World Cup 2026 is over. Argentina ran out of miracles, and were dominated by Spain in the final.
It seems like forever ago that Canada went out, but getting to the round of 16 was a huge step forward for them. It followed a number of firsts: their first result at a World Cup coming on home soil, their first win, their first advancement out of the group stage (albeit in a field of 48, not 32) and then Stephen Eustáquio’s goal late against South Africa to put them into the round of 16.
Toronto, having hosted its lone playoff match more than two weeks ago, has gone quiet again. In retrospect, I’m disappointed in myself. I turned into the kind of jaded Torontonian that avoids downtown because of the traffic and busyness, and didn’t try to really experience any part of it other than watch it on TV. if I’ve reached the point where I try to avoid the busy parts of the city because they’ve gotten busy, maybe I’ve lost the plot a bit.
Brother #2 and the S-I-L have been visiting since last Wednesday, when they landed late at night after numerous delays.
Thursday, after reintroducing themselves to Bianca, they drove out to Guelph. Once they got back and the rain stopped, we grilled up some chicken from Butchers of Distinction and drank an exceptional Chard.
Friday they drove out to Ajax for breakfast with their kiddo. When they got back and I’d wrapped up my work day we walked down the street to Reid’s for some cocktails and bites and to watch the World Cup match. Then we walked up to Gerrard for dinner at East End Vine where we had crudo, mushroom toast w/ quail eggs, crispy brussels, chorizo sausages & bell peppers, and apple/fennel/radicchio salad, and maybe something else. We had plenty of fun wine too, including a glass of Bellone, an Italian white that was new to me.
On Saturday three of us went to Maha’s for brunch. The S-I-L was excited because, since their last visit, Maha’s has introduced a Feteer Meshaltet to their menu, and she hasn’t had one since they left Cairo seven years ago. When we got home we ventured out to two parks near us which we’d never visited: Leslie Lookout Park, which took about 45 seconds, and Biidaasige Park, which was way bigger than we expected. We walked around the trails there and got decent sunburns. Once home we found some more caffeine around the corner at Maha’s Cafe, watched England-Norway, and ate pulled pork tacos & drank Pinot before they drove to Ajax to collect the kiddo. Upon returning home they joined us for the second half (and extra time) of Argentina-Switzerland, before we all crashed.
On Sunday we all got up, went to Avling for brunch, and then chilled for a while. Once the brother and S-I-L got home from returning the kiddo to Ajax, we picked up Revolver pizza, watched last week’s House Of The Dragon, and went to bed early.
This morning, between meetings, I drove them to the airport, and wished them a much smoother flight home than the one that brought them here. The house feels quiet now, and Bianca seems a little confused.
Earlier this week I had a work dinner at Black & Blue steakhouse. Lindsay and I had visited the Vancouver location seven years ago* and quite liked it, but I’d heard mixed things about the new-ish Toronto outpost. Here’s what I ate:
* It recently occurred to me that perhaps the two best Wagyu experiences I’ve ever had — that one at Black & Blue Vancouver, and one more recently in Victoria — were on the east coast. I am slowly forming a theory that the Wagyu is amazing when it arrives in BC and becomes slightly less magical as it makes its journey east to Toronto. Still amazing…but just marginally less amazing.
.:.
Because it came amidst the NHL playoffs andthe opening round of the World Cup, I didn’t make note here of the NBA finals. While I have been a Raptors fan since moving here the year after their inaugural season, the two teams I identified with in the 90s were the Knicks and the Spurs. The Spurs had a team personality that I liked, a hall of fame coach, great bigs like David Robinson and Tim Duncan, and they ultimately became one of the more successful franchises of the past few decades. The Knicks had been more of an underdog story, not having won a title since before I was born, in large part because they kept running into the Bulls, or later the Rockets. But I loved players like Patrick Ewing and Charles Oakley and John Starks and Anthony Mason, and the NY grit they brought. So it was great to see them play in the finals, and even better to see the Knicks win their first title since 1973.
.:.
The past week has been insufferably hot, not just in Toronto but all across North America (and Europe, apparently). I woke up feeling like the heat had finally broken; that it already felt like 27 degrees with the humidex at 9am shows just how hot it was earlier in the week. It was so hot that we couldn’t really even go to the top floor of our (flat roof) house. Thank goodness for air conditioning.
A week after attending Star Wars parody burlesque followed by a garbage Italian dinner, we reversed course altogether. Last night we had dinner at Richmond Station and went to the symphony.
Dinner was a typical Richmond Station experience: delicious, cozy, great wine list.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Skirl | Dan Dickinson 