Nakayoshi and Fiorentina, which is now closed for the summer holidays, have been my few encounters with The Danforth. Residing on the east side of Toronto - east of the Don River anyway - the neighbourhood is usually out of the walk-able radius of my regular downtown excursions. Precisely due to this point, Taste of the Danforth was one of the many Toronto street festivals that I hadn't given much contemplation to.
But since I deemed this year a period of (re-)discovery and self-reflection, I decided it the appropriate time to partake in the festivity. Getting to the area seemed relatively straightforward during the planning stage: Danforth GO was a mere ten minutes from the province's biggest transit hub, and the west limit of the festival was only a few subway stops away. In reality, the GO terminal and TTC facilities were separated by a discernible distance, instead of being connected via an underground commuter tunnel (as I had hoped). Unable to directionally orient myself upon departure from the Danforth GO platforms, I turned to the assistance of a friendly-looking passerby, who had no qualms whatsoever about pointing me in the right direction (aka the shortest and fastest path).
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I was fifteen minutes delayed in meeting feedthebear, but somehow managed to arrive in one peace.
We began strolling from the west limit, Broadview and Danforth. I had arrived hungry and gyros were the primary goal. Only once we started the trek did we belatedly learn of the strict policy forbidding vendors to commence commercial operations until 6pm. We somehow sauntered over to the east limit of Jones Street, which coincided with the east limit of the City road closures in effect. feedthebear had picked up a one-dollar rind of fresh watermelon along the way, but my eyes, or rather stomach, were locked onto one and only one target: Gyros from Messini.
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I had been informed it was "the best one", or supposedly the most authentic of them all. Clearly, we weren't the only ones who had caught this message, as the booth's lineup was incredulous even before the 6pm mark.
To be frank, I had been craving a beef gyro, but the restaurant was only offering the wrap with pork and chicken fillings, much to my dismay. I opted for pork, mainly hoping its higher iron content would compensate my own lack thereof. feedthebear was persuaded into trying Chicken for variety's sake, which i must confess was the undeniably better choice.
Slathered liberally with tzatziki sauce and them garnished with two slices of fresh tomato, the warm, toasted pita was a satisfying sight to behold. Bits of charred seasoned pork and a handful of thick cut fries finished the wrapped creation.
Slathered liberally with tzatziki sauce and them garnished with two slices of fresh tomato, the warm, toasted pita was a satisfying sight to behold. Bits of charred seasoned pork and a handful of thick cut fries finished the wrapped creation.
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According to feedthebear, the inclusion of fries was an indication of authenticity. With that said, neither of us were particularly fond of our starchy, soggy strips of potato. They contributed a drying effect impossible to be negated with just sauce and moist tomatoes. My partner-in-crime resorted to plucking and disposing of the thick threads, while I consumed them nonetheless. I spat out several shoddy cuts of pork instead. Despite bearing a nice, smoky char, the quality of the meat was atrocious: half of the portion comprised of tough, inedible lard. Promptly picking out the flesh, I discarded the rest without much hesitation. It would be a misconception to state that this aspect didn't ruin the experience for me.
In hindsight, the gyro was a mere six dollars and left us feeling incredibly satisfied. Though, I do regret not opting for a beef variation from a different vendor.
In hindsight, the gyro was a mere six dollars and left us feeling incredibly satisfied. Though, I do regret not opting for a beef variation from a different vendor.
Some sign-up-entailing freebies later, we waltzed back to the same fruit stand to obtain young coconuts. Two for four dollars, we each offered our toonie and gleefully poked our straws through the designated location. Its juice was sweet; too brief was the duration of enjoyment. Coconut water was re-defined as a naturally existing beverage of positivity, but I stand by my statement that boxed renditions are nasty.
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As a sponsor of the event, Budweiser had set up a tent to offer tastings of their Copper Lager. Its hue was not so different from Cameron's Amber Ale, though the overall palettes were quite distinct. Minimal taste of hops, the formula was refreshing and retained sweet notes of caramel, easily trumping some of my preferred IPAs for summer evening drinking.
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A word of advice to those looking to partake in this event - or any outdoor summer event, really - would be to plan out bathroom usage beforehand. Similar to Night It Up, only portables were spotted in the vicinity. The Kleenex team was also present, distributing complimentary wet wipes to improve the overall hygiene situation.
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I would also highly recommend carrying cash, and a foldable stool should standing for extended periods of time bring about discomfort. Most, if not all, vendors operate solely on a cash basis. Food and beverage items are reasonably priced, with fresh fruit smoothies starting at three dollars and even skewers at a loonie per rod.
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As we were about to exit the premises, my second stomach was captivated by a pastry stall. French bakery articles and a housemade Apple Cinnamon Cocktail lined a checkered tablecloth; a price list could be found at the midsection of the table. The Parisian Flan was the object bearing greatest appeal, and at five dollars for a humongous slice, I was instantly prompted to reach for my wallet. Added to my bill were an Almond Blueberry Tart and two Quiches for a total of twenty-two dollars.
They somehow survived the journey home lid-less, along with an incredibly tacky box of Loukoumades. The Greek Honey Donuts were Timbit-sized bits of fried dough, but possessing a relatively hollow interior as opposed to exhibiting cakey-ness. A few were enough to satisfy my craving for sugar.
Douce France's creations were more buttery in comparison, especially considering that all had been baked in tart crusts with varying degrees of thicknesses. The quiches bore thin, flaky crust that paired well with its savoury components. Eggplant Feta was the bolder of the duo, while Zucchini was mostly mild and eggy.
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The Almond Blueberry Tart was anticipated to be sweet, yet proved tart and, honestly, less gritty than pictured for an almond-containing composition.
My favourite was the Parisian Flan. Although containing more granulated sugar and less (read: none) vanilla bean than ideal, I found immense joy in the contrasting textures of smooth egg custard and sturdy tart shell.
My favourite was the Parisian Flan. Although containing more granulated sugar and less (read: none) vanilla bean than ideal, I found immense joy in the contrasting textures of smooth egg custard and sturdy tart shell.
After many samples and two(plus?) long hours of endless trekking, we concluded the visit at Donlands station. By this time, twilight was amongst us. The clouds began bearing a pink of bit, then dark orange, and, finally, a muted grey-purple.
It was time to set ourselves homebound.
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