This August, I visited Toronto for an extended visit (two days and nights), something I haven’t done since moving away in 1998. It’s not that I haven’t been back at all, just that my standard sojourns tend to entail seeing one friend, for one night, visiting one nightspot, and ba-dum-dum, the weekend is done.
This time, though, I went tourist class. And now I can’t stop thinking about it.
A quick history lesson for those who don’t know me…I moved to Toronto from Burlington, Ontario, in 1987. I was a teenager, gasp, choke. Never intended to stay for long, never mind over a decade. But life happens (young people, take note!), and before I knew it I was aiming straight for 30 (gasp, choke) and leaving the city I now called home.
Fourteen years and many addresses later, I’m back within manageable visiting distance, and decided to head eastbound for a summer-mama-pick-me-up. In the words of the immortal Richard Condie, “Well, blow my lips off!” What a city! What a nightlife! Why’d I move again?
Started the weekend in the Beaches, one of the best neighborhoods in town. The beach area has everything you need, plus a decades-long funky vibe, to boot. I never lived there during my years in the Big Smoke, but I sure wanted to, ever since reading Atwood’s The Robber Bride (in which one character lives on Toronto Island, close enough that counts, if you’re looking for a place you can raise chickens). Anyways, porch sitting in the Beaches is lovely, and I heartily suggest it to anyone who scores a local friend with a veranda.
Traveled slightly northwest from there to the Danforth. I resided in this area for the final year I was in town, and it is by far my favourite out of all the places I’d lived. The Danforth has a great community sense to it, many little mom-and-pop operations still thrive, and the main street itself is teeming with people, day and night. It’s big breeder territory, but also very popular with the baby singles, never-marrieds and divorced-and-loving-its.
The Danforth takes food, coffee, alcohol, and market produce very seriously. On this particular evening, we dined at the Globe Bistro, a lovely place with a rooftop patio and spiffy gin & tonics. Had a gorgeous lobster app with stinging nettle pesto. Seriously?! It’s been so long since I’ve lived anywhere that could offer anything fancier than frites au jus on the menu, I felt like a total poseur. After dinner, strolled down the street, visiting shop after shop (including Book City, one of the only bookstores these days where the over-20 staffers know way more than you). Just before heading back, my friend and I picked up some Ontario grapes at a market stand (because at 11:00 p.m. on the Danforth, you can) and ate them as we walked. Also found out about a new café down the street from my old digs, called The Rooster Coffee House, which I’ll have to check out next time I’m in town. I would have wrapped the statue of Dr. Sun Yat Sen in toilet paper in front of the daily tai chi class to have a place like that when I lived there!
Next morning was breakfast at Whistler’s; not what you’d call avant-garde, but they’ve remodeled since 1998, which is a good thing, trust me. A nice, neighborhood place to grab a meal. It holds nostalgic significance for me, ’cause that’s where my mama and I would have dinner together back when we both called the city home.
Saturday dinner took place at The Pilot on the “Flight Deck,” corny, yes, however lack of imagination aside, another great rooftop patio, and in Yorkville, no less. A lovely grilled veggie sandwich with lentil soup, plus another spiffy gin & tonic. Finished the night off with drinks at C5, the restaurant/bar on top of the Royal Ontario Museum. This is the place for all of us rednecks to go when we want to feel special. While the bar menu features $12 specialty cocktails, you can still enjoy all the place has to offer and only spend $6 on a perfectly delectable Tankhouse Ale, surrounded by an awe-inspiring, 180-degree view of the city.
Sadly, Sunday had to come eventually, but not before a trip to the distillery district. This place is exactly the thing all cities wanting to make it to the big time should have. I mean, you can stroll the brick lanes through artisan’s alley, hit a gallery, enjoy a lovely repast at any number of pubs/bars/restaurants, buy one-of-a-kind clothing, doodads and gifts, see live music, or attend a magical event and, if you squint, you can imagine having somehow stepped back in time to the turn of the (20th) century, when Gooderham and Worts was up and running.
Yeah, I got it bad, all right. When’s that next free weekend, again?
Erin's Clishmaclaver 