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Love letters to Toronto (except for Bay Street, fuck that place

You could be forgiven for hating Toronto if your first introduction were to be deboarding a train at Union Station and walking up Bay Street. The claustrophobic, self important bustle of three thousand dollar Armani suits and rude men in sunglasses that cost more than my rent drinking extra hot cappuccino, no foam. You sir,… Continue reading Love letters to Toronto (except for Bay Street, fuck that place

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Trials and Tribulations of a Bush Cook (1)

Earlier this year in my kitchen notebook I wrote the following: “Remember what you hankered for last year in the bush- Good, hot, honest food. Coming off the block wet, tired, aching, regretful, anxiously clamoring at the bus window to read the “What’s on Tonight” blackboard. A misplaced specials board outside a blue school bus in the… Continue reading Trials and Tribulations of a Bush Cook (1)

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We find ourselves at the beach in Oyama on a self-assigned day off, having keenly felt the orchard cabin-fever. “Do you want to go to the creek?” No. We climb onto the roof of picker’s shack using an orchard ladder until the harvest manager comes by making the universal hand motion for “What the fuck… Continue reading