Must-see films from TIFF’s Rebel Yell series

By

-

2:36 pm

For a reprieve from summer blockbusters, TIFF Bell Lightbox presents a series of films that are far more thought-provoking. Rebel Yell: A New Generation of Turkish Women Filmmakers is a collection of features, documentaries and shorts that are directed by women in a culture that has long been dominated by men.

Save for one intrepid and prolific woman, Bilge Olgaç, who directed a few dozen films in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s, cinematic Turkish history has been mostly dictated by men. Over the past 15 years though, female filmmakers have seized the opportunity to have their work seen and their voices heard.

With that, here are some good bets for the week-long series.

Present Tense

Opening up the series is a 2012 a fictional telling of an all-too real possibility. Mina (Sanem Öge, an award winner at the Istanbul Film Festival) flees her marriage and her family, desperately taking up a job as a fortune teller. Mina confronts her own problems as well as those of her clients in an eye-opening and beautiful film.
Aug. 22, 6:30 p.m.

Beginnings

A fascinating geopolitical documentary, Beginnings follows the 2012 Speaking to One Another project, which saw the coming together of youth from Armenia and Turkey. It is a forum for discussions and understanding, as the curious and concerned broach ideas of gender roles, privacy, free speech, genocide and of course history, among others. Intimately shot, the film is at its best when director Somnur Vardar simply lets the camera roll and allows his subjects to talk openly and honestly.
Aug. 24, 1 p.m.

On The Coast/The Moustache/Concrete Park

First up on this set of three short documentaries is On the Coast, which depicts the small seaside town of Erikli in summer. It’s followed by The Moustache, a look at the importance of moustaches in Turkish culture. The third film, Concrete Park, turns the camera on young men in Turkey to discuss the difference between reality and appearances.
August 27, 6:30 p.m.

The Play

This 2005 documentary by Pelin Esmer follows a group of nine women who reside in a mountain town. Together, they write and perform a play called The Outcry of Women! based on their life stories. The process and result is captured as the women barrel ahead with unbridled enthusiasm, and the men watch from afar, dubious and left out.
Aug. 29, 6:30 p.m.

Rebel Yell: A New Generation of Turkish Women Filmmakers, TIFF Bell Lightbox, Aug. 22-25

Acclaimed chef Oliver Glowig makes a guest appearance at The Ritz-Carlton’s Toca

By

-

10:53 am

0

For the next four nights, esteemed chef Oliver Glowig will be taking over the kitchen at The Ritz-Carlton’s Toca as a sort of pop-up concept. Glowig, a German-born chef who is currently based in Rome, has earned numerous Michelin stars throughout his career. At Toca, he will be offering items from his eponymous restaurant in Rome.

Glowig’s à la carte menu at Toca includes lemon risotto with raw seafood ($26), foie gras with red onion sorbet ($26) or cod wrapped in a crispy bread crust ($32). Toca’s current chef de cuisine, Gihen Zitouni, will join Glowig in the kitchen. They will offer a tasting menu in addition to an à la carte menu.

Online reservations are sold out, but patrons looking to sample Glowig’s cooking can still make reservations over the phone. Glowig’s guest tenure at Toca starts tonight and runs until Aug. 25.

Toca, 181 Wellington St. W., 416-585-2500

First Draught: Roman Candle, a firecracker of an IPA from Bellwoods Brewery

By

-

9:30 am

0

Encouraging readers to try new and interesting styles of beer is something I consciously try do with this column. This week, though, I have something more familiar (everyone’s heard of IPAs, right?), but I think this one is particularly well-made.

Held to the light, Bellwoods’ Roman Candle IPA shows a clear, brassy-gold colour topped with a rocky white head.

The aroma — predominantly grapefruit, citrus zest and that pine-cedar woodsy smell, with a touch of more exotic tropical fruit — is its strongest suit. Keep coming back to it as your glass (hopefully a beer tulip or other vessel with inward-curving sides) empties, and you’ll get an undiluted sense of what North American hops smell like.

On the palate, the flavour is of white grapefruit, resin and bitterness, but it has less caramel and malty sweetness than other IPAs. That means that Roman Candle is crisp and refreshing, but in my opinion, it won’t hold up as well when the weather cools and beckons slow-sipping IPAs.

Despite the muddled mythology that this style travels well — yes, there were British soldiers in India, and many of them drank beer, but it’s not accurate to think that India pale ales were purpose-built just for that market — this is a beer that should be consumed as soon after it’s bottled as possible.

That’s added incentive to head down to the brewery to get a few bottles directly from the source.

Bellwoods Brewery’s Roman Candle, $5.50 for a 500 ml bottle. Available at the brewery at 124 Ossington Ave.

In addition to covering beer, new restaurants and food trucks for Post City, David Ort writes about food and drink for several Toronto publications including his own site, Food With Legs. He is also the author of the upcoming Canadian Craft Beer Cookbook. For more of his thoughts on food, beer and life in general, follow him on Twitter or get in touch at [email protected].

Arcade Fire violinist takes the spotlight

By

-

4:25 pm

0

Sarah Neufeld, member of Grammy Award–winning, Montreal-based band Arcade Fire, released her first album as a solo artist this week. A tireless collaborator, Neufeld says it was time she pushed herself and her instrument to see what could be done. Plenty, as it turns out.

Toronto will get an opportunity to hear Neufeld live at The Drake Hotel tomorrow night.

“It was great to have this experience I’d never had before,” says Neufeld, on the phone from New York City where she co-owns a Moksha Yoga studio.

“We did the recording and mixing in 10 days, and I’d always wanted to do that. Just be really prepared, have a really clear vision of what you want to do and go in and do it. It happened that way and it was pretty organic. It worked out really well.”

Hero Brother, released Aug. 20 on Constellation Records, is an exercise into just how much can be done with a single stringed instrument.
Some songs are meditative, some layered and crying out for interpretation. It is a record that demands attention.

“I don’t have one approach to the instrument, one genre where I’m coming from more than others,” says Neufeld.

“Some pieces are verging on the more aggressive rhythmic, fiddling ones, melodic. It is not easy to define, and that’s what might be cool for people. It calls out for interpretation. It challenges ears and invites you to get involved.”

Neufeld has been in love with the violin since she was two years old, waiting an entire year of her young life, enduring having to sit through her older brother’s lessons, before she got her turn when she turned three.

“I remember feeling like I’d been waiting forever,” she says. “I was really connected to the instrument even before I had my own ridiculously tiny violin.”

Growing up in a rural community on Vancouver Island within a musical community exposed the young Neufeld to a wide range of music.

The whole Royal Conservatory thing didn’t really stick. But she learned to improvise, play folk music, rock, jazz and classic fiddle tunes.

It was her passion for musical exploration that brought her to Montreal’s Concordia University as a teenager.

It was the only school she could find that allowed string instruments into the jazz program. She ended up majoring in electronic music, meeting collaborators she continues to work with today.

Shortly after her arrival, Neufeld joined up with Win Butler and the gang from Arcade Fire as well as the instrumental band Bell Orchestre. In 2009, she also joined the Luyas.

Her solo experimentation began two years ago when she posted a video online for a song called “Scalpel/Stradivarius.”

“I’ve been chipping away at the idea a little bit for the past few years,” Neufeld explains. “Then I did the piece with Jason Last for Vogue Italia. It was a nice experience. It turned out I was very happy with it.… It was a really nice starting point. I felt like I’d tapped into a well of this type of idea that I could draw out and see how much more I could learn and express in that direction.”

Sarah Neufeld, The Drake Hotel, Aug. 22

Ecks and the City: solo travel is the best therapy ever

By

-

10:45 am

0

“Do you want to meet for coffee Friday?” a good friend e-mailed me two weeks ago.

“Sure! I’m in Mexico. Do you want to come here?” I wrote back jokingly.

“You’re there again?” she replied.

“Yes!” I said. And I don’t feel guilty in the least. At least twice (maybe three) times a year, this mommy takes herself on solo vacations, anywhere from five to 10 days.

I love travelling as much as my daughter loves french fries, which is to say, “an obsessive amount.” My daughter is in overnight camp right now. I’m in Playa Del Carmen (the Yorkville of Mexico).

I’m such a feminist that not only do I sometimes forego shaving my legs, but I believe that my fiancé (and our nanny and his mother) can help take care of the baby just as much as mommy can. In fact, I think it may be entirely possible that my mother-in-law likes me travelling because she is so in love with our son (I think she sometimes wants to adopt him).

People ask me all the time, “How do you do it?”

To which my response is “Do what? A cartwheel?”

Some people just can not travel on their own. Rather, they don’t want to or simply don’t get the appeal. I like to travel alone. I look forward to travelling alone because I like being alone. Thanks to my profession, I can pretty much travel anywhere with a laptop to any place that has working Wi-Fi (this will and has been my excuse to never go on a cruise). I’m just so much more productive when I’m not working in Toronto. It’s sort of sad, actually, that I have to get on a plane for almost four hours to get to a place, literally and figuratively, where I am more productive and creative in one morning than I am in Toronto in an entire week.

When I wake up on my “working vacations,” I don’t need an alarm. My inner clock wakes me by saying, “You’re in a beautiful place. The sun is out. Why don’t you go try writing outside for a little bit?”

And I listen. It’s definitely a nicer inner voice than speaks to me at home, which yells, “Get your daughter ready for school and your son needs a diaper change and you have to sign that permission form!” I do not wake up with a smile in Toronto. I grunt when I wake up in Toronto.

As I’ve mentioned, I’m staying in the Yorkville area of Mexico, with a Starbucks and shops that sell bikinis for more than $300 (US, not pesos). I noticed the other day, while in Mexico, that I was actually talking to myself, after not talking to another human in more than two days. But lonely? Nope. There’s so much to do, and my questions to myself, after I’ve done my work, are usually, “So, do you want to go to the beach or get a massage?” (A massage here is $25 and a nail polish change is $6). Or, “Do you want to go for a walk or take a nap?” Or, “Do you want to take a quick walk, then read, then take a nap?” (“Yes, yes, and yes,” my brain answers with little restraint.)

And let’s not forget the peace and quiet when you travel alone. Fifty per cent of the time at my house, I have four children. There’s always the baby, the dog and the fiancé around. Here? The loudest noise I hear is the ceiling fan. Pure bliss. Here, I can actually think clearly. I take better care of myself on solo vacations than I do at home; I can eat healthier, go to bed by nine and go for hour-long walks twice a day.

I also follow Journeywoman, run by Yorkville resident Evelyn Hannon (the mother of Erica Ehm), for women travelling on their own. One of her best ideas is to immediately go to a grocery store, take a bag and keep it on you wherever you go for the rest of the day. This way it’ll look like you live wherever you are visiting and are not a tourist.

Then there’s the packing aspect. After packing for a family of six for our last vacation, the beauty of actually packing a carry-on is as freeing as if I just got out of jail after a 30-year sentence.

Admittedly, my fiancé does not love the fact I like to travel alone, but it’s the one thing he knows I will not compromise on. I do miss my baby, but it’s not like I’m gone for six months. I think it’s good that he bonds with other family members. So how do I afford this? I give up other things and save for travel, my one true love that has never disappointed me or called me “fat.” If you’ve never tried it, and don’t want to, that’s fine. But if you have the inkling to try it, do it. For a few glorious days, your biggest stress is whether you should “get a smoothie” or finish that book.

The day I was leaving, my fiancé asked if I was “excited to come back?” I am not excited to come back, but I was excited to see him and my baby.

So now I’m back in Toronto — already trying to break up the stress that seems to appear as soon as I land at Pearson, and also already planning my next solo vacation. It’s a good thing I like myself so damn much.

Post City Magazines’ columnist Rebecca Eckler is the author of Knocked Up, Wiped! and her latest books, How to Raise a Boyfriend and The Lucky Sperm Club.

Drink This: Black Dice Cafe’s Hime

By

-

10:16 am

0

Black Dice Cafe is a neighbourhood gem. Perched on a once-sleepy neck of Dundas Street West, amidst Portuguese sports bars and a bevy of newcomers like Cafe Bar Pasta, this retro space from owner Hideki Saito rings in its fourth birthday come September. Inside, regulars sit at ’50s-style tables — dotted with lamps emitting a greenish glow — and nurse beverages against a backdrop of rockabilly tunes.

Drink offerings include numerous of brews on tap in addition to a collection of mostly sake-based cocktails. The Hime ($8) — which translates into princess in Japanese, and is one of Saito’s daughter’s names — starts with Gekkeikan Traditional sake. It’s mixed with plum wine, peach schnapps and lime juice, and it’s served in a martini glass.

This sweet Japanese cocktail has some citrus edge, making it a light and refreshing option for a hot summer’s eve.

Black Dice Cafe, 1574 Dundas St. W.

Karolyne Ellacott is a features editor at Post City Magazines. She pedals around town in heels, eating sandwiches and drinking cocktails. She writes about that, and about about other stuff too. She is also on Twitter.

For more must-try Toronto cocktails, check out our Pinterest page

Eating Gross Things: stinky rotten fish from Sweden

By

-

12:12 pm

0

What is up with the lack of rotten fish in Toronto? Seriously, anyone who has a craving for decrepit old herring, the kind that smells like terrible diaper caca, is kind of screwed in this town because it’s nearly impossible to find surströmming here.

The fact that this odd Swedish delicacy, the stinkiest of all stinkies, is mostly unavailable in Toronto is curious. How difficult can it be to manufacture rotten fish? Take a bunch of herring, throw it into a bucket and chillax for a few months. Sell for a ridiculous profit. Easy peasy.

Well, yes, there is that whole thing about “market demand,” and most people don’t care for surströmming. Scandinavian people apparently like it. In North America, it’s considered disgusting, like most other interesting things. But it’s actually really good — fascinatingly good — as long as you can ignore your body’s full-fledged instinct to just stay the Jesus Murphy away from the stuff.

As an eater of all things putrid, I had been searching for surströmming in Toronto for a while, to no avail. Not even Karelia Kitchen, a Scandinavian café on Bloor West, stocks it. So thank the Gods of Asgard for Jamie Drummond, a local writer and sommelier, who recently made a trip to Stockholm and purchased a few cans to bring back to Toronto. He hosted a stinky fish party at Midfield Wine Bar last week to raise money for The Stop. I made sure to attend.

Surströmming smells way, way worse than pretty much anything. It is difficult to convey the aroma without referencing fecal matter. I asked Drummond to describe it using stuffy sommelier language, but he just sighed and said, “I can’t go there right now.” So just imagine an odour that pairs very well with potty humour, one that emanates much farther than you’d ever expect a smell to emanate.

The appearance is almost equally as gross. Peering inside a can of surströmming is like visiting the Dead Marshes in The Lord of the Rings, or like gazing upon the remains of a bunch of stubborn fish who got caught up in some kind of ideological war, who dug trenches and slaughtered each other with mortars and then got rained on until they all ended up a big pile of rot-meat in the mud.

The taste, though, is stupendous. It’s like anchovies times a bazillion, and it’s worth every second of odour-inspired trepidation. If the flavour were a person, it would be one of those old-school strongmen from freak shows of yore, who weren’t sculpted like pretty little Arnold Schwarzenegger but were straight-up brawny to their very souls. Bald, with those rolls at the base of their necks, and they were probably sleeping with the bearded lady, too.

Tasting surströmming is the culinary equivalent of skydiving. It’s like taking electric currents of saltiness and umami and hooking them straight to your gonads. It’s good on its own, but it’s great with a bit of onion and flatbread. And the fun just refuses to stop — the soap-immune stench remains on your hands for hours afterward.

Conclusion: I don’t know who invented surströmming, and am actually kind of mystified that it ever came to be. But in tribute, I am going to have a Jerry Maguire moment and just stand atop my chair and shout “surströmming” three times in a row. Man that felt good.

Jon Sufrin is the editor of PostCity.com. For his column, Eating Gross Things, he eats things that are widely considered to be gross and writes about it. He has no scientific method to determine what “gross” means. The article is just meant to be fun, so relax. For more of his thoughts on stuff, gross and not, follow him on Twitter. If you would like to suggest a gross food item for him to try, email him at [email protected].

The Price is Right hits Toronto, proceeds to suck

By

-

11:39 am

0

There was something just a little off about The Price is Right Live, a watered-down touring version of the longstanding mid-day game show that rolled into the Molson Amphitheatre on Sunday. Not that it mattered one iota to the throngs of eager wannabe contestants on hand.

Outside of the iconic branding, a few familiar games and the ever-recognizable urging to “come on down,” there weren’t many elements that were consistent with the beloved show. For one thing, there was no Drew Carey — rather, a grating “tour host” was in his stead.

But even beyond the host, the show was clearly stripped-down in comparison to the TV show. The staging was surprisingly minimalist, with little glitz beyond a big “The Price is Right” banner and, of course, the presence of the signature wheel. For those contestants lucky enough to hear their names called, the prize offerings paled in comparison to those served up in the Burbank, California studios. Where prize packages on the TV program are routinely highlighted by cars or exotic vacations, Toronto participants couldn’t aspire to much more than a free fridge or kitchenware.

But you wouldn’t know it by the response of the spirited audience.

The 4,000 hopefuls on hand were colourful in more ways than one, donning a rainbow’s worth of bright shades and loud clothing. The traditional spirit of The Price is Right is distinctly kitsch, and the show’s Toronto fans responded accordingly. Ladies proudly exhibited shirts identifying themselves as “Barker’s Beauties” (the collective identity of the eye-catching models who display the show’s prize offerings, named so in association with former Price host Bob Barker), while men donned Maple Leafs jerseys for a clear Canadiana flavour.

The fans’ spastic responses were no different from what you’d see on TV, nor was the frantic energy during the Showcase Showdown and the fan favourite game of Plinko.

In short, an enthusiastic crowd made the most of the road show, even if the price wasn’t quite right.

Playa Cabana’s Dave Sidhu sets his sights on Koreatown

By

-

4:56 pm

0

Dave Sidhu, the man behind the Playa Cabana restaurants, is opening new taquerias at a lightning-fast pace, and he’s showing no signs of slowing down. After just opening Playa Cabana Hacienda in July, he’s set to open a fourth restaurant in Koreatown, which will be named, appropriately, Barrio Coreano.

Now Magazine reported about the upcoming restaurant earlier today, and we called Sidhu to find out more. He says that the new spot will serve many of the standards that the Playa Cabanas are known for, but adds, “It will have more of a Korean influence.” That means fusion items like kalbi beef tacos, gojuchang spicy chicken tacos or Korean-inspired pozole.

Sidhu says that the new 60-seat taqueria is slated to open in about a month and a half at 642 Bloor West, near Euclid.

Wanted: this polka-dot romper from Nowhereland

By

-

12:50 pm

0

Grown-ass women with overflowing closets like myself know that something as simple as getting dressed in the morning can, on certain days, feel as challenging as performing open heart surgery blindfolded. An outfit consisting of a top, a bottom, shoes and accessories can produce endless permutations, wreaking havoc on your punctuality in the process. Enter the romper.

This one-piece time saver is a must-have for every woman who has too much stuff on the go but still hopes to maintain an aura of effortless charm and whimsy. Think of it as a playful suit that you can wear to work, thanks to the valiant efforts of romper-loving successful women like Zooey Deschanel and Michelle Williams. Other than the slightly awkward trips to the bathroom, there is nothing complicated about sticking your legs through some pants and wrapping a belt around your waist to keep things modest.

An excellent entry point, if you’ve never participated in jumpsuiting, is Nowhereland’s black and white polka dot romper. Its all-over dotted print is a perennial classic, while the belted waistline gives the garment a feminine silhouette. The low (but not too low) back and breathable fabric also make this an asset for the warmer months.

Since this is pretty much the last month a romper can be worn without needing another layer, grab it before the weather turns ugly — and before it sells out. This jumpsuit is now available, on sale for $40, at Nowhereland in Kensington Market.

$40. Available at Nowhereland, 165 Augusta Ave. (inside Pretty Freedom)

Concert Review: Blue Rodeo at the Molson Amphitheatre

By

-

11:31 am

0

Blue Rodeo hit the Molson Amphitheatre on Saturday night, the second of the venue’s two annual showcases involving made-it-big local talent. But where Drake’s OVO Fest has quickly morphed into a must-see happening, Blue Rodeo’s yearly August show has almost become a non-event.

Sure, Saturday’s attendance represented a slight step up from recent years — a bump that could be attributed to the numerous comped tickets distributed, along with the fact that The Ex ran concurrently with the show this year — but it was another safe, predictable show from Jim Cuddy and co.

Under another clear sky (Blue Rodeo shows always seem blessed with phenomenal weather), the band gave their fans the show that has come to be expected. They dipped into their formidable songbook and cranked out the favourites (“Cynthia,” “5 Days in May” and “Hasn’t Hit Me Yet” got the biggest pre-encore responses) and offered up no shortage of local references as an appreciative nod to the crowd.

The only distinction between this show and those of previous Augusts (aside from the lights aglow backdrop from The Ex’s giant ferris wheel) was the somber tone set by Cuddy in recognizing the band’s recently deceased former keyboardist, James Gray.

Don’t get me wrong — there is nothing wrong with the consistent quality performances of Blue Rodeo. The 19-song set was without a low point while still allowing for a growth in energy that bubbled over during an encore of “Til I Am Myself Again,” “Try” and the show-capping “Lost Together,” which is always best served under a clear, starry sky.

But the end result is a crowd that is left more satisfied and content than buzzing. The only real surprise of the night came in the form of the show-opener, Bahamas (a.k.a Afie Jurvanen), a local musician who served up 45 minutes of impressive folksy/bluegrass sound. But as far as surprises go, Kanye West he is not.

The concern here is that as perfectly solid as Saturday night’s show was, there existed a looming sense of Blue Rodeo moving further and further away from relevance and into under-appreciation. Sure, the long-time diehards will stick around, but will a new generation of music fans end up missing out?

College Street curiosity shop The Arthur is set to close at the end of the month

By

-

2:33 pm

0

The Arthur, a popular College Street destination for new and vintage housewares and other curiosities, is closing at the end of August. Owner Liz Ikiriko informs us she is leaving the business to take on a new full-time job.

The Arthur started as an online store in 2010 and burgeoned into a full retail store on College Street in the summer of 2011. The store’s eclectic goods have included maps, small chairs, coffee tables, vintage typewriters and refurbished barn ladders, along with new wares such as watches by Braun and perfumes by Province Apothecary.

If you’re in the area, head over to The Arthur for a quick stop-in at the small but charming 350-square-foot space to bid it farewell (and to scoop some items from the final sale — everything is 50 per cent off).

The online shop is slated to close as well, but it will continue to operate until after Christmas.

The Arthur, 550 College St., 416-972-0725