Last Saturday afternoon, getting ready to go and about in our neighbourhood.
Foodie: Are you coming, or what?
Beast: Yes! And by the way, I’m taking my Fendi purse back.
Foodie: I only use it occasionally, but fine. What about your new Coach purse though?
Beast: A man can’t have too many purses.
It’s true. The Beast has three purses now. He’s got his Fendi, which you’ve heard about before.
He’s got a lovely leather Lamberston Truex (which an old pal of mine handed down to me and I handed it down to my mom and when my mom saw the Beast eyeing the purse like Donatello Versace eyes a nice porchetta sandwich, then she handed it down to him.)
And his most recent acquisition is a vintage Coach purse that came with the original box and everything.
Once the Beast had his purse packed, we set out for a Saturday afternoon stroll. After he bought a shirt that he felt made him look like an African jazz saxophone player from the 1970s and I bought a multi-coloured jump suit because it was made at a store in Port Stanley that no longer exists called The Kettle Creek Clothing Co. (their jump suits were the height of fashion for 30 year-old mothers in St. Thomas during the 1980s), we were starving.
Foodie: Hey! Let’s go to that sushi place up the street that I’m always talking about going to!
Beast: Sushi on Roncy?
Foodie: Yeah! Gio and Fabio say it’s good so it must be.
Beast: (mocking tone) Gio and Fabio say it’s good.
Inside, there was only one other table being served.
But neither of us felt uncomfortable. The place was presumably being run by a husband and wife team who had their two kids in helping out–but not in a creepy way at all: the kids were playing on the computer and learning how to roll the rolls. It was quite endearing, actually. Plus, I liked the fact that beside the standard menu that you’ll find at nearly every Japanese place in the city, these guys had a hand-written izakaya menu too.
And shortly after that, some deep-fried oysters and steamed tofu with kimchi that we’d ordered from the izikaya menu arrived.
Beast: Oh god these oysters are good.
Foodie: Aren’t they? I like the kimchi but I don’t think I like steamed tofu.
Beast: Did I tell you what happened to me on the subway yesterday?
Foodie: No, what?
Beast: I got on at Davisville with my headphones and book (The Beast wears headphones and carries a book on public transit so no one will talk to him) and I heard a voice, which I ignored. But finally I couldn’t ignore it – it was coming from a person with a thin mustache wearing a big back-pack and a hat. (Pause) And he was developmentally challenged.
Foodie: What was he saying?
Beast: That he’d seen the new subways at York Mills stations and he asked me if I thought they looked nice. And I said, “Yeah, they look great,” and put my head phones back on. And then he said, “They look really nice,” about three more times before I took my headphones off again. So I said, “Yeah, I saw them running one morning at Bloor and they look great.” And he said, “Yeah. You know you can go all the way up and down the cars–they are totally open.” And I said, “Yeah.” And he said, “They’re going to call it The Breeze.” And I said:
–They’re going to call it the Breeze. They had a contest.
–What? They’re not going to call it the Rocket?
–No. They’re going to call it the Breeze.
–Rocket is better.
–But I guess breeze is more apt, with the speed and efficiency at which the subway runs.
–I like breeze.
–I like rocket better.
–Where do you think they get the technology from?
–For the breeze?
–No. For rockets.
–Bambardier, I guess.
–I think they got it from outer space. Where else would it come from.
–Oh! Rockets. Yeah. I guess you’re right.
–I saw it in Star Trek.
–You like Star Trek?
–All of them.
–I only like the Next Generation.
–I like Star Wars too.
And then we discussed a bunch of arcane things from Star Wars, like the names of generals from the first three movies; the origins of Anakin; his high midichlorian count; the confusion that the jedi council felt at finding out about his midichlorian count; the age of Yoda; how it was that Luke could resist the Emperor and the dark side but Anakin couldn’t; what midichlorians are and the nature of the force. By this point we were going down the escalator at Bloor station and his friend/brother/supervision was dragging him away from me, saying that we had spoken enough.
Foodie: Is that all fucking true?
Beast: Wait, I haven’t even gotten to the best part: at the end he was stroking his fake beard and he said to me, “You look like someone, you look like someone, you look like someone, you look like some — Ben Kenobi!”
Foodie: HE DID NOT!!!!
Then our rolls, one with barbecued eel and another with spicy salmon, arrived.
Foodie: That story. Is that all true?
Beast: I couldn’t make shit like that up.
Foodie: You’re probably the most patient human I know. And I’m not just saying that because you talked with a retarded person on the subway about Star Wars. You’re patient with everyone. Sometimes you do stuff for people– including members of my own family–and I think, “I would never offer to help X move or to drive Y to the airport or to assist a stranger with no legs cross the street.” I wish I could be more like you–just giving.
Beast: You’re wrong. People think I’m nice but I’m not nice. Every thought in my head is just pure fucking evil. It’s just hate.
I’m not wrong. The Beast is truly generous. He gives without thinking about the rewards he could reap. When I give, there’s always an ulterior motive. And I realize I give him a hard time when it comes to washing dishes and making dinners and doing laundry but that guy is good–good to the core.
After our spontaneous and lovely lunch, we got home and I made banana bread using this recipe.
But I substituted duck eggs for chicken eggs! My friend Erinn brought me back half a dozen duck eggs from the farm she’s working on and they were so fresh that, how did she put it, “they came straight out of the duck’s ass just that morning.”
Then, of course, we had a fashion show.