Articles tagged with: Food
I don’t know for you but at home, grocery shopping is the barrel of the Danaids. There is always a key product missing—it’s like our fridge is swallowing the contents when we are not looking.
Today is Chinese New Year, and our multicultural house is celebrating the beginning of spring (not quite there yet in Canada!) and the beginning of the year of the Snake.
I must have walked/driven by the Merivale Fish Market thousands of times, but I had never tried it. I didn’t even know what kind of food they had exactly—well, fish, obviously, but I wasn’t sure what kind of place it was.
Well, now we’ve been there. Verdict? Good fish but I found the restaurant overpriced and the service wasn’t great.
The day after Canada Day, a friend of mine and I headed to Chinatown for a sushi lunch. Our first choice was Sushi 88 but it was closed for the day, so we went next door to Yummy Sushi, an all-you-can-eat sushi place I had never tried.
The great part about immigrating to a new country is that you don’t lose anything—you gain new experiences and broaden your horizon. Sure, I occasionally miss French food (although I can quickly get sick of it) but I also discovered a lot of new products that don’t exist in France, or foods I just wasn’t familiar with.
Ottawa is addicted to Phở, the Vietnamese soup. A few years ago, one phở restaurant opened, then another one, and another one… and now phở places can be found from Chinatown to the far suburbs of Kanata. Really, what’s not to like? Phở restaurants are typically cheap if not very fancy, and I guess the soup is quite comforting during our long winters.
I’m not your typical cordon bleu French cook, but I tend to stay away from supermarket bakeries because the lists of ingredients they use scare me. So once in a while, I bake. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated: I usually follow recipes loosely (seriously, who has all the ingredients on hand?) and hope for the best.
I usually avoid eating in the Byward Market because some of Ottawa’s worse restaurants operate there, and because food can be pricey and mediocre. I always feel for tourists who end up there and pay big bucks for bad food. But sometimes, there are nice surprises.
When I’m in Canada, my French foodie friends and I sometimes indulge in food porn fantasies, naming the brands of cookies we miss the most and the dishes we wish we could recreate but can’t because there is always some key ingredient missing. So when I went to France after a two-year long absence, I had my eyes set on the food.
A decade ago, José Bové, the farmer syndicalist, was fighting against junk food (he famously sacked a McDonald’s franchise to make his point) and French would rather have some baguette with stinky cheese than a hamburger. But the more I walk in Nantes, the more I wonder whether the French diet is still a good diet.