1,513: VINTAGE FOODSERVICE AND HOSPITALITY AD OF THE DAY
Ah, the ads one stumbles upon while conducting research, such as this example of the fine outfits restaurants could order for their employees as the 70s gave way to the 80s. One might be convinced that Ms. Skinner really, really liked the colour scheme then employed by the San Diego Padres (I shouldn't laugh, given the brown and mustard yellow track suit top I have a fondness for).
My memory may be playing tricks on me, but I think that the waitress outfit shown in the bottom left picture was the uniform of choice at Sir Cedric's Fish & Chips in Windsor not long after this ad was published. I haven't been there in years, but Amy informs me the fish is as good as it ever was at the downtown location—flaky portions of cod and halibut in a batter that was crunchy but not particularly greasy.
Source: Foodservice and Hospitality, September 1980 - JB
After Stax, Amy and I headed into downtown Memphis. After parking next to a dead mall, we strolled along Beale Street and quickly determined it was the place to indulge in "big ass beer."
A. Schwab Dry Goods has been in business since 1876 and smells as if the opening day air was trapped inside. Still, who can resist monkeys and a giant can of whup a**, as shown in Schwab's window?
We ultimately decided Beale Street was ideal for an evening bar hop, but not for strolling on a sweltering afternoon.
Though time didn't allow us to have a thorough look, we wandered around the perimeter of the National Civil Rights Museum. Built around the shell of the Lorraine Hotel, this was the site where Martin Luther King Jr. was assasinated in 1968.
We wandered down to the Mississipi River but didn't linger long due to the oppressive heat and haze, which didn't help our depleted energy levels. This was followed by an accidental trip across the river into Arkansas when I made a wrong turn on the freeway. All I learned during our 10-minute stay in "the Natural State" was that drivers turn into maniacs upon crossing the state line. We beat a quick path back into Memphis.
After dinner, I noticed a light on the dashboard that shouldn't have been on, followed by a sluggish feeling coming from the front of the car. This required a trip to a dealership the following morning and a change in plans. I had intended to head south along the Mississippi to Clarksdale to see the "crossroads" of musical/Robert Johnson sells-his-soul-to-the-devil legend before heading east to Nashville. While sitting comfortably in the waiting room enjoying several court shows and Maury, I decided blues sites would have wait for another trip. We would drive across northern Mississippi then take the scenic Natchez Trace Parkway up to Nashville.
As we crossed the Tennessee/Mississippi state line on a back road, we passed more kudzu. The way it grew over anything in its path and created such smooth forms creeped out Mom. I thought of two things: my childhood fear of plants/"meteor s**t" growing over human flesh as in some horror stories I had encountered (OK, maybe it was just a nightmare or two I had after flipping through the comic book adaptation of Creepshow on a trip to Toronto), and the cover of R.E.M.'s Murmur.
We joined the Natchez Trace after a shopping stop in Tupelo. The highway stretches 444 miles from Natchez to the outskirts of Nashville. Based on a historical path mostly used in the early 19th century, the current highway was built between 1936 and 2005. Close to our starting point was the official vistor centre, where I picked up a guidebook and Amy played with some skulls.
We pulled off at various points along our 200 mile stretch of the parkway. One stop was Pharr Mounds, a series of native burial mounds north of Tupelo.
One of the most beautiful sights was the Tennessee River, which we crossed during our brief time in Alabama. It was hard to pull ourselves away from the small park on the north side of the John Coffee Memorial Bridge, as we took in the scenery. The parkway was a relaxing, easygoing drive that we imagined would be spectacular during the height of fall colour. We also suspected this would have been a road Dad would have loved every moment of.
About 40 miles into Tennessee, we stopped at the Meriwether Lewis memorial site. The explorer, one half of the Lewis and Clark duo, met his end at this site under mysterious circumstances. The wording on his monument ("melancholy death") sounds suspiciously like one theory usually trotted out, suicide. Erected in 1848, the monument is designed to look like a broken shaft to symbolize Lewis' untimely demise.
I love scrambled eggs, especially when Mom makes them. Two pots, some steam, a couple of eggs and the results are creamy goodness that I've rarely encountered when dining out. Topped with a splash of ketchup or Tabasco...yum.
I'm not sure if I want to mix eggs with condensed clam chowder or cream of potato soup to get that creamy texture. It appears the Campbell test kitchen was interested in devising a recipe to match the bad pun they came up with and finding out how much sodium can be dumped into holiday meals (though this last observation might be my recent aversion to most canned soups talking).
Compact disc players were introduced to the consumer market in late 1982. By the time this ad appeared four years later, portable players had arrived that allowed early CD buyers to listen as they wandered by Carnegie Hall. Nearly a quarter of a century later, some units of the XR-P9 continue to function.
(Sorry folks - the Detroit-Windsor ads in this issue weren't that spectacular)
In the August 1986 issue of Metropolitan Detroit:
* Cover story on the best and worst restaurants in Greektown. The control meal at each spot was Greek salad, moussaka and grilled lamb chops. None received glowing praise. Pegasus Taverna and Olympia fared best (two stars out of four), New Hellas and Greek Islands the worst ("poor", two rating levels below one star). Among the culinary dangers of noted by writer C.J. Chandler were "woefully overdone lamb, the shade of an exhaust pipe," "Salads a la Frigidaire, with lettuce the colour of yesterday's newspaper," and "service so bad that visitors actually find humour in it."
* A profile of three companies that staged comebacks from bankruptcy (or the brink of): Crowley's Department Stores, Michigan Baptist Homes and Allied Supermarkets. No idea what became of MBH, but Allied's Great Scott! stores disappeared in the early 1990s and some remnants of Crowley's were purchased by Value City, who called it quits last year.
* An interview with "the funky grandpas," two twenty-something dancers who won $50,000 in prizes on Dance Fever by performing as hunched-over, heavily made-up elderly men who suddenly sprung to life on the dance floor.
Random Windsor Restaurant Review
Himalaya *** (out of 4)
Review: "No place to go if you're interested in fast food, as it can be an hour before you see bite one. The trip is in the waiting, and talking, and waiting...and it is time well spent. Chef Oza is a treasure, his kids are disciplined waiters, and there is the food...tandoori chicken, beef and lamb curries, curious appetizers and things otherworldly. For Indian holdouts, there are French dishes like coq au vin and veal cordon bleu. All of this happens in an old Victorian house steeped in India, from the tapestries to the quiet, discordant music to the smells. An etheral experience."
Have I Ever Been There?: No. We had a take-out menu in a box of early 1970s maps I loved looking through as a child. My introduction to Indian cuisine occurred in Windsor, but at the New Asian Curry House on Wyandotte Street West.
My theories as to why we never went to the Himalaya:
1) The leisurely experience alluded to in the review, which I wouldn't have handled well as a teen.
2) Uncertainty as to whether it was still in business. It never received any press and the sign had faded significantly.
3) Though memory tells me that Dad said he enjoyed it, perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me.
Is It Still There?: Appears to be. The building and sign are still there and the odd review floats around the internet.
The current Arcade Building opened in 1960, six years after the original was demolished. One of the first events held there was a travel-themed "Career Girl Show" sponsored by The Globe and Mail and the Wool Bureau of Canada. "Tiny tables with red-checked cloths and gaily colored travel posters add a continental flavor to the fashion theatre," noted the Globe in a September 27, 1960 article. Besides offering the latest in globe-trotting fashions, participants could enter draws for all expense paid trips to exotic locations like Mexico and India. "If she is wise, any young woman about to be wed should take her fiance at least once to this show. Besides containing all sorts of trousseau suggestions, a visit may help the young couple to decide where to spend the honeymoon." No reviews of the calypso singers were provided.
Jem Dandy (in pill form) to the rescue...anyone else think this ad was drawn in forty-six seconds?
Subtitled "for men and women with the spirit of adventure and the hunt," Safari was published by Montreal-born bodybuilding guru Joe Weider. A flip through this issue gives the impression that the magazine was a he-man version of National Geographic, full of exotic photography of strange tribes, naked Inuit women and soon-to-be-deceased animals. The "booklengther" cover story was a ten-page excerpt from author/explorer/filmmaker/insurance executive Lewis Cotlow's book Zanzabuku. Pictures from Cotlow's 1954-55 trek through Kenya included a tea with baboons, antelopes and elephants, a hasty escape from a charging rhino and the tricky pursuit of a "meek, mild" giraffe (tip: if stopped abruptly, a giraffe's neck will snap). Cotlow's crew were advised by British authorities to be armed at all times, in case they ran into any problems caused by the Mau Mau insurgency.
My first visit to David Mirvish Books was during some forgotten childhood trip to Toronto. If we were in town on a Sunday, Dad would drive down to Markham Street to pick up that day's New York Times—whether this provided an excuse to browse or that he couldn't purchase a copy at Sunnybrook Plaza is a question I can't answer. While he checked out the art bargains, I scurried off to the children's section as I did in most book stores. I don't remember anything specific about going there other than liking the airy feel of the place.
After moving here, I dropped by regularly to check out the deals. It was usually one of my first stops upon returning from A'burg at Christmas, to check out the year-end sale. I rarely left empty handed on those occasions, usually picking up a cheap Taschen book or three.
I figured something was up during their annual post-Christmas sale, when boxes of art magazines from the 1960s and 1970s were placed in the middle of the store for a dollar apiece. Combined with other old, worn-looking books, it felt more like a rummage sale than the usual markdowns of regular items. Shortly after the sale ended, the store announced its closure.
This is the second specialty bookstore on the block to shutter in the past year, following the closing of architecture-focused Ballenford Books. As long as The Beguiling keeps going, I'll still have an excuse to venture down to Markham Street for some quality book-browsing time.
The main reason that I had never settled into one of their outside picnic tables or whatever form the building was in was that it didn't appear to be a spot suited for solo dining. All I ever saw were large groups passing around dishes and figured there probably weren't any set dinners for one. One Friday night, my current partner-in-crime and I pondered nearby spots to go and she remembered that I had never been in Lahore Tikka—why not tonight?
We ate in one of the trailers attached to the main building. Colourful linens were hung on the wall to liven up the 70s-style wall paneling. We sat side by side to stay out of the way of the sizzling platters for other diners that passed by the other side of table.
The menu doubled as a scorecard to hand back to the waiter. We checked off karahi chicken (pictured at top), plain rice, Lahori lamb kabab (picture above), samosas, naan, saag paneer and a long stick of almond kulfi ideal for two. The meal was a tasty one, though some dishes left worrisome oil slicks on our paper plates. Neither of us suffered any ill effects later on.
Going to the washroom was an eye-opener. The trek involved a flight down a narrow set of steps, a stroll past the kitchen and a sharp turn or two before reaching the opulent facilities. The washroom felt too spiffy to be heeding the call of nature. Just another odd piece in the complex's puzzle.
Lahore Tikka House
1365 Gerrard St E., Toronto - JB
Disclaimer: After a long hiatus, an old feature of this site returns. Blame it on several factors—diving into other projects, time factors, lethargy, stubborn belief in finishing one massive instalment before moving on to the next one, lumbago, etc.—choose the excuse you wish to believe. Most of the photos used in this post were shot in December 2006, in case you notice any outdated elements. The final entry in this series may include photo updates.
It may not resemble Manhattan's similarly monikered main artery, but Toronto's Broadway carries its share of history and stories, from rebellion launch site at its west end to a gateway to the Don Valley park system in the east. Broadway was one of the few side streets that ran through three municipalities in pre-amalgamation Metropolitan Toronto (Toronto, North York, East York). Among its homes and buildings lies several pieces of my family's history.
This three-part look will begin with most of its run through the old city of Toronto.
1 - Post Office Station K/site of Montgomery's Tavern 2 - Anne Johnston Health Centre 3 - North Toronto Collegiate Institute 4 - Northern Secondary School
Our trip begins just before Broadway starts. West of Yonge runs Montgomery Avenue, named after the inn that was located at the southwest corner. On December 4, 1837, a group of rebels led by fiery journalist/politician William Lyon Mackenzie gathered at Montgomery's Tavern and marched south along Yonge, leading to four days of confrontations with government troops. The rebels eventually retreated back to the tavern, where they were defeated on December 7.
The tavern was burned down and then rebuilt. Sold to Charles McBride in 1858, it was renamed the Prospect House and served as a meeting spot from the township council and Masonic Lodge. Destroyed by fire in 1881, the property was purchased by John Oulcott, who opened Oulcott's Hotel two years later.
The space at the northeast corner has been a cursed spot for eateries, a revolving door for most of the past decade. It looked like Yummi's, a Middle Eastern eatery, would dodge the curse but it ceased to be at the end of 2008. It appears the South St. Burger chain will be the next occupant.
Two apartment complexes greet those venturing east from Yonge, along with a busy Tim Horton's.
The first of several educational facilities along Broadway is St. Monica Catholic School. The first portion of the current building was erected in 1925.
The street runs along the backside of North Toronto Collegiate Institute. Established in 1910, the school moved to its current site two years later. My grandmother attended NTCI in the late 1920s.