Bloorp.

I’ve lost count of the times that people my age — and younger — have already whined profusely about “getting so old.”

What is it about age that is so upsetting? Or maybe the more accurate question is, when did it become fashionable to complain about getting old? I know I’m not counting down the days until I can justifiably whine about counting down the days to my oh-so-fast-approaching old age.

Two months ago, I celebrated another year being tacked on to my life and I embraced every second. Matt took me to a cute French restaurant in one of the most unexpected areas of Toronto where we feasted on garlicky escargot, hearty cassoulet and to cap off the evening, a plate of a puffy profiteroles trio…

Read More

There’s something about vague fortune cookie fortunes that always make me feel stuff.

Snapped at Kom Jug Yuen Restaurant  in Toronto Chinatown.

Please draw your attention to this pizza slice.

I came to this revelation when I entered New York City’s Little Italy Pizza, which was, um, not in Little Italy. In disbelief, as if I couldn’t believe my own eyes,  I asked the man behind the counter, “Is that a spaghetti and meatballs pizza?!”

And when he responded, “It sure is,” I knew immediately that this was the slice waiting for someone like me to come along and give it a good home.

Allow me to reiterate: a spaghetti & meatballs pizza. It should come as no surprise to anyone that this did not last long.

As my friend Kate pointed out, “That’s such an E-Claire thing to eat.”

By request, I am posting this picture: my first tornado potato.

I went to The Ex with my pal Duncan last summer, where we made many unsuccessful attempts at various midway games that resulted in significantly lighter wallets. We decided to punish reward ourselves with some artery-clogging delicacies.

I’d heard tell of the tornado potato and upon first glance, decided it must be consumed at once — with a silly face, no doubt.

In the words of food lovers around the world: Om nom nom.