Toronto

Toronto was the third stop on my North American tour.  Canada’s largest city by far, Toronto is to its country what New York is to the United States:  big, busy, full of concrete, and absolutely buzzing with life.  Of course, being a big city comes big city problems.  The homeless were quite aggressive, and I unfortunately had to chance to experience that very closely when my friend Julija’s purse was stolen by a homeless right off our table on a pub’s patio.  By the time we got around the beer garden’s fence, he was long gone.  So, I spent part of my first evening in Toronto waiting for the police to come take our story, but aside from that hiccough, the rest of the city was impressive.

Just like in New York and Montreal, food dominated my itinerary.  For Toronto, it was easy for food to dominate.  The city is one of the most multicultural in the world, and that fact is reflected in the food options.  On any given block you would walk by a dozen or so restaurants, each completely different from the next.  It’s not just the staples – Italian, Mexican, Thai, Greek, etc. – but also all sorts of random ones that would stand out anywhere else but seemed commonplace here:  Ukrainian, Chilean, Jamaican, Cajun, and more, one right after the other.

To experience this amazing variety of food, I made my first stop in Toronto the Kensington Markets!

I met up with Helen – a friend of mine who I met in Sydney who has now returned to her native Canada – to wander around and check out the food options.  The Kensington Market takes up several square blocks and offers store after store of souvenirs, clothes, and other wares, as well as food – lots of food – delicious smelling food!  The range of food is as diverse as in any and every other part of the city.  Not exactly what I consider a traditional “market”, the area consists of individual stores rather than tents, stands, or a bunch of things under one roof.  It was a bit different and I liked it.  After walking around and thoroughly scrutinizing the options, we decided on empanadas from a little Chilean place:

And, of course, we just had to pop into the churros place afterward for dessert.  It would have been rude not to.

I was impressed that they actually squeezed chocolate or caramel sauce INTO the churro rather than offering it as a dip.  Less mess = more fantastic!

There was also some public art in the Kensington Markets, like this decorated old car.

The St. Lawrence Markets offered a more traditional market experience – with butchers, bakers, cheese makers, and more all under one roof in an old historic building.

I met up with Jeremy – another Canadian who I met in Australia but has since returned home – to wander the streets the next day and sample more of the food.  For dinner, Jeremy chose to take me to a vegan restaurant for something a bit different.   There are tons of vegetarian and vegan restaurants in Toronto so they all have to be good to compete.  I was a bit skeptical at first, but a few bites in and I was won over.

It’s all meat free!  The carrot cake – despite being egg-less and dairy-less – wasn’t any less impressive.  We ate it so fast that I only remembered to take a photo right before the last bite.  Oops.

But, even with all of these incredible options, there was no doubt in my mind that the crown jewel of Toronto, and the thing that I was most looking forward to, was the Free Times Café.

Free Times Café was recommended to me by my old flatmates Vicky & Nick.  It’s an all-you-can-eat Jewish brunch buffet.

Allow me to repeat that in caps lock for much needed emphasis:  ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT JEWISH BRUNCH BUFFET!

2.5 years in Australia and I am seriously deprived of Jewish food.  This place had it all:  bagels with cream cheese, challah French toast, blintzes, potato latkes with sour scream and apple sauce, pita with hummus, pickles, eggs, fruits, chocolate covered matzah, and more sweets than you can shake your big Jewish stick at!

Not only that, but they also have a live Klezmer band on Sundays!

This was just the thing to recharge my Jewness after so long down under.  The owner actually remembered my friend Vicky, and she was such a sweet lady that she let us get a picture with her.

I asked her if she’d open one in Sydney for me, and she said all she needed was a $1,000,000 initial investment.

Dear Jews of Sydney,

We have a major problem in our community.  It is a problem that disproportionally affects your fellow tribe members who originally hail from North America.  That problem is a severe shortage of proper Jewish food.  Yes, there are one or two kosher restaurants in Sydney, but making it kosher doesn’t make it Jewish.  For far too long, Australian Jews have deprived of proper Jewish cuisine.  Nowhere in our community can you find a proper blintz or a bagel that isn’t complete crap.  Most of you have never even heard of some of the staples of Jewish cuisine like knishes and matzah brei.  I have a plea for you, fellow Jews of Sydney.  Please help us feed the starving North American Jews in Australia by each donating $30 to the Feed the Jews Fund.  All proceeds will go directly to the opening of the Free Times Café Down Under Branch.  Do it for yourselves.  Do it for your children.   But more importantly, do it for all of your fellow Jews who have transplanted themselves from the United States and Canada to your glorious land and who are dearly missing proper Jewish food.  Remember, we can only achieve our goals if each and every one of you participates with your $30 donation.  I thank you in advance for your generous contribution.

Most sincerely,

Phill

#62: Beaudry Metro Station!

Montreal was one of the most interesting cities I’ve ever been to.  North American in so many ways, but European too.  A blend of English and French languages, everyone seemed to speak both and switched back and forth with ease.  One block you’d look like you were in any big city in the US, and just the turn of a corner automatically put you in some cute neighbourhood in Paris.  Fantastic.  Signs were in both French and English, and even Starbucks Frenched it up for the locals:

Café Starbucks Coffee.

My B&B was in Montreal’s famous Gay Village, and I was able to cross another item off my list of 103 Things:  the Beaudry Metro Station!

Right on St. Catherine Street, the main drag through the Gay Village, the city designed the metro station with rainbow colours to fit in with the surroundings.  Whenever you see a guide to gay Montreal, there’s almost always a photo of the Beaudry Metro Station thrown in for good measure.

The Gay Village was huge – the main drag just kept going and going and was full of bars, restaurants, and the occasional cute underwear store.  Decorated with little pink globes above and heaps of diverse people below, the vibe was great.

Outside of the Gay Village, the streets were equally as lively and decorated too, albeit with less pink.

Heading out of the Village, we headed up Mont Royal on foot to get some exercise and take in some great views of the city:

Back down below, we headed into Old Montreal.  If you hid from your sight the modern North American skyscrapers in the background and got rid of every trace of maple and you were dropped into this neighbourhood and not told where you were, you’d probably swear you were in Paris or Marseille or Lyon.

As is traditional of a French city, this one also has a Notre Dame:

And Montreal’s Clock Tower is a beautiful piece of architecture right on the St. Lawrence River.  We climbed the 192 stairs to the top to get some stunning views.

Old buildings and Euro charm weren’t all.  Habitat 67 – built for the World Expo (in 1967) was across the water.  I had learned about this unique piece of architecture in my art history classes in high school and college and was excited to see it in person.  Unfortunately, the walk to get there was quite long so we didn’t get any closer.  But still.  It was cool nonetheless.

There was also a “beach”!

Oh dear.

A Christmas store?  In July?  We decided to check out because it looked cool, even to a Jew.

This wasn’t your average Christmas store.  These ornaments were as gay as the cute guy behind the counter!  If only I had a Christmas tree… and a few good pick-up lines in French!

Modern public art abounded even in the oldest parts of town, with centuries-old buildings seen though new, brightly coloured installations.

I was excited to visit Montreal because everything everyone has said about it was positively glowing, but I was a bit hesitant because of the French factor.  Overall, the city was the perfect blend of two cultures – a big North American city infused with European culture and charm, or a French city without all of the obnoxious French people (and a Starbucks thrown in on every corner just to make it feel a little more like home).  The only question I have after my visit:  when can I go back?

J'adore Montreal

Thunderstorms cancelled my flight to Montreal in the morning and I ended up stuck at La Guardia Airport for a few hours longer than I was hoping.  La Guardia Airport has no Chili’s.  Not even a Chili’s Too.  What sort of airport has no Chili’s?  I digress.  After several hours, I was called from the stand-by list for a flight that put me into Montreal just in time for dinner.  I checked into my cozy little B&B in the heart of town and ventured out to experience Montreal – and more importantly – Montreal’s food!

Dinner the first night was a Montreal specialty:  Poutine!

Poutine is dish consisting of French fries with cheese curds and gravy.  Simple.  Greasy.  Fattening.  And utterly delicious.  Right up my alley.  Woohoo!

The next morning, my bed & breakfast proved it could do the latter with an amazing morning meal:  French toast with fruit, a peach smoothie, coffee, and a delicious yogurt dish.

Soooo much better than the continental breakfasts you get in hotels.

The previous evening, I had befriended a solo traveller at the poutine restaurant:  John from Atlanta.  Sitting by himself looking at a tourist guide, I thought I might as well say hi and join him.  The next morning, we met up to see the sights – and eat more food.  I was most excited about Montreal bagels.

I had never heard of Montreal bagels until a few weeks ago, but apparently they are famous.  Brought to Montreal by Jewish immigrants from Poland, the bagels reflect the way that those locals prepared them back in their part of Eastern Europe.  They aren’t big and fluffy like New York bagels, but rather smaller and denser.  They are made sans salt and boiled in honey-infused water before baking.  Also, the hole in the middle is substantially bigger.  Apparently they are the sluts of the bagel world.

My friends Vicky & Nick back in Sydney first told me about Montreal bagels, and Jason in New York confirmed their existence and informed me of their sheer delight. The two main bagel chains are St. Viateur Bagels and Fairmount Bagels – both named after the streets they are on.  Apparently people get very loyal to either one or the other so I had to set out to find these places and judge for myself which one is better.  After spotting a bunch of Orthodox Jews, I knew we had wandered into the right neighbourhood.

First stop:  St. Viateur Bagels!

I thoroughly enjoyed my sesame bagel and then we moved on to Fairmount Bagels!

I got another sesame bagel here to have a direct comparison between the two, and I also opted for a chocolate chip bagel for dessert.  Because, you know, why not?

One day with me and John’s already as excited about bagels as if he were part of the tribe!

So, survey says…

Fairmount Bagels for the win!

Not that St. Viateur was bad at all – it was delightful – but I think Fairmount just edged them out.  But really, I’d take either any day of the week over the crap we have in Australia.

Maple was everywhere – as this is Canada – and I surprisingly passed up a whole bunch of maple treats, including maple fudge, maple ice cream, and even maple cider.  But as it was a rather hot day out, I decided that I couldn’t pass up the maple lemonade from this little stand in the old city.

Not too sweet.  Just right.

For dinner we opted for a cute little Italian place where meals cost $9.95 including a beer or glass of wine.  Just like in New York, I had to ask what planet I was on.  It was a nice place with white table cloths and cute gay waiters.  And it was sooo cheap!  How is this possible?

And after dinner, we wandered around the two main drags in our part of town to find a drinking hole to have a cheeky glass or two before retiring to our respective hotels.  Instead, we wandered into this hookah bar and accidentally ended up with a pitcher of sangria.

Montreal, j’adore!

#74: Ancona Pizzeria!

There’s only one thing on my mind more important than the fiery demise of Russia.  And that’s food.

Food!

And lots of it.

And New York proved to be a goldmine for eating.  The most important one, of course, is the one on my list of 103 Things:  Ancona Pizzeria!

Now, you are probably wondering why a random pizza joint in a random suburb out on Long Island made my list of 103 Things, alongside world famous things like The Great Wall of China and the Sydney Opera House.  There is a reason for it.  My mom grew up in Valley Stream – that random suburb out on Long Island – and she always talked about how her main hang out growing up was Ancona Pizza.  Every time we had pizza, we always heard about how Ancona was better.  EVERY TIME.  Therefore, Ancona is famous to me.  So I thought it only appropriate that I put it on my list.  And, survey says… looks good!

And tastes good!

And it’s a win!  And another one crossed off the list.  Family friend and quasi-uncle Joel and I popped into Itgen’s as well – right across the street – it was my mom’s other big hang out place growing up.  And I can only imagine it still looks exactly as it did in the 1960’s.

Back in the city, there were bagels.  Real bagels.  Delicious bagels.  First at Murray’s Bagels with Colleen.

And then at Pick-A-Bagel the next day.

There was brunch – also times two – once with Colleen, Lenora, and Sheerah at this amazing Mexican-esque place called Dos Caminos in the Meatpacking District which featured prickly pear frozen margaritas which were included in the price of brunch - $14 for food AND alcohol!  I don’t think I’m in *Kansas anymore!  (*if Kansas = Australia)

The following day, my mates David and Blake and one of Blake’s friends met me for brunch at The Standard Hotel where there was plenty of gay eye candy, a fabulous sassy waitress, and just the right amount of mimosas.

There was vegetarian night with Cousin Sharon at a place near Union Square called Zen Palate.  Adam tagged along as well!

And there was ice cream.  Gay ice cream.  And I ate Bea Arthur.  And she was delicious.

But the two biggest ones – after pizza and bagels – were SMAC – Sarita’s Macaroni & Cheese – with Jason & Sasha.  I was so excited that I started chowing down right away when the mac arrived at the table, and I completely forgot to take a picture of it.  So, I got one of Jason’s before he finished off his:

And – the classic – CHIPOTLE!

Dear Chipotle,

I missed you so much, but probably not as much as you missed me.  I was so surprised to see you now offer brown rice, though I stuck with the original white rice because brown rice seemed too healthy.  I am so glad we are reunited even if it is only for a few weeks.  I will see you again later on this trip.

Much love always,

Phill