July 17th, 2009

Rose-coloured Reviews The Sleepless Goat Cafe and Workers’ Collective

So I spent some time in Kingston, Ontario, last weekend, where there is beautiful water, friendly people, buskerfest, and a lot of waterfront pubs. Kingston also contains the Sleepless Goat Cafe and Workers’ Collective. For just a moment when you first see it, you think that an independent cafe right next to a Starbucks would have a hard road. And then you really look at the place, and think it probably has a fairly well differentiated demographic.

Inside is even more non-Starbucksy: pumpkin orange walls, mismatched chairs, a big bookshelf full of oddities, and laidback counterstaff with “equal say in the way the business is run and in the decisions affecting their everyday worklives.” (That’s a quotation from the SG website explaining the concept of a workers’ collective.) The sugar’s organic, most of the waste is recycled or composted, and the graffito in the ladies’ room (there was only one) says, “Support public libraries,” in black sharpie.

So, reading that description, the SG *could* sound a little too crunchy to tolerate, but it’s actually just right. On my two visits, the staff seemed genuinely happy to see everyone who came in, and everyone who came seemed happy to be there. And a lot of people came in, and even better, a wide variety. Unlike some allegedly chilled-out cafes, this one didn’t seem to admit only deeply attractive people between 19 and 24. There were people with babies, an editor marking up a manuscript, elderly couples in hiking boots, gaggles of twentysomethings playing boardgames, several people with walkers, and of course a few tourists (ie., yours truly). Everyone was polite in accommodating babies, walkers and whatever else, and many seemed to know the staff and each other. So civilized.

Another big difference between SG and Starbucks is that this is a real restaurant, not just a coffee shop that will sell you a stale sandwich for $6 if you really want one. The menu is extensive and would be intriguing looking even it weren’t above the counter in day-glo chalk–lots of roasted vegetables, curries and Mexican-inspired stuff. The food is almost entirely veggie, except for the option of bacon or sausage or tomato slices with the “traditional” breakfast. Which actually makes sense; ask anyone who went (semi)veggie for non-taste reasons what they might break down for, and I betcha they’ll say bacon.

I had the “non-traditional” breakfast, which is vegan even though I’m not–I just like beans and rice–and my dining companion had the breakfast burrito, so we can pronounce the Mexican-themed breakfasts very good, anyway (if this were a real review, I would have tried a wider variety at different times of day, I suppose). You don’t see beans & rice many places in Canada (I found out I like that in Costa Rica) so I really enjoyed my breakfast. Seemed a little over-carbed to serve it with home fries and toast, but whatever. The bread was the “famous” Dakota, which was just a little too full of seeds and grains for my liking, but pretty good none-the-less.

Since I only ate the one meal there (the other day we just had coffee–SG has excellent coffee) I don’t know if our long wait for hot food was typical. If one were in a major hurry, there were a bunch of appetizing pre-made salads and sandwiches and muffins in the display case. But it was a comfy place to wait (you order at the counter but the staff serves you at your table–you have to tell them where you plan on sitting!) Also, as a sign by the register indicates, The Goat has games!! So you can sign yourself out the Scrabble board (or something else, I don’t know what) and pass the time in that way. On a rainy morning, a Scrabble board is a great gift, even though there were two boards in the box and an usual number of Us, as well as some unidentified food particles. Also, the food is so good as to be worth waiting for.

In short, the Goat is good–go!

Try a little more try a little more
RR

July 11th, 2008

Rose-coloured Reviews Spice Route

I thought maybe I’d ease into reviewing with something I could have other opinions on, ie., a restaurant. So when I took time out of the whimpering over my proofs to go toSpice Route for Summerlicious I took a notebook and solicited opinions from everyone at the table.

Before I even got to the table though, I was impressed by the big fenced-off patio, the low arch of the door with two wide torches (real flames!) beside it. This place was rumoured to have been a massively expensive renovation, and it sure did look nice. Having heard those rumours, and looked at the street number of the pub next door, I was 99% sure I was in the right place, but technically Spice Route has no sign or number of it’s own. Was I missing it?

I went in and asked for our reservation, which they had–I was in the right place. “I’m 15 minutes late, they’re probably waiting already,” I told the hostess. “Oh, you’re not really late,” she cooed. Oh, so they run by that sort of time-scale here. I apologized to everyone when I found them–15 minutes waiting is still rude by my lights. Then we all agreed that it was weird not to have the name posted outside, and even *removed* from the menus beside the door, though they were otherwise identical to the ones we were looking at.

If this were a real review, I would’ve paid attention to everything on the menu, but I forgot, with my focus on the Summerlicious Menu. Which is pretty wide-ranging and interesting. And they make you order three courses right up front, so you have to put a lot of energy into figuring out your desires.

Those decided, you can appreciate the room–out*stand*ing. Huge and multi-level, plus that awesome patio (I would’ve liked to sit on the patio, but since I was late, I deserved not to get to vote), there’s all kinds of fun things going on: a waterfall, a big sculpture made out of what appeared to be jute rope, flat-screen TVs pasted (probably not literally pasted) flat to the ceilings above the bar, showing underwater cameras of fish and coral. Hella cool, is my astute note on the room.

Of the four first-course options, we covered three–the citrus salad was interesting, the tempura calamari good and abundant (although there was some question as to whether the accompanying “Lemon Scallion Aioli” wasn’t in fact tartar sauce). I can tell more about the Spiced Chicken Lettuce Wraps with Brandied Hoisin Sauce, since that’s what I had–it was adorable! They put the lettuce cups in a tiny bamboo steamer tray. Which makes no sense, but is adorable. They put the sauce in a tiny sake cup. It was hoisin sauce straight out of the bottle, which *is* quite good, but no sign of the rumoured brandying. I think that was just as well.

Ok, the bathrooms: nuts! Instead of a ladies room and a mens room, there was a row of individual bathrooms with their own doors, toilets and sinks, each labelled M or W. They are very very big and lovely, far nicer and larger than mine at home, but they all have uncurtained floor-to-ceiling windows… Ah! Apparently, the windows open onto a cordoned-off alleyway, where the restaurant has installed pretty fountains and grasses and things. Clever, but I betcha it’s gone wrong a time or two. Anyway, so now I’ve peed in front of giant window–great! On the way back to the table, I couldn’t help but wonder about later in the evening when the place becomes a club (it very obviously could be a great one with that layout–the dj booth was up a half level; you could only see his feet!) When the place is crowded and lots of boozy people want to pee, are these large elaborate restrooms really the most efficent use of space? There aren’t that many; I envision massive lines.

The main courses were an interesting variety, but the vegetarian option seemed sort of lame–brown rice and kimchee? I love kimchee more than most things, but as the main component of the dish…weird. I had Indian Spiced Roast Chicken with Naan Bread, Diced Tomato, Onion and Mango Chutney. It was quite good roast chicken–a leg and a thigh, I think, though I’m not too good with poultry anatomy and they dimmed the lights several times over the course of the meal. It wasn’t spicy at all, no more so than a good Sunday dinner roast chicken is, which was a disappointment, and there were either bone splinters or bits of char or…I don’t know, something that wasn’t food that I had to keep spitting out (dead sexy, I know). Like I say, it was dark. But tasty. And good chutney/tomato thing, and good baby bok choy, although baby bok choy had nothing to do with the rest of the meal. It was just the vegetable they were serving with everything. The naan was pretty meh–it’s one of my favourite things on earth when it’s served fresh from the tandoor, and pretty close when it’s at least hot. This tasted like it came out of a package, and anyway, it didn’t really seem to go that well with the dry chicken pieces. Basmati rice as the starch might have been the way to go…

The Mongolian Sirloin Beef with Dry Chili, Scallions, Fresh Ginger and Crispy Rice Sticks that my companions had looked quite good, and was apparently very spicy. I don’t eat beef, but I tried some of the sauce on a cabbage leaf and approved.

It was around dessert that I started to feel as if I were dying. I know, we’re all dying, but I mean at an accelerated rate. I think this was unrelated to the cuisine–I haven’t been sleeping much–but it affect my enjoyment of the three cute little round balls of sorbet that I received. They were tropical flavours, and very nice though I couldn’t identify any of them. There were bits of fruit and “sesame praline” all over and a sprig of mint, all very classy. Also a fortune cookie, which was stale, containing the sage advice “Quarrels can be avoided if you are tactful.”

My friends had the Raspberry Chocolate Brownie with Caramelized Mandarins and Tangerine Cream. They weren’t too interested in the brownie (“it’s not really a brownie,” someone said) but the bits of fruit and cream were appreciated. We also had some fancy teas, which were quite good and came with an elaborate tray of sugars and milks.

So, overall, a win–rather tasty interesting food in a really cool environment, for not all *that* much money. I couldn’t help but think, being the inherently gauche person that I am, that everything we’d ordered is also available at The Pickle Barrel (seriously, everything; check me), and for about the same amount of money, although you’d end up with about 3x as much food. Which is weird, because that lends one to think the better bargain would be PB, but there was exactly enough food at SR. On one hand, I do feel smug when I walk out of restaurant with my little foam tray, thinking I don’t have to make lunch tomorrow, but really, it’s getting hard to do dinner and dancing, dinner and a show, dinner and anything when you are hauling along half your mammoth salmon steak. I though the portions at SR were really elegant and ideal.

A word on the service at SR, which has been remarked on very favourably in reviews. Our waiter was quite nice and adept, and several other staff helped him out, but he was clearly run off his feet. Maybe it was the Summerliciousness of it all, but whatever tables he had been assigned, it was obviously too much. There seemed to be certain set lines he was supposed to say to get us into the spirit, but since he was actually panting at certain points, some spirit was lacking. I felt a bit bad asking for anything at all, though he did manage beautifully despite the over-burdening.

Overall, yay to Spice Route, then, which seems strange to say since I’ll probably never go back. But it was good to go the once.

He could not know another tiger
RR

April 5th, 2008

Brilliant Abundance

Suspecting I might feel somewhat bereft after the glamourous events of earlier this week, I scheduled myself an onslaught of friends and fun in the surrounding days. It worked pretty well, due to the brilliant abundance of Toronto’s friends and events, both. Some highlights

Basia Bulat at Lee’s Palace, on the autoharp, accompanied by ukulele, viola, and banjo.

Charles Foran, Pico Iyer, and Chuck Thompson on three very different travel experiences (SARS in Hong Kong, visiting the Dali Lama [can you believe that website exists?] and commercial vacations) at Harbourfront.

Greek bulgurand vegetables and endless good conversation at Kerry’s beautiful new home.

More good conversation about Special Topics in Calamity Physicsat book club (shh, book clubs are not lame unless the people in them are. And the people in mine are awesome).

Delicious dinner at Sushi Island, which included delicious unagi, which is strangely thematic since afterwards we went to see The Eels at the Mod Club. Another theme of the week could tie in with the above Calamity Physics, since the opener of the evening was not another band but a short documentary about Mark Everett’s (the man who is 75% of the Eels) father, Hugh Everett the unjustly ignored physicist who developed the theory of parallel universes. The movie was ok, I’m not much one for theoretical particles, but the Eels were so amazing–the saw solo! The carpets! Mr. Everett was in fine fine voice, and stellar drumming, and, oh, I really liked that show.

So this is why I say my city is brimming with brilliant abundance. Although now I am very tired. I will briefly drop in at Lindsay’s spring party, and then I think things will get a little less abundance for a while.

Riding a red line / no where

September 14th, 2007

The Recommender

I’ve mentioned, here and elsewhere, that I’m not much of a reviewer. I like lotsa stuff, and I always want to share, but I often run out of convincing reasons other than, “I like it, it’s really good…you’ll like it too!” which as you may note, is not a reason to do anything!

However, recommendations are fun, because occasionally I know about good stuff you might like. Like melon yoghurt (yes, I am totally over my aversions to melon-y things! Melonyness is lovely, actually). And more:

The film Amal, which I saw last night at the film festival. It was a slow, sleepy little film. Even the melodrama was whispery. But I loved it. And despite weird pacing, with several key tensions being resolved well before the climax, I was on the edge of my seat until the credits. And yes, it did resolve the way I wanted it to.

The restaurant Yummy Bar-B-Q, which is apparently the last restaurant in the universe with no website, but is located on the west side of Yonge just south of Wellesley, and the the south side of Bloor just east of Bathurst, and possibly other places as well, and is fabulous. Seriously, the sheer variety of different items on your plate no matter what you order is joyful, and all of it (besides the mystifying ice-cream scoop of macaroni salad next to the rice) is excellent. Get the chicken spicy unless you have a violent aversion to spicy foods–it’s the best one, and non-searing. And the kimchee isn’t that spicy either, but it’s damn good.

Dubliners by James Joyce. I know, this is not a new recommendation to most people, but well, I’m coming to the book for the first time (mainly) at the age of 29, so it is possible that some of you need that extra nudge, as well… Everyone knows it is a “classic” (whatever that means) but did you know it is really great for reading on the TTC? The stories are short enough to read in a commute, and straightforward and brilliantly (often grimly) clear enough that even with the distractions of fellow riders, traffic and trying not to fall over, you can keep it all straight. Plus the characters often see or ride trams and streetcars–it’s like being in the story! A hundred years later, though.

These are the things I’m endorsing today. Maybe next week, I’ll find a political candiate or something.

C’mon baby / let me know