How To Keep Falling In Love With Toronto, Part Two

Posted on November 7, 2012 by Hannah

When I arrived in Canada in early October, I set forth a challenge to my adopted country: woo me. In the first installment of what has now become a series, I showed how easily Toronto can create heart flutters via sunshine, vegan treats, and [not-]seductive sparkles.

Today, I present to you How To Keep Falling In Love With Toronto, Part Two.

13. After several days of waking up to silver skies and the gentle-yet-insistent sound of rain tapping hello in Morse code at the window, make the most of an Indian summer day by walking along the water and taking photos of toffee-apple-red leaves on trees.

14. While reading a book on a bench at the Harbourfront, pause to fully soak in the sensation of warmth ebbing through your skin and soul. Look over at the police boats and conjure up a theme song for the TV drama you’re plotting oot abooot Canadian water police. Hum the tune to yourself, then forget it two minutes later.

15. On a bright Saturday morning, embark on a death-defying trek along and across roads not made for pedestrians en route to the Evergreen Brick Works Farmers Market with your adored Lisa. Whoop and shriek, half with laughter and half with pure fear, as you dart across the last major road standing between you and the market.

(Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it wanted to buy expensive organic winter squash amidst dalmations and English bulldogs at an early hour of the morning.)

16. Partake in samples of muffins and cookies made with ancient grains at the grind-your-own-grains stall.

17. Clap your hands together upon spotting naturally-fermented pickle samples. (We know how I feel about pickles.)

18. Hyperventilate over HOT CHOCOLATE MADE IN A BLENDER BY A MAN RIDING A BICYCLE OH MY HEAVENS. (More on this fellow and his chocolate another day.)

19. Late one night, as part of an epic kitchen-dessert-creation whirlwind, nod at Lisa and commence a vegan maple syrup pumpkin seed brittle experiment. You have no recipe, no proof that what you’re doing will work, no candy thermometer, and no candy-making experience on either part, but you have each other and you have the courage of your convictions and then you have

the best darn maple syrup pumpkin brittle in the whole entire world wait no the best brittle full stop in the whole entire world I weep for how much I adore this sweet heavenly vegan candy you too must make it now.

20. Get into a situation where your houseguest duty is to eat as many Holiday Spiced Chocolate Sweet Potato Muffins as possible so that you can help your hostfriend compare four different variations of the recipe for her entry in a Whole Foods competition.

21. Delight in date cashew caramel truffles enrobed in raw dark chocolate topped with fancy sea salt, with bonus points if the nibbled truffles look like Lego Cleopatra heads.

22. Treat yo’self to the strangest toothpaste you e’er did see. Then never, ever buy it again.

23. Discover that each and every day spent with the fabulous Lisa offers up such a wealth of happiness, laughter, dancing, strength, inspiration, and future-dreaming-creating-hoping that you can’t even remember what it was like before this amazing friendship existed in your life.

24. Open yourself up to adventure. Open yourself up to adventure and embrace, in every possible way, the priceless/giddy/out-of-the-blue/laugh-until-your-stomach-hurts-and-there-are-tears-in-your-eyes/crazy/unforgettable moments that Toronto has waiting for you, waiting just for you, right there, right here, for you.

P.S. Feel free to write your own caption for the above photo. Additional facts for this task are that the photo was taken at midnight, absolutely no alcohol was involved, and it wasn’t Halloween. Go on, I dare you. Caption me.

A Single Man With Tofu and Tears: Paris, March 20th

Posted on May 5, 2010 by Hannah

After my Ispahan adventure on the 19^th of March, I woke up on the morning of the 20^th with my toe in very bad shape. I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I immediately called my mother in Australia (as opposed to my mother in, erm, Uzbekistan… yep). I told her I had to come home early because I couldn’t bear the thought of struggling with the toe for another month (oh, Hannah, how little faith you had in yourself).

Luckily for me, my mother is a rather calm and supportive lady, and she pointed out that I had been walking around for 8ish hours every day since my first visit to the Parisian hospital. Which, you know, isn’t altogether great for healing. She suggested that instead of throwing in the travel-towel, I could perhaps spend two days keeping my foot elevated and see whether the toe calmed down at all.

Fine, Mum, be clever and rational. I might remind you that I’m still the one with the university medal *sticks out tongue*. (Fat lot of good that’s doing me, though. I wonder if I could pawn it?)

I was initially planning a "Glorious Cookies of Paris" post, but instead I'm going to slip mentions of them into other posts. These cookies were the first to blow my mind, and they're called Crêpes Dentelle de Quimper. So delicate and crispy, they broke apart into a million burnt-butter-dark-sugar-esque crumbles in the mouth. I thought I'd found my mecca of cookies, but I hadn't. That came later. Also (will this caption never end?) David Lebovitz likes these. Validation!

Conveniently for my keep-it-simple-and-elevated plans, my hostel was situated right near Paris’ MK2 cinemas, which screen movies in the original (and therefore often English) language. I trotted/hobbled over to one of these cinemas, first stopping at a bookstore to buy Pride and Prejudice in French for my mother’s birthday, and Le Petit Prince in French for myself.

Y'all should've known I couldn't resist showing you at least one photo of Pierre Hermé's macarons.

For anyone interested, I went to see A Single Man, and I can state unequivocally that I sobbed like a baby throughout the entire film. While this was partly to do with my already-tenuous emotional state, it was also because the movie tapped into a lot of buried thoughts/memories that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else. (Eyebrows, tying ties, puppies, to name a few. And yes, I never in my life would have expected eyebrows to make me cry.)

After the movie, I had a restorative Parisian moment:

My Restorative Parisian Moment…

This was tasty, but after trying a great many of the other available flavours, I have to say that my favourites were the Croque Tofou aux Algues (seaweed!) and Croque Tofou aux Olives (if you can't work that one out... metaphorical slap on the hand).

… involves sitting by the Canal de l’Ourcq with two delicious tofu-burger-patties from Canal Bio (also situated in the 19ème), happily munching away while people- and dog-watching. (I particularly liked the woman who wore a voluminous and brightly-coloured ankle-length skirt with sneakers, and the business man who strode past carrying nothing but an enormous bag of fresh broad beans. Who needs a briefcase when you can have beans?).

I planned to finish my day of quietude by hunkering down in the hostel with my laptop and several boxes of cookies and macarons. This went mostly to plan, but the night did shift a bit when I met a friendly fellow from Alabama. We talked for hours that night, although I must admit a good half-hour of that was taken up with me shaking my head and stuttering:

“I’m sorry, you have a plane? An, I’m sorry, what, a plane? Really? You have your own plane? I’m sorry, what do you mean by your own plane? You have a plane?”

But more on plane-boy when we get to March 21st.

In Which I Make A Friend At Whole Foods And All Is Right With The World.

Posted on April 24, 2010 by Hannah

Today, I bring you the final instalment of my day in New York. You remember, the one that saw me shopping, traipsing, gaining and losing two children, losing and gaining my wallet, and all before 3:30 in the afternoon? By the time my wallet was safely back in my shaking hands, I was ready for some serious calming and nurturing of the soul.

However, seeing as my dog and mother were too busy snuggling with each other a billion miles away to care about nurturing me...

...and because I’d stupidly left all my self-esteem-bolstering sparkly jumpsuits back at the hotel...

I settled for a trip to Whole Foods to restore my spirits.

Ah, Whole Foods. Land of raw vegan ice cream made with cashews and agave, where bison meat is sold alongside peanut butter granola and overpriced radishes, and where a girl can find soul-nourishment alongside the bodily nourishment offered by free samples of expensive foods.

You see, after I filled my basket with spelt gingersnap cookies (in the shape of hearts, awww), a few more chocolates, lupine beans (why don’t we have these in Australia? They are the shizzle), and White Chocolate Wonderful peanut butter, I started searching for a Whole Foods employee to help me find the other items on my mental checklist of desired delectables.

Vegan pumpkin pie donut? If you insist.

I spotted a worker loitering and snacking amongst a conglomeration of little tables stocked with samples, and (quite unintentionally, I promise you*) found myself pouncing upon him once he reached the chocolate sample table.

Sure, it tasted nothing like a real donut, but that worked for me as I don't particularly like real donuts. Give me something dense and spicy instead of spongy and saccharine any day. (Is there another "how (...) likes her men" joke in there somewhere?)

Yet when I tried to ask the worker my very important question about the location of chia seeds, I found myself forced away, utterly against my will, from such a hunt by the offer of a chocolate sample from the chocolate sample man.

And lo! The heavens opened up and choral singing was heard, for this was no mere chocolate sample man.

This was Tim McCollum, one of the founders of Madécasse chocolate. Madécasse is not only a bean-to-bar chocolate-maker but a bean-to-bar-at-the-source chocolate-maker. Whereas other chocolate companies source their cocoa from overseas but turn it into chocolate back home, Madécasse harvests, cures, and creates the chocolate entirely in Madagascar.

More on that, however, in an upcoming chocolate review post.

For the minute, I’d just like to remember with happiness the wonderful 45 minutes I spent chatting with Tim. We talked about everything from his company’s principles, origins, and goals to his trips to Madagascar, the awfulness of long-haul flights, our views of SweetRiot’s marketing, my blog, and our mutual desire to see Madécasse become available in Australia.

Get excited, people!

When it did become time for me to head off, Tim thanked me for letting him talk about his company and passion, and yet all I wanted to do was thank him for allowing me to do the same (except about chocolate in general, as I sadly do not own my own chocolate company). He was even generous enough to gift me with one-and-a-half bars of the chocolate. You can rest assured you’ll be hearing more about that soon, too.

Ah, the kindness of strangers. I could have asked for no more exciting, educational, thrilling and pleasurable end** to my tumultuous day than meeting Tim. So, universe? Thanks.

* No, seriously. I really didn’t notice at first.

** Well, there was also the part afterwards where I was about to get on the subway and remembered I’d forgotten to buy a power adaptor for my battery-dead laptop, so scampered off to a Radio Shack with my backpack/handbag/duffel bag/thousand grocery bags, spent about $20 on plugs that I didn’t need, and rambled on-and-on at the poor salesguy about my wallet story because I was still emotionally giddy… but mostly, the excitement of the day was over.

I'm Sorry, When Was I Pregnant?

Posted on April 14, 2010 by Hannah

I love New York. Broadway, beautiful shoes, and a plethora of gourmet stores stocking my favourite edible treasures: high-end chocolate and ingenious dairy-free/vegan foods. Having visited New York three times in the past four years, I decided to dismiss all feelings of tourist obligation this time around. Instead, I planned to spend my two stop-over days in the Big Apple enjoying myself in a laid-back fashion. I would wander around in the warmth, shop, eat (and eat and eat), and revel in feeling the way New York always makes me feel: happy and slightly envious of everyone around me.

Flower outside The Pod Hotel, highly recommended. The hotel, not the flower, as I doubt the latter will be as lovely in the future.

With this intention surrounding me like a pale fern-green miasma, I didn’t expect to have much to blog about.

What’s that they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?

The Day Begins

The first half of my day followed my easy-breezy scheme, with some Food Network-watching, some Coffee Frappuccino-drinking (even if it did melt rather quickly in the warmth and honey glow of 5^th Avenue on a sunny Spring day, but one can hardly complain about that), and some non-food shopping*. This last was a rather novel experience, as I am usually inordinately bored by any shopping that doesn’t end with me digesting the results.

Darn tootin', New York sidewalk.

Then Gets Slightly Less Sedate, But I am Still Emotionally Balanced

Did you know that the subway machines won’t let you buy an $8 pass with $20? You have to buy a $20 pass. And the people in the subway booths give only information, not tickets. No worries, thinks me, I’m young and a cripple fit, what’s another 20 blocks to walk after the 17 I’ve just done, even if I’m now laden with duffel bag, backpack, shopping bags, and handbag?

So I walked to Union Square for my HEAPS BIG UNRESTRAINED CHOCOLATE BUYING, and it was eight parts glorious, two parts sunburn. Not too shabby.

Flutterbys! (Macy's Spring display.)

Hello Stranger, Would You Like Two Babies?

First stop at Union Square: The Food Emporium. Chocolates bought: Many. Second stop: Trader Joe’s. Muffins bought: yummy. Long lines to the checkout entered: one.

Here’s where the day got interesting.

In front of me in the line was a woman with a large stroller containing one (1) toddler and one (1) baby. Behind me were a couple (2) in their early 60s. After snaking halfway around the store (it was a long line), the mother before me turned and said “I forgot something. Can you push the stroller forward?” And off she sauntered, leaving me with one (1) duffel bag, one (1) handbag, one (1) backpack, two (2) full shopping baskets, one (1) enormous stroller, and two (2) strange children, all of which I had manoeuvre through and around assorted other shoppers and aisles with my two (2) hands.

I heard an harrumph from behind me, and turned to see the older lady shaking her head. Her husband offered to take the mother’s shopping basket from my care, while the wife told me I was really too kind, and that the mother shouldn’t have wandered off.

I smiled and said I didn’t really mind making sure someone’s children didn’t get stolen (or eaten by a dingo).

Macro Vegetarian Brown Rice dish from Whole Foods. Sesame seeds, tofu, broccoli, brown rice, corn... just the ticket for a 22-year-old mother. I mean traveller.

At this point, a Trader Joe’s worker approached me and asked what I needed help with. Confused, I soon ascertained that the worker had been told to look after the mother with the two children and the stroller, and so I was being approached as she.

“Oh, no, sorry, no, these aren’t mine, some lady just left me with them,” I babbled.

Harrumph, from behind.

The worker fervently agreed with such harrumphing, thanking me profusely for my generosity in spontaneous-child-rearing while stating that the woman ought not to have bequeathed her children to me.

Eventually the mother returned, at which point the worker semi-politely chided her and left. The mother promptly dropped her carton of eggs on the floor, peeked inside, muttered “of course”, and placed the carton on a nearby shelf of chocolate-covered edamame.

Harrumph.

Having relinquished my pseudo-children, I watched as the mother started sharing a pear with her toddler. I’m sure this was a lovely bonding moment and all, but the line had moved forward to the extent that, metres and metres away, she was now technically next in line, and the rest of us were stuck behind her.

The woman behind me leaned forward and whispered “I’ve never hated someone in line before”. I simply smiled and joked “You sure do things differently in America”, not wanting to get caught in a cross-generational-grocery-store showdown.

As I watched my children being rolled away, I shed a tear for all the birthday parties and tantrums and first-days-at-school I’d never get to see… and then I looked down at my carton of chocolate-covered sunflower seeds and decided I’d got the better deal.

Macro Vegetarian Macro Sushi, made with wild rice, brown rice, sweet rice, nori, daikon, carrots, tofu, kale, apple cider vinegar, agave syrup, spices, and sesame oil. Did I mention I love New York?

Spawn-less, the Day Shifts from Hilarity to…

Well, you’ll just have to wait and see. Because this chickadee needs her dinner, and suspense is good for the soul.

*A skirt that makes me feel like Little Ragged Blossom, two jackets, a duffel bag for the planned chocolate splurge, and a pair of heels. This last was an accident, as I was honestly just going to try one shoe on my right non-bandaged foot then leave the store. Except what’s a girl to do when a stylish New York lady interrupts her own shopping to say that the shoes look amazing and must be bought? The girl has to buy them, obviously, even if she couldn’t try on the left shoe to make sure it fit, and so it subsequently may not. But shhhh.

Kall Me Khannah (The K Isn't Silent)

Posted on April 8, 2010 by Hannah

It’s funny how first impressions can be erroneous. Or, if not erroneous, at the very least amendable.

Take today, for instance. Now, keep in mind that I’m six hours into my second flight of the day, that I’ve already been awake 13 hours and need to stay up at least another 8 in an attempt to get on New York time, and that I’m listening to Swiss Airlines’ Music From the Films of Tim Burton. Which means that if this starts to sound a bit loony-bin… you have an explanation.

Where was I? Oh yes, first impressions. But before we get to that, want to see what I got for eats on the plane? Course you do! (Some of you do, anyway.)

There was also a piece of apricot cake but, um... I ate it first.

Lorraine, you’ll be proud to know I only went to the airport one and a half hours early*. Waiting by Gate 5, I overheard an American woman talking to her two daughters…

American Woman (making sweeping movements near her own ears with curved hands): We’ll need to get your hair cut like this, because it looks like shrimp head if we don’t.

Um… okay. I, of course, immediately pulled on and zipped up my crankypants at the idea of any mother telling her daughter she has shrimp head (whatever that means). I mean, at least my mother never said anything more to me than that my cheekbones reminded her of an anemone**.

After settling into my window seat on the plane, I turned to discover that this woman and her husband were my seatmates. I considered making shrimp noises, but instead commented on the fact that we were all on the same ensuing flight from Zurich to New York. And you know what happened after that? I discovered that these people were lovely.

This was pretty awful, if I'm entirely honest.

We had much to talk about, from the father’s travels in Australia (plus he works for NBC at the actual 30 Rock, on shows such as Top Chef and Project Runway. He says they’re considering a Top Chef Australia – I’d watch it, but I wonder how it would fare against Masterchef?), his gluten intolerance, my travels, the kids’ reading of Twilight and our mutual confusion as to the hysteria surrounding the books, all of our travels in Florence and Paris, the fact that my two days in New York will be spent doing nothing but going from grocery store to upmarket grocery store…

Ultimately, I had to let the shrimp head comment slide, because this family let me tag along with them through Zurich airport’s international transfer system, through waiting an hour to be let into the gate area, through my anxiety over being standby for this flight (I still don’t know why I was put on standby for one of four flights all booked at once), and the father even gave me some Australian music recommendations. Anyone heard of the Pigram Brothers?

The upshot of the day was that I now consider myself an honourary member of this New Yorker family, and as you’ll no doubt understand when you read the following, such membership involves an amendment to my name.

See, the four folks’ names were Kevin, Keeley, Keaton, and Khloe.

Therefore, from now on, my name is Khannah. K?

Peace out!

Turkey and cream cheese on a roll. There was also Movenpick caramel ice cream, but it came halfway through my watching of Fantastic Mr. Fox, and sometimes a girl's just gotta eat her ice cream straight away. After Berthillon and Florence gelato, though...

* The hotel reception man may or may not have said I only needed to be there an hour in advance. But there’s only so far a leopard can change its spots, right?

** I jest. She said kelp#.

# I jest again. And I can’t even blame Tim Burton, as I’ve change to the Beatle’s 1 album. Lady Madonna love.

Wayfaring Chocolate

adventures in chocolate, travel, cooking, and living

Category Archives: Conversations with Strangers