When it comes time for my Tuesday lunches with Kelly, I’m trying to adjust my perspective. There is a part of me that wants every bite in Toronto to prove a theory (more like a wish) that it’s a city packed with veiled grottos full of pulchritudinous people eating coquettish comestibles. Continue reading “The Official Dish of Toronto?”
A TO icon:
The Butter Chicken Roti.
Screw Ford. Vote Gandhi. Continue reading “Toronto’s Dish Senryu”
The first thing I do each day is chew bubblegum. The second thing I do each day is hop on a treadmill and watch the news.
Don’t we all know the answer‽
Barrel of a gun. Continue reading “Fruit Defense Senryu”
A few weeks after my arrival in Toronto, I had a discussion with Kelly about checking out restaurants. After some discussion, we decided that Tuesday’s would be the day she would guide me to some of her favorite spots.
We decided to start with a British pub. In 1534 the colony of New France was established. It then transferred to the UK in 1763. In 1867 Canada confederated, but it remained a colony within the British Empire until 1931. Given such an extensive Brittish colonial history, why not? Continue reading “Eating My Expectations”
It’s never “just” lunch.
No one eats in a vacuum.
(Except for dust mites.) Continue reading “Eating Expectations Senryu”
Kelly was a college friend who drifted out of my life and then drifted back in. She rebounds excitement like a rubber band engine, zipping around, bringing in everyone nearby. She’s also encouraging to a fault. When I pop off on some disposable non sequitur, she engages in it, usually catching me off guard. When I consider what to write in this blog, she is often the first person I consult. Continue reading “My Friend Kelly”
When it comes to food.
She eats well
because she cooks well. Continue reading “Kelly’s Lune”
I worked at the Cheesecake Factory during my “fun phase.” These were the years I enjoyed extended booze benders supplemented with pot, ecstasy, mystery drugs, one very uncomfortable 48 hour period snorting Adderall, and my favorite: Toot.
Cocaine? Cocaine! Ben…
Cocaine. Coke? Cocaine. Continue reading “White Girl Weekend”