guest blogger extraordinaire debuting soon
sweet explosive ice cold bursts of flavor to the senses
all unique yet
similar in the way they are consumed by their life quest
they dissipate into nothing and everything
and the ones that remain
try to find meaning within meaning
(shadows fading into the sun)
until you read again amigos,
Gonna order out tonight. Keep it basic. No adornments for the soul or pick me ups for my spirit.
Roast Chicken – simple …in a jerk spice to go with my mood.
The night bodes ominous.
Maybe i’ll have a glass of milk with Rooh Afza later.
NO! There is no time for whimsy.
…but if i don’t i’ll just dream of it later.
Thanks for the recent follows and likes readers. We; like most mammals, love the tangible huggability of adoration. The world is beautiful and colored in love if you be the source.
The abyss has a shore and we will always ask for more and more until the day descends and we die our deaths of slumber.
In the morning we will rise again. The sun will scorch us into the shadows of our caves and will we sit together and debate about the ways we consume our sustenance.
Burning embers that transform and we create a new existence for the life that we derailed. And we are consumed by what we consume. So that what we consume goes on in some way …to exist.
Our sincerest regards to you readers. Your love and feedback make our collective days.
Food will make or break you. Recall the last time your day was totally consequential of what you consumed earlier that day?
The halwa pooris for breakfast that rendered you so comatose that you would wake in the early evening just in time for tea.
The frothy electric tea that reacted like someone had clapped once really loudly inside your head. The mother’s buttered cucumber sandwiches that the child took to school at such an age that he would always remember and seek out that distinct taste in his meals, so he could be closer.
We can always control what we consume although there are exceptions to the rule: respect to customs, sociocultural norms, health and starvation. You know this.
So let’s call it this way:
What one food memory that you have experienced has influenced you the most ? Moved you to the most extreme emotions and made you swear in anger or delight – or maybe you did not swear at all because you were a little more inclined to appreciate something in a more positive less sarcastic way and instead offered to golf clap the chef to sleep to the rhythm of his native Scandinavian lullabies.
You can clearly see that we don’t bother to edit our random tangents into fantasy. Either way – we gotta know – because this blog literally (my girl abhors my use of this word out of context) feeds off your thoughts even if they are all exaggerated whimsy.
We’re taking your suggestions to heart readers, and working on some outrageous and entertaining video logs to kick up the notch on our food foolery so you guys are in for treats.
Stay safe amigos.
Am I a man / or am I a freakin’ goat ?!
Will I eat anything ?
The answer is: Yes (just add Sriracha)
just promise you’ll never call it hot sauce.
There are foods out there. Off the lists of beaten and glossy laminated menus; that call out to us; for or between meals and take you places you never thought you would venture. Foods the masses don’t eat. Things you crave but don’t speak of because people would make weird faces and label you as “someone who will eat just about anything”.
Don’t be shy. This is hardly a living room full of people you need to appease and this is definitely not your party.
Tell us about the worst things you eat and why you do it.
1020 Danforth is all you need to know!
Getting there – Exit Donlands station, make a right on to Danforth, 3rd store to your left.
Under $6.50 you get a foot worth of the best testing seekh kabab in Toronto!
Make a quick stop by this place right after your Friday prayers across the street at Madina Mosque.
About a 3 meter long pit filled with charcoals, there is one dedicated person working the clay ovens and shooting out fresh, hot and fluffy naans. Two other hardworking souls are running the grill with orders.
Other reviews suggest their Bihaari and Chapli kababs. We decided to order their famous foot long seekhs.
5 minute wait concluded with a serving of hot and fresh naan, foot long seekh split in 2, lettuce/onions served with mint and tamarind chutney sauces.
A comfortable 5/5 for this one as I am yet to taste anything better than these seekh kababs in Toronto.
Please drop us a line with your experiences focusing on authentic Pakistani style seekh kababs.
For the past year I’ve heard friends, acquaintances, bloggers, newspapers, etc. talk about the BEST burger in Toronto. I am sure you have too. Lets cut the chase and keep this one simple.
Apparently, this place is supposed to hold the No. 1 spot for the best tasting burgers in T.O.
Yonge & Lawrence – I walked in with some friends on Family Day (Feb 20th, 2012). To my surprise, this place was packed with a line-up outside the store at approximately 3pm.
This grew my curiosity even further. What the hell is this place? How cheap is the food? How good can it be for people to stay outside with their toddlers on a chilly February afternoon?
Well, the 20 minute wait brought me to the cashier where I had to place my order. I ordered “The Priest” which is a cheeseburger topped with a fried patty of mushrooms stuffed cheese along with a side-order of fries and a shake.
12 minutes later, I grabbed my burger and fries followed by an additional 3 minutes for the shake.
Fries = Over-priced, soggy, tasteless. Merely on the menu just to keep things occupied.
Shake = Nothing exceptional. Not worth waiting another 3 minutes AFTER you have your burger and fries in hand.
Burger = The never frozen and freshly ground nature does make this burger patty exceptional to what I’ve had at other places BUT…the texture did not look appealing at all. It felt like strings of intestines were mashed together and thrown on the grill. The oozing cheese out of the stuffed mushroom patty made every bite worth it. But hey, thats what cheese does anyways.
I must mention the line staff dressed in hip/trendy tee’s along with baseball hats. Now this works if the guys on the grill had short hair but sadly this was not the case. 3 out of 5 individuals I noticed on the line had long hair which really put me off. These guys need to tuck their hair in all the way as food safety would not permit anyone to operate the way they did.
Beware the secret menu. I am not sure if this is intentional, but you have to do your “menu research” before you enter. There are at least 4 burgers that are not mentioned on the menu. It is a “cute” way of attracting attention, but gets irritating specially for someone who has never been there before.
My opinion overall – it was a one-time experience (at least to this particular location). I would rather pay the same amount of money at the Gourmet Burger Company or Craft Burger (Big Smoke) and ENJOY my meal.
Next stop…The Burger Cellar.
Chotu Dewaana is a strapping young entrepreneur at age 11 and earns upwards of a $1 every day, most of which he gives to his mom and a minuscule portion of which he saves so he can go to the cinema once a fortnight with the other lads. At times he surprises his sister Munni with jaggery candy from the baniya mart on the way home from work. If she’s sleeping he oft feeds it to their mongrel Moti, who visits them at night after a romp with the neighborhood hounds rather than being a household pet and however lovable; is in this sense more like a drunk uncle looking for a place to crash.
He loves the movies; but not as much as the air-conditioning which makes him feel like he could sleep forever in this dark cave of fiction – where the poor hero’s clothes are always crisp and clean and never splattered with mud from the street. Where the madam loves the footpath romeo because he knew within two minutes of seeing her that he loved her. Where nature is lush carpets of green amidst the Swiss Alps and nary in sight is a buffalo tied to a stick in the ground next to the rusted corrugated metal shantyesque dwelling where his family lives. Sometimes during the movie older kids get popcorn and pass it after they’ve had their fill – which is great because Chotu loves chewing on the kernels.
Chotu works at Kake da hotel (located next to Bhape da hotel) :
Kaka is in this case, not Chotu’s father’s brother. Kaka is the mustachioed burly greasy paan spitting, order spewing antagonist of a mass feeding dhaba where all sorts throng after all kinds of deviousness and delights. Somewhere down the line of his ancestry his third uncle’s fourth wife had been the Nawab’s chef’s courtesan and the recipes had been hand-written and passed down his lineage. Now it is just this.
The fare however, is outstanding. The ambiance is electric. Bazarish.
Orders being shouted out,the clanging of metal plates and glasses against laminated tables, the grunts of wood against floor; hooligans dressed in neon sit tribe like in the corner cackling like hyenas. Bollywood shits with added Disco Jhankar (20 points if you know what that is) blare out over bad speakers.
Keema naans, and parathas, minced and sweet meats and parts of an animal you would never want your mom to see are fried in gargantuan woks. Steaming daals, obscure veggies cooked to pulp and glistening and charred green chillis to chomp on nonchalantly mid bite while sweating profusely and swearing at your peers. Cold, fresh, salty water out of thin aluminium cups.
Lassis and cutting chais later you pop a handful of sugar coated fennel seeds as you paid at the til and laze a tooth pick in your mouth in lavish delirium subconsciously anticipating that the aftermath of this indulgence will be severe. Everyone pays their regards to Kaka, the owner and proprietor. “Kya khana banaya boss !!” – customers remark as if Kaka had himself ground the spices with his hefty paws. Chotu laughs at such instances, but it is an internal laugh.
No one laughs at Kaka.
In the hulabaloo of the frenzied atmosphere; among the individuals of ill gotten gain, simpletons and vagabonds, did you notice Chotu at all? For all the service he provided, from quenching your thirst when you came in from the heat, to the mana he brought to your table, to the extra chicken gravy he got you when you asked for it – free of charge – there were no tips, no thank yous, no smiles or pats on the shoulder or ruffles of hair – not one single person asks Chotu what he’s doing in a place like this. He is there from sunrise to eleven at night after which he walks home in dark dirt alleys and approaches the dimly lit corrugated shack where he sleeps with his mother, father, elder cousin and two younger siblings. Chotu often thinks about the similarity between the plates at the hotel and the walls of his home and laughs and coughs himself to sleep. Most of the celebrities you see on MTV Cribs have linen closets bigger than this space.
And yet it burns, with the kerosene lamp that lights the shack at night – hope and then something else. Gratitude. No one feels it like those closest to the edges of survival. Sans safety net, walking a tightrope since the beginning of memory he is thankful that his family ate today. He is thankful he has two hands and feet and a working mind that will dig and dig his way out of the pit of inequality and sing songs with a madam just like the hero in the picture. He had seen a couple of ladies come to the hotel last year and they had asked him his name, and taken his picture and laughed and he had laughed with them.
Chotu is one of the hundreds of thousands of child workers born into not only a life of poverty, but selfless dedication to do the one thing that makes us do the things we do. To feed. Not only ourselves but feed lives that intertwine with ours. All he wants is to be settled, and content and wanted and adored.
Next time you see Chotu show him some love and affection. Maybe even make his day. January is Be Kind to Food Servers month. I know I’ll be extremely compassionate. I did a catering job at an Italian wedding once and the guests had more sauce on them than on their plates – and the second niece had a piece of asparagus stuck in her hair and she didn’t know and I failed to mention.
I will also cut the waitress at Ali Baba on Gerard some slack when she sings along nasally to the theme songs from Pakistani drama serials as they play on the TV, while I eat my Paey and parathas – which are awesome. Also the owner there has the same name as my Dad.
Not that it makes a difference.
Want to give us a tip? Leave us a comment !
For those who grew up in Dubai, could relate to the occasional craving of “malbari wala chickun mayyyo sandbitch” (yes, pun intended).
I whipped up an easy recipe the other day to bring back a good food-filled memory. (Mind you, it was no where close to what I planned for, but it worked out great).
- 2 lb boneless chicken (makes 4-6 “manly” sandwiches)
- 2-3 cloves of garlic (fine chopped)
- Swiss cheese – sliced
- Red pepper
- Black pepper
- Turmeric powder (optional)
- Sriracha sauce
- 1 Green pepper (chopped)
- 1 pk Arabic pita (with pocket) or substitute with any bread of your choice
- 2 lb boneless chicken (makes 4-6 “manly” sandwiches) 2-3 cloves of garlic (fine chopped) Swiss cheese – sliced Red pepper Black pepper Turmeric powder (optional) Mayonnaise Ketchup Sriracha sauce 1 Green pepper (chopped) 1 pk Arabic pita (with pocket) or substitute with any bread of your choice SaltBoil chicken in a pot with 1-2 teaspoon of salt, 1 teaspoon of red pepper, quarter teaspoon turmeric (optional) and 2-3 cloves fine chopped garlic. (boil time: app. 15 minutes). Drain water and shred the chicken using fork. I would suggest doing smaller portions at a time to maintain consistency.
- Once you have portioned out enough shredded chicken for 2 hearty sandwiches, add 1 to 1.5 tablespoon of mayo, black pepper (to taste), bits of green pepper (as per your taste). Mix well to see the slightly creamy texture.
- Tear open pita and gently lay a slice of Swiss cheese. Take 2-3 hefty spoonful of our prepped chicken mayo and spread all over.
- Important step – use your George Foreman or any other sandwich grill to warm and melt the cheesy goodness in your sandwich.
- Serve with a mix of ketchup and sriracha sauce on the side or in the sandwich.
- Enjoy but don’t forget to take pics during the prep method, as I did. J
You may substitute ingredients with other veggies such as carrots, jalapenos, etc. I would suggest to keep it as simple as possible.
I hope you enjoyed this recipe. Please share your ventures with us or suggest something for the near future.