The Communist’s Daughter
This week I’ve spent eight hours a day learning to fulfil my new role as a barista, amongst other things, and it’s been a tiring process making a transition from full time slacking to actual employment. But now I can make a half decent espresso, and my cappuccinos are coming along nicely; I had the pleasure of making an Americano for Seth’s dad from the OC, for those who know who he is. The people I work with are great; Toronto residents are amongst some of the most diverse, friendly, welcoming and interesting people I’ve ever been around.
Saturday was the only day off this week, and to mark the occasion, we visited a bar and restaurant called Lot St.(it’s actually on Queen St.) where they serve a mixture of Italian, Canadian and Latin cuisine. Their interesting system of dining allows customers to present a budget, and have the chef craft a set menu based on their funds. For $25 each we had eight courses (sharing portions, of course) each complimenting it’s predecessor, whilst at the same time being distinctly different. Their cocktails were impressive, too; Danny had a szechwan spiced old fashioned.
We headed up Ossington Avenue afterwards - the home stretch - but meandered our way through a couple of bars en route. Firstly we veered off into Reposado for some smooth jazz from their house quartet, the Reposadists, who define their style as “gypsy bop”. They were good, with a crooning vocalist, an Elvis mic and a double bass slapped to infinity. Reposado has an attractive drinks menu for such a small place: one of the few places, in fact, to have the outstanding Delirium Tremens on draught.
The Communists Daughter used to be the Nazare Snack Bar, and the sign remains the same. Inside, though, it’s a cozy bar lit by fairy lights and soundtracked by an excellent jukebox. By cozy, I mean small, but not in a bad way; small in a way that encourages conversation, as we found on Friday night.
It’s always nice to meet other Brits abroad, and in _The Communists Daughter _we met a chap called Fergus Henderson. He was quick to inform us that he runs a prestigious restaurant in London called St. Johns. What followed, was a drunken one way conversation, in which Fergus quickly exposed himself as a pretentious, bitter old man with more money than sense. He wasn’t hostile, just self-obsessed, harbouring plenty of negative opinions of people and places in England and further afield. I won’t bore with details of these expressions, but he didn’t come across as the usual pleasant British gentlemen we’ve come to expect. The usual clientele, however are predominantly Canadian and inherently pleasant, accommodating and fun to be around.
We ended our weekend with a trip to The Opera House on Queen East, to see Real Estate play some songs from their new album. They put on a great show; if you haven’t listened to them (and I recommend you do) they play perhaps the most pleasant Sunday night rock imaginable. A great light show, good crowd and an all round welcome end to the week.
