Category: Toronto

Jabba singing Biggie was a little on the nose

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Overcoming the winter’s forced homesteading, we managed to get out a couple of times this week

First: dinner Tuesday at The Wood Owl (potato rosti, smoked trout dip, yellowfin tuna, mushroom cavatelli, sweet potato, 3-cheese ravioli w/ short rib sugo, and a bottle of Cabernet) with Kirsten.

Second: a bit of a Friday night out. First stop was my first ever visit to Bar Raval. Only time for a quick bite, so we had pan con tomate, jamon croquettas, cocktails (Shelly In Athens, Yellow Parrot) and sherry (Fernando De Castilla Fino En Rama, Hidalgo Faraon Oloroso). We left there and walked to the Royal Theatre to see — and I swear I’m not making this up — a Star Wars burlesque show called The Empire Strips Back. It was actually quite entertaining. I wish I could describe it here, but words aren’t going to nail the image of a naked (kind of) Emperor Palpatine swinging on a Death Star-shaped wrecking ball a la Miley Cyrus. We left there fairly late in the evening, so just took the easy road across the street to Sotto Voce. That was a mistake. It was such a weird combo of loud club and dusty old Italian joint. We had two bad glasses of wine and split a disappointing pasta and then beat a hasty retreat.

Begone, cursed month

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In addition to whatever new shows we’re trying to watch (currently: The Pitt, Abbott Elementary, Mr. In-Between, A Knight Of The Seven Kingdoms, Industry) we always have an older sitcom on the go too. The Office, say, or New Girl, or BoJack Horseman, or Community. Most recently it was Schitt’s Creek, which we wrapped up a few days ago. So, visions of Moira Rose were still fresh in our heads yesterday when we saw the news about Catherine O’Hara.

It was one more kick in the nuts delivered by this January. I can’t even talk about world news. I can barely talk about the weather — two huge snowstorms (well, huge for Toronto) in ten days, the last of which set a single-day record in the city, has felt like a blanket lightly pinning us down. At least we didn’t have to call in the army this time.

Usually my (self-diagnosed) season affective disorder doesn’t kick in until February, but this January has felt interminable. Yesterday I saw someone on Instagram* say that it’s only 49 days until Spring. That gave me some hope — seven weeks feels doable — in a month when I haven’t felt much.

* An app which I am hating more and more by the day.

Scotiabank Snowy Day in Toronto

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First trip to Moncton of 2026 in the books — a short visit this time, with none of the travel drama we experienced in December. Nothing fun in the off-hours though: it was too cold, and I was too busy, to try anything further than a stone’s throw from my hotel or office.

When I left they were setting up for Hockey Day in Canada, which probably would have been a lot more fun than what I experienced when we landed in Toronto: a massive snowstorm. Normally I’d have stayed home all cozy, but I had to drive to work on Thursday morning, when there was already a foot down and another foot coming. It was one of the hairier drives I’ve done. I’ve never before seen cars stuck in snowbanks on a major highway. Anyway, I made it there and back in once piece, so I’ll count myself lucky.

Now: to not leave the house for two days weeks.

Wading through Bay Street douches instead of King Street douches

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For years anytime someone has asked me what the best steakhouse in Toronto is, my answer has been Jacobs. I like Barberian’s too, but Jacobs is it for me.

So, while I acknowledge that lists don’t mean all that much, it did feel gratifying that Jacobs was named one of the 101 best steakhouses in the world. #76, to be exact. Well-deserved, says I, though I admit I’ve only been to two other restaurants of the 101 so I’m not exactly an expert.

To coincide (roughly) with this announcement, Jacobs has a fancy new home. I’m pretty psyched about trying it.

The east-za end

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One thing I take for granted is how much incredible pizza exists close to where I live, in the east end of Toronto.

Danforth Pizza House may be in Greektown, but it is in my opinion (and many others) the best in the city. It’s classic, delicious, and I never feel gross after eating it.

Of all the Detroit style Pizza I’ve tried, Descendant is by a country mile the best — and most interesting. The flavours, the consistency…all top-notch. The fact that Slowhand, an excellent nearby shop in its own right, sits #2 in my mind, says a lot about Descendant.

I’m alone on this in my household, but I think Blondies kicks ass.

There’s even a Maker, which I find too greasy, but which scratches the itch sometimes. Especially when it’s one of the few places in Toronto that even makes an attempt at garlic fingers.

What a time to be alive.

Hey guys, we’re over here

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A few days ago Streets Of Toronto (which is, I guess, part of Postmedia?) released their 25 best new restaurants in Toronto list. If we exclude the three geographical outliers (North York, Vaughan, and Etobicoke) and focus on the 22 in the downtown core, it re-awakened an old annoyance for me: no one thinks any restaurants exist east of Jarvis.

News flash, reviewers: we also eat east of St. Lawrence Market.

Georgian Crothers Boss

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Over the past week I’ve done some fun stuff. The kind of stuff that reminds me why I like, or liked, Toronto.

Friday

Lindsay, Kirsten, and I finally tried Tiflisi, a Georgian restaurant in the Beach which made Michelin’s Bib Gourmand list the past two years. We had:

  • Assorted phkali (vegetable spreads with walnut sauce) + shoti-puri (traditional Georgian bread)
  • Lamb khinkali (traditional Georgian soup dumplings w/ lamb)
  • Kebab platter (w/ chicken, pork, lamb)
  • Bottles of Rkatsiteli and Saperavi wine, both aged in Qvevri

It was goddamned delicious. Even the vegetable spreads were seriously good, but the dumplings…holy crap.

Sunday

In the morning, we went for a walk / wee hike in Crothers Woods. We probably missed the height of the fall colors the previous weekend, but it was still pretty nice. At the entrance to the park we started chatting with another erstwhile hiker (and her beautiful black lab Grayson) and just began walking together. We had a nice little stroll, enjoyed the weather, and Grayson found a tennis ball that we used to play catch.

Wednesday

Early in the workday I received word that I had somehow lucked into an invite to the Bruce Springsteen concert at the Scotiabank Centre that night. I’m probably not the biggest Bruce fan but I know his live shows are legendary, so I went.

The set list:

  • Main set:
    • Long Walk Home (introduced as a fighting prayer for his country)
    • Land of Hope and Dreams
    • Lonesome Day
    • Candy’s Room
    • Adam Raised a Cain
    • Hungry Heart
    • Better Days
    • Letter to You
    • The Promised Land
    • Waitin’ on a Sunny Day
    • Reason to Believe
    • Darkness on the Edge of Town
    • The E Street Shuffle
    • Nightshift (Commodores cover)
    • Last Man Standing (acoustic)
    • Backstreets
    • Because the Night (Patti Smith Group cover)
    • She’s the One
    • Wrecking Ball
    • The Rising
    • Badlands
    • Thunder Road
  • Encore 1:
    • Born to Run
    • Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)
    • Glory Days
    • Dancing in the Dark
    • Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town
    • Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out
  • Encore 2:
    • I’ll See You in My Dreams (solo acoustic)

Thoughts:

  • (I only really knew 10 of the 29 songs he played last night, and 3 of those 10 were covers…including “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town“, bizarrely enough, when a fan handed him a Santa hat)
  • My favourite song of the night was a hard-chugging blues version of “Reason to Believe”, the only song he played from Nebraska. Close seconds were “Adam Raised A Cain” and the Patti Smith cover.
  • The man is 75 and he played at high energy for three hours. Three fucking hours.
  • The E-Street Band is huge (I counted 16 members, including Bruce) but so tight. Nils Lofgren and Little Steven are icons, but seeing Max Weinberg power through that 3-hour set without so much as a few seconds’ break was incredible. And there’s some magic to a band whose core has been playing together for fifty years.
  • Most of the fans there were older than I was, and knew every word to every song, but I could see people in their twenties around me singing along too.

They were late going on — 8:45 instead of 7:30 — so the show wrapped up at 11:45. I left, tired but pretty blown away.

YOU DON’T SAY

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Toronto drivers facing a soul-crushing 250% spike in travel time on the Gardiner. [via]

A new study reveals that travel times on the Gardiner Expressway — a major transportation route that is traveled by approximately 140,000 vehicles each day — have increased up to 250% on the westbound lanes during morning rush hour and 230% on eastbound lanes in the afternoon rush hour as a result of the latest construction project on this route.

Post Lily

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I wanted this post to be about Leaning Post winery’s 10th anniversary party yesterday, about their delicious wines, and Ilya and Nadia and all the nice people who work there, and the amazing library wines (2013 Lowrey Pinot, 2013 Wismer Chardonnay, etc.), the yummy food, and so on. Unfortunately the drive there and back was a nightmare of traffic and we spent twice as long in the car as we did drinking wine. It’s hard to be enthusiastic about these events that are ostensibly under an hour away when you know your soul is going to be crushed by the Gardiner.

Still, it was fun to try that 2013 Pinot again. Pretty sure the last time I had it was eight years ago at Barque along with three other winemakers producing Pinot from the Lowrey fruit.

This morning’s activity was a little closer to home: breakfast at White Lily with Matt & Lisa on a crisp, sunny fall day. Makes me think this whole car thing is a scam.

In which my limbic system commutes to Mississauga

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The day we got back from Nova Scotia — a trip that got off to a rough start because traffic kept us from making our flight out — the Toronto Star published an article titled “East-enders seeing red over ‘postapocalyptic hellscape’ on Lake Shore. How will they cope with years of traffic turmoil?”

How indeed?

Given our travel woes, this line seemed topical:

It’s not just that their trips takes longer, but they are unpredictable. Sometimes it’s a few extra minutes. Sometimes it’s an hour or worse.

YOU DON’T SAY.

Anyway, the article did a good job of describing the very specific east-end commuting pains (“As Aaron McIntosh inched forward, he tried to make sense of the chaos. He was in the lane destined for the Gardiner, but cars kept zipping by on his left, turning on their indicator light for the last-minute merge. It was every person for themselves, and it was infuriating.”) while also articulating the conflict of feeling drained and exhausted by the tumult even while knowing the work is (largely) necessary.

Building in a city is disruptive, but we desperately need these projects, says Matti Siemiatycki, the director of the Infrastructure Institute at the University of Toronto’s School of Cities. It’s easy to say from a position of remove, but much harder when you’re experiencing it, he says, speaking as an academic and east-ender.

“You can know that this is all so critically necessary,” he says, but you can also be “immensely frustrated” by the longer and less-predictable commutes.

The brain is wired that way. “We think of ourselves as one person, but really, we are two distinct individuals at all times,” says Steve Joordens, a professor of psychology at the University of Toronto Scarborough. In the frontal lobes of the brain, a person might think, “I support this infrastructure work, even though traffic is bad,” he says.

But lurking just below those rational thoughts, is the older and more powerful limbic system, constantly scanning for threats.

“It’s where all of our emotionality kind of resides,” he says. When it senses danger, cortisol and adrenalin flood the body, preparing for fight or flight mode. Blood flow in the brain switches to favour the limbic system, and “those lofty left-wing ideas started to recede,” he says.

Accurate.

I can’t even tell you what a joy it was to drive when I was back home in Nova Scotia. I remembered that “the open road” is actually still a thing in some places.