few more sips of wine, at Harwood, a winery on the way to the 401. Our main reason for stopping was to pick up a bottle of Pinot Gris for our friend but Nellie also decided to take a bottle of their St. Laurent, something you don’t see every day. I opted not to sample — I was driving, and anyway, I couldn’t think of a better final taste of the county than the Hardie chardonnay I’d paired with lunch.

Our drive home was easy, and we listened to Allo Darlin’ and Sloan, and made fun of other drivers, and talked our next trip. Woofstock caused a minor inconvenience when returning the car, but it was worth it for the rampant cuteness we saw on the way home. And then came the unpacking:

In total, that’s 32 bottles from 13 different wineries:

  1. By Chadsey’s Cairns 2009 Gamay/Pinot Noir
  2. By Chadsey’s Cairns 2011 Muscat
  3. Closson Chase 2009 Churchside Pinot Noir
  4. Closson Chase 2009 S. Kocsis Chardonnay
  5. Closson Chase 2009 K.J. Watson Chardonnay
  6. Exultet 2009 Pinot Noir
  7. Exultet 2011 White Light Vidal/Pinot Noir
  8. Grange of Prince Edward 2007 Victoria Block Chardonnay (which we drank last night)
  9. Harwood 2009 St. Laurent
  10. Hinterland 2009 Rose
  11. Karlo 2010 Choa Chardonnay
  12. Karlo 2010 Cabernet Franc
  13. Karlo 2010 5th Element Petit Verdot
  14. Keint-He 2008 Pinot2 Pinot Noir/Pinot Meunier
  15. Keint-He 2008 Pinot2 Pinot Noir/Pinot Meunier
  16. Keint-He 2009 Little Creek-Benway Pinot Noir
  17. Keint-He 2008 Pineaux Sauvage Pinot Noir (Botrytis-affected)
  18. Lighthall 2009 Cabernet Franc
  19. Lighthall [**REDACTED**]
  20. Lighthall 2011 Progression Vidal
  21. Long Dog 2007 Otto Riserva Pinot Noir
  22. Long Dog 2008 Bella Riserva Chardonnay
  23. Norman Hardie 2008 Cuvee “L” Chardonnay
  24. Norman Hardie 2009 County Pinot Noir
  25. Norman Hardie 2010 County Chardonnay
  26. Norman Hardie 2011 County Melon de Bourgogne
  27. Norman Hardie 2011 County Pinot Gris
  28. The Old Third 2009 Pinot Noir
  29. The Old Third 2010 Pinot Noir
  30. The Old Third 2010 Pinot Noir
  31. Stanners 2010 Cabernet Franc
  32. Stanners 2010 Lincoln Lakeshore Chardonnay (which we drank on our front porch Saturday afternoon)

We also picked up a few bottles for friends: 2010 & 2011 Chenin Blanc from By Chadsey’s Cairns, a Harwood 2010 Pinot Gris, another [**REDACTED**] from Lighthall, and a Norman Hardie 2010 County Chardonnay.

So yeah…this might just have been the perfect weekend getaway. We had amazing weather. We had incredible dining experiences, on and off the table. We picked up plenty of our favourite wines and were surprised with some fantastic new finds. Our car & hotel rentals were problem-free, which is pretty much all you can ask for. We saw beautiful scenery, and felt relaxed practically the moment we arrived. We even managed an impromptu visit with a dear friend. Best of all we returned refreshed, relaxed and loaded down with tasty wine. What the hell else do we need out of a weekend, I ask you?

Rien. Absolument rien.