(I wrote this little snippet of a memorable evening of eating out on a day of power outage in the lives of Torontonians back in July. Since I enjoyed writing about it, and wanted it to live in the archives, I am publishing it here today:)
Toronto has been especially rainy this summer. I joke that we have become “The London” since it rains every single day, or so it seems.
This past week we had a torrential downpour.
Thousands of basements got flooded.
Highways got clogged.
People got stranded.
Subway stations started leaking.
All because the amount of rain that came down was more than this city is designed to handle.
All this flooding was most prominently accompanied by a major power outage affecting almost all of the city and its suburbs.
My street did not have power for around 9 hours during the day and evening. The hum of the air conditioning that is a remarkable sound during the summer months was absent all day. The humidity of the day was running unchecked from the air to people’s bodies, to their brains-
irritation and annoyance was a common side effect.
My husband walked the 8 kilometers from his work to home to avoid the leaky and majorly crowded subways. The mugginess of the day had me swapped out of all energy without the long walk though the city.
I did not envy him his walk.
Opening the refrigerator to pull out ingredients when we had no idea of when exactly the power would be restored did not seem like a great idea.
Could someone else cook and feed us?
We went for a walk to our market area to find out.
As expected, the restaurants were all shuttered with the chairs atop the tables.
No food was being dished out anywhere.
We walked to the farthest end of the street that we consider our cut-off point intersection.
Beyond that street it ceases to be our neighbourhood in our heads.
But lo and behold, our favourite Indian restaurant Leela, at the farthest end of our neighbourhood business area was serving!
The doors were propped open, and well, we were welcome to sit at a table if we were up to eat hot and spicy Indian food in an airless room with smells and heat of cooking wafting in the room.
We questioned our sanity and decision…
but decided to take the table closest to the door nonetheless!
Cool, not cold, beers were the first order of business.
With those in hand we crafted our menu for the evening.
The room was on the dark side, the air was still, and a layer of sweat was already present under my clothes and on my face. The stillness of the warm air was not helping. This whole scene seemed surreal, but somehow familiar.
My husband and I looked at each other, with a smile playing on our lips…the realization of the familiarity of the scene, from our childhoods, from the days of simplicity and make-dos.
Yes, it took us back to our time back in India.
Power cuts, heat, sweat, spicy smells lingering in the air- all so very common back in the 90s, all a part of who we are, where we come from.
The food was delicious if hard to eat for my son for whom it was a scene from the movies, or maybe a dream.
Soon after, the restaurant was not accepting guests as their kitchen was getting too dark to work in.
We asked for second beers but they were mildly tepid at this point. Oh well, any liquids to dilute the heat of spices in our mouths was welcome. Our lovely serving lady had to use a calculator to add up our cost after we reminded her what we ate.
We had no more cash left to give her a tip. We promised to return the next day for that. They’ve seen us around enough to know we’d stick to our word. We left the warm stuffy room with big smiles on our face, stuffed tummies, and extra food for one more meal.
Knowing this day will be etched in our memories for a long while to come…
We met neighbours and acquaintances on our walk home. Exchanging our adventures on this remarkable day made it seem so very festive.
And the last adventure:
The ice cream shop on our way home giving out free ice cream! That had us end our day with a dollop of sweetness…