My wife, my apartment, my kitchen, my cats, the weather (it’s already fall down here if you can believe it), the Toronto Islands, the restaurants, food in general (I know now that I’ve become a snob about food, it happened at the Atlantic Superstore when I realized I couldn’t buy Maille Cornichons, and it was reinforced when I couldn’t – even at the best butcher shop around – buy chicken hearts or even livers), the traffic, yes the traffic, the noise, the way Torontonians don’t jump up and run to the window whenever an emergency vehicle screams by, the beer - Steam Whistle in particular (although there is now a brew pub in town selling its wares at the LC and it’s pretty good), my local pool with its free swims, my friends, public transit.
But Toronto isn’t all that, as the kids used to say. If only we could import the sea (I know we have a lake, it doesn’t smell right, that’s all I have to say) and the air (see comment re: sea smell) and convince my Island friends to come to the big city. That would be nice.
Oh, yes and the oysters. Toronto is too far away from oysters. There ain’t nothing in the world like sitting by the bay your food just came out of.
Gadzooks! editor Rod Weatherbie has spent more than a month in Canada’s smallest province. While there, he was forced to enjoy a feed of fresh oysters and quahogs in a small fishing village near the ocean. We look forward to his return.