Sunday, June 17, 2012

Father's Day Weekend


My weekend started on the right note. Friday at five sharp; right out of the office door and into a cool den of loud music, cold pints and the best tacos in Toronto at La Carnita; the current 'it' spot on College street. Mad props to the owner, Andrew Richmond, an awesome host, great cook and brother-in-arms from the Toronto Underground Market. In many ways, he's living the dream.

Then on to 3030 Dundas West, the new grown-up playground in the Junction owned by my friend Jamieson and run by his hipster-ologist brother, Jeff. For straight-up hanging out, I can't think of a better joint in the city - uncluttered, cafeteria-style service with plenty of seating. I took in a few games of retro pinball (they actually run on quarters and not twoonies),followed by board games and several pints of craft beer (many which I have never even heard of). Throw in some live music and a decisive win at Trivial Pursuit and my night was complete.

The next day, (with 'almost' no hangover) was spent all day with the kids on various adventures including some clumsy, yet ultimately successful gardening, a trip to the butcher shop and beer store (a mere 300 M apart - now that's urban planning), then slick squealing kids and sprinkler-jumping till the backyard became a swamp. As the evening shadows stretched out, some backyard grilling; La-Carnita-inspired grilled corn with lime and chillies among the spread.



And then the big day - father's day. My wife may not do much of the cooking, but when it comes to breakfast she's no slouch. Thick sliced French toast with mixed berries and icing sugar, crispy bacon, my beloved black pudding browned in the bacon fat and free flowing scrambled eggs: tiny curds of barely coagulated gold, buttery and tender - just the way I like them. And breakfast just wouldn't be complete with the perfect ending, a grapefruit, cold from the fridge, halved and scooped out with the spoon. The tart astringency instantly washes away the cloying remains of the pork fat on my tongue. I'm not terribly comfortable being catered to, but I will allow for it once a year. Yeah, once a year is fine.  

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