My grandmother is strictly a "mince and tatties" woman who admonishes anything spicy or new. I remember as a kid being treated to pizza while we were there and her sampling it for the first time. She didn't get past the first bite, finding it "too spicy" and telling my dad she didn't eat ethnic foods while she ran for the Tums because what we'd fed her was sure to cause heartburn. I have almost the opposite of my grandmother's taste in food. Anything spicy, ethnic is exactly what I'm looking for. All the better if I can't pronounce it off the menu without asking for help.
I grew up in a small town, and one of the down sides to small town living meant that the diversity of food came from the "Chinese & Canadian" restaurant downtown and that was "ethnic food" for us. It was certainly more diverse than what my dad had grown up with, and my mum is an excellent chef, but ethnic diversity wasn't so great in a town of 15,000 people.
Moving to university in Hamilton introduced me to excessive drinking, a different bar for every night of the week and a love of Indian food - I'd take the bus downtown to restaurants there.
Life in Windsor though really was a step up. It introduced me to a huge diversity of foods from around the world. I know it gets a bad wrap (who hasn't called it the armpit of Ontario?) but it's the fourth most ethnically diverse city in Canada. The range of cuisine there in the world was incredible. Within blocks of each other you can find Italian cuisine and freshly made pasta, Authentic Polish food, Great Arabic and middle eastern restaurants and grocers, Indian restaurants with Tandoori ovens and Thai and Vietnamese restaurants. There was even an Eritrean restaurant with delicious injira and curries. Most often the food was plentiful, authentic, made to order, and perhaps most importantly to a student on a budget, cheap. The decor frequently left lots to desire, and to me that was part of the charm. It was there that I really fell hard for the small hole-in-the-wall ethnic restaurants and haven't looked back.
At one Thai place in particular I became a regular, bringing friends, family, strings of bad dates and anyone who was visiting. It was a single storey stucco building with plastic table cloths on the tables, with metal chairs that had vinyl covers, some ripped, some not. The blinds were different colours, and the paint on the walls wasn't all one colour. Water was served in rubbermaid containers right from the tap, and the menus were in duotangs. Hardly anything you'd call fancy but I loved it and somehow it wouldn't be the same place if it had palatial surroundings, cloth napkins and elegant decor. Part of its charm was its simplicity.
It was run by a husband and wife team; he spoke enough English to take orders and wait tables, but not much more. She spoke even less, and did most of the cooking in the back, though they always helped each other out.
Sara and I used to go to lunch there for the $5.95 specials (soup, spring roll and entree!) and would often talk to the owners as best we could through our non-existent Thai and their broken English. It got so good that when we came they stopped bringing menus and knew to bring out a pad thai and spicy noodle every time, tofu soup for me and wonton for Sara. We brought our friends and families there.
We were such regulars that one time when two women at the table across the aisle from us ordered the same thing as us and they brought out our dishes at the same time. Ours were piled high and considerably bigger than the women at the other table. They noticed and quietly commented and pointed out that we got so much more than them and we just smiled at each other sand said "we're regulars" and laughed.
When it was clear a garbage collection company was trying to swindle the owner we stepped in, when he got in a fender bender we talked to his insurance company, and heard about their daughters and granddaughter living in Tokyo and Bangkok. I brought my whole family there, and one of my first dates with Dave was there. I missed when I moved from Windsor to Ottawa and had my last meal in town there.
We went back last year at Christmas only to find the little stucco building with yellowed newspaper paper covering the windows. I was so upset that they had closed, disappeared without a trace. I wondered what happened to them. Later that week I realized they hadn't closed but moved to a new place a few blocks away. The new digs were swankier, bigger, and painted with pastel pink walls.
Last week I went back and loved the chance to dine with my brother-in-law and catch up with the owners. They remembered where I was living and asked about me, and heard stories about their daughters and plans to visit them. I'm not convinced they got the difference between "brother-in-law" and "husband" and I'm pretty sure they thought my brother-in-law was my husband but it really doesn't matter.
I was really missing just such a restaurant in the 'shwa until a few weeks ago. I never found an equivalent in Ottawa. A new Thai place opened up on Ritson Road which is absolutely awesome. It's in a tiny old bungalow with the living room turned into a dining room. Dinner specials are $6.95 and the food is authentic, the mango sticky rice is great and mango salad is to die for. English isn't the main language spoken there, and it's run by a family. The decor is awful, but I'd pick going there over just about any other restaurant. I used to enjoy going to chain restaurants but really find it just doesn't cut it anymore. I crave diversity and standardized cheese capelletti just don't cut it anymore.
So now it's your turn... what's your favourite hole-in-the-wall ethnic place? Am I alone in my love of them?
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*to be fair I'm pretty sure that at the restaurant I'm thinking of they couldn't tell you my first name if they were offered a million dollars to do so, but somehow I don't think it makes it any less personal.
