Carolime Time

For some reason, these tender nerves somehow stand on end even when there’s nothing to lose, nor fear.

I found myself cowering over my lunch bag, transported back to my highschool years, hoping that two and a half minute microwave nuke would never come to an end so that I may never face the pending question. Where would I sit? What would be a smooth segue into comfortable silence? Yes, it happens, even to me, social butterfly extraordinaire. Read the rest of this entry »

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There are parts of Dubai that have been left to the hands of suspended disbelief, a figure of development, capitalism, juxtaposed against a backdrop of browns, greys, and unending streams of men with the glaze of hard work on their faces. Read the rest of this entry »

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I’m finding it frightfully difficult to make time to write here, and find the time to sit down. I arrived in Sharjah, UAE, on Tuesday morning. I slept for the next 2 days, only waking early in the evening. The 9hr time difference definitely hit me hard and my jetlag had me disconcerted. I’m surprised and pleased that no medication or mutating internal time bomb has been created to cure jetlag. Pardon the imagination, I’m just on a bit of a Dubai conspiracy trip. There’s really nothing to it. It’s just the fact that this country, the UAE, has been masterfully organized and structured.

Each time I visit, I spend the first few days considering moving here. It would make sense. My two brothers live here year-round, I have more than a handful of friends and family friends, and my godparents are a welcoming, warm stand-in for local parents.  I have some job options, too. I’m tempted to look into them this week, but this is amid responses from friends such as, “I could never imagine you in Dubai, I am certain this country would kill your soul” and, “Don’t move here.”

Wow, huh.  So my first few days are always spent sorta enjoying the change in scenery, the sort of people I encounter, and my sensitivity to another style of living. But there comes a point where it all slips and it’s not that I don’t LIKE the country, I just get edgy and feel a sense of helplessness come over me. I’ll have to investigate it further.

At the same time, there is a lot of inspiration here for me in the writing of a neverending story. So much imagery, and I think I could benefit creatively, surprisingly, from this society that is the complete opposite to the undisciplined hullabaloo that is my Canadian life.

Anyway, my friend’s wedding has passed. It was fantastic!!! I think I was talking and dancing so much that I forgot to eat! Well, I know I ate a little bit. I always get very sentimental at weddings and this was no exception. Luckily it was just the reception and not an event involving heavy speeches and toasts. Otherwise I’d have definitely ruined my makeup!

My voice is gone, and I felt quite ill yesterday. It’s from all this drinking, I can’t handle alcohol two days in a row, let alone three.  But it’s in good fun.

My Lebanon plans are not taking form easily. It’s so frustrating, as all my family and friends are on my back not to go. Apparently I’m being very silly with the whole idea, according to my older brother and parents. I know others feel the same. What can I do? I am dying to go to Beirut and see the city and its surrounding mountains.

Lebanon has stated it has no involvement in the current Gaza incursions, and it will only respond to Israel’s attacks–which will not happen since their hands are currently full with Gaza. Not only that, but a Hamas spokesperson said that none of Hamas’  battles will be fought on other Arab soil right now, and it is trying to keep it in Gaza but is not surprised by the reactions of other Palestinian groups in surrounding Arab countries. I really don’t see anything else happening, and the friends I’ve asked from Middle Eastern media think that a trip to Lebanon right now is not a bad idea. sigh.

* I don’t know what to do*…and so, I will go ramble around town, maybe shop, maybe sit at a restaurant or cafe, take my book, and hope something clicks together in my mind.

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geographically and mentally displaced, distanced, dragging vines and strings across a globe, pulling knots tying bows tangling with broken hair conditioned to leave and depart, upon arrival, leaving pieces in too many places, behind couches and in strangers faces returning to find that buildings have been constructed on the ground once called home, cranes climb the walls of a once abode and only the bricks and stones and sand are the same shade of gray that coloured the sky above a bed in a cold, shared room in a white country that shakes like a globe on ice and zoned out i’d read and write the memories of fields and expanses of land waves holes in the ground i’ve dug and i keep returning, searching for the shit i buried in a place that once was home.

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other toronto restaurant experiences i hope to write about soon include:

fire on the eastside
lee’s
victory cafe
raq n waq
brasaii
drake
ki
terroni
everest (queen/spadina)
hideout
blowfish
senses
beer bistro
sushi time/queen/to go
everest
east
keg
kokyo
matignon
sandwich box
richtree
michelle’s
lolita’s lust
bruschetta
senator
hey lucy’s
jo momma’s
college st bar
nervosa
diplomatico
coco lezzone
gato negro
mod club
revival
vivoli
spice route
swan
la palette
supermarket
torito’s
red room
truffles
bar one
fat belgian
kultura
harlemi’ve been to a bunch more and i can’t list them all cause i’ve forgotten, but one day i’d like to go into more detail on some of these..and i shall:)

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I have a dirty little secret to share. It’s a little embarrassing, because it makes me sound stuck up.
I have developed a horrid
attachment to GOOD FOOD!!! I think I come off like a sheikha, and my significant other always shakes his head at me because of the way I make choosing a restaurant or eating a meal SUCH a big decision. But there are reasons for this, I tell ya!

I have learned that eating, and satisfying a hunger or craving, can make or break your day. I know, I know, there are people starving out there who can’t afford a meal, and that’s why I used to make a habit of visiting for-profit charity corporations such as The Hunger Site on a daily basis (not as regularly these days, sad to say).

That being said, it has not stopped me from perusing restaurants and getting finicky about the specifics. I am still up for a good meal at the local hole in the wall (I leave my critic’s hat at the door, hanging loosely from a charming old rickety coat hanger). The only reason I have the god-given right to judge is because I spend my own and other people’s savings on these restaurants. They are not cheap! In fact, even when I was making next-to-nothing at my previous job, my friends-in-law (not through marriage, rather those friends with wallets funded by the law) would gawk. Yes, the key to fine dining is to find cheap rent and live on the edges of the core.

My point is, there is some delicious food out there. And you’re paying not just for the food, but for the experience. The components of a good meal can come right down to the bathroom.

We went to a lovely place tonight, and I don’t think I want to name it because it ended on a sour note. It shares more than just its dark furnishings and location with the likes of restaurants like Ki, while going beyond face value and reputation with a confident and actually reliable menu.

The Food

I say that because each and every one of us (8 ppl) was floored by our meals.

Starters of crab cakes, tuna tartare, quail rolled in bacon..all displayed impeccably, divided for sharing. This was convenient, clean, and all very special for a night out.

For mains? The cod fell to pieces more willingly than that which I had on the West Coast, at Rock Cod Cafe in Cowichan Bay. Is it possible that this Toronto restaurant could serve me something fresher than something I ate with a view of the water?? (And let me say, Rock Cod Cafe was some good waterfront cookin’).

Not only that, but my rack of lamb was so tender, I actually felt like we were alone in the room for the first few minutes of my meal. Everything around me just turned into background noise. I had it medium and it was served with sauteed spinach.

Even the simple tomato mayo was remarkable.  One of the chefs we had the pleasure of dining with tonight said that it’s simply a mix of ketchup and mayo. You learn something new everyday! I even wanted to stick some of my leftover Yukon Gold fries in my purse. I might’ve, by mistake, of course. 

The Wine

We decided not to order wine to match our meals tonight, as we noticed the restaurant offered a wine we had once in 2007 and haven’t seen anywhere else since. That wine is Charles Baker Reisling, 2006. I look for it on every wine list, and my lover and I once spent an afternoon considering buying a case of it from its Niagara vineyards. But we’re not really that badass. Anyway, I suggest that wine to anyone searching for a sweet white for sipping. Apparently it is high in ‘residual sugars’ which explains my affinity to it– I typically nurse colourful cocktails and sugary so-called ‘girly’ drinks. But my beer-guzzling lover also loves the Charles Baker, so there must be somethin’  to it

The Service

Consistent, friendly, actually charming..he described the special so amiably that he reminded me of a small town radio broadcaster. I had a passing crush on him and liked it when he helped me put on my coat. He laughed with us, joked with us, and walked away at the right time. He might’ve topped off my glass a little bit more than I’d have liked, but he probably just did it for the sake of having something to do. The restaurant was not packed, for no reason besides our own late reservation.

The Flaw

Gosh…everything else was so good that I don’t even want to talk about the flaw. Sigh. I shouldn’t have gotten started.  But alas, I must continue.

We were celebrating G’s birthday, and her sister brought a cake along. It was a delicious little thing, made with a ‘lemon curd’ as she put it. She works with pastries at a Toronto bakery. Oh, by the way, our table was home to three people in the restaurant industry– three chefs with some interesting stories and takes on Toronto restaurant movers and shakers. As for myself, though it’s not my forte, I am currently the editorial assistant to the restaurants editor at a website that tends to get around, if you know what I mean! I don’t really have any pull, but I hear bits and pieces.

Anyways, it was strange…when we finished our meals, killed our desserts, and licked our spoons of cappuccino foam…lo and behold, the bills each had a $4 surcharge, for each person. That meant $36 in total (we had a 9th join after dinner)…for what, you ask? For the cake that was cut and placed on our plate. Yeah! Go figure! I mean, I’ve had some good, expensive cake and pricey, not-so-good cake, and it can be anywhere from $4 per piece to $15..but I’ve never had someone charge me to place a piece of cake on my plate? Apparently the cutting of the cake amounted to more than the wholesale cost of the cake itself.

Sure, the raspberry almost-coulis and one or two blackberries and blueberries arranged next to the dessert was great but..please, don’t flatter yourself, my dear chef! It was really the cake that we came for, not the restaurant’s added frills.. and anything else should’ve been complimentary. It wasn’t really the price that threw us off. It was just the idea of charging for such a simple thing. Yeah so that was something to get annoyed at.

But all in all, if you’ve not Google’d all the items on the menu that I’ve mentioned, I’d be happy to share the restaurant name with curious readers. It really was a good night, I’m just being cranky and looking for an excuse to relive the things I eat.

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