I’d like to begin by wishing the man who almost shares my birth date (his is one day and many years prior) a belated happy 66th. Thanks for taking care of yourself, dude, so that you’re not only still with us, but still look pretty damn good. Glad the tour with Eric Clapton is going so well.
I could say more, but I don’t want Jean to disown me.
As for my own birthday, it was pretty low-key. We were just back from Timmins and Jean spent the day and night before in London (ON) on business, so not much time for grand celebrations. I did get myself a pie, and we did go dancing that night—our regular ballroom dance class. But I finally mastered—or at least, stopped freaking out over—the previously dreaded “fan and hockey stick” step. (Actually, not that hard.) We even got through a new step, the big top, and at least made an attempt at the more complex sliding door step. Whew.
We are planning a joint birthday dinner next weekend at Peller Estates. They’ve discounted their five-course dinner from $80 to $50 for most of March, so that’s not a bad deal. We just have to find a place to stay now.
As for presents, I’m pondering a new iPod. Just because I’m getting a bit low on space, and I don’t like to do the swapping out thing; I want all the music in one place. And I know there are devices—cheaper ones—other than iPods, but I have invested rather a lot of time in iTunes-specific playlist-building in the past five years. Don’t relish trying to re-create that elsewhere.
All that said, there’s no big rush, though, as I still have slightly over 2 GB of space left—Jean would point out that’s half the total space available on his nano. And I think I’m going to explore the refurbished / eBay market. Classics are up to 120 GB now; I really don’t need that much space. Plus, there’s a freakin’ waiting list for them at the moment, which is just irritating. I’d rather get 80 GB now (or whenever I decide to go ahead) than sit around waiting for 120.
We’ve had varying success with recent weekend activities.
Failures:
Ben Heppner, who failed to show for the Grand Philharmonic’s performance of Edgar’s The Dream of Gerontius. If you’ve never heard of this work, don’t worry; neither had we. I don’t know if having the big star there would have made a difference, but we had to conclude that we aren’t necessarily fans of all great choral works. Cause we seemed to enjoy this way less than the rest of the audience, though the quality of performance was clear.
Avatar, because it sold out before we got there. Seven weeks later and it’s still that popular, eh? Guess for next time, we’ll order our tickets online in advance.
Successes:
Up in the Air, well-attended but not difficult to get into, and quite a good movie, to boot. No 3-D extravaganza, but a clever script and compelling characters.
The Waterloo anti-prorogation rally! Yes, we went. Pleased to see a good turnout. Hadn’t been to a political protest in decades. Wasn’t sure what would happen. Mostly, we politely listened to speeches of varying quality. Found the whole thing kind of heartening.
Participated in an unofficial canoe club gathering around the Banff Mountain Film Festival. Only we skipped the Film Festival part (one grows weary of watching short films about people doing risky stuff outdoors) and just joined in on the preliminaries of a hike and dinner. Made for a good day in this surprisingly mild January we’ve just had.
Upcoming:
Sigh. Though I’m kind of grumpy about it, I feel somehow compelled to watch next Sunday’s Superbowl halftime show, to see how The Who does. I’ve actually never watched any part of the Superbowl before. Obviously I saw the Janet Jackson thing afterward on YouTube, and I’m a bit sorry now that I didn’t take the time to watch Prince’s half-time performance, but there you are. This will be a first.
So now I have to figure out things like, when is half-time, anyway? (My husband is absolutely no help in these matters.) OK, I do realize it’s a live sporting event, so the exact time halftime begins will vary, but around when will it be? Online TV guide has some pre-Superbowl thing happening from 2-6, with the game from 6-10. (And here I thought the game was actually played in the afternoon, not at night.) So am I naive to think halftime will be somewhere around 8:00, then? And they aren’t going to interview Townsend and Daltrey during the pre-Superbowl thing, are they? I really don’t want to PVR that whole thing, nor do I want to lurk in front of the TV all day.
Ah well. I suppose if I somehow miss it, I can still catch it on YouTube later…
For someone who doesn’t believe in New Year’s resolutions, I seem to have a lot of self-improvement efforts going on.
I actually did make a New Year’s resolution once, which I did keep that entire year and beyond: To practice the piano at least once a week. The “piano” in question at that time was my Yamaha digital keyboard, a lovely Christmas present, and a very nice-sounding instrument. But as I practiced, and improved (though never to a particularly impressive level), its limitations became clearer: Not being a full keyboard, meaning I couldn’t play all the notes of certain songs. Not having touch sensitivity, meaning that every note of the entire song had to be at the same volume (unless I borrowed one hand to actually turn down the volume button). Not having a sustain pedal, meaning that I could either set to have every note to sustain in equal amounts, or none of them to.
But with the cost of that thing (though we did get a nice discount on it), I’d darn well better get back to that weekly (minimum) piano playing.
But, I’m going to have to fit that in with my current efforts to try to get my house in better order. What suddenly motivated me to start sorting through the piles of paper, magazines, newspapers, catalogs, etc. in various parts of my house I have no idea, but there it is. Not that you’d notice any major improvement yet. But the pile of reading material beside my bed looks semi-reasonable now, and you can actually see much of the top of the coffee table downstairs. And I seem to feel compelled to keep making the piles smaller, or at least more organized.
That somehow recently extended to the DVDs and CDs scattered across the TV cabinet and computer, now all put away—somewhere. Admittedly some are just in Lee Valley Tool boxes on the floor, but that still looks a little tidier. And it led to a discussion of how I really need more open cabinets, because I need to see my CDs and DVDs. Which gradually extended to a discussion of redoing the entire downstairs, with me actually participating meaningfully in the discussion. This is unusual for me. I don’t generally like thinking about renovating and redecorating. But now, in the interest of eventually having more cabinets, plus a more integrated fitness room, plus a big-ass TV, I’m invested. At least theoretically. We now have a plan for designing the downstairs.
OK, so I’m practicing the piano, cleaning up my piles of paper, and planning renovations.
But that all has to fit in with my new fitness plan. Mind you, I was working out before, but what’s new now is exercising with the hubby. About a month ago I became convinced that hubby really needed to exercise more frequently. But after attempts to convince him of this with nothing but intense looks and thoughts proved completely ineffective, I tried a radical approach. I used my words.
To my surprise, he actually agreed. Of course, there were some conditions. Activities that he found awkward, like yoga, Pilates, and dance aerobics, were out. Activities he enjoyed more, like weightlifting, boxing, walking, canoeing, and ballroom dancing, were in. Fair enough.
I was expecting this to be a case of me dragging along reluctant hubby, but he’s turned out to be quite the slave driver himself. Let’s walk longer! No, I don’t need a day off! Heavier weights! Jeez.
Plus, the ballroom dance lessons themselves are somewhat self-improvement-y in another way, in relearning all those dance steps we’d forgotten. (At least, I sure hope we’ll relearn them.)
OK, so piano practice, dance practice, daily fitness, cleaning up, planning renovations… Might as well eat better too, right? How else will I keep up with all this? So currently, our fruit basket runneth over. Literally.
The most annoying thing is that all of this is happening in January, which culture tells us is supposed to be the month for self-improvement. Which I just hate buying into, because that would make me just like everybody else.
So, I will just declare that these aren’t new year’s resolutions. That they are just a bunch of projects and activities that happened to all start around January this year. To no particular end goal of self-improvement. Really. It’s all just a big coincidence…
Since we were once again at Verses on New Year’s Eve, this year’s gourmet dinner we cook ourselves occurred on January 2. (January 1, believe it or not, Jean went canoeing.)
Appetizers
We began with a glass of Ice Cuvée from Peller Estates. This is a Champagne-style sparkling wine (mix of Pinot Noir and Chardonnay) that is accented with a bit of Vidal ice wine. The Champagne taste definitely predominates; this is not a sweet drink. But the ice wine does add a nice sweet edge to it. It’s a good starter.
Our first course highlighted wild mushrooms. First up was buffalo mozzarella with bruschetta of wild mushrooms. This was a recipe by Lucy Waverman, based on an item from Vancouver’s Cibo Trattoria. The bread used was sourdough, a fair amount of fresh garlic was involved, olive oil and balsamic vinegar participated, and the whole thing was topped with Pecorino cheese. The result was a lot of flavour, but it all seemed to play nicely together. Though if we tried it again, we might try grating rather than shaving the Pecorino.
The wine was going to be a Rodney Strong Pinot Noir, but at the last minute I substituted this John Tyler Pinot Noir that we’d also purchased in California. This is a very small winery, so their wines are unlikely to ever show up in the LCBO. It’s a really nice Pinot. Not quite the wow factors of the Rodney Strong Estate Pinot, but still very smooth, and very good with food.
We also had—unpictured because soup just looks like soup—a wild rice and mushroom soup, recipe courtesy of Alive magazine. This was mostly wild mushrooms with a bit of carrot, onion, celery (I used celery root), with wild rice, cooked in vegetable broth with a bit of red wine. It turned out very nice as well, once seasoned with a bit of salt and pepper.
And both recipes were actually pretty quick and easy to make. Because of the wild rice, though, the soup required an hour’s cooking time.
Mains
Next up was Pan-Seared Arctic Char with Olives and Potatoes, courtesy of Fine Cooking magazine. Only we couldn’t find arctic char, so we substituted a nice-looking rainbow trout from TJ’s Seafood. This was really a plain simple recipe, where the fish is just salted and peppered and fried in a bit of olive oil, while the potatoes and sliced and boiled for a short time, then also fried, along with Kalamata olives and fresh rosemary. Then it’s all seasoned with balsamic vinegar and lemon juice. Proves you don’t need complicated techniques to make great food, because it was delicious.
With this, we served a white Chateauneuf-du-pape that we had brought back from Provence. While I don’t remember being that blown away by this type of wine on that trip, did it ever taste wonderful last night. Very complex, very delicious. Possibly the best of the night.
The one item I’d decided in advance I wanted to attempt this year was duck ravioli. I found the recipe we used just via Google; it was called Duck confit and mashed potato ravioli with white truffle sauce. It wasn’t particularly difficult, but it was time-consuming. You had to make the mashed potatoes, skin the duck confit and chop up the duck meat, crisp up the skin, then warm up the meat and combine it with the potatoes, and stuff everything into won ton wrappers. (And I’m not sure what this was about, but we have a ton of stuffing left!)
The way we manage this meal overall, by the way, is to do as much in advance as possible in the afternoon, then just do the final cooking of each course as we go through the evening. The final touches for duck ravioli are just to boil the raviolis, and make the truffle sauce. Which is just unsalted butter browned and then combined with truffle oil and truffle paste. And you top the raviolis with the previously crisped skin.
As a side dish (we need our veg), we made Jamie Oliver’s sweet and sour squash recipe. This would be from his Cook with Jamie cookbook. It involves chopping the squash into “finger”-sized pieces (not sure food should be compared to body parts), and basically steaming, then frying it with red onion, garlic, thyme, raisins, pine nuts (we had to use almonds), and lots of parsley. The sweet and sour is created with balsamic and white wine vinegar, and sugar.
That was a slightly weird food combo, so we settled on a blended red wine: the 2005 Stratus Red. It’s a pleasant yet complex wine, and probably suited the food as well as anything could.
Dessert
We were pretty proud of ourselves for managing our portions throughout such that there was still room for a modest serving of dessert. (Also, we now have a lot of leftovers—today will be the best leftover day ever!) For this we made almond-scented chocolate cannoli, using an old recipe from Shape magazine. So it’s a light-ish dessert, with light ricotta and light Cool Whip combined with a bit of almond extract and a few mini chocolates chips and stuffed into a cannoli shell (that we bought; didn’t make).
And on the side, we made Chili Chocolate Truffles, using a recipe from LCBO Magazine (Winter 2006). So it’s whipped cream, butter, and bittersweet chocolate flavored with ancho chili power and honey, chilled and rolled in either grated white chocolate or cocoa powder.
These were served with a 2000 Vintage port from Quinta de la Rosa, a lovely smooth drink. The cannolis had a nice cheesy, chocolate, almond taste (as one might expect, I suppose) and the chili in the truffles was very subtle, just giving a slight bite to the sweetness.
Remember pen pals? I used to have a bunch of them. Back in the days before email, discussion forums, Facebook… It was one of the only ways to connect with strangers who lived far away.
And of course, mostly, I didn’t keep in touch with them. Some endured for only a couple letter exchanges; others lasted for years. But only a couple have lasted til now (even if more in email form these days): a grade-school friend from Timmins who is now in Edmonton, and Beth.
Beth is from Indiana. We were first matched via Teen Magazine when we were 13. (I just looked that up. Yep, still have all the old letters filed away…) Though contact has been far more sporadic in recent years than in our turbulent teens—despite the ease of email, et al—we have kept in touch all this time. Last weekend, we met for the first time. Because Beth was getting married. (Also for the first time. People keep asking that.)
Getting there
It proved fairly impossible to get there by train, and although plane wasn’t that expensive when leaving from Buffalo, in the end, we decided to drive.
We’d hoped to get away around noon on the Friday, but Jean’s work made that impossible, so it was more around 1:15 pm when we left. It was also pretty snowy and blowy. Fortunately, we left that type of weather behind us fairly quickly. We crossed the border at Sarnia, and that went well. We were a little ahead of rush hour going through Detroit. And then it just seemed like a lot of Ohio. Not the world’s most interesting state to drive through.
We were trying to arrive in time for a dinner for the out-of-town guests, to have a chance to meet a little bit before the crazyness of the wedding itself. Of course, with the late departure, we weren’t exactly early for dinner. (The predicted driving time of 7 hours proved to be about accurate.) But we did make it while people were still there.
Mind you, Beth wasn’t actually there at that point. That, combined with the name on the door—neither Beth’s nor her fiancé’s—threw us off a little. But then Beth’s Mom Judy recognized me. “You must be Cathy! I’ve been reading your letters for years!”
Thus welcomed, I also met Rick, the fiancé, who seemed like a really great, friendly guy. And not long after, Beth herself. Who was just how I expected her to be, really. And that’s a good thing.
But as noted, late arrival, so the gathering did break up not too much later. We went to check into the same Holiday Inn where most guests were staying, and were quite pleased with the large and bright room. But we were also still hungry, so we went to the Red Lobster across the road. Very friendly waitress, and the food would have been decent, had it not been doused in what seemed like an ocean’s worth of salt. Oh well.
Visiting Richmond
We had most of the day to ourselves before the wedding, so we went to the mall! And did get a few Christmas gifts there. But Jean was soon restless, so we headed into the “historic downtown” to see if that was more interesting. We did stumble upon a really great toy store there and acquired a few more gifts for the nieces, nephews, and friend’s kids. (We were puzzling over our duty-free spending limit, which we later looked up. It’s $400 for being away 48 hours. So no problem.)
Then lunch, for which we’d targeted an Italian restaurant listed under the “fine dining” section for Richmond. It was actually quite good and a really nice space.
Then we went to check out the local museum, which had some interesting items, like a mummy. Jean was particularly taken with the collection of classic cars. (I had no idea electric cars dated so far back. And rotary-dial car phones!)
Then back to the hotel for a bit of time in the hot tub (why is it always so hard to find the dial that controls the agitator for hotel hot tubs? We had to give up for this one) before getting ready for the big event.
The wedding
Wedding ceremony, dinner, and dancing were all co-located at the Country Club, another rather attractive space. Everyone in the wedding party looked lovely. The ceremony was very nice, with a personable minister presiding. My favorite was the quirky touch of having a “best dog” as part of the wedding party. (This is a dog Beth has been sitting for for years.)
There was no arranged seating for dinner, so we took the approach of seeking out a table of others who didn’t seem to know too many people, and asking about sitting with them. That worked out well. We first joined a colleague of Beth’s (from the college) and his wife, who were quite pleasant. Then we were joined by high school friend of Beth’s and her husband: Elaine and Scott. I was more on their side of the table, so ended up talking more with them. She’d managed to keep in touch with Beth since leaving Indiana after high school, but not too much with other high school friends, whom she was hoping to spot. (“I wish they were wearing name tags.”) Husband Scott was a school counselor for grade 3 children. He and Elaine have five children themselves.
Oh, and Scott kind of looked like Johnny Depp, which was interesting. Elaine was quite attractive also. The children must be beautiful.
Anyway, the fine buffet dinner was followed by some of the briefest wedding toasts I’ve ever heard in my life, then the first dance (which Elaine said Beth was really nervous about, but she did fine), then general dancing. D-J was good, playing a variety of music, and Jean and I got to practice the few jive moves we still remember. (We’ve actually signed up for dance classes in the new year, to get some of that refreshed.)
A few more quirky touches I enjoyed: Having jars of various types of candy (tootsie rolls, M&Ms, rock candy, that sort of thing) available for “the kids” to bag—then watching the many “big kids” also indulge once the smaller ones were done. And getting a demonstration of hula-hoop technique from one of Beth’s friends. Quite impressive, actually—though we didn’t quite catch it on video.
Eventually I did get to talk to Beth, and her Mom, a bit more, which was good. And I got photographic proof of the meeting:
Heading back
We had taken the Monday off, giving us two days to head back, which was nice. So we had a leisurely departure after breakfast, where we saw Rick and Beth one more time. We’d considered various routes, but finally settled on going back up the same way, through Ohio, but heading in through Windsor this time, in order to visit the Pelee Island region a bit (without actually going on that island).
The drive went fine. No weather issues, and the only somewhat hairy part was finding the border crossing in Detroit. That was complicated a bit by construction, so the GPS instructions couldn’t be followed exactly. Once we’d found ourselves, we were amused by all the signs saying “Following the detour signs; not your GPS instructions.”
We used Billy’s Best Bottles from last year as a guide, and stopped in Amherstburg first. We stayed in a little motel, which was older but fine, and had a really good dinner at a place called Caldwell’s Grant, that specializes in local cuisine. While there we had a moment of concern when Jean’s sister called him on his cell phone, as that was an unusual thing to do. Eventually it turned out that while Jean’s Mom was in hospital, it wasn’t a heart attack as they had feared earlier, but something much less serious. So they wanted to get in touch to basically tell him not to worry. (He also spoke to his Mom.)
(When we did get home, we had 10 messages from various siblings, all fairly vague on the reasons why they were calling…)
The next day we visited some wineries. The first we stopped at was D’Angelo. Though their website said they opened at 10:00, they weren’t open when we got there around 10:45. We later found out we can’t taste wine before 11:00 anyway, though. So no iced Foch for us.
Next, after almost despairing of locating it, we did get to Sanson, which was open. We tried a few wines here, then bought two bottles each of our favorites, which were the Sauvignon Blanc and the Baco Noir. They also had some organic meats on offer, and we bought some of those.
She recommended Viewpointe winery to us, so we went there next. That’s a beautiful site which must be a great place to picnic at in the summer. This time of year, we were the only ones there. We came out of here with four bottles as well: two of the Auxerrois, a white usually used in blends, that has an interesting floral flavor, and the Cabernet Merlot.
Finally, we visited Mastronardi, whose wines we’d enjoyed at Caldwell’s Grant the night before. And here we left with seven bottles: two Gewurtz (in a more off-dry style), two Cabernet Franc, one Merlot, one Syrah (more of a French style), and a very nice sparkling wine.
But that was enough! Next business was lunch, but that proved a bit tricky, as many restaurants are closed on Monday. We finally ended up at a “family” restaurant in Leamington. Though that term tends to make me leery, they actually did a find job of the sandwiches we had. The drive home was a bit dreery with fog, but went fine. We got in around 5:00.
So it was a nice getaway, and although not an intense first meeting, it was good to finally have one after 30 years! Maybe we won’t wait quite so long for the next. (And maybe, just maybe, I’ll even get on Facebook so we can keep in a bit more regular touch that way.)
The day after the concert began with breakfast at the Day’s Inn, which turned out to be rather better than these continental hotel breakfasts usually are, thanks to the available waffle batter and waffle iron. They did run out of coffee, but we were able to save that one by making a pot in our room afterward.
After checking out, and getting the word of mouth that general notices on the concert were good, we headed to the hottest spot in Ontario—the Flu Clinic! Seriously, we decided to go see if Orillia flu clinics were being run any better than Waterloo Region ones. And boy, were they ever. Very short lineup, everyone in it quickly assessed as to whether they qualified (Jean did, as a healthcare worker; I didn’t even try—I do have some morals) and given a time to expect their shot. In our case it was so soon, and the weather was so fine, we just stayed in line until it was done. The whole thing, including the 15-minute after-shot wait, took half an hour, 40 minutes, maybe.
Oh, and Jean had no after-effects from the shot, other than the expected sore shoulder muscle.
After that triumph, we headed to downtown Orillia to see what might be interesting there. We spent some time in a kitchen store (weirdly, perhaps, Jean likes kitchen gadgets as much as I do—maybe even more), and got ourselves a few things, and some Christmas stuff. We also traded casino concert stories with the owner, who had apparently seen a very awesome Santana show there. (Actually, it did sound great.)
Next was a clothing store that had some used, some consignment, some remainder items. So really great prices, and stuff for both men and women. Jean tried on this leather jacket that fit him really well. And this almost never happens—he’s just not an “off the rack” size. So at $19.99, that was pretty hard to resist, so we didn’t. He also got a leather belt, while I picked up three tops. The grand total was under $60.
It was around lunchtime at this point, and we were hungry, so we decided to go to the “restaurant in a train” place that we’d been to on our last visit to Orillia (to buy the tickets). We had the same waitress! It was an enjoyable enough meal. In particular, my scallop appetizer, in chili and cocoa, was quite nice, and Jean enjoyed his main of lake trout (or some local-ish fish like that).
We now figured it was a reasonable enough time to head toward Singhampton, where we had bed and breakfast and dinner reservations. The drive was just fine, and we had spotted the B&B on the way up, so no trouble finding it. It’s called the Avalon, and while not the cheapest B&B ever, it’s really nice accommodations. You get a whole downstairs (not basement) area to yourself, with huge windows onto a beautiful view. The owner also toured us around most of the rest of the 5000 square foot house, all very open and festooned with stained glass. And interestingly, it uses geothermal heat (and cooling).
The grounds are also huge, and we took a little walk around those next, and got some photos (as above). Then it was nap time, as neither of us had slept that well the night before. Then up to get ready for dinner at Haisai.
This would be Michael Stadtlander’s new, cheaper (though certainly not cheap) restaurant. And the room is very characteristic of him and his wife Noboyu, with a crazy festooning of pottery and all natural wood furniture. Noboyu recognized us from our stop in August and generally made us feel comfortable. We were a bit surprised to see that the restaurant was not sold out on this Friday; it was maybe two-thirds full. And they were having fireplace issues, so it was a little cool in there.
But, everyone wants to know about the food right? It was a 10-course tasting menu. I made a point of writing down what we had that night.
Single New Brunswick oyster—I forget how seasoned. But very nice.
Smoked hock (from their farm, smoked for six months) on whole-wheat bread made there. The meat had really lovely taste and texture not quite like any other “ham” kind of thing I’ve had before. (And I do mean that in a good way.)
Jerusalem artichoke soup with shallots and smoked pickerel. This man is really a soup genius; I couldn’t believe the creamy, wonderful taste and the contrast with the shallots. You almost didn’t need the fish.
Georgian Bay lake trout (caught that day) in wasabi butter with blue potatoes. Definitely a highlight, the fish was meltingly good, and the sauce was so amazing, it was difficult not to lick the plate after. And the potatoes tasted pretty remarkable, too.
White fish on a sauce of beet, chervil, and carrot, with spinach puree. Also a great combination of flavors.
Salmonberry (or maybe some other kind of berry?) sorbet on wild apple. He’s also quite good with the sorbet.
Roast piglet with wild mushrooms and cabbage. The meat was mouth-watering. Mmm, fat. Of course the mushrooms were good, but the cabbage also tasted just amazing. Because, I think, it was cooked in the mmm, fat.
Duck breast with roasted carrot, squash, turnip, parsnip, and a squash ravioli. The most interesting thing here is that the duck, while good, was actually the least of this plate. These vegetables tasted amazing.
Three kinds of Ontario cheese—goat, sheep, and gouda—served with pear and walnut cranberry bread. Ontario, it turns out, also makes good cheese.
Tarte tatin with rum ice cream.
The new restaurant has a wine list, all Ontario. We enjoyed our first five courses with a lively Frog Pond Riesling, then switched to a glass each of Stratus Red. That’s an expensive wine, but it did taste fantastic. We have a bottle here, and now I’m dying to open it. With dessert, we had Earl Grey and mint tea, both well above average.
We came in quite hungry, and ended feeling satisfied but not stuffed, which is perfect. And we slept really well that night.
Onto Saturday now, which began with the breakfast part of the B&B. While we’d met the wife more the day before, today it was the husband who sat and talked with us while we ate our apple starter, delicious coffee, fresh baguette, and frittata. He was quite an interesting guy. He told us about how they’d ended up moving from Toronto to this location, the whole process of designing and building the house extension, the mechanics of geothermal.
They made Creemore sound like an interesting little town, so we decided to head there after checking out. And it is pretty cute. We spent some time in a bookstore, and I wanted many things, but decided I really needed to catch up on my reading first. At an antique store, we bought new stools for our breakfast bar—not antiques, those, they were new. They do look a bit snazzier. (Can’t say we’re not doing our bit for the Ontario economy.) And at the 100-mile shop, we bought a bunch of Ontario cheese, including some we’d had the night before. Fifth Town Cheese Company from Prince Edward County—try them out.
Then we headed home, so you might think this travel diary is done, but no… We decided to keep it going.
That night, we ate out at Art Bar. Once again, the food was quite good, holding up surprisingly well to our recent experience at Haisai. But once again, we seemed to be left fairly close to curtain time. I still don’t understand why they have such trouble getting us out in two hours. But anyway…
We had tickets to Cirque de la symphonie, which was the KW Symphony playing various pieces while, during most of them, circus performers did their thing. This was riveting! I couldn’t believe how fast the two hours (or so) went by. Particularly notable was this beautiful trapeze artist who did a really spectacular set on a rope in the second half. And then there was the gorgeous man who did this act with a big square (I find this stuff hard to explain) in the first half, then, shirtless, did this Icarus act in the second, jumping and flying around with a white sheet flapping behind him.
And the finale were these two guys, all in gold, one of whom can balance on the other and get into the most amazing poses. OK, my whole description of these performances sucks, but trust me, they were wonderful to see. (And thankfully, the Centre was very full for this show.)
Anyway. We both ended up very satisfied with this little November getaway. And Jean also had a great paddle (canoeing) on Sunday. It was a beautiful day, wasn’t it?
I wanted to start by explaining why I’m doing this.
First of all, it’s just to get off my ass. Because singers with a fat ass… You don’t want that.
Secondly, it’s to keep the vocal chords lubricated. But it’s not like a guitar—you can’t just add new strings.
Finally, I just want everybody to have a bloody good time!
— Roger Daltrey, 5 November 2009 (quote probably not exact, but you get the gist…)
Neurotic
I’ve given up trying to figure out exactly what it is about Roger Daltrey, but let’s just say, I was really looking forward to this concert. Wanting anything that I can’t 100% control always feel a bit dangerous to me, and my mind skittered over all the possible occurrences that could prevent me from attending (weather, illness, death, fire), until it seemed almost almost miraculous that I’d ever gotten myself to any concert anywhere.
In the weeks leading up, H1N1 became the main focus of my fretting, and the difficulty of accessing the vaccine led me to shielding myself (and Jean) with an elixer of hand sanitizer and vitamin D, hoping that would keep the virus at bay.
I’d also been following the tour virtually since it began in late October. The digital age has changed everything, hasn’t it? After each show there were not only written concert reports but lots of photos and quite a bit of video. And reports were generally rapturous, until… the Cleveland show.
Chicago, by all accounts, had been a huge triumph. Cleveland was the next day, 2 days before the Orillia concert (with a day of rest in between). And in Cleveland, his voice gave out. And he had to cut the show short.
This was so not what I was hoping to read before my show. And if I’d been operating on fairly low-level neurosis before, it now kicked into high gear. Having managed to keep both Jean and I free of not only flu but also colds and food poisoning and any other ailment that could possibly keep us bedridden, I was now gripped with the fear that laryngitis would force a cancellation of the Orillia show.
“You should have been sending Roger Daltrey the hand sanitizer and vitamin D,” Jean pointed out.
Getting there
The night before the concert, there was no cancellation notice on the Casinorama website, and then I decided, I didn’t want any more news. From anywhere. Since I had to work the first part of the day, and since I have to use the web to do my work, that was trickier than you might think, but I managed.
We got away at exactly the time we’d hoped to (3:00) and although it was a fairly wacky weather day, switching rapidly from sun to rain to hail to light snow and back, the drive went really well. At our check-in at the Day’s Inn, just down the road from the Casino, it was clear that the concert still wasn’t cancelled. It finally felt safe to just get giddy about the whole thing.
The venue
When I would mention this event to people, the reaction would either be, “Who’s Roger Daltrey?” (and it’s very difficult to resist the temptation to just say, “Yes, that’s right” to that comment), or the comment that it was a bit sad he was playing a Casino.
I’m not going to comment on that aspect, but this is was playing a Casino (versus the smaller music clubs he was otherwise performing at on this tour) meant:
No Meet’n’Greet, first of all. At every venue on this tour (including some of the other casinos, actually), you had the option of buying very expensive tickets that gave you both good seats and a pre-concert meeting with Roger Daltrey. And from reading reports of these short encounters, he’s apparently very sweet, very generous about ignoring the “he will only sign one thing” rule, smells great, and is smaller (shorter, thinner) than you’d think.
Cheaper ticket prices. I don’t know the economics of these things; I just know that Orillia was one of the cheapest stops on this tour.
On-site amenities. Ten restaurants on site. While these may not be the best restaurants ever, some are pretty good, certainly better than anything on offer at a hockey arena. And an attached hotel, although because Roger Daltrey was staying there, room prices were jacked up to $450. And up. (Maybe they think rich people won’t bother him.)
No tour merchandise. Normally I don’t give a flying flip about overpriced tour merchandise, but this time, I did want the damn T-shirt. Now I’ll have to order it online and pay shipping. Which is sort of irritating.
No opening act. I don’t know if that’s a general rule at Casinos, or just because his opening act on this tour are apparently only 18-years-old, and therefore not allowed into an Ontario casino, but there was no opening act. As I hadn’t heard anything too incredibly wonderful about them, I wasn’t too sad about that.
No teenagers. You have to be 19 to attend concerts at Casinorama. And since The Who still has a surprising number of teenage fans, it’s too bad their youthful presence and energy was absent.
It apparently wasn’t a sold out show, but let me tell you, it had to be pretty close to that. (The venue holds 5000.) That was a big crowd. Age skewing toward baby boomer, I’d say.
The announcement that photography was strictly forbidden was not enforced and was completely ignored by everyone.
Our seats
Our seats were excellent, at least in terms of sight lines. We were in the seventh row, very close to the center, so pretty much in line with the lead guitarist. The stage was raised enough that you could see over the heads of tall people. There were large screens on either of the stage, but we didn’t really need them. What was less excellent (per Jean) was that the seats weren’t the most comfortable ever, and they were packed pretty closely together.
But one other aspect of casino shows that I discovered is that those of us in the good seats are allowed to go stand in front of the stage, if we want. I hadn’t realized that we were allowed to do that, though, until I saw a bunch of other people doing it. “I want to go stand there,” I told Jean (who’d previously told me if I “rushed the stage”, he was leaving). “You go,” he said. “I’ll watch your stuff.”
So after the opening number (“Who Are You”), I did. And there I stayed. Right up close to Roger Daltrey.
The voice
So how was his voice, after all that? Well, not so hot, really. Pretty hoarse. Actually, I can let him tell you:
The thing is, I barely noticed that. I was actually sort of stunned, afterward, listening to the video Jean that had taken, to hear how hoarse he was actually was. It just didn’t sound that way to me at the time.
I can point out that it became clear pretty fast that standing right up close to the stage does not give the best auditory experience of the event. For example, I was still pretty much right front of the lead guitarist, most of the night, and where from my seat the guitar just blended in with everything else, from closer up it sometimes drowned out other instruments, like the harmonica.
I could certainly hear Daltrey sing, though. But it’s like I couldn’t really assess the quality of what I was hearing.
Or, quite possibly, I was just too excited to be seeing him up close to care what he sounded like.
At any rate, the voice also forced the show into being a little shorter than it usually is, with Jean and I both sort of stunned when they were wrapping it up. Which of course was a little disappointing, but if the worst you can say about a show is that you wished it had been longer, that’s pretty good.
The set list
I made no effort to retain exactly what was played in what order, but it certainly was mostly Who, with just a side order of Daltrey solo. And of course, some of the big hits were done: a very exciting “Who Are You” to start; great harmonies on “I Can See for Miles”; a very fun “Squeezebox,” albeit without the hip thrusting that apparently accompanied the “In and out” chorus back in the day; and a truly rousing “Baba O’Riley”, featuring full shirt opening and the night’s only incidence of microphone swinging.
As I knew would be the case, there was no “Won’t Get Fooled Again” (great song, but I’m actually kind of sick of it anyway), nothing from Tommy (the girl in front of me who kept piping up “Pinball Wizard” all night obviously didn’t get that memo), nothing from Quadrophenia. He explained that they’d tried to drop “Behind Blue Eyes” as well, but the protesting there was too great. So instead, they’d rearranged it, and presented that version. It reminded me of the way he’d done in it in his wonderful 1994 Daltrey Sings Townsend concerts, with the “When my fist clenches, crack it open” part rendered nearly a capella:
I was surprised to hear “My Generation,” but this was the “My Generation Blues” version (as featured on the Maximum R&B video), and it segued, through another song that I forget, into a fantastic version of “Young Man’s Blues”—giving one to ponder on how the once young and hungry Daltrey is now transformed into “the old man—who has all the money.” Nothing accidental about that song choice.
But another thing he wanted to do on this tour was bring out some of the more neglected songs in The Who’s canon—like “Pictures of Lily,” which had been dropped along with Entwistle’s vocal range; “Going Mobile”, sung by Simon Townsend (yep, Pete’s little brother, who does sound very much like Pete); and one of my personal favorites, “Tatoo.” They also indulged a request for “The Kids Are Alright,” despite Townsend commenting that it might have been better if the band had learned the song first, and some debate about what key it was actually in. Keeping in mind the wonky state of my brain and hearing that day, the song really sounded great to me.
From the solo oeuvre we got a couple of very fun numbers from his quite good Rocks in the Head album: “Walk on Water,” dedicated to President Obama (“Those Americans don’t know what they want, do they? First they love him, and now… I mean, give him a chance!”), and “Days of Light,” which he explained harkened back to his days as a sheetmetal worker, a pretty crap job that made the weekends all the sweeter: the “Days of Light.” And a couple numbers I didn’t know, but still enjoyed.
As the set list hasn’t exactly been fixed on this tour, I don’t really know what numbers normally performed were left out in the abbreviated set. I think “Naked Eye” has made a number of appearances, and we didn’t get that. Nor did “Boris the Spider,” which would have been cool to hear him do. And he has done the beautiful “Without Your Love” a few times, but I suspect that one would have been beyond him this night.
Except for the afore-mentioned Simon Townsend, I don’t think anyone in his band is well-known. But they did do lovely vocal harmonies and quite a credible job of re-creating the Who sound. There was a drummer, a bass player, and a keyboard player. To my surprise, Townsend didn’t play lead guitar, but accoustic. As well as handling all the Pete vocal parts in the songs. The dude I was standing in front of most of the night, apparently recently named band musical director, ably handled the lead guitar parts.
It should be noted that Daltrey also played guitar on a lot of numbers, as well tambourine and harmonica. And ukelele.
The glitches reported on some earlier tour dates were not in evidence this night. No forgotten lyrics. There was only one request for monitor adjustment: “It sounds all horrible and basey. Or maybe that’s my voice.” (Someday I’ll have to find out just what a monitor is.) No complaints about excessive cool, drying air (it was hot in there). No giving up on songs partway through. He did seem to have to keep readjusting his earpiece; that’s about it.
The man
Let’s get the shallow stuff out of the way first: up close and in person, Roger Daltrey looks really damn good. He’s growing the hair out a bit (and there’s certainly still a lot of that), he seems to have dyed it blonde again, he’s tanned, he’s fit and muscular, his face still unremarkably unwrinkled. I’m about ready to drop the “for his age” qualifier from the “he looks really good” comment. (He’s 65.)
And, he seems to be having a great time on this tour. I have recordings of his 1985 and 1994 solo tours, and a lot of DVDs and recordings of Who tours over the years, and I have never heard him be as verbose on stage as he has been on this one. He was funny and charming and entertaining… yeah, kind of sexy.
In introducing “Tatoo”, for example, he explained that he wanted to do this song because it illustrated how much had changed, culturally, since the era in which it was written (1967). Back then, he said, only men got tatoos, and only a certain kind of man at that—a criminal sort, really, that he’d decided he didn’t want to be, and therefore remains untatooed to this day. (The song, by the way, is all about the singer and his brother deciding to get tatoos as a mark of their manhood.)
But now, Daltrey continued, it’s women who get all the tatoos. “And they get them in these places… That you couldn’t imagine you’d want a tatoo…”
Later, he talked about working with The Chieftains, and convincing them to do a Who song in return for his singing a couple of their songs. Their version of “Behind Blue Eyes” got picked up by radio and led to the album being a great success and them winning a Grammey.
“But I didn’t get a Grammy,” Daltrey complained. “I wanted one, too! By the time I finally get one, they’ll be called the Grannies.” (Now doesn’t the fact that The Who have never won a Grammy just make you think that there’s something terribly wrong with the Grammy’s?)
And after “Baba O’Riley,” he explained how he didn’t do encores. “We never did them in the Seventies,” he said. (And agreed that “smashing all your gear” was a good way to avoid them.) “But if we had, I could have used that 10 minutes to have some fun. But what good is 10 minutes to me now? That’s bloody useless. Now I need a whole evening! Sometimes two!”
My favorite part
Standing in the “pit” was generally a congenial experience, but there was one guy who kind of getting on my nerves. It was a little bit that he was just standing there instead of joining in on the singalongs and clapping, a little bit that his height occasionally interfered with my sightline, but it was mainly that as a people got tired of standing and moved back to their seats, he didn’t move over closer to Roger. Instead, he just left space there. And because he was beside me, that meant that I couldn’t move over closer to Roger.
Until finally… For the last three songs, he did get out of my way. Now I was more in between Roger and the lead guitarist instead of just in front of the guitarist.
Then Roger started in on his Johnny Cash medley (much to the delight of some dude behind me who’d been asking for “Johnny Cash” all evening, only to get weird looks from everyone around him). He explained that he was kind of worried about attempting these with his wonky voice, and that he might have to stop if it seemed too brutal. But he did want to pay tribute to this great singer.
And then he looked at me. I mean, right at me. And he smiled. And of course I just beamed back at him.
Then he said that if he got through it, the last number would be “Ring of Fire”, and he’d split the audience into men and women. And he’d have the women sing the chorus on their own, “because that’s really sexy.” And then the men would sing on their own. And finally we’d all sing along together.
So he did get through them (and sorry, I’m not enough of a Johnny Cash fan to know what songs he did), and he got to “Ring of Fire”, and he said, “Now all the women,” and he looked right at me again, through the whole chorus. And know what? It’s both intoxicating and intimidating to be singing about your “burning ring of fire going down down down and the flame getting higher” while Roger Daltrey is looking at you.
“Blue, Red and Grey” is this lovely little ballad on The Who’s underrated Who By Numbers album. Pete sings it, and Roger said he’d tried for years to get Pete to do this song in concert, but Pete refused, feeling he’d look like completely idiotic standing there with his ukelele.
Whereupon Roger, now alone on the stage, posed with his ukelele.
Even when in good voice, this one is challenge for Roger to sing—it’s in his upper range, it requires you to go from low to high notes in a beat. But I know he’s been performing it all tour and I’m delighted he attempted for us as well.
It was certainly a struggle for him. As his voice broke on the upper part of the second verse, he commented, “Makes it rather poignant, doesn’t it?” “You sound wonderful, Roger” somebody shouted, and as he did a fairly credible job on the last verse, the applause was very warm.
While we didn’t spend a lot of time talking to other people there—we aren’t very good at that—from what I overheard, it wasn’t just me who really enjoyed this concert. (Jean said it “wasn’t completely awful.” That’s actually pretty good, from Jean.)
So as to goals of this tour:
Fat ass avoidance—check!
Voice exercised—check! (I’ll trust this particular workout won’t have done any lasting damage.)
Having a bloody great time—check and check!
“He made me who I am. I owe him a lot and I love him.” — Pete Townsend on Roger Daltrey
All the leaves are brown And the sky is gray I’ve been out walking for a while on a winter’s day I’d be safe and warm If I was in LA…
Or, better yet, back in San Fran…
Yes, it was a good trip. We were there for a week, Saturday to Sunday. We started with a visit to Yosemite on Sunday, headed to Napa and Sonoma on Monday and Tuesday, and drove into San Francisco on Wednesday, where we stayed for the rest of the trip.
People ask, “What was your favorite thing?”, which I can never answer. Too many options. But to quote Maria, these are a few of my favorite things.
The weather. Nothing but sun, all day, every day. Need I say more?
The wine. Particularly these aspects of them:
Interesting tours in Napa and Sonoma. Wineries with art galleries and patios where servers bring you tasting portions of their offerings. Organic wineries that give full tram tours and let you taste the grapes (very sweet). Organic wineries on beautiful grounds with hiking trails up to great views.
Cav wine bar in San Franciso, which may have been our favourite restaurant. The first time we went, it was because we tired of trying to stuff down dinner after having a big lunch. So we dined on wine and cheese. It was lovely. And later, we went back for a full dinner. Also lovely. Many wines by the glass, from all over, at pretty reasonable prices.
The taste, of course, which often surprised us with its subtlety and sophistication, particularly in the Bartholomew Park Cabernet Sauvignon and the Rodney Strong Estate Pinot Noir.
Not paying duty on the wine, despite bringing home double our allotment, which we declared.
Seeing the wild parrots of Russian Hill, who may or may not be the same flock as on Telegraph Hill. At any rate, we had read that almost no one got to see these birds, yet there they were, following us along on our walking tour of that neighborhood. (And with seeing the bear and the deer in Yosemite, and numerous birds there and in San Fran, plus all the sea lions in San Fran, it was a surprisingly wildlife-filled vacation.)
Great experiences for free (and not only because they were free), such as:
Just walking around the interesting, and very safe-feeling, neighborhoods of San Francisco, such as North Beach and the Castro, just getting a sense of the shops and the people and the atmosphere.
Free city walking tours, which San Francisco offers hundreds of each year. Our favorite was the City Scapes and Public spaces, which took us into the elaborate bank buildings and hidden park areas of the Financial District.
Experiences worth paying for, such as:
Alcatraz tour, where you take a boat to the island and are then free to explore it, including an introductory film and an excellent audio tour of the cells. Very well done.
SFMOMA, a modern art gallery that managed to balance the sublime and the ridiculous better than most.
Brunch at the beautiful Awanee Inn in Yosemite, apparently one of the best restaurants in the US. Certainly had some divine little desserts.
Listening to JD Fortune’s fantastic version of “California Dreamin” on the ride from Napa to San Francisco.
And then there were the more “interesting” experiences that will probably make the best stories…
Staying across the street from, and therefore finding it impossible to avoid, the Lovelution Festival, which seemed to mainly be about young people dancing to techno music in glittery underwear… If that…
Our insane, high-speed taxi ride to the hilliest part of San Francisco, that morning we were running late… We ended up arriving early…
Getting an impossible case of the giggles upon perusing the vegetarian, yoga-themed menu of a Napa restaurant I had insisted on, feeling not quite hungry enough for meat and potatoes. But you know, those beet-roast crisps and semolina gnochis were actually, suprisingly very delicious.
Jamestown, our home base to Yosemite, which really still looked like an old Western town, with saloons and such, and nary a Starbucks anywhere.
Rasputin Records, squarely aimed at the punk and hip-hop crowd, where old-timers like me who prefer classic rock are shunted off (really, driven off by the music) to the four floor, which was accessible only by a tie-dye painted elevators operated by one of the remarkably friendly staff.
The yard is not as embarrassing any more. Can’t go so far as to say it looks good, since with the weeds pulled and the mulch put down where they were, the garden areas tend to look a little… sparse. But it’s definitely better than giant thistles and crab grass.
It’s been the project of the last couple weekends. We paid to have the heavier work done (gathering those receipts for the tax credit), leaving the more interesting stuff like planting for ourselves. The front garden now has some daylilies, two of which are blooming nicely with quite a few more showing signs of blooming soon.
In the raised bed out back, we have several tomato plants and a bunch of herbs—parsley, basil, marjoram, oregano, rosemary, sage… I’m still at the excitable stage where I go out and see how they’re doing each day. So far, so good.
And, I’m kind of disappointed each time a recipe doesn’t call for one of the herbs I’m growing. Guess I need to make more Italian stuff.
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