My Name is Anthony Bourdain

From being the “bad boy of cuisine”, this 54-year-old, father of a three and a half year old “raw oyster-loving” toddler appears warm, fuzzy, almost downright blissed-out until he opens his mouth!

He still maintains his wicked charm, he still has the ability to make a puritan gasp with his trademark expletives, and yes, the man can talk. All of the little less than two hours that I spent the evening with an auditorium-full of people at Massey Hall last night, my jaws were aching. I was constantly grinning, smiling, chuckling and the rest of the times laughing out loud at whatever Anthony Bourdain said. His stories about sex, drugs, crazy food, travel and dining culture make you lust for more.

But what did make multiple entries during the last night of No Reservations: An Evening with Anthony Bourdain was his unpretentiousness, his humility and his greatness. I had the fleeting urge to get up from my balcony seat and go sit by his feet, just to hear him talk from closer.

Bourdain just makes everything sound irresistible. Even a pig’s uncooked gut. Four minutes into the evening and Rachel Ray, Guy Fieri, Gordan “Hell” Ramsay and his other Food Network peers, along with food bloggers and critics came under Bourdain’s chopping board, but just out of humor and not hubris. But even before he did that, he slings at himself first. Making pot shots at the way he is hypocritical about organic food. And calls himself a calls himself a “jaded, overprivileged foodie”.

When I left home, I took sheaves of paper and a pen stuffed in my handbag, with my camera of course. The aching wannabe journalist in me was crying out loud for an opportunity like tonight’s. But who was I kidding? The papers remained inside my handbag, I remained glued to the chair with no elbow room, for I was too mesmerized by this solitary man. He walked on stage on time, with a bottle of beer in his hand. His crop of peppered hair slickly brushed back, his dark, charcoal denims snugly fit on his lean bod which assumedly so had travelled, worked out and ate well. Giving him the right balance to understand cultures and kitchens around the world.

He seemed at ease with the expecting crowd around him and more importantly with himself. Each time he opened his mouth, which was pretty much all the one hour forty minutes of the evening, I felt I needed to log on to Wikipedia or dictionary.com to see what the word he just created meant. All hopes of course of taking notes had evaporated as soon as he had appeared on stage. No one can keep pace with this man. Not even his own shadow.

The un-constrained evening of hysterical culinary-literature ended too soon. He took questions from some people who chose the occasion to hobnob with him for the 10-seconds of time that they were blessed with. I, of course had no such luck. So I did what I could do best, down a stiff vodka with OJ with my husband and replayed the memories of the very sexy, very seductive Mister Anothony Bourdain.

(Poor quality of the stage photos should to be blamed on the no-photography rule @ Massey Hall. These are sneak shots by a very smitten woman whose husband was not too pleased with her breaking the rules.)

Summer Solstice

I don’t know about anybody else, but Summers are a BIG deal for me here.

I behave like a squirrel during these three months of Summer, hurrying to do my bit, appearing very busy and stopping for nothing and nobody.

But I take my time to  capture in my camera Nature’s dance of happiness. I keep gazing at the blue sky through my sunglasses, get more tan than needed on my Indian skin, sit by the window and soak enough sun so that I don’t have to pop Vitamin D pills for the rest of the year.

But that’s not all, I make jugfuls of nimbu paani (which P guzzles down after his eight kilometer daily runs) or aam panna and shakes and fruit smoothies. Oh and pickles too, to sit in the sun while I dress up my window sills and put all my plants in the balcony.

There is lots to love about the summer landscape. Apart from obviously family visiting and bringing me gifts and goodies from India.

I am cherishing my golden days of Summer in Toronto and looking forward to getting my next crop of tangerines. 
Okay, I have a feeling I should make myself busy again.

Happy Canada Day, everyone!

Fire It Up, When I Am Cooled Down!

cheese stuffed prime rib
boneless leg of lamb
boneless beef rib 
chicken drumstick
roasted pineapple
parmesan pork
parmesan filet
chicken breast
turkey breast
picana brazil
garlic sirloin
suckling pig
filet mignon
lamb chops
flank steak
top sirloin
beef ribs
rib eye
salmon

Food has a habit of following me. Even on Valentine’s Day. It is another thing however that the reservations were made a month ago!Its hearty and its heartwarming, all at the same time as you are ushered in CopaCabana Brazilian Steak House.

My first time at a Gaúcho eatery, I definitely was excited, and a tad guilty about already writing the evening unfold in my head for this post.

You start a typical evening at CopaCabana with its wide array of salads and soups, accompanied with some delicious bread.

I was told by the very proud salad chef Breno, that on Fridays and Saturdays they serve up to 20+ types of salads. I took my time sampling at least 7-10 salads and greens and I was already sohhhhh stuffed.    

I did not fuss much when P suggested I start with the meat and temporarily divert from the salads.  We were given a two-sided card – Cool It Down when you want to eat the salads and greens. Flip to the Fire It Up side, and that’s to beckon one of the knife-wielding young men to come to your table and serve all the meat that are aged, marinated, and cooked on-site by Brazilian-trained chefs. 
The carvers as they are called will take rounds to all the tables with the most succulent and dripping with flavor beef, chicken, turkey, lamb and pork. I was a little disappointed with the lamb chops that they served. It smelt too gamey for me.   I was being challenged by the carvers doing quick rounds at our table, and my own ability to multitask- take photos and mental notes of all we were eating. There was too much on my plate. No pun intended.I soon realized I was fighting a lost battle and went back to concentrating on the food.I think one of the roaming Gauchas called  Ramone (as the lettuce!) even fancied all that attention he was getting from a photo-hungry-food-hungry 30-something woman!At the end of personally sampling at least 10+ types “full rodizio” assortment of meat slow-cooked on charcoal, I did not have the stomach for any dessert and settled into eating strawberries from the all-you-can-eat spread. I consciously stayed away from the chocolate dip. After all my evening had been made sweet enough by P anyway! A Bollywood movie later to end the night made a perfect Valentine’s Day date with my husband. Well, almost. Just that the thought of doing two rounds of laundry on Sunday was not something I wanted to wake up to!

Funk at Kensington Market

I am told I have a good eye for things creative and non-ordinary, even antique home décor. And Kensington Market in downtown Toronto is one such place I love going on a lazy afternoon. If not much, I will come back home making “friends” with a world traveler, an art connoisseur, or just another shopper like me.

Kensington is a neighborhood in no hurry. It has the unmistakable old world charm and truly so! Old bungalows have been converted into vintage stores and coffee shops and its one place you can spend hours just looking.

I am usually in Kensington for ethnic Indian/world décor stuff. And yes sometimes I pay Canadian prices for an Indian piece of art or collectible.

But if you love flea markets, Kensington is the place to hang out in. You should not go there pre-decided, but if you like something, you should pick it up and don’t forget to ask for a bargain price. You never know! Sometimes you could get away without paying any taxes.

But if you don’t enjoy shopping around in artsy, hippy neighborhoods, this is not the place for you.

I love the fresh fruits, dry fruits, coffee and sandwiches you get at Kensington. Not to mention the cheese, pastry, meat and fish and bakery stores. This place sure isn’t for the weak-hearted.

My home has some knick knacks from this market, its sheer luck what you may land up with! Its the unexpectedness that is so attractive about this place.

Enjoy the pictures while I sanitize my hands! :-)

The owner of Indo East Trading is a fiftyish man from Kashmir, India. He also has a good collection of Jaipuri bed sheets and spreads.

“Vintage” jeans. Anyone?

You get the cheapest deals here when it comes to local.

The Mexican/Spanish stores are great to just go nutty!

Eye of Shiva is pricey- all Indian stuff from Indian kurtis, cushion covers. Don’t forget to ask the lady to bring down the prices a bit. She may just indulge you.

He had to sit out while his master was in the meat and sausage store :-(

Nepal Handicrafts is run by a Nepalese couple – Doma (from Darjeeling, India) and her husband. The masks are something you should come home with. They might even bring down the price a bit if you are charming.

For the freshest, most delectable breakfast and any time sandwiches!

My hot chocolate!

A grilled smoked bacon sandwich with some grilled eggplant and peppers, crumbled feta and aromatic arugula. ‘Twas simply delish!

Pad Thai, not too great but enjoyable on a cold day.

Till next time…

 

 

 

 

 

Au revoir!