Francey That!

The girls were gone, so my buddy George and I had a man-date to see David Francey. First I went to his place with some nice things to drink. He made supper and we watched TV. (Flight of the Conchords - hilarious).

Then we walked down to the concert at Alderney landing together. But we did not hold hands.

OK, enough with the fluff. The concert was excellent. Francey played many of this old faves, and served up several of the excellent songs from his new album. The show, at the theatre style Alderney Gate was promoted by the Keltic Corner Pub, across the street on Alderney Drive (and one of the best pubs in Nova Scotia right now - Propeller Porter on tap). The say, or at least co-owner Geoff MacLatchey said, that they plan on doing more larger venue shows when the performer warrants it. Good on them. Maybe some day someone will actually move to downtown Dartmouth! OK, sorry George, someone important.... I mean someone of ... OK, more people, then.

Francey's in-between-songs patter was great, as usual, and made the songs more personal and meaningful. His fascination with Great Lakes lakers was interesting, and how he managed to achieve a "dream" of touring on one was fun to hear. Then hearing the songs he got from the trip became a workshop in song writing.

Afterwards, we ventured over to the Keltic Corner pub, and found it rocking away to some Irish Band, full of an all ages crowd just getting in on! A few people from the show did come over, and Francey sold some CD's (one to me, in fact) and signed various parts of people's bodies etc.

David Francey remains one of the most transparently likable singer/songwriters in folk music. He really enjoys what he is doing, and hearing how a crowd receives his work. If you don't know his music, and you love songs that seem to have fallen together in perfect rhythm while still evoking real emotion, give him a listen.

Here is my favourite Francey line, about that first crush in high school:

When you hear a sound like broken glass
That's my heart every time that girl walks past
When you hear a sound like the rush of wind
It's just me catching my breath again.

Evens not Odd

Clank said go. L said sure. I end up at the North Street Church to watch a dry concert show with an ex hardcore punk rocker from the states and his current gal pal play a two person acoustic punk show.

Ian MacKaye, former lead singer of Minor Threat now performs as one half of The Evens. This is the guy who coined the phrase "straight edge" in punk lingo. That means pure anarchy - no booze, no drugs, almost a Wiccan adherence to the "do no harm" thing, but with maybe some property violence permissible.

From that Wiki thing...

Straight edge (also known as sXe, and xXx) refers to a lifestyle (deemed both counter culture and subculture) closely associated with hardcore punk music. There is considerable debate over what constitutes the practice of the straight edge lifestyle. The most widely associated perception involves practicing at least some degree of abstinence from alcohol, tobacco, and other drugs. Some views may also include abstinence from caffeine, following a vegetarian or vegan diet, and abstinence from various levels and forms of sexual activity.

The show was pretty good.

I could have used something to drink, though.

Fred-Head Not Dead

Fred Eaglesmith may be the most honest guy in music, or the best actor. I'm not sure which. What I am sure about is that he has the ability to write songs that stay with you. Songs that no one else could ever right, but still are able to convey a feeling we all have had, or wish we could have.

He writes sad songs about his good dog, knowing that one day he'll have to put him down (Bill Morrissey has handled the day it happens, too well for most people's tear ducts). He writes uplifting songs about white trash just getting on with life, romantic songs about cars and trains, poignant, almost poetic songs about old gas stations and girl friends, as if they were one and the same. And he performs them in a gritty, tight, manner with what is sometimes an incredibly eclectic group of musicians, normally anchored in their musicianship by Willie P. Bennett, who can play anything with strings.

Fred seems to enjoy making a point with his choices of venue as well. He is more at home in a fire station hall than Carnegie Hall, and his recent choice of the Parkside Pub, in Highfield Park, our city's "new tough place to live" is emblematic of that approach. He is loved there. And he loves it back.

I've seen Fred play 4 times previous to this gig, but had not seen him in a while. L and I got there fairly early, and I managed to scrounge a seat for two along the wall. The service was not just good, it was incredible. Our server was friendly, efficient, fun, prompt, polite, and gorgeous. We ate the specialty, Chicken wings and beer.

Fred started on time, and they stopped serving food so as not to interrupt the show, but I think it was because the staff just wanted to watch too.

The first news was that Willie P. had had a heart attack on stage two weeks prior. It happened near the start of the show, Fred said, but he played through it and then went to the hospital. Not sure how true this was, because Fred was in Fred mode. He has become a show since I saw him last, with more than simply patter between songs. His stage talk runs somewhere between a southern preacher railing against all the evil in the world, to a frustrated honky who hates hummus and everything it stands (or slumps) for.

The show was full throttle for 90 minutes. He played almost all the faves, seemingly not risking new tunes without Willie P. up there with him. With his merch-sales gal drummer keeping time, and backed up solidly on bass and guitar, the music rocked, swayed, sobbed, and rolled.

After the third, and "as announced" final encore, he sat off to the side, signing merchandise and swapping stories with about 75 lined up fans. I wanted one of the "I Shot Your Dog" T-shirts, but they were sold out. What a perfect thing to wear out for a stroll on the Common!

My only complaint was that my favourite song of his, Lucille, was not on the program.

So I played it at home, before I went to sleep to dream about perfect chicken wings, drag racin'on the back roads, and snow plow drivers out in the middle of the plain hoping they are still on the blacktop.

Happy Anniversay, Happy Anniversary, Happy Anniversay, Happy Anniversary, Happy Anniversay, Happy Anniversary, Happy Anniversay, Happy Anniversary

Some time long ago and far way L and I started living together. It was, like, almost by default. Anyway, apparently that was "20 years ago today" (Sgt Pepper) on June 3.
But June 3 was full of all kinds of other stuff, so we deferred the eating part til this weekend.

Morning was mixed, eggs a la Jeff with some toast cheese etc.

Brunch was at Saege, served by the gorgeous Karin, brunch consisted of Eggs Benedict and Ham, with ROESTI POTATOES (I like ROESTI POTATOES so I shout them all the time.)

ROESTI POTATOES! ROESTI POTATOES! See?

L also had ROESTI POTATOES! with her eggs and sausages, but she was much quiter than me about it.

I had a Mimosa (knowing it is made correct there - see earlier post) made me much more comfortable with the drink, really.

The best thing was the strawberries in the water pitcher, especially when one fell into my glass and I got to eat it.

A stroll through the Public Gardens, and then back home.

Later that day, it was dinner out at Fiasco. This place gets rave reviews on Chowhound, from people who seem to know what they are eating, and who eat elsewhere and are not related to some of the restaurant owners (unlike some "critics" in the Province). There seems to be some buzz about "the sauces", which I now think was created by an old Stephen Maher review (he of the "good, very good" reviews). Yes the sauces were good, yes they were very good, maybe even great. Sure, yes, great sauces.

Anyway, back to the dinner. We wanted to take the menu's advice and have an appetizer sampler. It said three apps made for two plates. Cool - that'll be the two pastas and a spinach salad! Um, no, the menu may say or imply, that we should be able to do that, but no, it is chef's choice. In determining the choice of food, for me - THAT MEANS HE CAN POISON YOU IF HE IS IN A SHITTY MOOD!! How many happy chefs do you know? They are all serious until they get drunk, then they throw knives and assorted pastries at anything that moves! They may laugh then, but it is only at the way you bleed. At best, it means they use this as a way to discard the apps no one else likes.

Anyway, I politely accepted this denial of my request to eat what I wanted and morphed it into a Spinach salad (warm with smoked bacon, balsamic and garlic) and the Tortellini with a browned butter, cream and prosciutto sauce (note - SAUCE!). I thought I said we'd do it as a split, but they came plated separately. (also cost $5 more than the special we thought the menu offered). The pasta sauce rocked. The salad? Um, not really.

The wine list was not bad. They are close to the POW but I note that some Private store selections have snuck in. I had the Flagstone Sauvignon Blanc (the server called it something else) and L had her usual H2O. I asked for water, which I never did see until I lay on the carpet choking for something... OK, no, but it went forgotten and I had to ask again. (did I mention we were the only customers in the place?)

The wines open by the glass were not on any list, and seemed to be improvised (which I think is cool). There were three whites and three reds open. The red I chose for my second course of Beef Medallion(s) was the Don David Malbec. Not on the list, but open for service by the glass. It was too alcoholic to provide a fair match to the food, maybe palatable with raw meat and no sauce, or lysol in the ditch behind the church on Brunswick Street - but I chose it, so it was clearly my fault. I ordered the beef rare. I said "rare" I am sure. I got meat that was decidedly medium. Does anyone know what "rare" means in this city? Even at Seven with their wonderful PEI filet and wood grill, I asked for rare and got medium rare. At janes I asked for rare and got medium. If I ask for "blue" I expect they'll just paint my frickken nose. I am considering bringing in a good cut of steak and just eating it at my table uncooked. Maybe then someone will get the message. Hopefully the BYO rules will have passed and I'll be able to afford a proper wine to drink with it too!

L had a seafood medley type of thing. Scallops, halibut, mussels, clams, and even a "hidden shrimp". This pleased her - they hid the singleton shrimp, so her disappointment at there being no shrimp or lobster was temporarily forgotten by the pleasant suprise of finding the solo shrimp under some cheaper white fish (Halibut?) meat. Accident, or design? Didn't fool me.

She says it was great, but I ask, was it just the company, really?

To our server's shock, we decline dessert, as patrons are starting to arrive, and it looks to be a real puke fest at a big table - they have already covered the seats with sheets in anticipation of their needing to be preserved (Bill Spurr said that's why they do that, and he should know, he writes a food column for a "major newspaper"!). I guess the sheets can be washed later, and it's hard to get that puke smell out of the furniture.

In truth the meal was great. Seriously. I'd recommend the place to anyone in a heartbeat. My only quibble was the price - maybe I am spoiled by janes on the common, but the bill was $114 before grat. Two glasses of wine, a salad and pasta app, and two main courses, one a daily special. That is $60 at janes. Was it better? Hmm. Some of it was, marginally - the sauce on the pasta, and the steak/medallion(s) (there was only one medallion but the menu has an "s" on it, though it was good, and enough). The spinach salad at janes is better, the wine by the glass is as good, and cheaper, and the seafood can be as good or better there, depending on the special of the day. The cut of meat at Fiasco was prime, and arguably better, but it was almost $30, so it had better be good. Maybe it can even come rare sometimes.

So go, eat there, eat things with sauces, and chill out - the wine list was very good, and the markups very fair.

A stroll through the Public Gardens, and then back home.

Later, that evening we went to janes for dessert, having allowed time for our meal to digest a bit. With my cousin, right off the Mira Gut to Marion Bridge ferry. The beauty of the desert menu shone through. My coconut cream shortbread crust mini-pie was yummy without being too sweet, L's upside down rhubarb cake was worth the wait, and my cousin made his carrot cake disappear in no time.

Yep, a great day of eating.

BURP

Lightfoot Treads Lightly on the Metro Centre

Let's get this clear from the start, I bought the tickets to this concert because I wanted to see Gordon Lightfoot before he died. Years of listening to him, yet never seeing him required this. I was wondering why that was until he mentioned that he hadn't been east in 17 years or so. That might be it.

There was no opening act, and Gordon and his old but talented band started up the show with Daylight Katy and kept going from there. He played a lot of the old faves, and in about a half hour, you started becoming almost in awe at the size of his body of work. He has been responsible for the creation of so many gems, classics, favourite songs, and memory evoking tunes and lyrics.

I still recall always having Carefree Highway in my car cassette player for long drives, and that stretch of the 104 where Barney's River cuts through the mountain pass outside of Antigonish always come to mind when I hear that tune.

The show had about a half hour intermission. Gordon needed the break. His voice is no longer that of a young man, and tended to the wispy character of someone who is tired, but still has something of value to say.

That said, the sound system was sorely not up to the task of moving the air in the Metro Centre. This was a show that would have been totally awesome in the Cohn, but was almost lost in the atmosphere in the hockey arena. That was alright for us, as I had bought seats as close as were available. But there were those in the end of the rink who were yelling "turn it up!" all night.

Too bad, really. Two or three nights at the Cohn would have been far better than this one in this location.

In the end, Gord gave gold, and that was why we came.

Down in the caves of Stönehäven

Dinner before the Gordon Lightfoot concert, and I was thinking about trying a new place to eat. We never did get to Syn before it went out of business, so I figured maybe we'd get to this place just in case.

The advertising had me more than ready to not like the place. I mean, it has two umlauts in the name alone (as was pointed out to me by teslagirl)! Like some aged Spinal Tap type rock band from the 70's.

The evening we went, we almost did not get a table for two, it was that booked. We sat in the outer room, close to the bar, which is fine, though not as cosy as the inner little caves that La Cave made famous.

How often does a new place open, with a new name, claiming to represent the culinary heritage of two former semi famous places to eat in town? Stönehäven, located in the former La Cave, then The Cavern, then Syn location, claims to be the descendant of both Pepe's and La Cave. I am not sure how many people remember Pepe's, but it was a good spot to eat back in the late eighties, and earlier. I think Your Father's Moustache is there now.

We were served by very friendly people. No impatience, and relatively prompt, except for the dessert. I think there is some sort of a bottleneck between the kitchen and the floor that can hold up a simple order (a piece of cheesecake) behind a big table's main courses.

The food was good. Not fine dining inventive original, but hearty, as advertised, and tasty. I had Devilled Chicken which was steak au poivre with chicken breast instead of steak. I liked it - they did not scrimp on the pepper. L had some chowder, and a pasta dish, both to her liking.

The wine list was pathetic, and this is one serious weakness of the place. I ended up with only one real choice for white wine by the glass, and it was an Australian Chard from a big industrial producer.

The cheescakes we had for dessert were both excellent, although they did take longer to arrive than anything else we ordered.

Others may find this place not to their liking, but on this night, to our experience, it was fine. And the service was very good.

Of course, it is not for the claustrophobic.

Erica Wears the Pants

I have heard that Kim Crawford, the famed New Zealand winemaker is a big lad. A rugby type (in NZ, anyone is, I suppose, as that is their state religion). But it is now clear to me who really wears the pants in the family. Pity Kim. Perhaps he should have been given a more manly name?

Sunday night saw me, in the accompaniment of a PYT* attend another Food and Wine Club event. This time at Spring Garden Road, and RCR Hospitality's Onyx Restaurant. The reason was to celebrate the wines of Kim Crawford Estates, formerly a "virtual winery" in New Zealand, now grown to prominence partly through the excellent winemaking of Kim (the guy) and the marketing prowess of Erica (the girl).

From what I can tell they met on a rugby field, and possibly, though it was hard to hear, consumated their relationship there, resulting in her not being able, nine months later, to take a big important job in Asia, and having to stay home and mind the family business instead. So much for the history part.

What was never mentioned was how they are owned, not just repped, by Vincor, which is, in turn, owned by Constellation Brands. This is like being a microbrewery and being owned by Labatt, which is owned by InBev. Or like going to the corner store to find out that it is a now a chain store that is owned by Walmart.

That said, the wines were very very good. So maybe Constellation is too busy trying to decide how to make "One Buck Chuck" this year that they have forgotten to step in and screw it up.

The Riesling they showed was fantastic stuff. A small parcel selection, it was elegant, with a telling nose, great fruit, and well balanced acidity. Classy.
The regular Sauvignon Blanc is starting to get so consistent, I am wondering just how manufactured it is. It seems the same to me, regardless of vintage. That said, I have always loved it, and still do. A small parcel Sauvignon Blanc showed very classy, reminding me of Nobilo Icon, and some good California SB's I have had, but was fulloer bodied, and not my style of the grape.

The Merlot-Cab Franc, my first non-pinot red from this winery, was very well balanced, full of new world style fruit, but with a nose that was reminiscent of 2003 Bordeaux. The Merlot was a bigger, somewhat clumsy thing, wandering around in the dark look for some Cab, any Cab, to mix with. A wine for those who don't like wine, really. The 2006 Pinot Noir is an excellent example of the style, with mushrooms, forest floor, pine needles in the nose, and cherry fruit with full body, but a clean acid finish. I find this much improved from their last two vintages.

Onyx, once again for me - this was my third time eating a pre-arranged menu dinner here - came though with shining colours, with a small quibble of cool plates for the main (was the warmer down for the count, or perhaps too small for a banquet style dinner?) I also took points off for spelling on the menu.

A starter of Tuna Carpaccio sliced so thin you could see through it, made from ahi tuna dry rubbed with coriander, and with a pile of lavender & crushed pepper with duo of saffron & wasabi aioli, piled in the middle of the plate, along with an assortment of table breads, began the evening's eating. I loved this with the Riesling.

Then a main course called Duck Two Ways, consiting of a Muscovy duck breast Peking style & duck leg confit, with accompanying vegetables. The confit was simply to die for. Thinking of it now makes my mouth water. This was made even better by the Pinot Noir.

Dessert consisted first of the winery's late harvest Riesling, a good, but not outstanding example of the style, followed by Baked Alaska, not flamed enough to set off the sprinklers, made with a port infused fig center, chocolate & chai ice cream dome with kumquat cranberry compote. Um. Yes. More please.

Erica the marketer came around, fielding the questions proffered by the largely "civilian" wine audience that these events attract. She was unable to answer my question about the clones the riesling was made from, despite an earlier assertion that this was her favourite wine. She did kow that one was Alsatian. And when I suggested that the 2006 Pinot Noir was far better than the previous two vintages, she was about ready to pick me up (with one arm, I wager) and toss me out the door in front of a number 80 bus.

Sorry, but the 04 was mean and thin, and the 05 not a lot better. The 06 is in the stores now, and it rocks.

In the meantime, I am going over to the Garrison Grounds to watch the women's rugby teams practice....




*Pretty Young Thing

Dry Brunch

It is odd how when you are thinking about someone, they pop up in your life for real sometimes. While I was writing the entry on Gina Haverstock (The Riesling Princess) she called me. Seems she was heading into Halifax, and was wondering if we were up for lunch at janes on the common, as she had yet to eat there.

It usually takes far less to mobilize L and I for that, and despite a late breakfast of steak and eggs, we soon find ourselves with Gina at my favourite table. I note that daughter number one is back working there, having just finished her environmental engineering program at Dal.

L orders the special, a deep dish pancake with fruit piled in, Gina has the turkey burger and I go back to my lunch fave there, the grilled cheese sandwich with the tomato butter. All very good, as usual.

For beverage, it was water, coffee, and Aranciata. Brunch with a winemaker and sommelier, and no wine was consumed! There are three wines on the list from Gina's employer (she works at Gaspereau, but Jost owns that winery and she is back and forth to the larger operation up on the Northumberland coast) but we buy none. I shall have to tease her about that.

We talk each other (I am blaming L) into a dessert course that further obligates us all to a walk around and through Point Pleasant Park. Gina had not yet seen Juan's legacy of damage there, and I had some work to do in the Park, and the dessert needed to be mitigated somehow.

Then home, in time to head out to supper at Phil's Seafood, and then the Aeolian Singers/Connie Kaldor concert at the Cohn.

A pretty good day in the city.

The Riesling Princess

It's all about the wine, Gina will tell you. But last week, it seemed like everyone was making it all about Gina, to her somewhat dismayed embarrassment. Gina Haverstock is the new winemaker at Gaspereau Vineyards, just over South Mountain (yes, I know it is barely a hill) from Wolfville. I can tell you, you will simply not find a nicer person on the planet. Period. No matter how nice you think you are, Gina is nicer.

Gina is the first person in Nova Scotia to become a winemaker, a professional in wine, "from scratch". She discovered wine while working at Jost Vineyards in the tasting room and gift shop one summer (her family cottage was close by) and got hooked. The biochemistry degree that had been intended to be the base for a medical career ended up being used in a much more productive manner!

The work to become a winemaker is not a short and easy road to follow. Gina first took her interest in the hospitality side of things, studying under Adam Dial to complete the full International Sommelier Guild Program in Halifax. Here she learned all about the world of wine, and how to taste wine, match it with food, and consider its faults and qualities. The Sommelier course is also a huge lesson in geography, as familiarity with terroir around the world is part of the lessons to be learned.

Gina then took the big step of enrolling at Brock University's Cool Climate Oenology and Viticultural Institute (CCOVI, pronounced cuh-vee) to become a winemaker. Years later she emerged, degree in hand, and with work experience from around the world.

She says it was on her term in Germany that her love of the Queen of Grapes, Riesling, began. She has worked in vineyards, farming and winemaking in Germany, Austria and New Zealand.

This past year, she returned to Nova Scotia to be come the winemaker at Gaspereau Vineyards, Jost's Annapolis Valley operation.

And guess what awaited her? Some Nova Scotia grown Riesling, planted high up on the hill in the vineyard behind the winery.

Last week, the winery held an Introduction to Riesling event, with invited guests and paying customers. At this event, they launched Gina's first Riesling in Nova Scotia. This wine is, in my opinion, the best white wine ever made in Nova Scotia (not counting icewines) and, if we take the stance of an outsider looking into our industry from afar, arguably the best wine ever made in Nova Scotia (again, we'd better not count Icewine, because ours is already maybe the best in the world).

The wine is bright, pale straw in colour, with a tickling of acidity on initial taste, with lemon-lime and maybe a trace of mandarin citrus. There is a some petrol in the nose, offering an initial hint of its identity. The middle is full, and almost semi sweet, but the wine, like a good Mosel style, finishes with great, lip smacking acidity and fresh fruit.

Now, you probably won't be able to buy any for a while, but look for it when it does come out.

In the meantime, Gina's first Seyval for Gaspereau is also out, and it is a stunning example of how good this grape can be. Crisp lean acidity make it an ideal food wine, and a good candidate for a house white with our local seafood inspired cuisine.

Gina has led the way in yet another manner, as one more of the local wine community is now at Brock. Alison Moyes, who having finished her Sommelier Program a few years ago, was at Seven Wine Bar as Sommelier and Manager, is currently at 13th Street Winery on her work term, about 1/3 of her way through the same program from which Gina graduated.

So remember, when you taste Gina's wines, raise a glass to the Riesling Princess, the gal who came back home and is helping to further advance the wine industry in Nova Scotia.

Wine of the Week, May 5, 2007

McWilliams Hanwood Riesling, $15.99

In a screwcap! No corked wine here!


The NSLC says:

Aromas of lemon, lime and mandarin with subtle hints of orange blossom and musk. An intensely aromatic palate of fresh lime and citrus with a crisp, acidic finish. A perfect accompaniment to spicy dishes.


I say:

Yes with the lemon lime acidity, fresh clean fruit with enough semi sweet middle to please anyone who wants true Riesling character without a smarmy sickly sweet finish. I know $15.99 is a bit much for some of you, but at least you know it won't be corked.

This will work as a drink, or with food, which is rare nowadays. I'd suggest something with 5-spice, and other oriental character.

Enjoy!

Lost Heritage, Found Crap

Halifax's urban skyline is old. Dated. Lost and dreary, nothing new or interesting added since the milk cartons...I mean Purdy's Wharf Towers, were built.

Twenty years of nothing. Like some people's lives I suppose, but a city can barely survive that kind of stagnancy. A city is an organism, it requires renewal, reinvestment, repair, and rebirth.

One hundred years from now, people will look at our city and wonder what the hell we were doing on our watch. All of our investment in buildings in the past 20 years has been, with some rare exceptions, to make pure crap. Tilt up concrete and metal buildings for Bayers Lake, the end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it repetitious sprawl of Clayton Park and CP-West, and, coming soon to a multiplex theatre near you, Dartmouth Crossdressing.

I suppose if I was one of those self assured, self righteous, heritage people who KNOW beyond a doubt that the architecture of 1950 is far better than what the architects of the past 20 years might have built here, I might be happier. I would like to know how they can be so sure of themselves about that, though.

I find myself wondering what might have been. What if the development community (you know, the people with money who build things) in Halifax had been allowed to spend money in the downtown, rather than running out to BLIP and now Dartmouth Crossdressing to invest in Big Box Bull Shite? I suppose the heri-terrorists are happy because really, you can't easily walk or bicycle out there to be offended, so they are the ignorant type of happy. Like, la la happy.

It may now be easier to pedal to Dartmouth Crossdressing, though, and maybe Osama Ban Pacie, her probone lawyer and the gang who know for sure what is best for the rest of us might finally be able to witness the destruction their actions have wrought, however inadvertently, on our built heritage. Imagine the terror on their faces when they see what they have created. Or better, when they realize that what they have left as a built heritage for future generations, to stand for their time here, is all single story, land hogging, car requiring, energy sucking, greed driven, multinational funded, short term tax generating, downtown suffocating crap. I have one question. Do you want fries with that shit? I am sure that this is where their souls will rest when they pass on, and this nourishes me.

Architecture in Nova Scotia now consists of little more than a school from which people graduate and then leave the Province. Modern Architecture does not matter here. Too clean, too stable, and it certainly has no chance of attracting squatting vagrants. And that means it won't fit in, in our downtown. Look on the bright side. Pretty soon you will be able to live just about wherever you want to on Barrington Street! I like the third floor of what used to be Sam the Record Man. (Maybe Sue hid some old Loudon Wainwright the Third CD's in the walls....) In about five years, the way we're going, all I'll need is my sleeping bag and a gun, and I'll be fine there.

At least the pubs sometimes work in the basements of the places that the owners can't rent but can't replace. So my habitat is secure. Until they rot and fall down, that is.

Note: Research In Motion (Crackberry people), needing Class A office space in a hurry, knew better than to trust our 23 member Hydra-council with their investment by trying to locate in our downtown. Heck, some of them are so challenged they don't understand what a downtown means to an economy of a city and the region around it. How is it that Chicago, the best run city in North America, reportedly, manages with only 7 councillors? Surely more politicians has to be better? That must make some kind of sense? Oh Christ, I need another drink....

Wait, is the Granite Brewery moving to Windsor? In the valley? Not Windsor Ontario, Windsor Nova Scotia?... My brain hurts.... More beer please...

Rogues Roost gone in September 2008 to make way for condos? Pass the scotch....

Wine of the Week, April 15, 2007

It has been a while since I last posted a WOTW, but I am still in cheap white wine mode. And you simply cannot do better for the buck than this one.

2006 KWV Chenin Blanc, $9.99, NSLC

All the white wine you really need for sipping with dinner out on the deck. And it ain't a Chardonnay! Great wine, simply great for $10. And they won't run out of it for a while, either. Clean good acidity, slight smokey in the background, and some mild chalky tannin. Trace of tropical fruit. Clean, crisp and straightforward. Sure, there is not a lot of complexity, but it is $10!

Poutine on the Hops - A Montreal Pub Crawl

Beer buddy Alexandre was rallying some of the troops for a Montreal pub crawl the night before the March in Montreal (MIM) Beer Event. MIM is a reason to go to Montreal, and I have been to it the past 12 years in a row. I am pretty sure that despite the claims of one Montrealer, I am the only person to have been to all of them, and I live in Halifax.

Alexandre wants to start at his local pub, a very nice little spot way up on Saint Laurent neat St. Zotique called Vice et Versa. This place's claim to fame is a complete reliance on Quebec produced products, from cheese, to bread, to meats, to drink. There are about 20 beers on tap, all micros, most of which I have never had.

I beat Alexandre there, and order a 1/2 pint of the Brasseurs et Freres IPA (5.6% - ok, thinish, nice hops) to help me contemplate a theme for the evening. Plans were to end up at Le Cheval Blanc, a long ways away, which meant that there were a lot of potential stops in between. But we had until 10 am the next day, when the conference started....

Alex arrives shortly after 5 pm. No one else will be joining us here, as they will be meeting us at Dieu de Ciel, on Laurier and Clarke, about a 15 minute walk away. I'm hungry, and know enough to know I'll need some food for the evening. I order a cheese and pate plate, and follow Alex's habit of ordering a small size glass they sell at Vice et Versa called a "Galopin". It is sort of a large sampler glass. Maybe 4 ounces. I try the Bieropholie Cascade IPA, which was excellent; the Hopfenstark, post Colonial (IPA) 6.5%, drying hop bitterness with good malt balance; and the Hopfenstark, Ostalgia Rousse, nice, hoppier than expected.

True to form, I want more than 4 ounces of a beer. When my food arrives, and to cleanse my palate of the hops, I order a pint of Trois Mousquetieres, Dartagnan Lager, which was clean, a bit grainy, but with a nice malt character and trace of sulfur on the nose. The cheeses and pates are served with great olives (Quebec olives?) and nice breads, some toasted. This makes me happy.

Shortly, we are ready to begin the trek. The success of the IPA tasting here has set my theme, and I'm off to try as many IPA's, or beers close to that, as I can.

At Dieu de Ciele, the Corne de Diable IPA is on cask, on the hand pump. It is against my religion to not have a full pint of cask conditioned beer. This one is soft in the mouth with a very complex malt profile, and long long finishing hops with some vegetal notes. It is strange being here without cigarette smoke....

We hold down the end of the bar for a while, now joined by one of Alexandre's friends, who I'd met the night before. We are subsequently joined by another local beer guy, and once he has his taste, we are off to the Sergeant Recruiteur, not far away, just down Saint Laurent. There I have a pint of Sergeant Recruiteur Hip Hop IPA, which was very yummy, Northern Brewer hops I was guessing, traditional style, and balanced.

We picked up another member of the crawl here, one of the Ontario CABA crowd in for the next day's event. He was on the other side of the bar, and looked familier form previous MIM's.

Next stop was the Reservoir on Duluth, just off Saint Laurent. I had the IPA, a pint (surprised?). This beer was the best I have ever had at this place, known more for its excellent menu (it is really a bistro, well above pub food), with a good balance and chewey hop palate.

From the Res' we head down the hill (this is the right direction to do a walking pub crawl) and decide that the walk to the next brewpub, Amere a Boire, is too far for our liking (or was that bladders?) and we pay a visit to Else's Cafe, a great little neighbourhood pub/resto that is on Le Boullion. There I have a pint of L'Alchimiste IPA (clean, crisp hopping, slightly thin malt, bitter finish), and scarf down three (count em!) samosas, with some hot hot chutney, that went great with the beer.

After the food, we head off to Amere a Boire, on Saint Denis just above Ontario, having lost one of our party to the proximity of his hotel (it is now fairly late, or early, depending on how you look at it). Once there I have a pint of Amere a Boire Pale Ale, a hoppy bitter on cask and hand pump, that is as refreshingly hoppy as most of the IPA's of the evening.

A nod to the bartender, and we are off down the street to the Cheval Blanc. The place is still packed. I get a pint of the Cheval's India Rouge, a hoppy amber ale that is good, but has some slightly hot alcohol and balance issues. Or is that the samosas?

This ought to be the place where we eschew walking and get a cab to Brutopia for their IPA, but I am the only one doing an IPA theme (I didn't mention that, did I?) so we continue on to a nearby place called Yer Mad. This is the mead and cider bar (as well as beer) that Alexandre introduced me to a couple of years ago.

Alex is still in sampler mode, so we try a bunch:

Four Meads: Benoite, Verge d'Or, Marie Clos, Cap des Tourmentes (all good)
Three Ciders: Cheval de Glace, Kerissac, Verger de Minot (I loved the Kesissac)
and a Pommier, blend of mead, cider and Calvados, from a producer whose name escaped me.

We close the bar down.

Of course, no pub crawl that closes the bars in Montreal (3 am) is complete without putting the correct cap on the contents of your abused stomach. We head back up the hill to Deluxe Fries on Saint Denis for a final shot of Poutine.

We all head back to our respective beds, me to wake up the next morning at 9, to shower, and then find my way down the street to begin the beer conference with a breakfast of beer - weizen, and doughnuts.

I am shortly heralded as the king of IPA drinkers... Well, it was not a bad evening. One must really drink full pints to get the full effect, mustn't one? And it really is all about pacing oneself and not going without food.

Athenian Brunch

It is Saturday, in between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Resurrecting myself from the near dead, I am ready for some sustenance around noon. L and I head out in the general direction of Quinpool Road, passing various lunch/brunch options until we are in front of the Athens, a place we used to haunt, but have gotten away from of late. There are plenty of seats, so, why not, for old time’s sake?

Inside we wait innocently to be seated, and oddly, the first person to notice the lineup walks right by us and asked the person behind us how many are in their party. OK, I didn’t have a morning shower, alright! But maybe she could have at least wrinkled her nose as she totally ignored me. Sheesh….

Feeling like chopped liver, we get seated by another staffer who apparently noticed what had happened, and who seated us with a grin, making some minor apology for her cow-worker’s action.

Things get better from here, though.

The service we eventually get is great, fast and attentive. My fish cakes were really good, a mix of salt cod and fresh cod, with a crispy outer and soft inner. Not too salty, either, which is hard to do. The home fries are good (though not approaching those at Johnny’s), the toast not too burnt, and I am happy. L has poached eggs and toast, with sausages that she makes disappear in short time.

The coffee is OK, and is replenished at suitable interval.

The odd thing is that, unlike my memory of this place, it is not packed. There are ample open seats (we scored one of the booths right along the window) and good service is easy to provide because of that. We have some problem getting a bill to leave, perhaps being caught in the middle of a shift change, but otherwise, a solid Halifax brunch experience.

Not to hard, not too soft

Our final formal meal of the Montreal visit is planned to be with ME, F and J in the Anglais part of Montreal, NDG. I think NDG stands for Notre Dame de Grace, but because everyone there is English, they refuse to say it long hand, and say "Endeegee" instead. Damn English!

The place we go is called Al Dente. It is a cool small place below grade on the east side of Monkland, about a 10 minute walk from Villa Maria Metro. Best of all, it is a BYO with no corkage. I bring the wine. And I don't just bring any wine. Planeta Cometa - Fiano, 2005 - $35; and Rainoldi Inferno, Valtellina Superiore, Nebbiolo, 2003 - $23). Very cool wines in terms of geek factor, and they were wonderful as drinks or with the food.

We all had fairly simple pasta, pizza, or risotto dishes. All just fine, nothing to blow you away, but very good, inexpensive, and free corkage. God I wish we had this here. Can anyone with $$ buy Milano's and make it work this well?

Pupuseria La Carreta

Now how's THAT for a title. I am damn near trilingual!

Never having eaten El Salvadoran anything, I am sure, I figured that this Montreal trip could continue the Chilean inspired theme of Latin American food. La Carreta (the cart) was recommended by several people and in a few online sites, so we headed off to explore Little Italy, and to find our first pupuseria.

We arrived to a pretty full, lively place, full mostly of people who very well could have been El Salvadorans (Salvadorians?). I don't know. I didn't ask (L would not let me).

The server who came to greet us, and seated us at a great window table was wonderful. How wonderful? She took the time to describe everything on the menu to us, in English, recommended two different mixed plates when we said we wanted to sample as much different stuff as possible, and even showed us the correct way to eat it. This is always good, as sometimes when I have encountered a "new to me" food, I wonder when eating it in public if the locals are snickering behind their rice bowls, or whatever they have in front of their faces.

The food is almost as wonderful as the server (did I mention she was cute too?).

It consisted of:

pupusa (masa pancake with cheese inside that you cover with a coleslaw type thing before eating like a pizza) it is these that give these places their name.
yuca (fried root veg, I think, this came out like nice like home fries)
tamale de pollo - steamed corn polenta with chicken inside
taco (beef) homemade corn taco with beed/tomato pepper filling.
enchilada di carni (crispy round thin corn with beefy meat/veg/ etc on top)
y casamiento (blue frijoles and rice) Frijoles is refried beans, I think. This means a "marriage" of beans and rice. Ahhh, romance and food. I think this brought tears to L's eyes.

And to drink we had Fresca maranon and Fresca de horchata. I believe the second one is the one that was cinnamon and cocoa like, but was reminiscent of almonds. Correct me. Go ahead!

We ate til we could hardly move. But move we did, on to the nearby Jean Talon Market and a major beer buy at the Marché des Saveurs de Quebec.

The Vegans are coming!!!

Is this a scene from the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy? No, wait, that's Vogons.

A visit to Montreal's Au Vivre! restaurant, on St. Laurent above Mont Royal.

We were all hungry, and I figured what we didn't eat could come with us.

We started with corn bread with vegan butter, moist, aromatic, with some sweet red pepper bits in it. I am still not exactly sure about whatever that stuff was they called vegan butter.

Lunch came with a green salad with really good dressing, creamy dill (no dairy though...) and other tastes.

Then it was pizza with vegan cheese, red pepper and sun dried tomato sauce. This had a fantastic crust. This place is a great bakery.

I had the Chana sandwich - chickpea and potato curry in homemade Indian flatbread wrap. Delicious, filling, and providing me with plenty of aerosol assisted walking speed for the rest of the day. I also had a pina colada smoothie with my Chana - a tasty combination.

For dessert I had Cafe latte with a great, homemade style chocolate brownie.

L had a veggie burger and salad, and a coffee frappe smoothie for dessert, Clank a "BLT" made with coconut bacon, and a banana chocolate soy silk pie.

A great meal, and no animals were harmed, or even asked to give up their fluids, in the making of it.

A Victual Ritual

Schwartz's on St. Laurent in Montreal for lunch. I walk in at 11:51 am, and there are plenty of stools open along the lunch counter. I sit down, and in a minute or two the place is packed and lining up.

The usual. Smoked meat sandwich, regular (i.e. level of fat in the meat, you choose lean, regular or extra fat), fries, with a cherry cola from Cott Beverages. It arrives in about 2.5 minutes.

The guy sitting next to me writes for the Gazette on the Habs. He is talking to the waiter about how Huet will start against Buffalo, as he always stones them. I read the same thing in his column the next morning.

The fries are great as usual. The smoked meat is classic - almost corn beef, but not quite. The rye bread so fresh. Even the small sandwich and fries is more than enough. I wonder how I used to eat a small plate and side of fries! This stuff certainly does sit in one's stomach with intense gravity. A good base on which to drink.

On the Main

An evening out for a quick meal on St. Laurent, we drop into The Main, across the street from Schwartz's, for supper. L has a delicious borscht - I think any soup here would always be great - and follows that with a strange sandwich combo - smoked chicken and liverwurst. I am not sure she knew what she was ordering.

Clank, the vegan, chows down on latkes, no cheese. He is kept mostly quiet by this. I steal some from him (he is blind, so he didn't notice) and they are yummy.

My meal is the Barbecued Rib special of the day. Now you may be old enough to remember the Flintstones original cartoon series. In the intro, while the "Meet the Flintstones" song is playing, Fred and family scoot up to a drive through and he gets a set of ribs, that when hung on the side of the car, cause it to tip over. Remember that? Well, these ribs were almost that big. Done in a honey garlic style, there was a lot of work to scour the meat off the bones, but it sure was worth it. And then you could use the bones to play hurling with.

We passed on the cake, though I think that was a major strategic error, as apparently all the desserts here are handmade at home by the owner's wife. Next time. And there will be one.

How many beers does it take to butter chicken?

Mississauga. If any word ever struck fear in the heart of a Maritimer who likes good urban form, this is it. This is an entire city of Clayton Park West. The mall gone mad, the car king forever, and the pedestrian a forgotten afterthought, no more than the sputum of a parked car.

This is what is coursing through my mind as my buddy Richard manoeuveurs through rush hour traffic from one part of Miss..etc to another. He patiently waits through three cycles of a light before getting through to the privilege of yet another similar wait, to exclaim that the traffic isn't that bad!

We get to where he is going. A place called the West 50 Pourhouse and Grille - I thnk it is named after a mall. But I am sure there are children here named after malls.

We manage to find our way in, after dropping $6 on a flat rate parking scheme/ripoff across the street. Turns out we come in the back door. The front door is from the second floor of a mezzanine off an office building lobby. I like our entrance better.

The blonde, stylish bartender greets us as if we are old friends. I find myself looking behind me. (You don't mean, me, do you?)

The line of taps is impressive. And included among the many many Canadian beer-by-label brands, are a number of great brews. OK, I can stand the place.

The menu is presented (we planned to eat here) and we order. Having seen that just about every single person I saw on the street (pedestrians) was of Indo-asian descent, I cleverly order the Butter Chicken. Richard wisely orders what the bartender tells him to.

I am enjoying my beers. Nothing off, great micro selections, prices not bad.

My $12.95 "butter chicken" arrives. Now I am not sure if anyone in that place has ever seen, tasted, or heard of "butter chicken" outside of the label on a can of commercially pre-done sauce. My "butter chicken" (really, it would be criminal to call it butter chicken without the quotes) is a pre-packaged leg/thigh/side of chicken that has obviously spent a lot of time in a brine packet awaiting consumption. The flesh has turned a cured pink. A (very) slight nod to India is accomplished with a dollop, a sparse one at that, of a commercially packed "butter chicken" sauce.

I am staring at this abomination of cuisine while Richard mows down his beef sandwich and fries thingy. When I try it, it is so salty I can hardly eat it - it burns. BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!! BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!! BLOOD PRESSURE ALERT!!

There is not enough "butter chicken" sauce to get my rice dirty.

We sat at the bar. There were some comfy looking seats and couches that the bartender told us would soon be full with after work types.

It is a darn good thing the bartender was cute, and friendly.

If you are in Mississauga (Lord help you) and you need a good beer (as we all do from time to time) then go here, if you can find it. But don't have great expectations for food. That way, you won't be so disappointed. Or better yet, don't eat.

But oh God, how I wished we were at the Winking Judge. Bill likes me, for some reason. Maybe it was the kegs of beer I brought him from Propeller and the Pumphouse back in 2001?