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Showing posts from March, 2008

vintage maclean's ad of the day

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John and Mary Haines often smiled at each other whenever Dr. Frank Jones and Professor Morris Goldie came over to play checkers. They knew that Frank tended to down one too many bottles of Molson Golden, causing him to visualize Morris's wild mane of hair, well-trimmed beard and dignified bearing as the features of a lion. Morris won 95% of the matches, but Frank didn't mind as long as the professor provided literary odes to their favourite beer. Source: Maclean's , April 16, 1955. 

sign o' the times and tales of demolished pizza joints

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Lots of things happening here lately (night school, outings on the town, Easter with the family), hence the lack of entries over the past week. Luckily I've managed to avoid major collisions, though I may have served as an obstacle at a crowded gallery opening late last week ( photos here ). I also avoided spinning into other vehicles during a sudden snow storm on the drive home for Easter - flurries started around Tecumseh, then the sky opened up a few kilometres from home on a road surrounded by deep ditches. Cue white knuckles on the driver's wheel. Old Man Winter is starting to resemble the party guest who doesn't know when to leave. *** Another part of my childhood is vanishing. A recent post on International Metropolis spotlights the demolition of a long-vacant Mother's Pizza in downtown Windsor . We ate at Mother's regularly as kids, partly because it was family-friendly, partly because Mom loved the cinnamon ice cream served with apple pie. The

revisiting the queen street fire site

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Following up on a story from a couple of weeks ago , the site of the fire on Queen Street east of Bathurst, as it looked last week. Slightly spooky effect from the snow that has accumulated on the emptied site. Photo taken March 13, 2008 - JB

a seat at the kitchen table (1)

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There are birthday dinners. And then there are birthday dinners. A friend who I regularly dine out with decided that for her birthday this year, she wanted to have an evening that mixed good food and entertainment. Her choice was Colborne Lane , a downtown restaurant known for dabbling in molecular gastronomy . Anything with a term like that applied to it is enough to pique my curiousity, so I quickly accepted the invite. It may also have marked the first time I would ever eat at a spot reviewed by the New York Times . We ordered the Kitchen Table tasting menu, a 15-course sampler of the kitchen's wizardry. Among the seating options is a small room in the basement next to the kitchen, which we reserved to be close to the action. A window allowed us to see into the prep area, with half-a-dozen or so chefs carefully constructing dishes. The dessert chef was directly in front of us and we occasionally made faces or mimed questions for her. The room itself consisted a table fo

vintage national home monthly ad of the day

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Instant meat loaves covered in tangy orange marmalade or alien pods waiting to be hatched (with the buttered almond-topped cauliflower hiding the central brain)? *** Unlike other tinned meats previously featured on this site , I have eaten Prem. Growing up, it was the usual Spam knockoff found in the basement cupboard. I never was a great fan of the stuff, with my canned protein tastes running towards flakes of ham or Cordon Bleu/Paris Pate meat spreads. Once I hit my teens, Prem vanished from the dinner table. Source: National Home Monthly , July 1947 - JB

bank on bankette

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Bankette was one of the earliest ATM-style machines to operate in Canada. It was launched following tests of bank machines in the US and UK during the late 1960s and the introduction of a twenty-four hour cash dispenser by the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce in 1969. This magazine insert explains the wonders of this latest form of modern technology. Readers are dared to see if the application form still works. Source: Saturday Night , August 1972 - JB

seventies snapshot of the ambassador bridge

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The sun is just a dot in the sky next to the Ambassador Bridge in today's selection. The dirt path on the Windsor side is now paved and part of the city's riverfront recreation path. This stretch of green space is also the present home of the Odette Sculpture Park . Driving over the Ambassador Bridge may cause some confusion for the next year-and-a-half, thanks to a massive construction project that will allow direct access to its neighbouring freeways. I was in the area on the last day the surrounding stretch of I-75 was open and local radio stations were treating the upcoming closure in the same breathless tone as a severe winter storm ("HOW WILL YOU GET TO WORK ON MONDAY?"). Despite some tricky manoeuvring, unless massive backups result the bridge will remain my usual route to Motown for the time being. I'm more than willing to wait a few more minutes for goodies from Mexicantown. The church steeples to the right belong to St. Anne Roman Catholic Church,

i'm picking up 401 vibrations

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While I've spent a good deal of time driving along 401, exploring its underside usually means waiting for a traffic light to change. I suspect the psychogeographers were overdue for a look underneath Toronto's busiest road, as we did during last week's trek along a northern stretch of the Don River. One of the first stops was a lonely Info-to-Go pillar near Auberge du Pommier. Seems like an odd location, unless there was high demand from those walking through the valley, motorists whose broken-down vehicles barely made it off the 401 or smokers looking for reading material on a dinner break. From here we wandered down into the Don Valley Golf Course , which sees more pawprints than tees during the winter. The official city rules on how to behave while playing golf. At least the shirt restriction isn't so narrow that only polo shirts are allowed, as has been the case on my few outings to the fairway. Walking through the course wasn't a problem, as previous

words of wisdom from a bookstore sign

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Washtenaw Avenue, Ypsilanti, Michigan. Photo taken while waiting for a traffic light to change, February 23, 2008 - JB