A couple of weeks ago Nick had something to do in the northeast end of the city, for which he took the car. We don’t take it out very often so I decided to tag along for the ride. Once we were there Nick mentioned that we were very close to where he lived when he first moved to Toronto in his early twenties.
It was lunchtime and he asked me if I’d like to go to a place he used to go. Of course I wanted to go. Upon entering he said it hadn’t changed at all. My meal included what might be the best homemade mashed potatoes I’ve ever had. We were the only people there who were not regulars. A gentleman at the table beside us didn’t even tell the cook what he wanted … with a nod his lunch was simply brought to him when it was ready.
The chef was curious to know what had brought us to his kitchen, which was located well off the beaten track. Turns out he had bought the place the year after Nick had moved downtown. He joked that maybe next time we wouldn’t wait so long before visiting again!
Back before we knew one another Nick and I shared a common hobby, that being photography and particularly spending time in the darkroom, developing in black and white. In those days photography was so much harder to do and frankly, I don’t really get the current interest that I read about in taking pictures on film again. Personally I welcome digital photography with open arms, gladly bypassing the messy, toxic chemicals and unpredictable results that were film photography. Not to mention the expense, and the fear to experiment because you’d be wasting precious film.
That said however, I am very interested in the 3 rolls of lomography film that Nick gave me for my birthday, that will fit into the old square-format (Zeiss Ikon Nettar) camera that had been his father’s when he was a young man. Taking those shots will be a new experience that I am waiting for the perfect scenario to enjoy.
I hope you are having a good Wednesday. Things are fine here, as we prepare for a visit from Nick’s uncle and godfather coming all the way from Newcastle England. Our guest room is all spruced up! Boycat was under the impression that we were getting it ready for him and made haste in denting the floofy duvet with little paw sized divots. This before I scooped him up and carried him out, shutting the door behind me.
[The restaurant is called The Rib House, located at 1239 Woodbine Avenue and Mortimer, in Toronto]
