Tag Archives: Rob Ford

Food Trucks

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food trucks woodbine park

Long gone since the time anyone will be reading this [indeed far past the time of writing], during the primordial age of the Internet of over two seconds ago when there were less sad attempts at humour awaiting the future archeologists, a park south of my home had a festival.  The day I went, there were trucks stationed on the grass selling food to the festival goers.  I realize that this post is also after Taste of the Danforth, but I won’t be going for these very reasons, as I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t go unless a friend wanted to go, which they didn’t. It’s for the better though, if I was to be in a place that crowded for that long, the voices would’ve come back.

how is litter decorative or festive?

how is litter decorative or festive?

By the way, Danforth’s sidewalks and street were about as clean as a back alley of a slum after the festival, so it’s nice to see that they clean up after themselves [sarcasm]. I will be doing the South East Asian festival though, and the Exhibition, so I’ll review those instead.

 

For those who would have no reason to be aware of this, Toronto’s policy regarding food trucks is rather akin to how the combined efforts of Canadian and American governments separately find innocent minorities [gays, Native Americans, handicapped etc.] and abuse the living **** out of them for no particular reason other than some old rich men in a fancy house said so.
image courtesy of themarketingbit.com

image courtesy of themarketingbit.com

 You should trust me because I’m a cynical person who’s been handed a keyboard and told ‘have at it’.  Acknowledging awareness of that fact makes me seem to be more clever when in fact it is another cliche trope used by countless other mostly-hairless apes with keyboards in an attempt to stand out in a vast internet sea. [period because the sentence was getting too long, as amatuer bloggers often forget to keep their sentences from going the length of an entire paragraph] This web serves only to show how shallow and idiotic the human race really gets when allowed to show its true colours anonymously.

angry blogger

That went to the dark side, I think going from the government abusing innocents to an existential self-hating rant is probably not the best way to start a food post.

 

image courtesy of sabinabecker.com

image courtesy of sabinabecker.com

The food trucks were allowed to operate on a reservation in the form of a festival, far from the restaurants that view food trucks as a threat to their business [which is why the Toronto government hadn’t allowed the trucks in the first place, as Rob Ford does more Cocaine* than Tony Montana].
*Crack cocaine is still cocaine, random internet fact-communist who’s trying to make their parent’s basement less depressing, and I didn’t say Nazi because Goodwin’s law {link to Wikipedia article on Goodwin’s law] is making me tired.

swat food truck

There were plenty of trucks to choose from, including one that was rather convincingly costumed as a SWAT truck, which had me worried in the back of my head that something was going to go down.  I didn’t truly believe that crazy thought because I’m not insane, at least that’s what the voices told me.  There was also a German place that had display food just waiting for someone with long, fast legs to snatch and run away with [that’s basically me], and some of the typical Greek/sandwich establishments.

bacon nation

I picked this place that specialized in bacon, because I felt like something meaty and filling.  Bacon can often be overdone in that hipster thinking-you’re-cool-when-you’re-actually-just-annoying kind of way.    But it can taste good when done properly, and not just crammed into a dish as much as possible with a plunger and a vacuum seal.  And done properly is was, in the form of a bacon-wrapped hot dog covered with pulled pork [probably not the best place for Muslims to order from, if you couldn’t tell].

 

Pulled Pork Hot Dog

Pulled Pork Hot Dog

The sausage was well cooked in terms of juiciness, flavour and overall thickness for a regular hot dog, and was a good vehicle for the pork and bacon.  I found the bacon wasn’t as crazy heart-attack-causing plentiful as it could’ve been, but that’s actually really okay, it’s better that the dog wasn’t too salty and meaty just to make it more unhealthy.  The amount that was there was crispy and tasty enough to hold its own, and contrasted the sweetness of the pulled pork quite well.

Buster's Sea Cove

I had fare from a second truck that was decidedly weirder [maximum bacon is one of many of those ‘hipster’ things that became popular and lead to the whole movement becoming oxymoronic, oh look here comes the flame war in the comments section].  Buster’s Sea Cove had seafood, including octopus tacos.  That is to say, tacos with huge, meaty chunks of tentacle in them.  How could I not try that?

octopus taco

The tacos may have seemed small, but they were so overstuffed with rich, filling cephalopod appendage that it was actually a very good portion.  The octopus was clearly quite fresh, as it was juicy, and had a briny after taste that matched its seafood taste ever so perfectly.  The onions and tomato added a spicier taste to the dish, bringing variety along with it.  The mayonnaise was a good edition, and went with it all well even though it was a bit odd to have in a taco [octopus].

Penny Lou Lou truck

So I’d already eaten WeightWatcher’s worse nightmare and the star of an R-rated Japanese film, what was next on the menu?  Desert, Penny-Lou-Lou to be exact.  It’s a place named after a Hong Kong street food of the same name, which is made of a light sweet dough that is baked.  It’s a lot like a funnel cake, especially if ordered with ice cream and strawberries on the side.

penny lou lou sweet treat

The penny-lou-lou was divided into bite-sized sections, which made it easier to eat for both people who are messy eaters or have crippling hereditary OCD*.  As you might tell I already loved it.  The heaviness of the desert was a solid medium, light enough to not be ridiculously filling and rich enough to have some weight to it as opposed to leaving one hungry for more.  The ice cream went perfectly along with it, as did the strawberries, to mix up the flavours a bit.  It was sugary enough to satisfy a sweet tooth, but not so sweet so as to caused one’s blood pressure rise to the point of making Dracula really, really excited.  On reflection [after two weeks because I clearly suck at regular updates], balance was the key to Penny-Lou-Lou, excluding portion size which was huge and perfect to just go crazy and dig in into. 

Beaches Jazz Festival

I found the food truck festival to be quite fun, nice park, good music, great food and a day is made.  I don’t see why the Toronto politicians are so stuffy about the concept of food trucks, maybe it’s just to deter from the fact that the city’s runner is a real-life cartoon that’s been overused far past his funny primetime [much like every cartoon].  Could be that minority thing I got so insane about earlier.  Either way, food trucks, recommended, the festival, recommended, and I’ll do something about the Southeast Asian Festival, the Ex and the Poutine blog [I haven’t forgotten].  Ciao.
 food truck festival
Editor’s Note:  There is a Food Truck Festival on Sunday September 21, 2014 at Ontario Place.  These trucks plus many more will be in attendance
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Montreal

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Don't ask me what the name of this church is, they have a lot of them in Montreal

Don’t ask me what the name of this church is, they have a lot of them in Montreal

I’ve come back from Montreal [the time of writing is Wednesday, I came back Friday], and decided to do a little catcher-upper. It’s like a fixer-upper except there’s less construction workers standing around drinking coffee in front of a dilapidated house.

image courtesy of sodahead.com

image courtesy of sodahead.com

I’ve been requested to do a post on poutine–seeing as I was basically in the capital of it–and I will be doing one, but it’ll take a while. The post will contain the history and culture behind it, a lot of which deals with the relations between the Anglophone and Francophone communities of Quebec. This whole English/Francais thing is really controversial, and a lot like the divide between communities [I’ll use a fake name to protect the feelings of the real city I’m using as an example] NotLosAngles. It’s kind of like an Internet forum about religion in that regard.

This is actually a tree that's been bent.  In some park (on an island?) in Montreal

This is actually a tree that’s been bent. In some park (on an island?) in Montreal

Seeing as this is a food blog, it is hard for me to get into the details of my vacation without boring the appetite out of somebody, but suffice to say I saw a lot of the beautiful city I went to.

Gay Village, Montreal

Gay Village, Montreal

Editors’ Note: You can give the kid an app for his iphone so that he can add notes to the pics he takes; but that doesn’t mean he’ll use it.  So please excuse the poorly captioned photos.

Old Port, Montreal

Old Port, Montreal

Montreal is named after Mont Real [translates to Royal Mountain, correct me if I’m wrong in the comments], a mountain north of the city that is recognized for it’s suspiciously hill-sized stature [Everest it is not] and the various structures on top: namely a Cross to mark a grave site, a tall antenna and what looks like a giant tuning fork.

image courtesy of montreal.metblogs.com

image courtesy of montreal.metblogs.com

Compared to Toronto, there seemed to be a lot of cafes. My sister, who has lived there upwards of 2.5 years, said Montreal was just starting to get into coffee culture. Naturally, I ran screaming out of the city shouting ‘The British are coming!’ before realizing that Montreal is an island and sinking to the murky depths to confuse future archeologists.

Instead of yelling "the British are coming!!", I actually just ate there

Instead of yelling “the British are coming!!”, I actually just ate there

I could go into the niggles of the various hot chocolates I had, but I won’t for two reasons. The first is that I didn’t give a damn enough to take notes, and the second is that everyone wanted me to have poutine [pron: Poo-Teen, Po-Tin, and Pow-Tin if you’re American].

[Sorry if I’m not as funny as I [help] usually am, it’s hard to write with a gun pointed at your [help] head by okay okay I’ll get back to the post]

from Java Café, Montreal

from Java Café, Montreal

I was kidding, don’t worry for my health or safety [help]. The first poutine I had that I’ll talk about was a curious one ordered with a sandwich at a cafe called Java [or something like that, again, no notes]. While the sandwich was so average it was most likely aired by the CBC, the poutine was something else. Its fries were well cooked and better than one would think, and added a bit of flavouring spice to the mix. The gravy was always well done in every poutine I had, probably because Montreal messing up the gravy in poutine would be akin to Toronto’s Rob Ford forgetting to bring some  crack cocaine to a party.

image courtesy of alyssamooremru.blogspot.com

image courtesy of alyssamooremru.blogspot.com

Also a staple of Quebec poutine [the one city I visited now arbitrarily represents the entire province of millions of people, just like I’m an American tourist exploring the foreign savage-lands of NotUS.] is that cheese curds shall always be generous, and they shall always be higher quality than anywhere else in the country, or the Quebec Gods will come down from the skies and drag you screaming to the dining tables of Valhalla. That didn’t even make sense.

 

Poutine with fried chicken I ate at my sister's house

Poutine with fried chicken I ate at my sister’s house

I’ve had plenty of regular poutine to counteract the crazy stuff I had, most notably the one with fried chicken on it. It was basically two meals in one, which made it an average meal for me. The poutine is already confirmed to always be good [a humoungous cheese/fry ration compared to other Pow-Tins if I’m correct], but the fried chicken was actually surprisingly good with it, making me wonder if it was also a standalone option on the restaurant’s menu. The quality of it was preserved in the trip from its kitchen to the house I was staying at, which was basically me saying I had takeout while managing to use one full sentence to even out this paragraph’s space better.

Needless to say, I ate a lot of Poutine

Needless to say, I ate a lot of Poutine

Every poutine I had the pleasure of eating came mandatorily with fresh cut, homemade fries, warm, creamy savoury gravy and big, rich, flavourful cheese curds. I highly recommend eating it there. That said, I’ve had enough for a while, before I really do run screaming into the lake.

Chilling in a beautiful Montreal park with my sister's most excellent dog, Noodle

Chilling in a beautiful Montreal park with my sister’s most excellent dog, Noodle

Keep your eyes peeled [not really, ew] for my poutine post, which I will make after the necessary researching, cross-checking and blackmailing is completed. I’ve also got a post on the food truck scene in Toronto, which is as well-respected and supported by the city’s government as Capitalism is in China.

Editor’s Note part deux:  unless otherwise noted in the captions, all photography for this post courtesy of Reighan Murphy (aka the Sister) or Callum Denault (himself)