My Mum was sweet enough to make me one of my favorite dishes (and one of her specialties) before my wisdom teeth extraction – sweet and sour pork (with tomatoes, bell peppers, and loads of pineapple). Her thoughtfulness was reason enough for a blog post:
Sweet and Sour PorkAt a recent HIV/AIDS session I attended, each participant was asked who their inspiration was that brought them there that day. I can’t remember what my ultimate response was, but had I answered honestly, I would have said Stephen Lewis. At the time though, his name seemed much too cliché and pedestrian for that particular forum. It was a personal travesty for me to have missed his 2006 International Week address, so when I found out he was coming back to Edmonton to deliver another lecture, I jumped at the opportunity.
So after dinner, Dickson and I headed down to the Timms Centre at the University for his lecture titled “Canada’s Status in the World: How Does it Measure Up?” It was nearly a packed house, and after quite the score of introductions, Mr. Lewis was welcomed on stage.
He framed his speech with a list of five provocations – nuclear proliferation, genocide (in particular, the current Darfur crisis), the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, climate change, and of course, the HIV/AIDS pandemic. Although I respect him as a knowledgable man with perspective on a wide variety of issues because of his travels, experience, and obvious appreciation for big-picture implications if inaction remains, Mr. Lewis’s lack of personal connection really weakened his discussion on the first four issues. He really did sound like he was posturing to the crowd.
By the time he reached his final topic, however, the rest of the address fell away immediately, and I was reminded of the fact that I was in awe of being in the same room with him, breathing the same air (I am not worthy!). His passion, intensity, and humanity resonated from the stage as he talked, among other things, about orphans, grandmother-headed families, the potential for a viable microbicide, the need for gender equality and sexual negotiation, and Canada’s own failed legislation allowing for a warehouse of ARVs to sit idle. Though many of the stories were included in Race Against Time, it was better hearing them from him in person.
Like Art Spiegeleman, Mr. Lewis possesses a vocabulary that puts me to shame. He was expectedly long-winded, but I don’t think anyone seemed to mind – the audience was clearly rapt throughout surreal pin-drop hour and a half (though really, all in attendance were likely already holding him in a state of public reverence, even before he ever had to open his mouth). I really liked how he managed to pull current media headlines and made them relevant to his topics (e.g. the War Crimes trial in Montreal, a UN negotiation with Turkey over the semantics of their Armenian genocide). He also had a genuine sense of humor (with regards to his time with the NDP, and I’m paraphrasing, but “the only difference between a cactus and a caucus is that with a cactus, the pricks are on the outside”).
Since most of the talk was decidedly apocalyptic, I was surprised that he was able to bring about an optimistic ending of hope. He even recommended a book, Stephanie Nolen’s upcoming 28, a collection of narratives centering on persons living with HIV/AIDS, that he believes is good enough to increase mainstream consciousness about the subject.
Perhaps I should have taken the reception as an opportunity to meet Mr. Lewis, but it’s more my style to admire from a distance, so we left almost immediately after the conclusion of the event. He’s a wonderful speaker, and I would not hesitate to attend another one of his lectures in the future.
Since Dickson had expressed a desire to have his favorite apple pie dessert from Joey’s Grill, I figured it was a good time as any to satisfy my craving for the best pad thai in the city. Located across the street from the downtown Joey’s, Bua Thai (10049-113 Street) is a small restaurant renowned for its abrupt service and great food (in that order). I know that when I’ve talked about my past dining experiences there, I usually draw attention to their rather rude way of greeting patrons (involving a quick, “Reservation?” in place of a typical, “Good evening” or “Hello”). At the same time, I think I have reached a point where I am nearly expecting that abuse, equating a meal there to a dinner theatre for sado-masochists.
I made sure to call ahead for reservations, despite knowing that we were dining early on a Tuesday night. When we reached the restaurant at 5:30, we were, not surprisingly, the only customers there. The dining room is simply and tastefully decorated, with Asian artifacts clustered near the order counter, a few plants scattered throughout, and colorful tapestries set underneath the glass countertops of individual tables.
Bua Thai boasts quite an extensive menu, but I didn’t need any guidance to head straight for the phat thai. To supplement the noodles, we also ordered the baked lemongrass chicken. The phat thai, as anticipated, was fantastic. I’m not sure what it is about their version that makes it so much better than others, except to say that the dish reminds me of Chinese char kway teow. As for the chicken – the serving was fairly generous (though for the price, it had to have been), and though the chili-lemongrass sauce flavored the meat nicely, the chicken was on the dry side.
And the report you’ve all been waiting for – the service was actually fine. Our host/waiter could have even been considered friendly! Is it wrong to say that my dwarfed expectations lessened my experience somewhat? I’m really not easy to please.
Overall, I enjoyed the food. Though I must admit that I didn’t recall how steep the prices were. Bua Thai is by necessity an infrequent destination.
Restaurant interior
Phat Thai
Baked Lemongrass Chicken
Dickson eating his veggies (Mabel would be proud!)I’ve always been a fan of scones, but I’ve never before attempted a from-scratch recipe without the aid of Bisquick. After seeing Ina Garten’s Strawberry Scones on Barefoot Contessa, however, I figured it was time to give it a try.
Besides choosing to use a pastry blender over my KitchenAid mixer, and substituting milk for the heavy cream, I followed the recipe word for word (though really, in the face of 3/4 pound of butter, what’s a little cream?). For the additive, I used a small package of dried strawberries I had bought on a recent trip to Vancouver.
The scones baked up very quickly, browning at 12 minutes instead of the suggested 20. And because of the mass quantity of butter, the dough resembled flaky pastry more than what’s typically expected from a breakfast biscuit. I’m not sure I’m a fan of the dried strawberries, however, as they’re slightly chewier than I originally expected. I think I’d much rather use frozen blueberries or perhaps dried cranberries and a hint of orange zest next time (the latter being Garten’s idea). I did really enjoy the sweetness provided by the dash of sugar on top though – it transforms the scone into a treat in itself.
These strawberry scones would make a lovely tea time indulgence, and really are worth the extra effort!
Strawberry SconesI received my first free issue of What’s Cooking magazine last week, and though I didn’t need an occasion to make the adorable Cutie Pies, Jane’s gathering on Saturday was a handy catalyst all the same. Mack lent me the use of his kitchen and a helping hand.
The recipe seemed easy enough, simply calling for muffins made from cake mix to start, with a supplementary mixture of pudding and Cool-Whip to serve as the filling for the cupcakes. Well, the muffins themselves turned out fine, but the filling was another story. I’m not sure if we just didn’t let the pudding mixture stand long enough to congeal, or if it was the use of no-name whipped topping that killed us, but regardless, we ended up ditching the “cream” portion of the recipe all together, as spreading the water-like substance would have been counter-intuitive. We did however go ahead with the melted chocolate topping, and to dress it up a bit, I made some shavings from a square of baking chocolate.
I’m a perfectionist when it comes to cooking, and needless to say I’m disappointed that the Cutie Pies didn’t turn out. We did make the best of what we ended up with though!
Almost-Cutie PiesI watched Jesus Camp over the weekend. I remember Roeper and his guest critic of the week giving the film two thumbs up, but I can’t say I would have done the same.
The movie suffered from a lack of clear storytelling direction – it began with a look at a one-week Bible camp organized by an Evangelical Children’s Preacher, with some interviews with the kids attending the camp. I was expecting the directors to use this event as the main plotline of the movie, with, in typical documentary fashion, several linked peripheral stories told here and there. But this wasn’t the case, as the screen randomly jumped to Mike Papantonio, a radio talk show host commenting on the radical nature of some Evangelicals, and then to a sermon by Ted Haggard in Colorado Springs. Unlike anything by Michael Moore (arguably not the gold standard of documentary makers, but undoubtedly very good at ensuring the audience understands the point he is trying to make), the movie ended without a clear message. Perhaps the directors wanted the audience to judge for themselves, and simply wanted to capture and present a day in the life of these children, but to me, it felt as if the movie didn’t know its own purpose.
Like Barb & Ernie’s, I passed by Route 99 Diner (8820-99 Street) innumerable times, always remarking how I wanted to eat there. I loved the juxtaposition between upscale and “down-home,” so for our real meal of the evening, I suggested that we head to the diner. From the outside, Route 99 looks every bit like a traditional roadside stopover – boxy, bright, lined with windows, and dotted with “all day breakfast” signage. Inside, complete with cozy booths, a jukebox, working traffic light and rescued licence plates and gas station memorabilia, the space definitively screamed “diner” (I particularly enjoyed the meta Nighthawks wall hanging).
The menu contained nothing unexpected, with a mix of requisite breakfast and dinner items, including omelets, pancakes, sandwiches, and pizzas. Mack decided upon the evening-appropriate Diner Burger, while for the sheer novelty of it, I asked for a plate of French Toast and Sausages (and thankfully, no Grand Marnier in sight). We also agreed to split an order of poutine.
Our food came relatively quickly (though as Mack noted, the dishes shouldn’t be that difficult to pull together). First of all, the serving of poutine was huge! Even between the two of us, we weren’t able to finish it (photo evidence below). As for our individual orders, Mack found no fault with his burger, but I wasn’t as impressed with the French Toast. Though complete with a nice dusting of powdered sugar, the bread was a bit tougher than ideal. The sausage was prepared in an interesting fashion, however – flayed, which would not only encourage a faster cooking time, but also allow for a more even crisp on the outside. It’s a technique I will try myself sometime.
With good service and not an ounce of pretension, Route 99 is a friendly, not-off-the-beaten-track option for the hungry.
Restaurant interior
Counter (with working traffic light above!)
Jukebox
Menu
Poutine!
Mack’s Diner Burger
Condiment Stand
My French Toast and Sausages
Leftover PoutineIf you’ve been paying some attention to my blog, then you’ll know that I’ve been eagerly awaiting the opening of TZiN Wine and Tapas (10115-104 Street). Between the rave reviews and the several notable mentions in the food literature I peruse, I was foaming at the mouth to try it. So on Friday, with Mack in tow, I was excited to finally give it a go.
Anyone else who had ever visited the previous tenant would probably be wondering, like I was, how they would manage to squeeze a full-service restaurant into a space that functioned primarily as a takeout place before. Well, I’m happy to say the designer pulled it off in spades. Though the entire restaurant seats only about 20-25 patrons, the dining area is more intimate than claustrophobic in my opinion. The black and red color scheme is sleek, with the banquette along the left side making the most of the small space. I’d like to think it was deliberate, but the pulsing dance music served as a cover of sorts, allowing for some conversational privacy between tables.
The food menu is definitely not for the frugal at heart. Tapas (“small plates”) start at $8, with most in the $11-$13 range. There were some interesting selections, including frogs legs (cheekily named “Miss Piggy’s Revenge”), scallops, and raw fish. Their lunch appears to be the most economical, with sandwiches priced at between $12 and $14 (I’d order the ExBoyfriend – made with jerk chicken!). We decided to split the 4-20 Pica, a rather elaborate pizza made with artichoke, oven dried roma tomato and asiago drizzled with organic hemp seed oil.
I’m admittedly not much of a wine-drinker (especially when compared with Mack), but it would have been a waste to visit a wine bar and not order at least a glass. We went one better and chose the “Mile High Club” Heaven trio – for $12, three 2oz. samples of whites, including a 2005 Paul Zinck Pinot Gris (France), 2005 Alois Lageder Pinot Blanco (Italy), and 2005 Burrowing Owl Pinot Gris (Canada). If anything, I now know that I prefer Pinot Gris – there isn’t as much of a stinging aftertaste when compared with Pinot Blanco or (blech) red wines. Mack also ordered a fraction of Edmeades Zinfandel, but despite his raw enthusiasm for this type of red, I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy it.
Our pizza arrived after some wait (curious as there are a number of service people in the restaurant but only one cook), likely a ploy to increase drink orders between course delivery. Still, it was a fairly decent dish. I disputed the fact that the tomato was at all oven dried, but I enjoyed the arugula, asiago, and foccacia-eque bread base. It wasn’t worth the $11 charged, but I agreed with Mack’s observation that outrageous prices are necessary because of the lack of seats in the restaurant.
TZiN is not the place for a full dinner, but I can see it becoming a destination spot for an after-work drink or post-show bite.
Novel hours
Kitchen (located right next to the restaurant’s entrance!)
Menu
Heaven trio (when the waitress saw that we were eyeing the “Mile High” selections – either “Heaven” or “Hell,” she asked, “Ready to go to Hell?” then quickly countered, saying “That’s probably not the question you want to hear on Easter weekend…”)
4-20 PicaAn article in the Edmonton Journal today revealed an exciting new development for this year’s Fringe Theatre Festival. It seems the new executive producer wants to jumpstart ticket sales by releasing “100 per cent of our inventory on sale right off the bat” in a brand new online system. The rest of the piece was unclear with regards to how exactly they intend to balance between what Liz Nicholls describes as “spontaneous hustle and administrative convenience.” A meeting was called on Tuesday night to solicit the opinions of local Fringe artists, but no concrete resolutions were arrived at.
I understand the reasoning behind allowing potential audience members to surf ticket availability before heading down to the grounds, but I’m not sure if ease of use will translate directly into higher numbers. This conundrum has been talked about to death, but Fringe organizers have always had trouble luring those who go exclusively for the “free” busker entertainment, food and retail stalls, and festive outdoor atmosphere into the theatre venues. As I’m too far down the rabbit hole to know what it’s like on the “other side” (for non-theatre goers) I’d still like to think that lineups outside of random buildings scattered across the site would make some of the wanderers curious as to what the hype is all about, and potentially buy a ticket to try it out.
At any rate, I’m willing to keep an open mind about this for now, and at the very least, an online ticketing system is quite a significant milestone for our little festival that could.
Only Here for the Food 