Eating Out | dinner with Julie

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Tony’s Pizza and Culina in Edmonton

This weekend’s dining experiences were brought to us by Twitter. Heading to Edmonton for Saturday night and not up to date on the best places to eat in the city, I put the call out. This new-fangled social media thing sure can come in handy, can’t it?

I was instantly answered with a flurry of #yeg dining suggestions – many for Culina, some for the patio at the Hotel MacDonald, a few suggestions for Indian, Turkish, Ethiopian and Japanese food, and some coffee shops. One for Tony’s Pizza, which a quick Google search showed to be directly between our hotel and Rexall Place, where Mike had to be to see Iron Maiden (the reason for our visit). We made haste as it was early dinner hour, and secured a spot on the patio.

It was a hit. I took advantage of the fact that our trip up to Edmontown had nothing to do with me, meaning I didn’t have to be presentable or really do any work, and so I jumped into the car in flip-flops and a t-shirt with no intention of changing. (Well. No intention of upgrading from an outfit of that nature.) Tony’s worked with my dress code – it’s an old school pasta-and-pizzeria that felt instantly comfortable. It was a full house, and most tables were occupied by families who you could tell were regulars. I left wanting a big plate of garlicky pasta, and to eat it at a long table of verging-on-rowdy friends and family with voracious appetites.

We ordered a classic New York style pie (extra large and thin, with spicy tomato sauce and cheese) and Sal’s Deluxe (prosciutto, capicollo, marinated tomatoes and bocconcini) and had more than enough to bring back to the hotel room for breakfast and lunch.

Sal himself was in the kitchen flipping dough high and wide into the air, the way you don’t see Italian pizzeria cooks do anymore, and W was so in awe that Sal (at least I think it was Sal – everyone in the kitchen seemed to be calling someone Sal, so we’ll assume it was him) invited W to stay and watch through an open window, within 4-year-old arms’ reach, as he patted, tossed and topped the dough and slid it into a hot oven to blister. He even gave W a little wad of dough to toss about himself. He was in heaven.

And so was I, on the other side of the glass door, sitting on the patio drinking a $4 glass of house red and eating wide slices of New York-style pizza I could fold in half and eat.

This morning, after what was supposed to be a good old-fashioned sleep in (W was up no later than 6:20, riling us to get up already and go to the pool!) we went to Culina Mill Creek for brunch, a teeny spot in the Old Strathcona district with wood chairs, wine bottles filled with cold water and lots of sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains.

We started with grilled cornbread and blueberry butter (wouldn’t you?) and followed with an egg, bacon, tomato and edam panini (me), mushroom frittata with spicy braised bacon (Mike) and eggs in a creamy basil sauce topped with crispy bacon (our friend Jen).

They made W a single egg, over-easy. I can’t wait to go back for dinner. Next door, buffered by a wee barber shop, is a new wine bar and charcuterie called Bibo, owned by the same great people I met this morning, that may warrant some further research too.

Sorry if this is reading a little like a junior high school book report – something has decided to take over my head/throat/esophageal area and render me at least partially useless, or at least tired and fuzzy-headed. More so than usual, that is. I’ll stop typing and attempt to sleep it off now.

June 27 2010 | eating out | 9 Comments »

Bliss

Sorry guys, I’m kind of punking out on a recipe on you again. But if you’re in Calgary, you’ll be glad I did. (And if you’re not, here’s a little food porn-sweet dreams!)

See that pie, right up there? The one loaded with dark, chewy cherries? Every bit as good as it looks. So sublime that I want to put it on a Tshirt. For real.

I’m trying not to get too hung up on all that time I wasted not knowing about Bliss & Co. I had heard about it, lots, and even heard rumour of how great their cupcakes were. The best in the city, even. (They won best overall cupcake in a taste test at Avenue Magazine. For real!)

Well. I’m a bit of a cupcake fan. Those are big words. I think I was afraid to confirm that cupcakes that good were available so close to where I live.

Eventually I gave in (about a month ago – sorry, I haven’t meant to keep this from you) and W and I went downtown for cupcakes, in the name of research. We were not disappointed. They were indeed among the best I’ve eaten – the strawberry swirl tasting of real strawberries, the cake itself dense, moist and not overly sweet. They were perfection. And with a lower price tag than at other cupcakeries. (There’s a great cupcake price comparison here.)

The cupcakes were heavenly. I could gush on. But the PIE. Oh my. The pie.

There were coconut cream pies, filled with layers of ganache, house-made caramel, coconut pastry cream and whipped cream. And then there were fruit-filled hand pies – apricot, cherry, and strawberry-rhubarb on the afternoon I was there. I took them all and ate two on the way home. Everything – pastry included – was made from scratch. The pies – larger than tarts, smaller than galettes (one might call them crostatas, and if one might want to learn how to make them, one could find a great tutorial, complete with grandma hands, here) were loaded with fresh fruit, and not at all stodgy, the way some cornstarch-thickened fruit pies can get. They were bliss. I ate two of them, in piranha fashion, as I was taking these photos. (If you go for some, best to call first or go on the weekends.)

And I was happy (and not at all surprised) to see that they make a kick-ass brownie, too. I love the way they dragged the tip of something through the surface of the batter before baking them, making a subtle pattern like the paisley on a sock. Or something far tastier.

And I just have to say – the women who own the place and work there are just lovely. (And I don’t mean that in a your-great-aunt’s-lilac-hat-is-just-lovely sort of a way.) I could have pulled up a stool and chatted with them as they baked all afternoon. Of course if I had, most of their profits would have been eaten up.

June 10 2010 | eating out | 16 Comments »

(New-School) Afternoon Tea at the Banff Springs

I know, this comes across as very Mothers’ Day-ish, doesn’t it? Mothers’ Day proper was bit of a bust around here, if you’re looking to hear how it went. Mike forgot, having stayed up late to watch Betty White on SNL (the MOTHER’S DAY SPECIAL), and when I told W it was Mothers’ Day his response was, “NOOO! I want it to be Daddy’s day!” (He’s in an I-don’t-love-you-I-only-love-Dad-because-he-plays-with-me-and-you-only-work-all-the-time phase, which DOESN’T HELP AT ALL.) It turns out I’m just not as gifted as Mike is at playing superheros/Star Wars/Scooby-doo. I try. I’m just not boy enough.

So yeah, no sleep-in, no coffee. Bah. I’m not a flowers and jewelry sort of mom, and I don’t even care about breakfast in bed. But I do look forward to not getting up at the break of W climbing all over my head, and then having someone go get me a coffee. When it finally kicked in he made a Tim Horton’s run, and Ben and Emily made me some pity pancakes.

But. We went for Afternoon Tea at the Banff Springs Hotel yesterday, so I can pretend that was orchestrated by Mike and W on my behalf, in honour of my most excellent motherness.

May 09 2010 | eating out | 39 Comments »

Breakfast at Red’s

A picture is worth a thousand words, right? Here are a few I’ll let speak for themselves.

It was snowy and wet today, barely over zero. (It still is – the clumpy flakes are blowing sideways across the roof past the window.) I was tired, and not much in the mood to cook. After dropping W at playschool we snuck off to have breakfast at Red’s Diner, a new spot on 4th St, beside the Rose
& Crown. Great location.

Great interior, nice people – the food came quickly, despite the fact that every table was full (we sat at the counter – a great vantage point for people-watching). Eggs Benedict is usually my restaurant breakfast of choice – something I’m unlikely to make at home, and a good litmus test for a new place. These passed easily. They got a quick turn under the broiler after being sauced, so that the hollandaise was pale gold on top. Good potatoes – real ones, not the cotton-towelly potato cubes you sometimes get as filler – and cheese sourdough in the lineup of toast choices. Thumbs up.

Next time: short rib hash topped with eggs. Luckily, breakfast is served all day.

Dinner was a pathetic parade of cereal, toast and Cheezies.

April 28 2010 | eating out | 13 Comments »

Tofino Wrap-Up and a Treasure Hunt

We’re back in BrownTown. I mean Calgary. I do love this place, but I’d love it more if I had a condo in Vancouver and a private jet. Wait right here while I go buy a lottery ticket.

As usual, I’m seriously behind. This time I’ve been slacking in this department, not keeping you abreast of our meals. This wasn’t an actual holiday in that I brought my work with me – it’s been a kind of half working, half playing couple weeks, with the goal that I’d spend more time with W than I have been of late. So I have been working – just not as much – and I wanted to remind him that I do have a face and am (almost) as much fun as dad, and the computer isn’t an actual appendage.

It might sound from your end of the computer that we’ve been living on crab, cookies and pancakes. And that’s partly accurate, but we’ve been eating out a bit, too. I’ll get to that in a minute – first, I neglected to tell you the whole story of Tonquin park, but I can chalk that up to a hot bath and a half bottle of Red Over Heels. The combination amounts to the opposite of a motivational speech.

The short version of the story is: we found treasure on the island at Tonquin. I heard that something was buried there, in a teeny cave, and had the foresight to (finally!) bring my little video camera so that I could take you on the forest walk, then share the discovery of said treasure. And post it! I didn’t, unfortunately, have the foresight to bring spare batteries – they died as I came to the end of the path and out onto the beach. Which really is in keeping with the theme of the past couple weeks.

So there’s this global game called Geocaching, where people with GPS systems track down these well-hidden “treasures” placed around the world. (I’d try to explain the concept in more detail but the website would do a better job of it.) This spot was on a teeny island you’ll see just as you get to the end of the path from the road to the beach. On it is a tiny cave, not much bigger than a breadbox.

W was on cloud 9, let me tell you. He was a bit disappointed though, when we didn’t run into trouble with any pirates, and the box we dug out wasn’t full of gold dubloons.

It was Tupperware, in fact.

We left the string of beads from Mike’s cowboy hat, and a hand-written recipe for Chocolava cookies. W left the fuzzy little blue rabbit he got in his Kinder Egg and was convinced was magic.

I chose a well-worn double decker bus keychain, left by an Aussie who left a note with a brief version of his story:

Which is appropriate in ways I couldn’t begin to explain. Also – the keychain I’ve had for at least 10 years got wrecked a few weeks ago, and I was, likely due to stress and lack of sleep, unreasonably upset about it.

When I pulled my keys out of my pocket to attach the bus, I noticed that the keychain I reluctantly replaced mine with a couple weeks ago had broken. Huh.

I have to tell you too about Ukee Dog – a hot dog joint (and so much more) in Ucluelet, where we went after visiting the wee aquarium.

There were homemade cinnamon buns in three varieties – raisin, apple or blueberry.

The pies were all hand-made too, and rows of jars full of cookies.

We pooled our cash and brought home a half dozen pies – salmon Wellington, curried veggie and curried beef, and a beef-mushroom. They were all divine.