When I ask Kelly what dish would represent her, she takes time to consider it. We sort it all out in the car in a trip down Queen street.
She answers “Cioppino!” Why? “It’s the sum of all my parts.” Continue reading “Kelly’s Tre Parti Cioppino”
When I ask Kelly what dish would represent her, she takes time to consider it. We sort it all out in the car in a trip down Queen street.
She answers “Cioppino!” Why? “It’s the sum of all my parts.” Continue reading “Kelly’s Tre Parti Cioppino”
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 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”
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.
You know, Snortsky. Continue reading “Former Secretary of State James Baker and the White Girl Weekend”
Cocaine? Cocaine! Ben…
…zoylmethylecgonine.
Cocaine. Coke? Cocaine. Continue reading “White Girl Weekend”
Magician. Writer.
Copy jockey. Bartender.
My college CV.
Continue reading “Resume Senryu”
Spanish for writer,
it sounds like pen carved sculpture.
I use a laptop. Continue reading “Escritor”
I’ll misdirect him.
“Pens.” (Magic!)
Tricks or truth? Stories.
Continue reading “What’s your job?”