Fighting the Lame

“Allison, we’re so lame!” I lamented the other day. “All we do - okay, all I do - is complain about the cold, then declare ‘it won’t stop me!’ And then think, ‘hey, isn’t that the jingle of an early 90s TV commercial for static cling?’ And then spend the rest of the evening googling ‘cheesy 90s TV commercials’ trying in vain to find it.’”

Such is my life. (”Da-da-duh-It won’t stop you!” C’mon readers, help me out here.)

So, when Allison emailed me with an invite to a graphic novel reading - book readings are so passée - I said “yes.” (Admit it, you thought I was going to end that sentence with “jumped at the chance,” didn’t you?) As we are hard-working, 9-5 lasses, we need sustenance to warm our bellies before braving the scowls of Toronto hipsters. (A good meal would be like the bulletproof jacket for civilians I once saw on a travel show about Colombia. An employee put on the jacket and his boss shot him point blank. And you thought your job was bad.) Properly fed, is what I’m saying, and we could take on the world.

Well, I am happy to report that we went to the right place. Conveniently located next-door to the reading’s venue, the über hip - that’s right, so hip it deserves an umlaut - Gladstone Hotel, the Beaver is my new favourite place. The sweet, low-key decor, the tasty and simple food - it’s hard not to fall head-over-heels (or feet, as Alanis would say. Yes, that’s right, Alanis).

We started with a dip platter that included hummus, white bean purée, and an avocado mash. All were excellent - fresh and tasty (who remembers that short-lived show on the Food Network? Oh, wait, that was Fresh and Wild. Oops. Either way, much is not being missed). The winner, surprise, surprise, was the hummus. Now, I’ve never met a chickpea I didn’t like. But restaurant hummus is usually so gummy and overly garlicky it’s a waste of stomach space. This stuff, however, was good. Italics-worthy good. Despite the problematic poppy seeds clinging to the flatbread - has there ever been a poppy seed that didn’t get lodged between front teeth? - it was a very auspicious start to the meal.

A roasted vegetable salad done right? That’s what I had. Loved the fresh dill - a burst of earthy flavour to remind taste buds that spring is just around the… Oh wait. No. According to a report I read in the paper earlier this week, warm weather is still an entire month away. God. I’m not sure even a cauldron of fresh dill can sustain me until then.

Allison had the artisanal sausage platter with a fennel apple slaw and layers of potato cut into a square. “Very good,” was her verdict. I snagged a bite of the sausage but it had sage, and when it comes to sage, my taste buds are less than reliable (to me, sage tastes like mold. And I have traumatic memories of biting into moldy grapes).

Before we knew it, we were whisking ourselves next door to the reading. Cousins Mariko and Jillian Tamaki wrote/illustrated a graphic novel - “a Gothic lesbian Lolita story” - called Skim. Oh it warms one’s cold heart to see fellow hapas excel in the creative arts.

There was talking about the artistic process and telling of amusing anecdotes. Adulation oozed from those fickle Toronto hipsters.

The highlight of the evening? As Allison and I were fighting for our standing space - apparently it’s become socially acceptable to reserve open air as a vertical “seat” for absent friends - a man walked in, video camera on his shoulder, who looked familiar.

“He looks exactly like Ethan from Lost!” I whispered. Allison nodded. (added by Allison: actually, I thought he looked more like Liam Neeson) The hipsters glared. It’s going to be a hard slog till spring.

Though perhaps nothing a little dill and a static cling commercial can’t fix.

-Andrea