For spring break we went north. Yes, north. We had no problem finding flights and accomodations. Big surprise. Not. The skies in Toronto were grey or they rained ice. “Another perfect day for a museum,”said I. “It’s always a perfect day for a museum,” said Teddy.
Have you mentioned Canadian bacon to anyone Canadian, or virtually Canadian, such as a Buffaloan? Wait for it…. The “Oh brother” face. People, get with it. The thing to eat is peameal bacon. That’s right. Pea. Meal. Oh mother, is it good.
First stop after dropping our bags, the St. Lawrence Market for a peameal bacon sandwich on a soft country bun.
We browsed the goods, pretending to be natives. Wishing to be natives. Toronto is the total package. Smart, fun and sexy.
It’s plain. I like plain. Perhaps because it is less taxing on the brain. Meat, bread, butter. See it, taste it, know it.
Know what else? There is no hiding or fake-outs when food is plain. Either it’s good or it’s not. No poking around through the ruby amaranth, confit Romenesco and rice syrup gastrique to be sure that this is ACTUALLY WHAT YOU ORDERED.
Wanna make it yourself? Here’s how. Cheaper than airfare, I grant you that, but lacking the panache of a trip to the St. Lawrence Market. In a pinch, homemade, on a plane, Toronton. I’d do it again any day. As I said, Toronto is the whole package. We are peameal insider wanna-bes.