Firkin on Humber Bay – A Very Popular British Pub on the Lake in Toronto Lakeshore West

Years ago, Lakeshore West had a very wild west reputation. It was populated with a string of sleazy motels fronting on beautiful Lake Ontario. This place was located on the western fringe of Toronto and it appealed to those on the fringe of society – hookers, gamblers, hustlers – and those were the pillars of this society.

Well, all these motels are gone, replaced by a glass and steel forest of condo towers. Fronting on the lake or set back from the lake.

From the ashes of these sketchy motels, a vibrant condo community has risen. Composing of seniors who have sold their Etobicoke homes North of the Queensway; young families with a kid or two in tow; swinging singles, young professionals, aggressive entrepreneurs, hustling real estate agents, hot PR folk, divorced middle-aged men and women reinventing themselves and of course, the odd escort or twenty, reflecting Lakeshore West’s storied past.

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The Firkin group of pubs owns and operates over 30 British style pubs in the Greater Toronto area, in the suburbs of Mississauga and even farther afield in Cambridge, the Kitchener Waterloo area and in Aurora, Whitby and Pickering.

The Firkin group’s newest pub is on the main floor of these new condos overlooking Humber Bay on Marine Bay Drive (south of the Queensway, Lakeshore Road, east of Islington/Park Lawn area). This pub is simply spectacular.

Spacious, modern, warm, friendly and architecturally, very cool.

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The architecture can best be described as clean, modern, chic industrial. Very open and reminiscent of The London Tube – aspirational, without the grime, heat, graffiti and hundreds of commuters crammed cheek to jowl. Note: the London Tube-like sign, Firkin on the Bay.

The main dining room soars over 30 feet upwards. One wall, overlooking the Humber Bay contains gorgeous floor to ceiling windows. At night, from your booth, you can see not only the lake, but across the lake, the iconic CN Tower and the sparkling Toronto skyline.

Look up at the ceiling and you see piping, smartly silver encased as if an exhibit in the Art Gallery of Toronto. The artwork is of course British inspired. Larger than life colourful lithographs of Winston Churchill, English Bulldogs and my favourite, the incomparable Jimi Hendrix, intensely hanging out in Marylebone in the heart of London.

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The main foyer soars majestically two stories, easily 40 feet. Also, huge floor-to-ceiling windows. The L-shaped bar faces flat screens and colourful piping representing the major London subway routes – Bakerloo, Central, Piccadilly and Jubilee, to name a few.

There is a private party area on the second floor accessed by a staircase with a brilliant life-like mural of the Minister of Silly Walks, John Cleese of Monty Python fame.

The food is generally excellent. It is pub food: tasty, fun, plentiful and very good value. The three fellows next to me chowed down on hot and spicy chicken wings with a side mountain of crispy fries. They were impressed with the size of the chicken wings and the fries. Another couple had the lamb burger and chicken fingers – also engulfed by freshly cut fries. Another table of two couples had more traditional British pub fare – fish and chips and Shepherd’s pie, Firkin’s specialties. All signaled their approval.

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The group at my table also went the traditional British pub route. You know, when in Rome!

We shared the following: Three Little Yorkies. No, they were not British hot dogs but instead consisted of three mini Yorkshire puddings, stuffed with pot roast, mashed potatoes and smothered in Guinness gravy. Delicious, filling, fattening, great comfort food. I chose and enjoyed the Ploughman’s Lunch – aged, white cheddar, Danish blue cheese, a hard-boiled egg, gherkins, kalamata olives, a Ciabatta bun and a Branston pickle.

This Firkin, as in all of the Firkins I have experienced, is known for its wide and varied selection of brewskis. One of the most popular beers is Butler’s Brew, a light refreshing lager, brewed exclusively for Firkin by Molsons.

Other popular brands on tap include: Barking Squirrel, Flying Monkeys Hoptical Illusion, and Moosehead Lager.

Cute names. Cute names. And according to my beer-drinking bro each of these brands taste so smooth and clean.

What I most loved about this place was its attentive, excellent and attentive service. Hostess Nina, a truly lovely woman. The other hostess, Suzanne, was superb as well. Our server, Daniella, was also terrific and so professional.

Daniella could not do enough for us. And she appeared to genuinely like us and she hoped that we would come back soon. What a sweetheart!

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Later in the evening, another server, Stephanie helped us select the perfect late night munchies which just hit the spot prior to our departing for the night.

This Firkin bar is fast becoming the local hang out for the Toronto West condo crowd. A place where the staff know your name and a great escape from the surrounding concrete jungle and the downtown Bay Street rat race.

Kudos to general manager Bobby Schuette and his great staff. This place is a great addition to the growing and fast expanding neighbourhood. I can’t wait to return. And the outdoor patio, overlooking the lake, must be fabulous in the spring and summer.

Molly Parker: Canada’s Rare and Captivating Bird

For the past few weeks I have been holed up in a beautiful (and warm) cottage in the beach town of Innisfil, within a chip and putt of the slowly melting sea.

A windswept oasis. Literally far from the madding crowd of downtown Toronto.

This weekend I discovered a small gem of a Canadian film. Scrolling through the channels in my cottage hideaway, the words Rare Birds came across the screen. Filmed in 2001, it is a relatively unknown Canadian film set in Newfoundland, and stars two of my favourite and quirky actors:  Molly Parker and William Hurt.

William Hurt, a little paunchy, his hair thinning, is several years from his role as the charismatic teacher of the deaf (and lover of his fellow deaf employee portrayed by Marlee Matlin) in Children of a Lesser God (1986). Hurt is also light years from the good-looking but dim southern lawyer who attracted the attention of the very sexy and nubile femme fatale Kathleen Turner in the classic, steamy, and heavily erotic Florida noir thriller Body Heat (1981). But this Hurt dude can still act! Even in a relatively low-budget Canadian flick with a pseudo Newfie accent.

Set along the rocky shores of a small Newfoundland town, Hurt is the owner/chef of a failing restaurant, literally in the middle of nowhere, called The Auk. The premise is that Hurt is apparently a brilliant and talented chef who, for some reason, fled to the rocky shores of Newfoundland to own and operate his own high-end bistro. But the place seems to be invisible to customers, and most locals believe the place has been closed for months.

Hurt is separated from his wife (played by Sheila McCarthy), who apparently prefers the high-powered life of Washington to watching her husband spend his days alone and pitifully drinking wine in his empty bistro.

Then, one night at a friend’s house, Hurt meets the alluring and red-headed Molly Parker. She is an architecture student, temporarily staying with her family until her return to the big city of Montreal.

Full disclosure: I love Molly Parker as an actress.

I have loved her ever since she blew my socks off in Kissed (1996) when, as a mortician’s assistant, she literally mounted a freshly embalmed body of a handsome young man and had her way with him. If this guy had been alive, he would have thought he had died and gone to heaven … multiple times.

But I also love Parker because she is fearless and she takes on eccentric and totally unique roles in off-the-wall productions, such as the Jewish female rabbi Ari in Six Feet Under or the “hard as nails” widow in the very wild, lawless, and profanity-filled western Deadwood. Fans can currently find Parker as ex-Majority Whip Sharp, going toe to toe with the evil, venal American President Francis Underwood in House of Cards.

And in this Canadian independent flick, Parker does not disappoint. She dominates the screen with her naturally flowing red hair and her mischievous, devilish, and very wise and quick eyes.

In Parker’s first meeting with Hurt, across the dining room table, she initially feigns interest as Hurt, the food and wine buff, holds forth on a special wine he had brought for the occasion. Reluctantly, Parker takes a glass and expertly sniffs the liquid. Rolls it around her full mouth. She then opines on its taste, and slyly suggests its deep penetrating bouquet, ripe pinot fruit, and earthiness is evocative of a hardwood forest and the losing of one’s cherry. Wow … this girl’s got serious game! (Watch the scene for yourself.) Hurt, whose coq au fin has lain dormant for years in a loveless marriage, begins to pulsate in its rich juices.

As a result of a fake sighting of a rare bird, the small Newfoundland community is suddenly inundated by ravenous birdwatchers. They in turn begin to populate the only decent bistro for miles around. Hurt’s little failing bistro, is now awash in American Express-carrying birders who love his Michelin-starred renderings of local fresh fish. To deal with the influx of customers, Parker decides to lend a hand in the front of the room and we immediately sense that love and romance have also clearly invaded this quaint inlet.

In a beautiful and private moment, Hurt, looking in from the outside, watches Parker in the bistro, moving her hips to a bluesy beat, unaware of her lover’s gaze. Another time, after a long day on her feet, Parker favours her sore foot. Hurt motions Parker to sit in a chair across from him, then gently removes her shoe and messages the balls of her foot. Parker is clearly struck by his gentleness, kindness, and coiled sexiness. You can tell from her eyes that she wants this guy … real bad.

You know, these two just want to rip each other clothes off and devour each other among the frozen cod.

But this is Canada, damn it!  No Fifty Shades of the Maple Leaf, malheureusement!

Finally, the night before Parker must return to Montreal, she prepares a candlelight dinner for Hurt. The twosome barely finish a swig of vodka and a mouthful of caviar when Parker mounts Hurt, still seated in his chair. She confesses that she has wanted to jump his bones from day one. Hurt, now recreating his role as the horny lawyer in Body Heat, is ready to take Parker then and there. But once again, Canadian values intercede. Some stranger knocks on the door of the darkened bistro and the highly sexually charged moment passes.

But let me tell you, folks, twenty-nine at the time of filming, Parker is amazingly and wildly hot. It’s her strong and high cheek bones that get me. Her wild eyes. Her totally uninhibited, go-for-broke nature. And the explicit suggestion, that with Parker anything, and I mean anything, goes.

I urge you to catch Molly Parker in Rare Birds. She is not only a rare Canadian actress, she is truly a rare and unique actress in her own right.

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Mitch Wolfe Worships at Mildred’s Temple Kitchen for Sunday Brunch in Liberty Village

Many friends of mine have been extolling the virtues of Mildred’s for years, especially its legendary Sunday brunch.

When it comes to fancy Sunday brunches, I am generally indifferent. Agnostic. But this past Sunday, friends of mine encouraged me to tag along. Why not? And I became a true believer. A convert. Definitely a happy member of Mildred’s Temple.

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Mildred’s is located in the King/Dufferin area, amidst a forest of steel + glass condominiums, aka Liberty Village.

In the middle of this high rise condo village is a ‘village square’ of sorts. Anchored by a 24 hour Metro grocery store, bakers, candlestick makers, Nike, a Shoppers Drug Mart, banks, hair and nail spas, and Mildred’s.

Mildred’s is very airy, high-ceilinged and cool with an open kitchen in the middle, for all to see. Sunday brunch is from 9am to 3pm. Waits are at least one hour+ to get a seat and no reservations are taken. First come, first serve. Recommended 9am at the opening bell if you want a seat.

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Unfortunately, my friends had had a late night the night before – some random dude’s birthday party. Apparently many vodka sodas and straight whiskeys, well into the morn, had pushed our brunch to 2pm.

Silver lining for my friends, Mildred’s rocks as great comfort and hangover food.

So we arrived at 2pm and as expected, there was at least a 60 minute wait.

But my friends were smart, they grabbed some chairs at the bar and ordered a single pancake special with The Bungalow Island Caesar (Iceberg Vodka, Mott’s Clamato juice, signature rim, curly celery and fresh horseradish to cure the hair of the dog).

(See photo of Mrs. Biederhof’s Legendary Light & Fluffy Blueberry Buttermilk Pancake served with Lanark County maple syrup & whipped cream.)

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Since the single pancake was so large and fluffy, and just oozed decadent whipped cream, blueberries and maple syrup, they just shared a single one. Sort of a pre-brunch, like a pre drink, before the main event. According to these two, this buttermilk pancake was heaven on a plate.

Our initial server Kaitlyn was just a doll. So upbeat, attentive and empathetic. My two friends, still suffering from the throes of a major hangover, sought Kaitlyn’s professional advice on how to combat such a debilitating hangover.

Dr. Kaitlyn wisely steered them away from morning mimosa of Spanish Cava and orange juice to hot black coffee, which seemed to do wonders.

Within 45 minutes, hostess Margo helped us to our table and we were handed off to Calvin, also an excellent server.

Calvin was so upbeat and helpful. He recommended to my two friends Veda’s Choice – Mildred’s classic poached eggs on a flakey croissant. One chose the rosemary bacon option while the other chose smoked salmon. Both topped with Béarnaise sauce and served with mixed greens. (See photo of this Mildred classic.) This dish was a huge hit with my friends. The 45 minute wait was clearly worth it.

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For my part, someone had to show some calorie-counting discipline. I had Mildred’s famous house-made crunchy granola with toasted honey oats, macadamia nuts, dried apricots, currants, cranberries and a hint of ginger, topped with yogurt and fresh seasonal fruit. It was delicious, hit the spot. And I could respect myself in the morning.

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Calvin was a gem. He anticipated all our strange and unique needs. One of my friends, was vegan-lite and required constant refills of Almond milk as opposed to skimmed milk. And she made other organic and natural demands. Calvin handled all these requests with aplomb and equanimity.

And he kept magically appearing out of nowhere, to refill our steaming hot cups of Java.

In short, the afternoon brunch service at Mildred’s Temple, was short and sweet. We were uplifted by the service, the ambience, and the food, of course. Thank God, no sermon was necessary.

Alex Rad: The BBQ King on Queen West Smoques the Competition

Alex Rad’s BBQ emporium and craft cocktail haven “Smoque N’ Bones” on Queen Street West blows away all his Toronto competition.

For those who know and have read me know that in the past I was a huge BBQ gourmand. More accurately, a BBQ glutton. A raunchy pork rib porker. A pulled pork pundit. And a crazed beef brisket banshee.

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I used to stalk the Stockyards on St. Clair and constantly blacken the door of the Black Camel near the Rosedale subway. Sometimes I would travel way across town to deepest, darkest Parkdale, grow some facial hair and don a hoodie for Electric Mud BBQ, all for its crispy, juicy pulled pork sandwiches.

Most recently, due to doctor’s orders, I’ve gone veggie lite.

Recently I have fallen off the pork/rib chuck wagon, having fallen in love with a very rad “Smoque N’ Bones”.

Truth be told, I have gone several times to “Smoques” and every time, it was better than the last visit.

I have tried most of the delicious meats and sides. My favourite is the sampler. A choice of three meats and three sides.

I love the pork ribs. Smoky, tender, succulent and juicy. More slow bite, savour and chew, than fall off the bone.

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No question, Alex Rad’s southern smoker delivers the goods. The awesome ribs are served naked, just the way I like them as does most rib aficionados. I hate them pre-slathered and over-slathered with unnecessary BBQ sauce. Smoques supplies you with your own glazing brush and extra BBQ sauce so that you can apply its house-made sauce as you like it.

Pulled pork is hard to pull off, but chef Alex does it with great aplomb. Roasted daily for about 14 hours, the pulled pork, sans bun, is moist, soft, flavourful and the tangy, smoky sauce complements without obscuring its zesty taste.

The beef brisket is not like my dear old mom used to make – thanks goodness! In this case, the brisket is insanely moist and surprisingly scrumptious. It is must be chef Alex’s secret smoking and sauce. Also, the extra subtle layers of fat jumpstart its juiciness.

Smoque’s sides are a misnomer. Supporting actors, they are not. They can easily stand on their own, as full meals in themselves.

Feeling guilty about my non-veggie binging, I naturally gravitated to the crisp collard greens, candied yams and caramelized onions and brussel sprouts. They were all excellent. And seemingly healthy.

Unfortunately, that diet-conscious ship sailed a long time ago. On subsequent trips to Smoques, I macked out on the creamy mac and cheese and then dove head first into the devilishly delicious buttermilk onion rings and obscenely fine waffle sweet potato fries.

Aren’t sweet potato fries supposed to be healthier than your run of the mill greasy French fries?

But by my third visit to Smoques, who gives a flying fry? I was mainlining those earthy subtle sweet potato fries, fried to a perfect crisp, dipped in chipotle mayo, directly into my thickening thighs. Oh well.

Don’t get me started on the addictive pecan pie with Bourbon Crème Anglaise!

Chef Alex had to cut me off at two servings of that Bourbon-infused pecan pie or I would have been pecan pie impaired.

But man cannot live on Smoque’s bread pudding alone (with intoxicating Bourbon sauce).

True, the food is the thing, but what drives me back on a regular basis to Smoques, is the people and the service.

Chef/owner Alex, a former Bay Street financier, is the heart, soul and driving force of Smoque N’ Bones.

But he has also surrounded himself with a tremendous group.

The beautiful and extremely competent Lexa, is Alex’s “go to” person. She has worked closely with Alex from the outset and has helped him define and implement his vision for Smoques. Also I understand Lexa assisted Alex in renovating the second floor into a really cool, open bricked, original barn wood floor, smoky, retro “old school” cocktail bar.

Lexa also prepares, slices, dices and serves the meaty entrees with skill and experience way beyond his years.

There is also the lovely and warm Vanessa, who works the front and ensures that every patron is always satisfied.

Vanessa also on occasion mans the upstairs cocktail lounge. She is a true artist and cocktail craftsman.

I am not normally a bourbon, vermouth or gin drinker but Vanessa’s Marakesh and Wild Rose crafted cocktails went down oh-so-smoothly.

In big, bad and often personally cold Toronto, Smoques is truly a place where they always know your name and treat you like family. Actually, better than family.

I guarantee you will first go for the food, but you will keep coming back because it is like a second home, for us urban dwellers who are constantly searching for a place with great food and a staff who genuinely enjoys your company and can’t do enough for you.

In short, this is a great Smoque N’ place!!!

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Don’t Fret, Ladies, Your Lady Business Is Not Our Business: Mitch Wolfe Looks Back at the Body Culture War of 2015

I must confess: I have been an avid student of the female form for decades. And I know that writing about female body types is akin to gingerly tiptoeing through a veritable minefield. The thrilling Iraqi war film, Hurt Locker, comes to mind. When I last broached this subject in “You Don’t Need Jennifer Aniston’s Bod to be Great in Bed” I took considerable enemy fire. But I survived with my humor and dignity intact.

So, though I am reluctant to head back into another body culture war I’m afraid duty calls. I fully expect to take some flak. But neither do I want to die on this hill, or mound (mons pubis), as the case may be.

It seems the very revealing Sports Illustrated, Swimsuit Edition cover shot of Hannah Davis—standing confidently, her thumbs hooked into the sides of her bikini bottom—has provoked a heated international discussion. Talk is mostly centered on the exposure of a certain part of Ms. Davis’s body, which New York Times writer Jennifer Weiner has described as “that formerly unnoticed span of flesh between the top of one’s panties and the labia majora.” (I knew three years of high school Latin would finally come in handy.)

What has Weiner’s knickers in a knot is her fear that Ms. Davis’s perfectly tanned, toned, and hairless on-ramp to her labia will create a new dimension to women’s insecurities about their bodies. In her Sunday New York Times article, “Great! Another Thing to Hate about Ourselves”, Weiner argues women already have plenty to worry about: “stretch marks, eye bags, age spots, wrinkles, belly rolls, cellulite, and especially boobs that are too big, too small, too droopy, mismatched and asymmetrical.”

But now Weiner bemoans the fact that women will have to worry about their “lady place”. In other words, another body part that has to be pruned, policed, examined, and improved upon. All because of Hannah Davis’s Sports Illustrated shoot that has cropped up all over the internet, and your local corner store.

But speaking humbly on behalf of all mankind, I would like to tell Ms. Weiner that she is making a mons pubis out of a mole hill.

As I have stated in the past, we men don’t give two fracks about what you do with your lady business: Brazilian, half Brazilian, Mohawk, triangle, landing strip, or smooth and hairless as a baby’s behind. Toned. Not Toned. Even off-key. We don’t care. We just want to be invited to the dance. C’est tout. Secondly, women have more important things to worry about.

As Weiner astutely queried, “Do you think Eleanor Roosevelt worried about her undercarriage?”  Or Gloria Steinem or even Hillary Clinton, for that matter?

I agree with Jennifer Weiner, “Girls and women’s lives matters. Their safety, health and their rights matter.”

Hannah Davis’s perfect labia foyer, not so much.

Mitch Wolfe Reviews Daniel Boulud’s “Café Boulud” in the Toronto Four Seasons Hotel

Internationally-known French Chef Daniel Boulud re-launched his renovated Café Boulud at Toronto’s Four Seasons Hotel. And this second act really builds and soars.

About seven months ago, Daniel (we are on a “connus juste par un prenon” basis) reopened his eponymous French bistro for us local epicureans.

This place is simply magnificent – in a very informal, comfy, stylish, subtly Parisian sophisticated way.

This modern French brasserie was conceived by the designer du jour, Swedish-born and London-based Martin Brudnizki. Café Boulud contains many of the same signature flourishes that are on display in Brudnizki’s other killer London restaurants, namely Annabel’s, Le Caprice, Dean Street Townhouse, Hix and of course, The Ivy.

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Seductive lighting, comfortable seating in two-toned brown and green leather banquettes. A long, beautifully lit marble bar, usually populated with beautifully-coiffed and toned, TIFF-ready femme fatales.

(And their Bay Street banker dude escorts.)

Unique sensual and surprising artwork compliments and sets the scene. A drop dead gorgeous photo of the lovely Grace Kelly on one wall. A whimsical photo of a smiling Einstein on another wall. Fun and sexy and oh-so-smooth.

The service is warm and friendly, reflecting the very comfortable ambience.

At the entrance I was greeted not by just one captivating hostess, but by a team of three lovely women. My favourite, of course, is the lovely Wintana, who adroitly showed me to my table and in one seamless action, checked my trusty laptop, briefcase and my sturdy Burberry coat. (It was now the cool beginning of spring in the “6”, yo.)

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I am not the easiest of customers – I called in advance on short notice. And though the place was packed, the hostesses found me a lovely banquette for the Bleu plat special at 6pm. One friend was joining me at 6:30pm and another friend was joining us at 8:30pm. So we were graciously accommodated with an intimate banquette pour trois.

Then a team of waiters was at my beck and call.

Diet Coke with a chaser of sparkling water magically appeared.

The atmosphere was definitely electric and the dinner crowd was eclectic.

A few tables to my left was a striking blonde woman, a Kate Hudson-lookalike with an infectious laugh, and her attentive beau.

To my right, a quiet multi-generational Asian family, consisting of proud parents, beaming grandparents and unusually well-behaved two year old twins.

Next to me was a very youthful married couple, Paul and Candy, about to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.

And the food: sublime.

My friend and I shared the Beignets de Calamar (slightly beer battered calamari, subtly drenched in pickled hot pepper and spicy kaffir lime sauce). Wow. The various spices and flavours popped unexpectedly on the tongue.

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I am a connoisseur of grilled calamari. This was the best in Toronto. Better than Terronis’ own signature grilled calamari.

I also had the Kale Grille and Romaine salade. It was marvellously presented – a tiny perfect mound of grilled kale, romaine, carrots, cumin, black olives, golden raisins and infused with spiced yogurt dressing. The secret was the beautifully grilled part and the spicy yogurt.

I eat a ton of kale on a weekly basis. Practically every day. Kale is normally rough. Not that tasteful. But this grilled kale with the spicy yogurt dressing and other ingredients was so delicious that I almost forgot that it was healthy for me.

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My friend is a connoisseur of steak tartare. She had Café Boulud’s Parisian steak tartare – prime Angus beef, surrounded by crisp Romaine lettuce and drenched in pickled condiments and a light mustard egg dressing. This dish was elaborately prepared in front of us! My friend opined that this was the best steak tartare she had in Toronto in a very long time.

Our neighbours in the next table, the very youthful and fun couple, in their 70s, permitted me to photograph and taste their Quenelle de Brochet, a Lyon-style northern pike quenelle swimming in a heavenly Cognac lobster sauce.

Daniel, our chef, hails from the Lyon region of France. Pike quenelle or fish mousse dumpling, is a French culinary classic. Our very well-informed server explained that such a way of cooking and presentation was the traditional way around of removing the pike’s numerous primary and secondary bones. I did not know that.

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Candy, my neighbour was totally taken by the quenelle. Its texture, its flavour and Cognac lobster sauce.

She found the dish intoxicating and surprisingly aphrodisiac.

I joked with Paul, her husband, that they were such a happy couple. It was as if they were on their fifth date, with romance very much in the air. I suggested to Paul that tonight he might get lucky.

Fortunately, Paul and Candy were good sports and laughed at my fish mousse-inspired musings.

Then quite unexpectedly, two more friends showed up for dinner. Unfortunately our table was for two and not for four. I told you that I was not a low-maintenance, undemanding customer.

Fortunately, the staff was extremely attentive to our plight and deftly moved, we party of four, to a lovely corner banquette.

Our two friends immediately ordered the Steak Frites, medium rare. A flat iron eight ounce steak, with sauce béarnaise, pommes frites and gem lettuce with shallot dressing.

Classic French bistro fare.

The steaks did not disappoint. They were great. And the golden, crispy, European style, frites, were irresistible.

The evening was topped off with the head bartender, Shannon, providing his signature drinks.

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Shannon has an apparent “Masters in Mixology”. He also has a very professional deft touch. With both liquor and the Café’s thirsty patrons at his long marble bar.

He is a master of the Mai Tai. And a smash with his watermelon smash. The former – a unique blend of dark rum, orgeat, lime, bitters and mint. The latter – an oh-so-smooth grapefruit soaked vodka, with basil, watermelon and soda.

But then Shannon, saved the best for last. His “Led Zeppelin” really rocked the house: tequila, amaro nonino, aperol and a dash of lime. My friend said that this drink, as in Zeppelin’s classic “Stairway Way to Heaven” starts slow, builds and then hits you with a wild hard rock finish.

Here’s a YouTube link to that amazing song:

Much like Boulud’s bistro.

Boulud’s vision is for his restaurant to serve a seasonally changing menu rooted in French tradition, highlighting both bistro classics and contemporary dishes inspired by his own family meals in Lyon.

To date, the team at Café Boulud have far exceeded expectations. The full house every night is evidence that atmosphere, service and food are resonating with many of us hungry travellers.

Mitch Wolfe Meets One of His Comic Heroes – The Edgy Gilbert Gotfried at Frank’s Kitchen

This past week I dropped into the terrific Italian bistro in Little Italy, Frank’s Kitchen.

This is like a second home to me. The food is masterful. Part French Bistro, with Italian flair. The service- warm, attentive and informed. Frank Parhizgar, the co-owner/chef, performs his magic in the open kitchen in the back of this elegantly-appointed place. His lovely wife also co-owner, Shawn Cooper, runs the front of the house. With aplomb and silky smooth efficiency.

But who should be there sitting in a booth with his beautiful wife, Dara, but is Gilbert Gotfried! The iconic screeching voice of the parrot Iago, in the Disney film, “Aladdin”and the voice of the duck in the Aflac commercials. Gilbert was in town to host a show at Massey Hall. He was with family and friends at Franks.

To me Gilbert was very soft-spoken and modest. His work has always been edgy, outrageously funny and oftentimes very politically incorrect. That’s why I love this guy. He is not afraid to burn bridges and relationships for his comic art.

Gilbert and his wife had heard about Frank’s Kitchen from friends in L.A.. They were told that Frank’s is very well known for its uniquely plated fish dishes and its pasta is out of this world. They told me that the experience at

Frank’s well exceeded expectations. I concurred.

And Gilbert is not afraid to “tell as it is”, with his uniquely screeching and annoying, but very funny voice.

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The Awesomely Funny Anne Marie Schleffer Returns to the Red Sandcastle with her One-Woman Comedy – “MILF Life Crisis”

I just learned that my favourite comically hot single divorced mom is returning to the Red Sandcastle Theatre in Toronto, for only four performances on April 5-8. All shows at 8pm. Call 416-845-9411 to reserve tickets before her whole run is sold out.

Since I loved this show the first time around, I hope to encourage some of my male and female friends to join me once again to see and hear Anne Marie humorously navigate the crazy post divorce dating scene while raising her kids.

The following is a review I penned of Anne Marie’s excellent show performed last time in Toronto.

Anne Marie is a one-woman phenom. As a Second City alum, for years she has written and performed in very amusing and smart and sold out seven one-woman shows throughout Canada and the United States. Her most recent show, premiering at the best little show house in Toronto, the Red Sandcastle Theatre in Leslieville, “MILF Life Crisis”, is definitely her sharpest, funniest and most moving. Her writing and acting hit real close to home.

Literally. We learn from the play’s theatre notes, that this play is based on Ann Marie’s own life, which is in the midst of divorce, co-parenting issues and crazy/sexy single mom dating.

As a result, the jokes and dead-on observations come from some very dark, funny and sad places. The best and richest, type of humour.

I was most impressed with Anne Marie’s craft as an actress. Throughout the play, Ann Marie, through mere inflections of tone and subtle mannerisms- naturally transforms from innocent loving wife and mother- to sad and sex-starved single mom- to hot, drunk, Tinder MILF, (hot mothers we love to Facebook) and then – to wiser liberated lover and ex wife.

Ann Marie also brilliantly plays her chorus of supportive friends- Nympho Kendra- who solves her single divorced status with multiple lovers and Sappho Terry- her very wise/No BS and drop dead funny lesbian friend. Anne Marie’s portrayal of Nympho Kendra was double and triple bang on.

The one hour show flies by. I was in an audience of 40 women- 5 guys. We all laughed our asses off throughout.

The Red Sandcastle is a perfect venue for Anne Marie’s show. As we all are literally up close and personal with Anne Marie as she comically, movingly and sexily unravels and exposes her life- under a symbolic disco ball, before our very eyes.

This is a show for all single and married women and the men who want to Tinder, Facebook or d/bar them.

Below is a teaser trailer video of the show.

I strongly urge you to catch this show, when it arrives in Toronto next week.

Performances: April 5-8, at Red Sandcastle Theatre, 922 Queen Street East, (Leslieville) Toronto. Call for tickets at 416-845-9411.

 

“My old Harvard classmate Bill Kristol is disastrously wrong about Trump”

Ever since Donald Trump started winning Republican primaries, Bill Kristol and his fellow travelers on The Weekly Standard have written numerous anti-Trump tirades. But the more they fulminate against Trump, the more Trump keeps winning.

It’s been enormously amusing to watch these GOP fat cat pundits humiliate themselves day after day, week after week.

They don’t get Trump. They don’t understand his populist appeal. They don’t know or understand the millions of average working class Americans who are supporting Trump.

They also don’t realize that their time has passed.

Within a decade they’ve gone from being powerful Bush advisers and neo-confidantes to political dinosaurs.

Instead of focusing his efforts on defeating the scandal-riddled, mendacious Hillary Clinton, Kristol and his right wing lunatic lackeys are trying to devise anti-democratic schemes to wrest the nomination from Trump in a brokered GOP convention.

And if that ridiculous effort fails (ya think?) Kristol says he wants wants to engineer the creation of an independent third-party candidate specifically to hurt Trump’s chances of winning the presidency.

Bill, as your former Harvard classmate, I must confess that I did admire, on occasion, your political courage as a young Republican in a predominantly liberal/democratic Ivy League school.

And since then, you have certainly made a name for yourself an influential conservative pundit and commentator.

But Bill, are you friggin’ nuts?

There is no way in hell that Trump delegates at the GOP convention will leave their man behind after the first ballot and vote for some Washington-based GOP establishment political hack like Paul Ryan or a clueless, politically tone-deaf Mitt Romney parachuted in to supposedly save the day.

Trump’s populist support is rock-solid, primal, visceral and emotional. This support is reminiscent of the rock-solid and immovable support that Rob Ford enjoyed, despite (because of?) the over the top, often irrational media opposition, both nation-wide and world-wide.

Now Kristol has floated the ridiculous trial balloon of encouraging some idiot to run as a independent third party candidate, a la Ross Perot. He approached the clueless former Texas governor Rick Perry, who to his credit turned Kristol down.

Trump has gone on Sunday talk shows and criticized this move as a recipe for GOP disaster and a scheme that will guarantee the election of the hated Hillary.

Fortunately, the Republican National Committee, seeing the writing on the wall, has condemned Kristol’s third party scheme as one that would just help Hillary.

Perhaps Trump supporters should take some comfort that Kristol has had a horrible track record of making disastrous predictions. In 2006, he predicted Barack Obama would lose every primary to Hillary Clinton. In October 2015, he predicted Vice President Biden would jump into the presidential race. Kristol was also convinced in February, 2016, that Rubio would win the New Hampshire.

Kristol also has wrongly predicted on eleven different occasions that Trump had peaked! Yet the Republican establishment in Washington still takes Kristol seriously.

As an anti-establishment shite disturber at heart, I love the sight of puffed up, over-rated, conservative and liberal pundits, being hoist on their own petards.

I predict Trump will be the Republican presidential nominee and he will destroy Hillary in the general election. He will drive a stake into that cold, heartless, conniving, manipulative, untrustworthy woman, once and for all.

Trump more years.

Noel Coward’s “Blithe Spirit” Brilliantly Updated as “iBlithe” at Toronto’s Red Sandcastle Theatre

“Blithe Spirit”, written by English playwright+actor,Noel Coward over a week during the summer of ’41,is a witty,dry as a martini, comedy set in an upper class English drawing room.I was fortunate to attend its opening night at the Red Sandcastle Theatre in Toronto.This play is a “must see” during its limited one week run at the Red Sandcastle.It is wonderfully performed by a very talented group of actors.

What surprised me about the play that I saw, was this particular version resonated on so many different levels.

Here is a quick thumbnail sketch of the play.

A noted English novelist, Charles, ( David Hubard) currently married to his second wife, Ruth (Maria Syrgiannis) decides for the purpose of researching his next book about a homicidal psychic, to invite to his posh English home- a psychic, Madame Arcati, ( Margaret Lamarre) to perform a séance.

In the course of the séance, the ghost of Charles’s former wife, Elvira ( Rosemary Doyle) appears, but is only visible to Charles and can only be heard by Charles. The normally conservative and uptight Charles is both exasperated by the ghostly appearance of his former sexy first wife, and then intrigued and weirdly stimulated by this sensuous apparition . Elvira has apparently come back from the beyond, because she misses him.

For brief period of time, Charles becomes “an astral bigamist”. Cue the hilarity and some weirdness as well.

The very prim and proper Ruth, who cannot see or hear Elvira, thinks Charles has gone raving mad. She also takes great offence to the harsh language Charles hurls at Elvira, as Ruth assumes she is the object of Charles’ exasperation.

But Elvira, though drop dead gorgeous ( literally and figuratively) is not the benign, sexy, earthy/ethereal presence that she initially portrays herself. She has come back from the other side, with vengeance and malice in her non-existent heart.

Events take a comically/ugly turn, and Madame Arcadi, is called upon once again by Charles to make all things right.
Or at least minimize the damage.

The genius of Coward in “Blithe Spirit” and in the more updated “iBlithe” version, is that some of his cynical ideas of life, love, sex, passion and relationships, have a universal quality. Hence Coward’s basic themes are very adaptable and reflective of the times in which this play is performed.

Whether it is 1941 or 2016. London, England or Toronto, Ontario. To Coward; love, sex and even marriage are transitory, untrustworthy and fleeting. Jealousy knows no temporal bounds. Fidelity- an illusion and delusion.

Rosemary Doyle, the writer, who adapted and updated this version to the Red Sandcastle stage, clearly dug deep into the essence of Noel Coward and captured his ideas.

In the 40s, when this play was first performed, Edith, the maid, was used to expose the inflexible class divide in England. But from the perspective of 2016, this “Upstairs/Downstairs-Downton Abbey” theme has been done to death ( so to speak) and unduly dates this excellent play.

I like the way Doyle removed the character of Edith, the maid and replaced her with Edith, the dog. Which surprisingly works even better in “iBlyth”. And clearly makes more sense, as the story unfolds.

In doing so, Doyle effectively refocused the play back to the odd and compelling three way relationship between Charles and his two wives.

As to Rosemary Doyle, as Elvira. She is simply “Mahvellous Dahling”. Doyle’s Elvira is no flighty, ethereal presence. Doyle as a blonde Elvira, plays her brilliantly as a coquettish, sexy, earthy, ribald seductress.

Elvira has come back from the dead to playfully seduce her former husband Charles and remind him of the great sex they once experienced.

Elvira materializes in the drawing room. Only visible to Charles. She is dressed in a very tight light grey skirt. With a terrific rack that leaves lots to the imagination. In her high heels and darkly painted toenails, Elvira lounges on the couch or on a nearby piano. She is constantly crossing and uncrossing her long supple limbs. Running her fingers up and down her bare legs. Or jumping on Charles’ lap and caressing him, outrageously.

To this reviewer, Doyle’s Elvira is part playful Marilyn Monroe in “Some Like it Hot” and part sensuous Elizabeth Taylor as Maggie the cat, in the film version of “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, desperately trying to seduce her aloof husband Paul Newman and rekindle their passion.

David Hubard as Charles is also well cast. Typically, the role of Charles is played by a tall, handsome, slim, sophisticated and superficial bon vivant . A contemporary of his wife, Elvira.

In a more contemporary spin, Hubard’s Charles, is clearly 10-15 years Elvira’s senior. He is balding, shorter, stouter, more conservative and apparently very wealthy. Implying that Elvira’s motives for marrying Charles were more monetary than amorous.

Because of the stark difference is temperament, Elvira and Charles’s exchanges are sharper and funnier. Hubard is at his best, trying to fend off the sexual advances of Elvira, and failing miserably in the process.

Maria Syrgiannis is also excellent as the second wife, Ruth. This is probably the most difficult role in the play. Ruth as the second wife, is supposed to be the anti-Elvira. She is smart, solid, independent, tough and apparently self-confident. Her relationship with Charles is more sensible, than passionate. As Ruth observes, “Not the wildest stretch of imagination could describe it as the first fine careless rapture.” Ruth knows that the first Elvira was a gorgeous, sexy creature. And initially she feels no jealousy, until Elvira comes on the scene and disrupts her seemingly solid relationship with Charles.

Clearly, Maria’s Ruth is no shrinking violet. She is attractive and strong in her own right. She verbally jousts with Charles, mano a mano and she astutely sees through Elvira’s true motives for returning from the beyond.

I also liked the veteran thespian, Margaret Lamarre, playing the pivotal role as Madame Arcati, the psychic. Her psychic powers drive the story. And her single-minded professionalism as a psychic and her physical comedy, as she goes in and out of trances, is a marked contrast to the witty and superficial banter of the other actors.

In sum, this is a terrific ensemble performance by a very talented group of actors of a classic comedy, that has been successfully updated for a contemporary audience. Check out the Bradmans, now a gay couple in this version. Victor Bradman (Robert Keller), hysterically taking selfies on his iPhone and his partner, Dr. Bradman (Adrian Proszowski) also rock.

I strongly urge you to catch this show at the Red Sandcastle Theater, located at 922 Queen Street East, in Leslieville, Toronto. Remaining performances are all at 8pm are on March 27, 30, 31, and April 1 and 2. Call for reservations at 416-845-9411. For $20 a ticket, this is the best deal in town and a great night at the theatre.