Sweat

Sweating.

It feels good. Sometimes.

Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of it.

Not the gross, smelly nervous sweat you get before a big presentation. Not the hot, sticky sweat you get lying out in the sun.

The sweat you get from moving around. Running around. Jumping around.

On Saturday, I spent the evening playing trampoline dodgeball. It’s dodgeball. On a trampoline.

What even?

I thought I was pretty slick diving around and bouncing off elastic walls.

I’m sure I wasn’t.

Somehow, the next morning, I ran the Winnipeg Fire Paramedic Service 10k run. Yeah, yeah, it’s not that long. But it was pretty big for me so can it.

Again, I probably didn’t look too slick.

I definitely didn’t feel too slick.

The best part about sweating, the kind you get from jumping around, is not feeling bad about adding bacon.

When the burly man behind the counter at Grace Cafe asked if I wanted bacon on my grilled cheese, I didn’t hesitate.

“Fuck yes.”

Here’s what I had at Grace Cafe:

Grilled Cheese (with bacon): Rye bread, marble cheese, bacon. ~$6.00

Impression: Crispy and buttery, like a grilled cheese should be. The bacon was thick and smokey. The burly man behind the counter handled the classic sandwich with skill. Thanks, Burly

What made it? Bacon. Whether you played trampoline dodgeball or ran a race or sat on your ass, it doesn’t matter.

Go for the bacon.

Life is better when you go for the bacon.

Nostalgia

I used to go to Tapp’s Neighbourhood Pub.

A lot.

I used to go and drink beer and eat wings and eat sandwiches and drink beer and drink beer.

It was the place to be in St. Vital.

Maybe it still is.

The walls are lined with flat screen T.V.s and V.L.T.s. Bud is on tap.

It’s everything a St. Vital cool-dude frat-bro could want.

Er, hooray?

Tapp’s was the first place I went for a legal drink. It was the first place I went for a real live date. It was the first place I used a jukebox.

Memories.

I’ll always love Tapp’s.

Even if there are a hundred better places in the city. (There are).

Here’s what I had at Tapp’s Neighbourhood Pub

Buffalo Chicken Sandwich: Buffalo chicken, lettuce, tomato, cheese.

Impressions: Sloppy, messy, floppy. This sad sandwich isn’t the prettiest. It’s not the tastiest either. The chicken is crispy. The bun is dense. The tomatoes are cool.

What made it? Nostalgia.

What?

21 years and two days.

That’s how long I’ve been somersaulting around this planet.

I don’t feel any older than I did three days ago. I don’t feel older than I did three years ago.

My beard is a little thicker, that’s about it.

Sure, I wore pants all summer like a good pretend-adult, but it was comforting to know that school’s familiar routine would return.

It did. It won’t last long, though.

In two months I’ll be packing my superhero lunch kit and skipping off to my first work placement.

In eight I will graduate.

What?

I will throw my graduation cap into the air and it will stay there, frozen in time as I narrate an inspiring monologue. I’ll talk about everything I’ve learned and how bright the future is and how every major plot-line is wrapping up nicely.

Then it will cut to black and the credits will roll, right?

Nope.

Turns out there’s this whole thing called life. And you have to do stuff.

That’s exciting. That’s really cool.

I want to do stuff, that sounds fun. I’m ready to do stuff.

But, it also sounds scary.

What the duck am I supposed to do for the next 60 years? Eat sandwiches?

Also, I should shave.

This photo was posted on Urbanspoon by Kayla Tremblay on November 11, 2012. My sandwich looked pretty much the same, except it was on a ciabatta bun.

What The Duck: Duck confit, house bacon, lettuce, tomato, and garlic aioli on a ciabatta bun. $15.00

Impressions: Think clubhouse. This sandwich isn’t particularly inventive, but it is a good execution of the basics. The duck meat is sweet and tender. The bacon is salty and crispy, a perfect contrast to the smooth duck. The garlic aioli didn’t overpower the other flavours, as sauces often do.

What made it: The ciabatta bun. Unfortunately for Kayla Tremblay, I’m happy they switched from toast, to a soft bun.

Punch

Winnipeg’s Exchange District is wicked-cool.

There are really old buildings and really new buildings. There are really good restaurants and really bad restaurants.

There’s character and excitement. There’s history and creativity.

Lately, the Exchange has been home to a new kind of energy. An electricity that pulls at the hairs on the back of your neck.

Lately, the Exchange has been growing. It’s morphing.

Transforming.

I think the buzzword is revitalizing.

New restaurants and new parties and new festivals and cool-hip coffee spots. New offices and new campuses and new students and new on-the-low watering holes.

Revitalize.

Cibo Waterfront Cafe, in the East Exchange along the Red River, is one of the new ultra-hip, fancy-dancy pads to grab some grub that is contributing to that revitalization.

Cool, right?

Man, I hate buzzwords.

Here’s what I had at Cibo Waterfront Cafe:

 

The Panino: Chicken, soft cheese, arugula, cider onions. $15.00

Impressions: This sandwich is tall and wide and dense. The heavy cheese is brightened slightly by the arugula, but bites of a  light side salad saved my stomach from sinking through the floor. All of the flavours work nicely together, but the cheese takes centre stage. The sweet cider onions left my mouth buzzing after each bite.

What made it? Arugula. The thin layer of green was not only pretty. It also packed pretty peppery punch. 

Pants

It’s summer!

At least, it’s supposed to be.

For the last quarter of my life, summer meant working at a water park. Summer meant suffocating heat and eyebrow-raising tan lines. It meant throwing on a red tank top and watching kids splash around a pool.

It meant beer.

And good food.

This summer – if you choose to call it that – has been different.

This summer, I’m spending 40 hours a week in an office.

An office.

This summer, I’m not rolling out of bed, into my car, and over to my work station in one disoriented motion.

This summer, I’m wearing pants.

My new job is hella fun, but I miss those splashing kids.

I’m grown-up now. Or, at least, I spend all day pretending to be. I put on my pants and a shirt that’s too hot and I somersault from meeting to meeting.

I really am thankful for the chance to do some communications work for such an enormous company, but every time I sit in my grey cubicle and stare at my Microsoft Outlook inbox, I realize those splashing kids are gone.

Well, they’re not gone.

I am.

I’m not going to be a lifeguard again. I’m not going to teach another swimming class. I’m not going to play Duck Duck Goose or London Bridge while crouching in two feet of water. I’m not going to blow bubbles and pretend to talk to sharks.

I’m going to be a real live actual totally-not-made-up adult. With, like, a beard and everything.

What.

9 months of school. Then I’m done. Then it’s just beards and meetings and Microsoft Outlook.

It’s weird, but it’s also exciting.

I may not get to suffocate in the heat or raise any eyebrows with my tan lines this summer, but I can do so much more.

Exempli gratia: I made a Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich.

It was very adult.

My mom helped.

Here’s the Philly Cheese Steak Sandwich that I made:

Impressions: The cheese sauce was too thin. The bun was soft, but boring, and only dulled the spiciness of the steak. In the end, I think I made a decent sammy. My mom did alright.

What made it: The onions. The caramelized mix of spanish and white onions was sweet, crunchy, and gentle all at once. The onion drippings flowed through the sandwich, covering the steak and peppers in sweet, earthy love.

 

Story

The inside of the small cafe on Osborne is bright and busy as guests sip tea and eat waffles. The tea is poured from small, clear teacups into brightly coloured cups while the waffles sit on electric-green plates that sparkle with specks of bright blue.

The smell of waffle batter crisping into a solid fills my nose and my mouth and lungs and my stomach. The clean scent of fresh fruit follows shortly after. A group of young girls sit around a table and giggle loudly between slurps of neon-colored bubble tea.

The energy of Tea Story is exciting. A woman with bright white teeth and a retro haircut behind the front counter smiles as she scoops chocolate ice cream onto a waffle.

She offers me a menu and promises to be there when I’m ready to order.

The menu was clear and uncomplicated. I started with a hefty strawberry-mango smoothie. Even the extra-thick straw had trouble sucking up the drink, but when I did manage to taste some, it was worth the effort.

Ten minutes after my order is placed the energetic woman with the sparkling teeth floats over to my table to apologize. They are out of batter and needed to make more. She apologizes again.

I tell her it was alright, ten minutes is really not that long. She apologizes again and drifts back to her spot behind the counter.

Ten minutes after that, she brings the waffle sandwich I ordered. Yes, a waffle sandwich.  As in a sandwich with two waffles instead of slices of bread. Waffles. Like, the breakfast food. Only this was for lunch. This is waffles for lunch but with sandwich filling between them. This is awesome.

Here’s what I had at Tea Story:

Spicy Cowboy: Grilled steak strips, mild cheddar, grilled red onions & mushrooms, romaine lettuce, spicy chipotle sauce. $9.59

Impressions: I don’t know if you noticed, but this sandwich is between two waffles. Objectively, that is awesome. However, the waffle wasn’t as crispy as I expected. It did little to hold the sandwich together and I was forced to eat the second half with a knife and fork. The strips of steak are thick and tender. So often with steak sandwiches the pieces slide out as you try and tear them with your teeth – these didn’t.

What made it? I’m a sucker for spicy chipotle sauce, and the one in this sandwich packed an especially powerful punch. The beautiful dark red sauce was thick and didn’t seep into the waffle and break it apart. It brought a smoky flavour to the steak that really insisted that this sandwich was, in now way, for breakfast.

Liondogs

My first experience at the Cannes Lions International Festival of Creativity was not what I expected.  Yes.  It was a film reel of award-winning advertisements, but:

I saw advertisements from years ago (apparently Winnipeg is behind the times).

I saw advertisements for Lady Gaga.

I bought a ticket in advance, but met no one who asked to see or rip or scan or look at it.

It was not what I expected.

Still, it was awesome.  The most talked about ad that night was Toshiba and Intel’s The Beauty Inside film.  Shown in approximately 4 000 episodes, the 10 000 minute film told the story of Alex, who wakes up in a new body every morning.

While the audience (including me) groaned before each new episode, I wondered how I’d feel if I saw this film somewhere else.  I wonder how I’d feel if I saw it at a movie theatre, or on YouTube.

I wonder how I’d feel if no one told me it was an ad.

Watch it, if you’ve got a free couple days, and let me know what you think of it.  Is it advertising?  Is it content?  Is it both?

Before the screening, I visited the Yellow Dog Tavern on Donald Street.  You should go.  Before anything.  After anything.  Whenever.

Here’s what I had at the Yellow Dog Tavern:

Philly Cheese Steak Panini:  steak strips grilled to perfection topped with sauteed onions, peppers, cheese & white wine peppercorn sauce on an Italian panini.  $11.00

Impressions:  Loaded with impressive chunks of steak.  I’ve found steak sandwiches to have either one long plank of meat resembling cardboard (Fox and Fiddle) OR a thin layer of shaved ‘steak.’  The Yellow Dog Tavern is leaps and bounds ahead of others I’ve had in the city. The sauteed onions and peppers were few but gave the sandwich a sweet crunch.  The sandwich comes with a choice of salad or homemade kettle-cooked potato chips.  Get the chips.  You also get a small cup of french onion dip, complete with sweet shreds of onion.

What made it? White wine peppercorn sauce.  This savoury and sweet sauce was the perfect creamy contrast to the crunchy bread.  Thicker than other peppercorn sauces, this brings the rest of the sandwich together perfectly.

Remember/Denver

I’m ashamed to admit that last week’s Remembrance Day service at the Winnipeg South Osborne branch of the Royal Canadian Legion was the first I had been to since high school.

There I had proudly buzzed the Last Post and The Rouse on my trumpet.  Now my trumpet has collected dust and I’ve forgotten the tune.

Our recent Remembrance Day assignment in Journalism class (I’m in CreComm, remember) made me realize how selfish I’d been for the past few years.  Thanks, Duncan!

Also, Melissa Martin, a talented and spunky writer for the Winnipeg Free Press spoke at school today about immortalizing experiences through journalism.  Those words rang especially true after recently completing the assignment, which included a profile of someone affected by armed conflict.  I can only hope that I was able to responsibly capture their story.

The other part of our assignment was to write about our experience at the ceremony.

Here’s mine:

A small boy wriggled in his metal chair.  He stretched his neck to see over the puffy white hairdos of the women in front of him.  He pulled the hood of his camouflage-pattern winter coat over his face and tugged at his mother’s sleeve.  She calmly placed one hand on his leg.

The boy was one of the few children who had come to the Winnipeg South Osborne branch of the Royal Canadian Legion to pay their respects on Remembrance Day.  According to the legion’s first vice-president, Maureen Dunlop, about 250 people attended the service, a similar number to previous years.

“Of course, it would be nice to see more young people out,” she said.

The boy continued to shake.  He curled into his seat and tried to press the crown of his head through a space in the back of the seat.  During Last Post he mimed a trumpet, squishing his lips into the invisible mouthpiece.

When O Canada crackled through the dusty speakers, a woman behind the boy began to sing.  Her shrill voice rose above the quiet recording.  She stretched each line of the anthem longer than the recording, often sounding the words moments after the rest of the crowd.

The boy turned around to watch her.  Her blue blouse hung loosely on her thin frame.  Her dark glasses were framed by wisps of white hair.

The boy’s mother grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to facing front.  The woman continued to sing above the music.

After the boy had wiggled along to a recorded recitation of In Flanders Fields by Lt.-Col. John McCrae, a big-band arrangement of Amazing Grace played through the speakers and the boy turned to watch the woman sing again.  His mom’s hand returned to his shoulder but he continued to watch.

His bottom eyelids were puffy and red.  He turned toward his mother and nestled against her side.  He sat still for a few moments after the song, but was soon pulling the hood of his camouflage-pattern winter coat over his face and wriggling in his seat.

–  –  –

After the service, Eva Wasney, Kyle Goldstine, and I visited the Oakwood Cafe on Osborne for a late breakfast or lunch.  Or brunch.  Or lunkfast.

Here’s what I had at the Oakwood Cafe:

Denver:  Two eggs, diced ham, green onions, mixed bell peppers and cheddar cheese on your choice of Texas style toast.  $10.99

Impressions:  The toast was done right – actually toasted, not floppy – but had a little too much butter for my taste.  The egg was fluffy and stuffed with ham and onions.  The cheese was tasty but I couldn’t help but notice the melted cheese had already cooled and solidified by the time the sandwich reached my table.  Adding the bell peppers to the traditional ham and onion of the Denver added a satisfying crunch.

The Oakwood itself was small and classy.  While it was busy (Monday morning on a long weekend) we were greeted politely and seated quickly.

What made it? Unfortunately, the sweet potato fries.  This sandwich was great, but didn’t stand out  in the sea of Denvers.  Perhaps that’s why it’s not one of the 5 sandwiches highlighted as the Oakwood’s specialty.  The fries were spectacular, however.

Grilled

Grilled cheese’s remind me of lazy saturday afternoons.  Often, when I was younger, my dad would let me butter the sides while he flipped the sandwiches in the pan.  Later, we would eat and laugh at cartoons on the television.  I would lick my buttery fingers and pretend not to notice when my dad began to clean.  He would take the plates and the pan and scrub them clean while I stared at the television.

Sometimes he would ask me to help but I would only slump deep into the crevice of the couch and frown. He would finish cleaning.

When I grew older and learned to grill sandwiches on my own I would cook more than I needed, just to prove I could.  I would butter the bread and place it on the heat, admiring my courage.  I would lay slices of cheese along the soft faces of the bread and flip the sandwich carefully.  When they were done, if he was around, I’d offer extras to my dad.  We would eat and laugh at movies on the television.  He would take the plates and the pan and scrub them clean while I stared at the television.

If he wasn’t around, I’d leave them on the counter.

When I grew older still I decided that my dad’s grilled cheese was not the best I’d had.  He would offer me a sandwich and turn on a movie while I made faces and pushed away his cooking.

“That’s burnt,” I would tell him.  “That’s gross.”

“That’s barely cooked,” or “There’s not enough cheese.”

“I could make a better one,” or “Why do you even bother?”

I would leave and he would continue watching the movie and eating grilled cheeses alone.  Then he would take the plates and the pan and scrub them clean.

Now that I’ve grown just a little bit older I know this story is not about grilled cheese.  It’s not about a burnt sandwich or the best sandwich.  It’s not even really about me.  It’s about my dad’s consistent effort to spend time with me despite my self-centredness.

So, thank you, dad.

Also, thank you to Kristyn Howell and her blog post that challenged me to find ways to show my appreciation.

Here’s what I had at Kay’s Delicatessen:

Triple Decker Grilled Cheese: Our twist on a classic. Gouda and cheddar with a hint of roasted garlic puree (vegetarian). $6.00

Impressions: What a tall sandwich.  The picture may not do it justice, but this thing is big.  Layering the gouda and cheddar separately really emphasized the distinct flavour of each cheese.  I know the menu promised only a hint of garlic puree but I could have used more.  That being said, I would definitely recommend Kay’s on William Street.

What made it? Sourdough.  Every sandwich at Kay’s is available on harvest grain, marble rye, or sourdough bread.  Last week’s sandwich was on marble rye so I went with the sourdough.  Good choice, Jordan.  The three layers of the Triple Decker were thick and soft, with a crispy panini-pressed top and bottom.  The bread also absorbed the outside butter of the grilled cheese very well – my fingers stayed (pretty) clean.

Ode

School in the Exchange District does have an advantage.

So many different places to find a tasty sandwich.

King’s Head Pub or the Cookery for a nearby lunch,

or Urban Forest‘s Ham & Swiss that’s pretty cheap to munch.

But luckily, for me at least, I go to school right there

at RRC and actually the price is very fair.

For lots of food that’s good and fun and super quick

I’d recommend the Food Court in the building made of brick.

It’s a tiny cafeteria that once upon a time

sold to me a sandwich that was easily divine.

By now I’m sure you’re wondering, if you’re still here at least,

why I’d even bother to rhyme about my feast.

Well,

Me too.

Here’s what I got at The Food Court South in Red River College‘s Roblin Centre:

The Reuben: Grilled Reuben with sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, roasted red pepper mayo, and fries.  ~$7.00

Impression: The marbled panini bread was cut thick and toasted firm to hold the large portion of corned beef.  Fortunately, the sauerkraut was understated and added a sweet acidic taste to the sandwich without overpowering the meat and gooey cheese.

What made it? Roasted red pepper mayonnaise.  I could drink it.