Toronto, Distilled.

Keys to the rental car in hand, SCS and I fled to Toronto this past weekend to escape the deluge of work cascading over our desks and for a chance to visit friends. Oh, and to smell some fresh human. I’m pretty sure I heard the sheaves of paper whispering maniacal threats as we cast them aside for another day and darkened our computers. Threats they would multiply in our absence. And there they were, glowering like embers in the darkness, when we returned on Monday.

Roomy, but gutless, odd looking and unable to maintain its footing in the snow (sounds like me, though the swelling in my ankle has finally begun to abate, thanks so much), the black Dodge Magnum was at least comped due to poor service received from Enterprise. Again.

Being a fan of old buildings and interesting architecture, I had long wanted to head down to the Distillery District, which has been designated a national historic site and boasts some of North America’s finest examples of Victorian industrial architecture. It seems the former Gooderham and Worts Complex evolved over 170 years from a single, wind powered grist into the largest distillery in the British Empire. Restored in 2003, it is now home to art galleries, trendy restaurants and other stores, and is also an oft-used locale for movie sets, including Chicago, Cinderella Man and X-Men.

As snow danced between buildings and the cold carved its way into my sinews, I was reminded of how this would be a much more vibrant setting come summer when the patios are jammed. And, you know, it’s not sub-zero. But, a Balzac’s coffee (mmm, chocolate-dipped cookie stir stick) and a pastry later and I was back on the cobblestone streets.

As always, some signs and things from the voyage:

“Distillery District Daycare”? I’m imagining those are some of the best behaved children around. Sure, I’ve heard of rubbing some whisky on a teething toddler’s gums, but raising children in the distillery seems to be a whole new game. Graduate straight into AA. Finally, school t-shirts are highly sought after on the playground. School mascot’s likely a bottle, tipped like Pisa.


Outside Balzac’s in the Distillery District, I found this curious little sign over a basketful of brightly coloured biscuits. Literally translated, it reads “Nice dog” or "Kind dog"(oddly, not pluralized). Bad dogs be warned: No cookie for you. What if he was just dogged by a bad reputation? Can she get away with being a bitch? Or would they both be pooched? If so, it’d be a ruff life. Okay, I’ll stop now. Really.


Simply the best knife block. Ever.


And we saw this billboard in a couple of locations. So much for the British having a dry sense of humour. Yike.