 There’d be a long row of broccoli if I had a garden. I steam it until just before it crumbles, then toss it tenderly with an insane amount of butter and flaky salt. I can eat a lot of it and don’t care if there’s nothing else. I had some of that head left to crush with leftover steamed fingerlings for a quick mash — it was second-day delicious. Stir-fried broccoli with lots of half-crisp onion crescents, garlic, ginger, mushrooms, and black bean paste is so good. A cook’s treat is the peeled stem eaten raw while I’m pulling dinner together. Why would you ever buy crowns? *** A year ago, the west end of Bloor Street went through a metamorphosis. The stretch I live on went from a four-lane speed trap to a proper boulevard. One lane was removed for cyclists, the speed limit dropped to 40 mph, and planters were installed as barriers. A downtown pinko's dream. The nights here are quieter. On Sunday mornings, I hear the whir of racing bike tires when a peloton passes on the way to High Park. There hasn’t been a single accident. Months before the work began, I spent what felt like an eternity holding the hand of a catatonic young man who’d hit a speeding motorcycle right out front. Mixed-use roadways are inclusive and civilized. I like looking out my front window at dusk and seeing the long trail of red taillights snaking toward downtown. There is enough time to admire a classic car passing — like this intoxicating '68 Chevrolet Corvette convertible. Driver inconvenience does not bother me. The east-west axis is well served by a subway. I want to believe property value and business benefit from the change. Let me bury you in urban studies. *** September is a sultry month. I walked south along the Humber River to an appointment this week, parkland all the way. The quality of late summer light in the morning is something. The sky was azure, the sun made a silver shimmer on the river, and the vegetation along the path was a wild tangle of skeletal seed heads and late blooms. *** This is a loving tribute. My writer's heart melted reading it. Mentors are everything. Thank you, Katie Ward, for stitching those words together. I booked an hour of a librarian’s time through the Toronto Public Library. Where is my crown? I had three specific questions about their collection and international library access. The response I got was thorough. Brilliantly helpful. Librarians are superheroes of democracy. They are on the front line. I read everything about Peggy Guggenheim. "For it was while staying at Yew Tree that the budding gallerist began to reframe her life, seriously considering her long-held desire of opening her own art museum." The privilege in buying a painting a day. This interview on funk music with D’Angelo is thoughtful — he is a pro and knows where he fits. The intro is pulse-raising. What he says about Prince is right. The list of bands he offers is a gift. I keep your notes in a file labelled "for the days of doubt." *** This week’s mood was R&B. The beauty of the collaboration in the first song. Then Snoh Aalegra followed by D’Angelo. Her angelic voice...the tension he creates with the keyboard...their vocal range...his live performance. Imagine the thrill of being in an audience full of feeling. A community singing along, “Won’t you get closer.” 202420192012Comments are closed.
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