Kensington Market and Chinatown in Toronto

Weekends spent wandering the ethnic markets of Toronto are fun and gastronomically satisfying. After squiring me to a night at the Opera on saturday night to see Marriage of Figaro at the lovely old Elgin Theatre  (sets designed by our friend Gerard Gauci), Pip's desire for Yum Char (Dim Sum) had to be appeased ,so we headed out on Sunday morning with our neighbours Happy and Susie.

Mexican specialty stores in Kensington Market

Fresh veg and herb stalls

A walk round Kensington Market under a drizzly sky, to shop for Mexican specialty items like smoked dried poblano and chipotle peppers took us past fish marts selling salt cod, fruit and veg stalls and hippy style boutiques selling vintage clothing.

Butcher offering tripe, tongue, feet and tails front and centre!

We stopped for a great coffee then headed for Chinatown just a block away. Opting this time not to eat at Rol San where you order from a menu, we chose to take the girls to Sky Dragon where the carts are wheeled around. Best plate of the day was the blanched Pea Shoots with a chili soy dipping sauce.

Dim Sum with friends

Char Siu bbq stores and Asian specialty stores abound in Chinatown.

Later we browsed Spadina above Dundas checking out the Char Siu shops, crazy dessert and pastry shops picking up a slice of green tea cake for pud.

Crazy palette of colors in Dessert shop.

After a spot of Wi Golf at Happy and Susies apartment, a lovely bottle of bordeaux, we shared Julie and Julia's Poulet Roti a la Normande served with noodles and peas and a Chilean sav blanc. I cooked and took the dish across the hallway to their dining table!. Susie dished up Rhubarb and Strawberry pie with stewed fresh berries and cream for pud. Delish!

Julie does Julia's Poulet Normande

Visitors from New York!

An influx of visitors from Hoboken is a new spring phenom in our little part of Toronto. First the Paladino family avec NZ nanny paid a fleeting overnight visit to our apartment while we were in Europe. Rowan and Jim brought the kids up to Niagara Falls and a quick whisk around the sights of Toronto. Sadly they’d left by the time we got home.

Three days after arriving back home, Mac and Jennifer drove up from NYC for a long weekend. Arriving on Friday afternoon Jennifer and I dived straight into Julie and Julia style kitchen antics with my new best friend Julia Childs Mastering the Art of French cooking.

Julia's Boeuf Bourguignon was the dish de jour along with tiny minted steamed potatoes, and buttered peas.
We braised tiny cipolini onions in red wine and broth then sauteed mushrooms following Julia’s instructions to the letter. We browned the meat (Jennifer did actually) then drowned everything in red wine and cooked for the required hours.

Meantime Mac (Mcgregor) arrived home from London (Ontario!) with Uncle Mark and Uncle Chris amidst the chaos of the Hartshorns arrival, my baking an orange syrup cake and prepping for the Boeuf Bourg.

After a couple of drinks the Uncles left to party the night away in Toronto and we headed up to Panorama  for a drink on the 51st floor balcony overlooking the city, harbour and islands as the sun went down.

Cherry Beach on a chilly April morning.

Keen to show off our new hometown to our Noo Jersey mates we power toured as many of our fav places as we could without being too frenetic. Pre-breakfast walk at Cherry Beach, Lobster buying at the Chines market and a real Canadian brunch at St Lawrence Market set us up for the day.

A trip up the 533m (1870ish ft) CN tower sorted the men from the acrphobiacs. Pip and I really did not want to walk on the glass floor but both did in varied degrees. (Well I toed it!) Snow showers swept through beneath the tower to envelope Toronto in misty spring clouds. Once down from the tower we split up, the girls heading for Yorkville to window shop, the boys for Yorkville to prop up Hemmingways bar.

We steamed 6 lobsters in wine for dinner, a la Julia Child. Jennifers old friend Susan and husband joined us for a fun evening.

Julie and Julia's lobsters steamed in wine!

Sunday we walked along the waterfront boardwalk, then met Susan for lunch at the Rosedale Diner on the back patio. The diner is a local icon, the foods great.  Pip and I had lunched earlier in the week alongside Laura Calder of French Cooking at Home fame.

Monday morning saw the weary Hartshorn’s headed for Niagara and a lunch date in Pennsylvania then home to Hoboken by nightfall. Pip sloped off to work and I collapsed on the sofa in the sun with little Mac and a cup of tea and put my feet up for the first time in three weeks. Good times had by all.

Rome, Rosie and Rambunctious good times.

Arriving in Rome was a delight. Sunshine, green grass, sping foliage and terracotta villas were my first impression. Our shuttle driver gave us a lovely scenic tour past the Palatino ( I was thrown by the terracotta brick walls and pillars, expecting shining white marble!!!), Roman Forum, Vittorio Emmanuel and Piazza Navona on the way to our loft in Governo Vecchio, a narrow winding street that Popes of old used on their way to cross the Tiber to the Vatican. Now its lined with funky boutiques, cafes, bars, vintage stores and the most covetable faux flower store ever!. Take any lane leading from Governo Vecchio and you’ll find another treasure trove!

Street sights on the way to our Apartment

Governo Vecchio

Our apartment was large and would be split into two later in the week when two more kiwis arrived. Books, antiques and interesting objects made the place feel very comfortable. We had just sat down at the neighbouring café adorned with the lilac chairs and yellow ranunculus on each table, when Rosie appeared. It was gorgeous to see her again in her new home town! After a well needed caffe we hoofed it with Rosie, eager to get our Roma adventure underway.

Pantheon

Meeting Dunph at his office (also an art gallery) in Piazza Mattei, we arranged to meet up a little later for lunch after we visted the Pantheon. To say the Pantheon is a miracle is an understatment. It is a miracle! Standing under the oculus (that word sounds sooo Dan Brown!) you feel the weight of the incredible curving ceiling and marvel at its technical perfection. Lucky for us there were relatively few people there and it did feel like a sacred place of calm.

Streets along the Tiber

After a walk across the Ponte Fabricio to the Isola Tiberina where Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck took an unexpected dip in Roman Holiday we walked through the jewish ghetto to Sora Margherita in Piazza delle Cinque Scole for pranzo (lunch). Marks fav lunch spot. Apart from nearly choking on a stupendously delicious fried artichoke we shared a riotous lunch with Rosie and Dunph at this tiny hole in the wall spot. Everything was totally delicious and authentic and the perfect start to our gastronmic adventures in Roma! I've just found a recipe for these crispy fried artichokes in the Silver Spoon so look forward to trying them out at home.

Sora Margherita

Later we met for aperitivo’s by the Fontana delle Tartarughe at Piazza Mattei, at Bar Taruga.

Fontana delle Tartarughe in Piazza Mattei

We must have gone to Rosies apartment that day and sat on the roof terrace but after the wine at lunch I lost track of the order to the day. I also lost my favorite sciarpa grigia (grey scarf) Needless to say Rosie has the most divine view of the skyline of Rome. All the great monuments and ruins can be seen. Totally romantic, I kept having to pinch myself as we sat sunning ourselves amongst rooftop gardenias and rosemary bushes watching a redheaded lady hang her colorful sheets on the rooftop nearby.

View from Rosies rooftop garden

Days melded into days as we traversed this romantic city by foot, cab, and pushbike! A private tour of the vatican with Emiliano Mochi was a special treat. We shortcut the lines and lapped up his informed gossip about the vatican treasures and lives of Popes and artists Raphael and Michelangelo. Explaining Raphaels radical use of perspective in the design (cartoons) for tapestries, the little Black Boy statue (3rd down on left) and the destruction and reconstuction of the Pieta (2nd from right at bottom) just a couple to mention.

Vatican City with Emiliano

We fell in love with Campo di Fiori for its daily market and nightly party zone. It seemed unbelievable that the rythmn of this place flowed daily from colorful produce market erected and dismantled 365 days a year. In the early evening (la sera) the road sweepers and trucks roll in and cart and clean the marche debris away. By night (la notte) Rome’s local and expat youth’s party at the bars while tourists and locals mingle at the outdoor restaurants.

Fresh produce daily at Campo de Fiori

Rosie introduced us to her fav sights and streets which was a pleasure. Wisteria bloomed along narrow Via Margutta scenting the air were locals shop in ultra fab interior, art and antique galleries. Tad store on Via Del Babuino (http://www.wetad.it/)was a visual delight.

Old friends in an very old town!

Cycling the gardens of the Villa Borghese

Piazza del Popolo under the Borghese gardens and overlooked by the Medici Villa was a lovely place to start a walk. We had lunch at Gusto (http://www.gusto.it/osteria-roma.htm)one day, then hired bikes up in the Borghese gardens and pedaled to the Modern Art museum there.

The Spanish steps were crowded with youths lounging around just as they had in the old film starring Warren Beatty and Vivien Leigh 'the Roman Spring of Mrs Stone'. The apartment and balcony used in the movie can be seen clearly from the steps.

Spanish Steps

We were touched by an odd phenomenon when we finally found the Fontana di Trevi…all day we’d have coins jingling in our pockets…but slowly through the day we’d offloaded them as tips…now when all we needed was one measly coin not one was to be found! The legend goes that once you throw your coin over your left shoulder you will ensure good fortune and swift return to Roma. Looks like there’s no going back for us!(http://www.yourwaytoflorence.com/roma.htm)

Fontana di Trevi

Rome is the city of water, beautiful fountains decorate piazza’s everywhere and all are pristine and sparkling clean. The water here is like nowhere else. Something to do with the limestone that filters it.

Vittorio Emmanuel II Monument

Vittorio Emmanuel II is a huge wedding cake of a monument rising high above the Rome skyline but not higher than St Peters Dome. We often used it as our compass bearing to find our way home. At night from Rosies balcony illuminated against that clear Roman sky we watched gulls circling endlessly in its lights.

Roman Forum and Palatino

One afternoon we walked the ruins of the Roman Forum and  the Palatine hill under bright blue Roman skies. Definitely my favorite place in Rome, the Palatino with its marble and terracotta ruins, green scented gardens and air filled with so much history that it resonates. History comes alive as you walk past the place Julius Ceasar died, legends and lives of those famous emperors and patricians loom large amongst the decay of their city. You can’t really believe you’re a part of it! I couldn’t help but think of the common brick makers and the marble hewers who laboured their lives away for the patrician occupants of the Forum and Palatine hill!

Details from the Forum

Strangely the Colosseo had a very different effect on me. I felt it was a place where mans cruel and baser instincts had been encouraged, to me it was filled with sadness and horror and death. Not somewhere that resonated in a good way at all. I was pleased when that tour was over!

Rosie whipping up a fabulous meal!

We met Rosie and Mark each night for drinks and dinner. Whether it was meeting Paul and Mickey  (kiwi‘s from Auckland) at the apartment for a family dinner (Rosie’s food was gorgeous and her Semifreddo for pudding was too die for..I am hoping to pry the recipe from her) or cruising little wine bars full of eccentric expats and locals we managed to chat to people and make ourselves understood with our pidgin Italiano. Pip seemed to become more fluent as the night progressed…the language of vino rosso is universal! Bar Taruga is a cute place in Mark's square where the owner and friends gather round the grand piano and make music nightly for a slightly gay crowd so we felt right at home! At times these nights felt like scenes from a movie, the settings so crazy romantic and Italian, the people so vibrant and full of energy.

Late night Gelato’s at Campo (di Fiori) or a Pizza at a street café became our pre-turn-in ritual. Strolling around amongst the happy crowds late at night was such fun as was the perilous climb into our loft bedroom each night to sleep beneath a red heart shaped light under a milky skylight that lit the room.

A day in Naples beside the sea was a lovely break from the city. My yearning for salt air and fishing nets was swiftly assuaged when we stumbled literally on the Barcadero, a tiny fishermans bar set in the lee of Castel del’Ouovo. We sat in the sun just inches from gently rocking fishing dories and watched fascinated as fishermen rowed or puttered into the bay, dropping off their boat to a waiting boatmen who ferried them ashore.

Barcadero and Castel del’Ouovo.

We walked the shoreline all day, stopping here and there for caffe and sfogliatelle, a syrup drenched crispy shelled pastry with a luscious mandarin flavored ricotta filling and a little later in the day aperitivo’s. Orangeade and Campari sounds scary but is a delicious drink I’d had years ago in Villefranche near Monte Carlo and never been able to recreate. We tossed back a couple of these accompanied by little dishes of fat green morish olives and chips.

Fish shacks sell shellfish straight off the boat.

Finally after another couple of hours walking it was time for a sundown bottle of rose at Il Terasse, back at the fishermans basin we started out at hours before. Eurorail, fast train sped us back along the coast through rural farms and hills to Roma. Night was falling in time for another walk from Termini station (the line up for taxi’s was far too long for these ‘get-er-done’ folks to consider), so we tripped our way, mapless this time, all the way to Governo Vecchio where we collapsed into seats at the neighboring restaurant Mimi and Coco and ate yet again!

Villa Pamphilli above Trestevere

For our final day Rosie proposed lunch in the gardens of the Villa Pamphilli. We walked home through the ground of the lovely old Villa, winding our way down the hill to Trastevere and the Tiber. (We'd tried to get a table at da Augustos in Trastevere one night but no luck..arrive before 7 if you want a table).

Mickey up the Orange Tree in Pamphilli Gardens!

Gardens and terraces in Rome are adorned by huge orange trees. Fascinated by the bumpy large fruit Mickey Batemen takes to the tree tops to find us one to sample. Sadly though the skins and flowers are aromatic the fruit is extremely dry and sour! Yes we all tried one!

Polle e salvia, parmigiano della Melzana, Fagioli de fava insalate.

We met later for dinner at her apartment where we nibbled first on sublime burrata mozzerella and proscuitto. I made my fava bean, pea and mushroom salad (but got too tiddly to peel the fava’s ….note to self…always peel fava’s before drinking wine!), Rosie dished up divine chicken and sage wrapped in proscuitto and for afters we dipped biscotti in vin santo before heading out to a bar in Piazza Mattei.

Farewell drinks at Piazza Mattei

And that’s where it all gets a little hazy. Carlos, local hairdresser and body painter extraordinaire joined us for farewell drinks until the wee hours. I stopped drinking after a couple or three Lemoncello's, Pip however proceeded to continue drinking grappa!

Much Much Later!

Our shuttle was booked for 4.15am next morning, with that in mind we staggered home about 2.30am. Pip promptly crashed on the sofa so I finished packing, dragged the big red case down the precipitous stairs, paced up and down so as not to fall asleep in the ensuing hours until I heard the door buzzer. Finagling a more than tipsy Pipster down the narrow hallway, juggling rolly bags and my own not so clear head we managed to rendezvous with our shuttle man and fell in a heap in his rather sagging back seats for the trip out to Fumicino Airport.

I have to say, aeroporto security when you’re still half cut is a breeze in Italia, must be par for the courso over thereo! A quick flight to Charles de Gaulle then a rather unfortunate wait before boarding Air France to Toronto all seemed to swing by in a long slow wuzzy blur.

Back in ‘Oh Canada’ whipping along the Gardiner in the back of a Lincoln towncar (we thought of you Jim-bob!) then walking into our newly redecorated pad was a breath of fresh air and a lovely welcome home. Sinking onto our huge comfy bed we both agreed we were stoked to be home after an awesome holiday.

Paris, Paul Bert and Dom Perignons bones!

Opting to take the subway out to Pearson airport on Good Friday may not seem like the perfect start to a two week European sojourn but for us it seemed like a low key way to start our adventure. A kind of DIY eco friendly way to kick off the trip. All that hocus pocus went out the window when we were offered upgrades to the Air France lounge at the airport. Suddenly bubbly, nibbles and super comfy sofa’s seemed just the thing on a Friday afternoon before our evening flight!.

My last experience with Air France had been subpar so was impressed with their service, food and footrests. Charles de Gaulle finally loomed out of the clouds, the light drizzle turning into a deluge as we deplaned onto the tarmac and had to madly lope across a mini lake to the shuttle bus! Lost luggage is par for the course, but for me it was a first time experience in Paris. Said large red case turned up an hour or so later and we whisked through rapidly drying streets to the Hotel Glasgow in the 17th arrondissement.

Kicking off our travels in the Air France Lounge

This residential suburb is just the other side of the Arc de Triomphe and was a lovely surprise. Our minimal hotel was a narrow tall building near stunning food market streets, restaurants and the Villiers metro stop.

17th Arondissement

Quickly purchasing a three day metro pass we headed straight for the Rodin museum. Loved the house, gardens, café but was a little bored by the artworks. EEEK! Great to see these famous pieces but I quickly realized this trip was about us having fun and precious time together rather than culturally enhancing our sensibilities! We had a glorious lunch in the garden there, my ‘lentile salade’ was toooooo die for. Smoked salmon, lentils, savory herb, crème fraiche and lemon in a glass looked as intriguing as it tasted.

Window shopping on the Left Bank

Four weeks of DIY Italian lessons helped me direct two lost Italian women to the Tour d’Eiffel as we walked towards St Germaine du Pres. Learning some basic Italian helped me with my french too. There are so many similarities that Miss Daniels lessons jumped back into the forefront of my fuzzy brain!

Rodin Museum and Eiffel Tower

Easter crowds thronged all the tourist hot spots so we opted to wander our own path. Just enjoying the difference of pale stone buildings and French architecture, the Seine, spring blossoms and fresh air.
I tried to get Pip into Laduree at the Champs but it was inundated….so very glad this was not my first time in Paris as would have been devastated to have to wait in the huge queues for everything! Note to first time travellers…book all your tickets and sightseeing trips online before you leave so you don’t have to battle with lines of hot grumpy tourists and get up early in the morning!

Laduree

Later as the sun dipped we had a coup d’champagne (albeit the smallest bloody coup I’d ever seen) of Dom Perignon street side up the rue from our hotel, watching the antics of locals parking their sixpence sized cars in thrupenny sized parking spots.

Pip shopped for wine, cheese and baguettes along the rue and we took a little feast to our roof top garret, flung open the floor to ceiling windows, whipped out my trusty swiss army knife ( no self respecting kiwi girl should be out and about without one!), and popped the cork on a delish bottle of chardonnay. Drinking out of tooth mugs we had the most delicious meal of crusty bread with super duper stinky goat cheese, smoked duck breast, a well aged comte cheese and sliced apple. Phew eh! Bloody bewty mate !

Stinky goats cheese, fig jam, smoked duck and champagne in tooth mugs!!

Easter Sunday dawned fine so we headed off to the Marche Puces on the metro to Clignancourt. Rosie D had given us the heads up for lunch so we beelined for Rue Rosier’s and Café Paul Bert. My tongue was rolling along behind me (a la Ali McBeal!) salivating at the eclectic brocante and antiques lining the sides of the quaint narrow street that led to the café. I managed to do what I was told by my boyfriend and folded myself into a seat by the window. Minutes later we happily ordered ‘Coquilles St Jacques’ and ‘lamb ragout with white beans’. Bloody hell. Expecting brunch ,as it was barely midday, I wondered if my tummy would cope with such deliciousness so early in the day. No problems was the answer as our plates were set in front of us with a fragrant bottle of rose.

After a superb lunch we strolled the lanes of the Marche Paul Bert. At one point I was completely overwhelmed. Every eclectic piece I’d ever lusted over revealed itself in one day. Stunningly simple stone mantle and fire surround, mid century aged leather Eames chairs, huge ancient mirrors, peasant style green pottery, rustic timber tables, you name it IT was there…BUT …the catch was ….it was all fearfully expensive…even with the currency exchange from Canadian dollars at a reasonably friendly rate. The days of finding inexpensive treasures here may have gone.

The true pleasure was just seeing all these scrumdiddlydumptious treasures so artfully displayed amidst crumbling old buildings and rumpty cobbled lanes. Even better and more charming was the sight of stall owners gathered together in their neighbour’s shop, around tables set with linens, fine china and glassware, gorgeous spring flowers in abundance and goddamn mouth watering smelling dishes set up for Easter Sunday lunch. Quite a scene. The wine was flowing and no-one seemed to worried about selling anything at all!

Our next stop was to be the Atelier Brancusi (I want to replicate this place and live my life out in it) and the Marais but a dramatic hail storm stymied our plans and after a rather painful run through the storm just shy of the Pompidou we dodged back into the metro to see the storm off. Riding the subterranean rails we headed for the Jardins de Tuillieries.

Atelier Brancusi

Edging our way past the long suffering tourists standing in line at the Louvre under clearing skies(once again thank god I’d visited intensively a few years ago) we wandered past the little ‘Paul’ stand (fab pastries and café sold from black painted hut) down the long stretch of pale crushed stone past gardens not quite in bloom, we spied the fantastic bronzed fallen pine lying on its side. My hope to see the long Monet waterlillies panels at the Orangerie faded at the length of lineup there. (Thank god for the Moma in NYC who have a long panel on show year round) Instead we strolled past the place Vendome up to Place Madeleine with its handsome church dominating the square. Once again Laduree was chocka and with black and white striped Fouchon closed we headed into café Julie for a beer and to rest our feet. We hopped back on the Metro (we did have a couple of hiccups when our metrocards didn’t work…luckily the ticket office people were very obliging and willing to try to decipher my french explanations… and re-issued these twice) to Villiers opting for dinner at a bistro near our hotel, we hit the hay happy and exhausted.

Place Madeliene

Next morning after pain au chocolate and café we caught the train to Epernay at Gare l’est. The trip took about an hour and we sped alongside rivers and through charming countryside. Suddenly hills striped brown with vineyards appeared, every slope patterned the same. Too early for leaf bud the vineyards were waiting for the sun to do its thing.

Epernay on Easter Monday 2010

My friend Jennifer's parents, Marion and David, met us at Epernay station, popped us into their white Peugeot and whisked us past the pale stone champagne houses bathed in spring sunshine sporting spring bulbs in huge regal urns then off into the countryside.

Hauteviller near Epernay in the Champagne region

Hauteviller, the resting place of Dom Perignon was our destination. Set high on a hill overlooking the famous champagne vineyards all jumbled together, Hauteville is a quaint example of wine villages in the area. The sun shone as we walked up through narrow streets passed the washing trough and many small aged champagne houses. In the season the streets throng with people but today, Easter Monday, it was thankfully silent, as we entered the dim musty church where the revered Dom’s bones are laid to rest before the altar.

Dom Perignon's resting place.

Lunch was a fab picnic on the very top of the hill, looking back down over acres of sloping vines to the River Marne. A rather somber note is that the Marne was scene to terrible battles and hardships during both first and second world wars.

Champagne Picnic at Hauteviller overlooking vineyards and the Marne.

Sipping bubbly, toasting those fallen boys, we nibbled cheeses from many french regions. We drank in the view across the vines and river to the Chateau Veuve Clicquot, (Veuve means widow …. So didn’t those Clicquot, Vernay, etc widows do well!) before heading back to Marion and David’s riverboat at Conde-sur-Marne.

Each Champagne house had a little plaque marking its vines. There are 2500 Champagne houses in the region and the plots seemed to run together randomly in a higgledpiggedly way. Along the road different champagne houses vines grew within feet of their neighbours. With so many champagne houses bottling wine each year we must be missing out on some great bubblies by only drinking the big named brands. Luckily we got to sample a few bottles during our 8 hours in the region!

Marion and I left the boys on the boat with a good bottle of red and shot around the local Brocante Marche (bric-a-brac and produce) in Conde village. Before leaving Toronto I’d warned Pip that I wanted to buy an Italian olive wood chopping board and salad platter and possibly a pot from Dehillerin in the Marais in Paris. So he was warned! My eyes lit on a set of copper pots set amongst jumble and two dozen french silver forks and spoons in an old leather case. The stall owner dropped the price of the pots while I dithered delicately….!!!Done I said and handed over.E35 for the pots, E10 for the silver. Was I a happy camper or what? On a roll now I could have kept on going. The beautiful white linens…copper fish kettle…darling little ladies chair…chandeliers…OH GOD!!! But I didn’t.! ‘Cause I’m a ….an idiot!!!!

Conte sur Marne...my copper pots and silver purchased at the brocante marche at bottom left!

Much later on a neighbouring boat, drinking homemade Champagne then Ratafia (made from discarded champagne grape skins) and conversing in muddled French we whiled the evening away before hopping one mooring over for Pot au feu, homemade sloe gin and more wine with Marion and David. Their generous hospitality and knowledge of the area made this a day we'll both remember forever.

Wine and goodwill making new friends on the river Marne.

Taking the 8.30pm train back to Paris we were shortcut on sleep that night as our shuttle arrived at 4am for our flight to Rome. Paris had done us proud, three days of European food and style was just what the doctor ordered after a long cold winter!