My Travels, hope to see you soon. Ricarda xo

WEDDING BELLS ARE RINGING

Sat, 28 Sep 2019 03:36:06 GMT

As I strolled to St. Lawrence Market this morning for some salmon (my favorite spot to buy fresh fish, btw), I made a concerted effort to be super present and soak in the last few days of Canadian summer. Patio Season always seems to slip away from us in Toronto (we all know the seasons are Winter, Spring, Patio Season, and Fall). As I walked past St James Cathedral, I caught sight of a bride and groom stepping out of the church. Friends and family were cheering, clapping, and throwing confetti at the newlyweds. which almost immediately transported me back to my cousin’s dreamy wedding in Italy…

She married her handsome beau three years ago in an absolutely stunning villa on Lake Maggiore, nestled in the majestic Alps of Northern Italy. It was an April wedding and Italy’s huge variety of rare flowers and plants began to blossom, surrounding the picturesque villages with the fresh colours of spring.

The high peaks of the alps surrounding this jaw-dropping affair made for a pretty snazzy backdrop for vows. Speaking of the vows, it was as if Nicholas Sparks and Jane Austen came together to write them and make the entire wedding bawl. As the self-professed world’s biggest cry-baby, I’m forever grateful I remembered to bring tissues in my clutch!

The aperitivo after the ceremony was served in the villa’s garden, right by Lake Maggiore. It sure was major. The view, the sun, the prosecco… it was a magical melody and unlike any other wedding I’ve been to. Of course I can’t forget to mention the dinner served inside the villa. It was as if only the best chefs in the Mediterranean came together to create this special wedding menu for us: pancetta wrapped shrimp and Florentine stuffed mushrooms to start, followed by Sicilian chicken, topped with grilled eggplant and fresh mozzarella cheese in a light pomodoro sauce.

I was stuffed (after eating everything on my plate and everything at the wedding) but there’s always room for dessert, right? And what a desert it was - creamy lemon gelato presented in a lemon served with raspberry coulis. Surrounded by the most aromatic wedding flowers, we’d been eating, drinking, laughing, and singing for more than five hours and nobody was ready to leave. We celebrated to the sounds of a swing band playing evergreen music and we danced until our feet hurt and the sun (literally) came up. Gotta love European weddings!

It was an evening of pure joy, romance, and food -- I can’t wait to go back to Italia! Who knows, maybe it’ll be for my own wedding next…

Resident Wine-derlust

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Fri, 07 Apr 2017 13:39:59 GMT

Wine is a really big deal to us. The perfect pairing can transform a meal into an experience and idle chitchat into deep, delicious conversation. Wine makes meals magical. That’s why we hired Shahyn Kamali, a globetrotting Sommelier with a penchant for romance, adventure, and history, too.

Shahyn’s wanderlust—and nose for wine—has taken him around the world and to the bottom of barrels and bottles with scents of aromatic cherry, oaky undertones, hints of chocolate, delicate notes of lemon rind, pomegranate, and passion fruit. The man has savoured many, many sips. And now he’s bringing his favourites to Ricarda’s.

Shahyn's passion for life, travel, food, and wine is instantly contagious and wonderfully curious. His approach to wine selection is rooted in two simple and important things: 1) knowing the story of every bottle, and 2) remembering that wine is an individual and subjective indulgence. Each wine taster experiences wine differently. No one wine is loved by all people. “Wine can be intimidating,” Shahyn says, “and it’s my job to win the trust of our guests to make it less so.”

Born in the Netherlands, Shahyn's love affair with the culinary arts began in a kitchen. As his love for food flourished, so did his fascination with wine. Being the consummate explorer, Shahyn moved to the Big Apple where he attended the Court of Master Sommeliers program. Soon after, he was the Sommelier at beach club in Spain.

“I love Spanish wines for their diversity,” says Shahyn. “Spain has a very diverse climate—green and wet in the northwest, dry and almost desert-like in the south, and Mediterranean on the east coast and the islands. I’m excited to introduce some lesser known varieties, like Telmo Rodríguez and Alvara Palacios to our guests at Ricarda’s.”

Next time you’re dining at Ricarda’s and looking for a great pairing or conversation, ask for Shahyn and say hello. Or Merlot. Or Gewurztraminer.

Ricarda’s Bakery Has a New Big Cheese

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Fri, 17 Feb 2017 05:00:00 GMT

Meet Mark Cheese, if you please. (And you certainly should.) He’s not only a new, friendly face in our bakery, he’s the head cheese. A master of sweets, treats and pastries, too. Mark joined us in early December of 2016 as Head Pastry Chef. Although he’s new to us, he is an old hat (and celebrated name) in the world of decadent baking.

Mark’s been exciting taste buds and triggering sweet tooths in Canada since the early 90s. He trained in the culinary arts in England (where he’s from) and then made his way to France where he found his true pastry calling. Toronto, however, is where he eventually landed and now it’s home sweet home.

The first thing Mark fell in love with at Ricarda’s was our restaurant’s big, open architecture—both inside and in the 134 Atrium. “It’s a brilliant fantastic place,” he says. “It’s hard to describe until you see it, but when you do – wow – there’s nothing like it!” He loves the open kitchen concept because it allows customers to see the artistry behind their order and it drives the behaviour of the restaurant. Mark says that the beauty of the space means that his desserts have to live up to the décor. Mission accomplished, Mark.

Mark’s favourite dessert (and one we highly recommend you try) is the Beet Goat Cheesecake. Based on a simple idea for a salad, he created this unusual and delicious treat. “Using vegetables is becoming more popular in desserts,” says Mark. “This cheesecake has a beautiful colour. It’s a little bit sweet with a walnut crust and warm caramel apple.” It’s a recipe he’s used before—the one that won him Toronto Life’s cheesecake competition a few years back. And while he was pleased to win, he was slightly disappointed that Toronto Life missed a prime opportunity to connect his name and the winning creation with a pun.

Stop by our bakery and say hi to Mark. He answers to Mark, Mr. Cheese and Monsieur Fromage!

Full Plates and Updates

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Mon, 24 Oct 2016 05:00:00 GMT

I’ve eaten my weight in Ricciarelli in Tuscany, basked in the architectural opulence of Cordóba, sipped (multiple) Cab Sauvs in Bourdeaux, and danced in bare feet on a cobblestone dance floor until dawn. Yet, it’s here in Toronto that has proved to be the most prolific, exciting, enticing, thrilling, goosebumps-all-day-long adventure of my life.

I’ve been busy. Like flat out cramming 87 to-dos into 18-hour increments for months. It’s been mad, yet utterly fulfilling at the same time. My brain is abuzz. Sleep is a foreign concept. All this for a good cause:Ricarda’s is officially OPEN!!

Opening the doors was a labour of love - not just of my own heart but of scads of talented, committed, and oh-so-brilliant folks who worked tirelessly to bring the vision to light. We interviewed servers, hostesses, baristas, and kitchen staff. We had conversations under mood lighting over croissants and macchiatos with designers, architects, marketers, and chefs. We made mistakes. We made the right call. We stayed up late. And boy did we laugh!

Here are just a few of the rare talents that have amazed me on this journey:

Elise Goodhoofd, a.k.a The Chalk Artist!

She forwent sleep to create our 15 custom menu boards that ooze decadence and delight. Then went on to create an outdoor mural to give curious passersby a visual taste of Ricarda’s.

Ian Milne, one of the county’s most respected industrial artists, designed custom signage for our space. It literally makes me smile—and sometime do a little giddy hop—every time I see it. So gorgeous!

Our marketing partners and friends at Isabel Avery & Company just slayed my vision! They listened intently, then embraced my dream as if it were their own: tackling it with unparalleled commitment to perfection and turning it into an incredibly authentic and stunning reality. I’m floored. And also on cloud nine!

And all of a sudden, we were open for business (and eating and drinking oh my!)

On July 22nd, 800 fabulously dressed and super hungry people joined us in the atrium for Ricarda’s Evening of Grand. And grand it was!! There was fabulous food, divine desserts, wine bottles uncorked en masse, incredible theatrics, packed dance floor, lively conversations, and even a little Roman Holiday-inspired Vespa riding. I’ve never been so proud to be part of something.

Toronto welcomed us with open arms, blissed out bellies, kind words, killer dance moves, and sincere gratitude. Community cuisine at its finest!

The dream is alive and kickin’ now.

Thank you, Blog TO, Best of Toronto, View the Vibe, Foodism, and more for dining with us. And to our Ricarda’s street team, spreading the word (and the sourdough) on vintage bikes.

And, thank YOU, for following my journey.

Ricarda’s is more than me. It’s yours. It’s Toronto’s. It our community’s.

With love, a latte, and a late night lamb burger,

xo Ricarda

DECISIONS, DECISIONS!

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Thu, 14 Apr 2016 05:00:00 GMT

I’ve been travelling again – this time to upholstery showrooms, marble warehouses, and city permit offices. Although these trips aren’t as glamorous as Nice, Florence, or Milan, rest assured, my shoes most certainly are.

My baby is coming to life more and more each day. It started with blank walls, dusty windows, serious heartburn, and a handful of crumpled napkin drawings and dog-eared journal entries from across the Atlantic. Now, it’s a real hustle with real materials, lots of sawdust, and a few sweaty men with tool belts. It’s happening.

I’ve selected the uniforms for our incomparably talented team who will look as flawless as their service skills. I’ve poured over paint swatches, tile chips, light fixtures, and fabric samples – in person and in my dreams – with our interior design crew who have achieved the impossible: A seamless, electric, oh-so-irresistible coupling of all the best of my Mediterranean experience and Toronto’s undeniably hip and contagious flair.

Sarah, our bakery manager (and my taste buds’ new crush), has been creating sweet miracles in our test kitchen and I’ve been a diligent guinea pig. The girl can bake, friends! One bite of any of her creations and you’ll find yourself down on one knee asking for her hand. I know, because I’ve asked. Four times. She rejects me with Ricciarelli fresh from the oven, so it eases my pain.

While Ricarda’s is evolving into the So Med experience I’ve dreamed of, I personally am evolving into quite an annoying (yet still very adorable) perfectionist. For which I am only slightly apologetic – mostly to Nick, the acoustic engineer who kindly educated me on sound absorption with award-winning patience while I painstakingly peppered him with mountains of irrelevant questions. (Sorry, Nick. You’re a burly, sound-genius saint!)

I digress.

We’re painting, installing, making, breaking, building, tasting, testing, and creating around the clock. Our bodies are weary but our hearts are full!

I can’t wait to open the doors and invite you in!

HOME SWEET SCONE

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Mon, 15 Feb 2016 05:00:00 GMT

I’m home! And while I can romanticize about the Mediterranean without end, I must admit, I’ve missed it here. There is something special about Toronto. The hustle. The endless awake. Still, I think it needs something more. A little dollop of that So Med life.

It needs Ricarda’s – an unconventional restaurant made up of everything good and gorgeous and delicious and hilarious and stunning and mesmerizing about my travels. So it’s happening. I’m opening the ultimate Mediterranean experience smack dab in the middle of Toronto. Call me crazy; or just call me So Med.

We’re not talking a come-sit-eat-talk-leave type of place. B-o-r-i-n-g. Ricarda’s will be the hub of life, love, camaraderie, and cuisine in the city. It’ll be the easy life. Patrons will interact with our chefs before they’re seated.They’ll leave smelling like pastries and caffè and sunshine. Laughter will be soundtrack. Incredible cuisine will be the fodder. And the night won’t end until the champagne bottles are empty. It’ll be the place where bellies are full, cheeks earn new laugh lines, stories are shared, memories are made, food is shared, and hours pass like they were seconds.

We have a location: ground floor of the hip and historic QRC West building at 134 Peter Street. It’s perfect for our vibrant vibe! I’ve been spending my days mulling over selections of carrarra marble, colourful tiles, and modern gold finishes to make the interior just perfect. I’m bringing 1960s Milan to the city, baby!! My evenings are marathon culinary tasting sessions with Sam, our executive chef. Every night, he cooks, bakes, sears, fries, sizzles, and chars incredibly fresh local food like it’s my last meal and I deserve to eat art. So I do. And I can’t wait to share it with you.

Join us Summer 2016.

It’s happening. The dream.

LEAVING ON A JET PLANE

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Sun, 07 Feb 2016 05:00:00 GMT

After months with the wind in my hair, coastlines past my peripheral, and pastries ever in hand and tum, I’m finally going home. Economy Class has nothing on the Mediterranean. These pretzels make me miss baguettes and camembert and tiramisu ferociously.

Leaving the Mediterranean is bittersweet. I’m itching to see my friends and family to tell them about all of my adventures. About the fashion in Milan, the colourful Old Port in Nice, the ornate mosaics in Lisbon, the laissez-faire lifestyle, the love affair with Romeo, the ever-flowing Cava in Spain. Oh my! Everything. I can’t wait to tell them everything. I hope they’re up for a 4-day slideshow. I promise to bring snacks.

I am definitely wistful for more. Yet, I am bringing back SO much of this place with me. In more than just memories and selfies.

I’ve spent this month creating the dream: formulating a way to bring all that I love about the Mediterranean – the people, the community, the lazy days, the romanticism, the laughter, the art, the colours, the music, and of course the food – back to the people I love in Toronto.

When I land, the dream will start.

It’s called “Ricarda’s”. And I promise you, it’s So Med.

IN LISBON, THE LIVING IS EASY

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Mon, 01 Feb 2016 05:00:00 GMT

I’m no longer a Lady of Leisure. I’m all business but without the powersuit. It’s So Med to look good all the time. So I’m making phone calls, cutting deals, and building dreams in a pair of Pedro Garcia flats.

Lisbon is all about community. It’s like Mr. Rogers’ Neighbourhood but without the cardigans and puppets and with better music (Sorry, Mr. Rogers). The homes house generations of tanned, calm, cool and sexy people. Everyone knows everyone’s name (and business). Laundry hangs over alley ways and people shout heartily at each other in Portuguese slang from open window sills. People are kind and every old lady is a surrogate grandmother to whomever passes by – giving an ear, a mouthful (for those raucous kids kicking soccer balls in the street), or a sweet affectionate tap without hesitation. Everyone is a child of the community it seems. Is this the way life’s meant to be lived? Yep, I think so…

I stepped into Lisbon like it was a rhythm and I already knew the tune. It’s just easy and timeless here. Half bohemian; half classic. And it just works. The city is one big art gallery – the stone mosaics underfoot are unfathomably gorgeous, the azulejo wall murals are stunning and the lemon yellow trolleys are something to write home about (don’t worry TTC, Toronto’s red streetcars are also things of beauty). Men’s shirts and women’s skirts blow in cool breezes. Lisbon is poetry in motion.

Naturally, it’s hard to stay focused. Good news: my resolve is ironclad and I can see my dream materializing. So as I enthusiastically stuff my face with pastel de nata (a girl should never deny herself egg custard tarts in filo dough), I’m also crossing things off my to-do list. “Dreams don’t work unless you do.” So I work… and eat and play and marvel.

FULL AND FABULOUS

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Tue, 26 Jan 2016 05:00:00 GMT

I bid “Adiós” to my parents and headed South.

Cordóba seduced me with its architectural gems. Columns, mosaics, patterns, carvings, ornate details, oh my! La Mezquita, particularly, is indescribably opulent. Candy cane archways, skylit domes, and lavish décor. It’s both geometrically perfect and artistically breathtaking.

My next stop: Seville where the buildings are bright, the people are colourful, and the food is museum-worthy. Groomed orange trees dot the boulevards, which is too cute and perfect for words. I danced with a few young Sevillanos playing guitar in the street. Because when you feel like doing something here, you just do it! I doubt I’ve ever laughed so authentically in my life. The Plaza de Doña Elvira heard my happy.

I’m feeling so very full these days – and not on carbs alone. I am heart full . This journey hasn’t just been about incredible places, warm souls, big laughs, criminally delicious food, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. No, it’s been so much more. The Mediterranean life is a feeling – deep, memorable, and extraordinarily magical. Sometimes, for such a naturally chatty and verbose girl, I feel a bit speechless about it. (Shocking!)

That “decision” I shared with you at New Year’s? Well, it’s starting to feel VERY real. My gears are turning. My napkin scribbles are morphing into solid ideas. It is happening.

Task number one: Bottle up this special feeling and bring it home.

DIA DE LOS REYES, MADRID

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Thu, 07 Jan 2016 05:00:00 GMT

Sorry Santa, but I have a new holiday love: The Three Kings!! My parents and I celebrated Dia de Los Reyes (3 Kings Day) in true Mediterranean fashion: eating, drinking, laughing, dancing! (Anyone surprised?)

We tag-teamed and noshed extensively on a traditional loaf of Roscón (donut-shaped bread covered in glacier cherries and sugar with a toy inside!). Note to future Roscón-eaters – Don’t dive in too fast. The toy inside is a little tough on the chompers.

We also ooohed, aaahed, laughed, and danced with 100,000 other spectators at the Cabalgata de Reyes – a series of parades (spectacles, really) celebrating the three wise men’s visit to baby Jesus. There are hundreds of actors, colourful costumes, candy thrown wildly into the cheering crowds, music, fireworks, and more. It’s a feast for all the senses.

In these few weeks with my parents, two things are clear: Mom’s Flamenco moves are killer. And after a walking food tour, dad earns props for eating his weight in tapas without ever having to undo his belt. Admirable, pops.

We’re so Med.

HAPPY 2016. FELIZ AÑO NUEVO!

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Sat, 02 Jan 2016 05:00:00 GMT

Maybe it was the Cava flowing last night (and all week, really.) Maybe it’s the excitement of a new year and budding romance. Maybe it’s the fact that half my heart is loving this Mediterranean life and the other is longing for Toronto. Whatever it is, change is afoot. And I have made a BIG decision!! (One that excites me as much as it terrifies me to near paralysis. But grandma always said, “If it scares you, it’s probably a great decision.”) And I’ve never known Gram – or my gut – to lead me astray.

A hint: There’s lots of planning to do, long lists to take action on, dust to fly, and hair to pull out (hopefully only figuratively on the latter).

In the meantime, I’m off to find focus and clarity in a plate of croquetas. Or two.

FELIZ NAVIDAD!

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Sat, 26 Dec 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Feliz Navidad! I’m in Barcelona with my parents – where our minds, bodies, and bellies have been treated royally!

We spent Christmas Eve at Dad’s cousin’s restaurant where we indulged (ahem… gorged) our way through dinner with friends, patrons, and family. Meals all roll deliciously into one here. Like a 24-hour smorgasbord of food, drink, and rich conversation. It started with the soup – a Carn d’Olla. Had it been the only course, I would not have been disappointed! But when the waiter heard our spoons tink tink tink on the bottom of our bowls and a crowd taking last little slurps, he promptly served course 2 (Which was more like 10 courses in one, for the record): patatas bravas, chorizo, paella, and tapas upon tapas upon tapas … oh my! There was langousitines, jamon, even eel! I was instantly appreciative that the Spaniards design not only aesthetically beautiful but also dependably sturdy furniture. The tables held their own as we piled them high with savoury delights. Not one ornately carved leg wavered.

By the time dessert was served, we’d been eating, drinking, laughing, singing for more than five hours. Yet it felt like only a heartbeat had passed – and no one was itching to leave. When the churros arrived – a fried sugary stick of dough dipped in fudgy hot chocolate – the room fell silent. A chorus-like Mmmmmm that echoed throughout the restaurant. The song of taste buds in love.

We popped the corks on the Cava (Spanish Champagne!), picked up guitars, accordions, and bongos, and sang Spanish Christmas carols (Billancicos) while clinking glasses, plucking strings, and dancing wildly until it was officially Christmas morning.

It was an evening of pure joy and elation. My cheeks were sore from all the laughing. Had it not been for the 27 helpings I had, I may have laughed my way to six pack abs. I love how families and friends spend time together here. They talk and eat, sing and visit until the wee mornings – no matter the occasion (oftentimes in spite of an occasion. I mean, who needs an occasion?). It’s So Med.

All of this love has me missing home a little. I’m craving to recreate and share an evening of equal joy, sharing, love, and laughter with my family and friends in Toronto. I want to bottle up this lively fresh Mediterranean spirit and bring it home in my pocket. That, and a dozen sticks of Churros. At least.

BORDEAUX, PART DEUX

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Sun, 20 Dec 2015 05:00:00 GMT

I’ve traded in my whining for some seriously fabulous wine-ing! After a private tour of Bordeaux’s major wine estates, vineyards, and chateaus and rubbing elbows with a handful of lauded sommeliers – like Genevieve who’s a wine-pairing ninja! – I’m unapologetically snobbish about my vino. I do the swish, smell, and spit thing like a boss. In fact, I sipped a Cabernet Franc where Thomas Jefferson himself (America’s first wine connoisseur) sipped a glass or two of the same vintage. No big deal.

Although I feel like a walking, talking, (and slightly buzzing) Bordeaux wine Wikipedia, Loren Sorkin tells the story of this region’s love affair with grapes much better and with a few less hiccups:

“Bordeaux makes red, white, and sweet dessert wines. The red wines come from five different grapes – Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, and Malbec. The wineries tend to get divided based on which side of the Gironde they’re on. The left bank wines tend to have more Cabernet Sauvignon, and the right tends to be Merlot dominated. In either case, all the wines are blends of grapes. The whites are for the most part Sauvignon Blanc and Semillon blends, as are the dessert wines. Some also have Sauvignon Gris.”

Bottoms up, friends! Or, as the French say, “Votre santé!”

I picked up a case of Bordeaux’s best for Dad who’ll surely have to leave his pants, shoes, and unmentionables in Barcelona just to get these bottles home. Priorities, right?

WHINE AND CHEESE, LOIRE VALLEY

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Wed, 16 Dec 2015 05:00:00 GMT

They say you can never have too much of a good thing. Generally, I agree with this. After two weeks of playing house with Romeo, however, I’ve headed for the hills (the countryside, actually!). It was like wearing a turtleneck two sizes too small! (Though a really nice, attractive turtleneck with a sense of humour.)

Instead of hopping the high-speed rail to Barcelona (where I’m meeting my parents for the holidays), I opted for the long-way. Which included long hours on stale buses, last minute Airbnb, souvenirs from every village, and several glasses of wine.

In Sancerre, I picked up some Sauvignon Blanc (so crisp! so aromatic!). In Bordeaux, I sampled my way from Fromagerie to Fromagerie and finally emerged with armfuls of cheese from the Baud et Millet cheese cellar. It all smelled like feet, and tasted like liquid gold – which, for the record, trumps the stinky feet thing. I nursed my contemplative heart with a temporary bandage: rich, creamy, buttery French cuisine. Confit de canard! Pâté! Foie Gras! Then a real treat: a movie at Café Utopia, a perfectly preserved old theatre with arched stone entranceways and history dripping from the walls. Naturally, I bawled my eyes out when the guy got the girl.

Crap… I miss Romeo.

LA VIE EST BELLE, PARIS

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Tue, 08 Dec 2015 05:00:00 GMT

We’re in the City of Lights! (Romeo says that it’s actually the City of L’amour! But I’m not letting that smooth talker break down all my walls just yet.)

We’re staying with his sister, her husband, and their adorable little girls who, when dancing and singing in tutus in the living room, made my clock tick just a teensy bit. Of course, that dissipated as fast as it came with a sweet glass of Pinot Gris. Mom, don’t get any ideas – wine and late nights forever!

My birthday this past Sunday was a romance movie to the exponential of 10!! I was Audrey. He was Gregory. And the script was all kinds of perfect – equal parts adorable and exciting. Void of cheesiness (except for the warm brie at dinner… Mmmm) and full of moments I’ll remember forever – save for a few fuzzy bits after our third bottle of wine.

We strolled under a rainbow of lights along the Champs Elysée, snuggled up on the Grande Roue and gasped in unison as all of Paris came into view half way ‘round the ferris wheel, and perused the Christmas windows at Lafayette en route to the Mountparnasse skating rink, where Romeo’s blade skills sizzled on ice. We warmed up with hot cocoa and hearty laughs under a heatlamp on an outdoor patio until midnight.

It was just so light. So easy. So Med.

Happy birthday to me.

CHRISTMAS MARKETS IN PROVENCE

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Thu, 03 Dec 2015 05:00:00 GMT

The fabulous French air has a sweet new aroma this month: the rustic scent of wood fires and gingerbread candles. It’s like breathing in Ontario’s cottage country. My favourite holiday inhalation however is Romeo’s $15 cologne. (A bonafide love potion, perhaps?)

We’ve completely engrossed ourselves in all things Christmas – which is so Med. We’ve been to Christmas Markets in Provence, Marseille, and Cucuron so far! It’s a merry addiction. Much like Toronto’s Christmas Market in the Distillery District, they’re indulgent, magical, and utter mayhem. Crowds salivate over piles of sinful delights. Chocolates, foie gras, roasted chestnuts, mulled wine, nougat, faugasse, sacristin… oh my! Naturally, I rolled up my sleeves and loaded up. A girl should never miss out on fresh nougat!

Romeo says it’s cute how I’m living like a local these days – posh, relaxed, and a little bossy. (ahem… Bossy?) He’s sure that my “That’s so Med” catchphrase will either become a nationwide trend or have me banished from the continent entirely. Possibly for life.

I like Romeo – who does have a real name, by the way. But we’re not there yet. Of course, that might be a one-sided opinion. He invited me to spend the holidays with his family in Paris. I kept a look of sheer terror under wraps as I explained that I’ll be visiting with my parents in Spain then. Bullet dodged. (Thanks Mom and Dad!)

CANNES AND CARBS

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Mon, 30 Nov 2015 05:00:00 GMT

I traded lounging in Nice for glamour, carousels, and carb overloading in Cannes. Naturally, I did an urban pilgrimage to the Cannes International Film Fest red carpet where my future husband, Ryan Gosling, has walked a dozen times. I saw him once at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) and I swear he winked at me. Denise says my persistent, repetitive shrieking was giving him a stroke. I say it was true love.

I digress…

The French marry play and art so fabulously in all aspects of life. The French Riviera has an abundance of ornate carousels – more painted horses on gold bars than people, I think! It became a bit of a game for me – trying to find the carousel in every neighbourhood and riding along every time.

Orbiting on ceramic horseback takes a lot out of a girl, so I’ve been replenishing my calories with Socca – a wood-fired pancake made of chickpea flour, dusted with salt and pepper and intended to be eaten off napkins to blot up all the delicious olive oil. This gluten-free, artisanal treat is made in brick ovens on the street side, served up by men with sweaty brows, singed arm hair, and nice biceps. If I could put a stone oven in my home, I would. Then again, open fire and my affinity for wine is probably a bad combination.

Speaking of Provençal wine, I’ve decided to increase my intake dramatically so I don’t overthink the fact that my… er… “friend” from Italy is meeting up with me in a few days. (Gulp.)

CAFÉ AU LAIT

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Fri, 20 Nov 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Nothing moves fast in France (except for my digestive system when it gets a whiff of warm baguettes and buttercream macarons from the boulangerie below my room) – and I like this. People stop in the street to have conversations without looking at their watches. In fact, I think watches here are just fashion accessories. Time is so unimportant; it’s trumped always by food, laughter, and real connections.

On the Promenade De Anglais (Walkway of the English), life is a lazy stroll. The air is crisp and salty, the Mediterranean is an ever-changing rainbow of blues, and with the breeze comes the itty bits of quiet conversations from people sitting on outward facing chairs, watching the waves lap and the time pass.

I sat beside a sweet older Frenchman – broad and thick, not unlike Gerard Depardieu but with a more proportionately-sized nose. The Mediterranean reflected in his eyes when he turned and said “Bonjour!”. I fumbled through my elementary school French to exchange names, tell him I love Nice, and that I was full from all the croissants. “Je suis plein” I said and rubbed my belly. His eyes lit up! Apparently, I told him I was pregnant. Which I kind of am – with a croissant baby.

We carried on in sweet silence, sipping our café au laits as night fell.

I’m becoming quite the coffee authority here. If you make it across the Atlantic, here’s what you need to know about ordering coffee en Français: ‘Order Coffee Like a Local in France’

NICE, FRANCE

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Sat, 14 Nov 2015 05:00:00 GMT

I’m in Nice! The gorgeous French city named after Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. Naturally, I laced up my own Nikes in a corny tribute and jogged around Nicetoile in the early misty morning. And by “jogged”, I mean bounced from window to window salivating over divine French fashion then over exquisite French pastries. I transitioned my fluorescent kicks to fashionable (yet totally knock-off) loafers so as to avoid any sideways stares from Nice’s fashion elite in the daylight. Blisters be darned! (I’m a sucker for peer pressure. Don’t judge.)

Nice is a tourist hotspot, rich in weather, sunlight, culture, and cuisine. I did my best to evade the crowds and wandered through the Old Port where wooden boats with colourful tarps nestled in between luxury yachts and terracotta roofs reflected reds into a blue-purple sky. It was like wandering inside of a Van Gogh painting, and my face made of strokes of white, yellow, and pink. Like peonies

The highlight? Handwritten chalkboard menus on sidewalks with careful cursive and daily specials with names that roll off the tongues of the locals here. One particular board drew me in: Fennochio Maitre Glacier – exotic ice cream served by passionate ice cream aficionados in white aprons and chef’s hats. Not surprisingly, I indulged in several scoops. Cactus, Pomme Verte, and my hands-down, heart-pounding favourite: Lavande (lavender).

I have no shame. Viva la France!

PRINCESS OF MONACO

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Mon, 09 Nov 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Girl time has come to an end – Denise headed home with an enviable new wardrobe, a satiated tum, and a terrifyingly large credit card bill that’ll remind her of our adventures for the next 32 years!

I’ve decided to make my way solo through the French Rivieria – three countries in one day. Amazing! I woke up in Italy, sipped a caffè and nibbled on brioche on a cobblestone street. By lunchtime I was in Monaco – a 2.02 km2 principality that is all sorts of fancy pants. I channeled my inner Grace Kelly – the first actress ever with her name on a US postage stamp. A total style icon. I got my fabulous actress-princess on, and kept an eye out for handsome princes among all the yachts, mansions, and high rollers in $5000 suits at blackjack tables. The national drink is champagne so I indulged in some bubbles – to be patriotic of course. There is nothing un-fabulous about Monaco – even the train station is glitz and glam here. (So, naturally, I kept my sweats tucked away for fear of banishment.) By dinner, I was in France (and in flats and pants with an elastic waistband in my hotel room).

Ahhhh… being a princess is hard work.

LA NOSTRA VIDA

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Sun, 01 Nov 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Miu Miu heels, Botega Venata bags, Biagotti fragrances! I’m not speaking Italian; I’m speaking fashion, baby! Denise and I are in Milan. Our wallets are empty and our feet are blistered. But man alive these Fendi boots are worth it.

We cat-walked through the city’s glamorous fashion district, our hearts panging for every designer dress, bag, and boot in the windows (our wallets, sadly, showed no love.). Everything here is designed to the tilt! Via sella Spiga and Via Manzoni are oozing with architectural genius and trendsetting interior design.

Speaking of spectacular… Denise surprised me with tickets to the Expo Milano closing ceremonies. It’s a six-month long expo where more than 140 countries showcase their best gastronomic traditions. What a treat for my already well-spoiled belly! International fare – from sushi ice cream to crocodile burgers. You’d be surprised at how much Tunisian couscous one girl can eat. Check out this Expo ‘Taste of The World’ Guide.

I * may * have eaten my way through this exhibition – forward and then back.

GLASS ISLAND

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Thu, 29 Oct 2015 05:00:00 GMT

“Fabulous Fun” is our new mantra and we’re living it full-tilt. Yesterday, Denise and I drank up our fabulousness at the original Caffe Florian …the famous Venetian cafe where everyone from Casanova to Charles Dickens to Woody Allen have all lined up to overpay for a cup of miracle elixir. We forked over our euros and first born without hesitation to do the same.

Our fun continued offshore in Burano, a quaint little fisher’s village where burly men clean tripe on the porches of their brightly-coloured houses and women sell intricate embroideries and laces in rainbow-coloured shops. (Euros floated out of our purses effortlessly here.) Then in Murano, populated by glassmakers, we were like kids in a candy shop – wide-eyed at twinkling glassware everywhere – in windows, on lampposts, in washrooms, and phone booths. I left with a pocketful of millefiori beads – too brilliant to leave in a shop window.

I’m gonna need a sugar daddy. Or perhaps just leave my euros at home.

NIGHTTIME STROLLS IN VENICE

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Tue, 27 Oct 2015 05:00:00 GMT

New city with a familiar face: Denise is in Venice! (My lonely heart is saved!) The first thing we did together was get completely lost. Which was only slightly alarming, but mostly thrilling. Venice is an intricate labyrinth of canals, alleyways, and cobble streets. Maps are useless. The mere idea of GPS is ridiculous.

Denise is a natural creature of the night, a perfect partner in crime and antipasta! Together, we wandered for hours, utterly confused and completely grateful for all the little hidden gems that Venice gifted us with, like Libreria Acqua Alta – an alleyway bookshop with tattered old books stacked high in bathtubs and boats and a spine-chilling, candlelit performance of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons in a 17-century church. We divided the cost of a glorious nighttime gondola down the canal with two pairs of lovebirds who cozied up in the rows in front of us.

As they canoodled, my heart panged for my own Valentino. Denise smiled wryly, patted my knee, and said matter-of-factly: “Summer romances don’t last, Ric.” I hope she’s right.

BRUNCH BOASTING

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Sun, 25 Oct 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Thanks to my ever increasing obsession with Italian food and one heckuva cool Florentine-Texan chick – Georgette Jupe (@GirlInFlorence) – I’m gonna need to buy new pants. And I’m okay with that.

I tested the flexibility of my stomach walls and chowed down at the Florian on Georgette’s recommendation. For 35 euros, I had the most elegant hot and cold buffet—a sampling of everything from oysters to egg baskets, stuffed vegetables to mini-pancakes. It was a feast for my eyeballs as much as for my ever-happy belly. Plus bottomless Bloody Marys’ to wash everything down. Umm…yes, please!

I would live at the Florian if I could. Don’t judge.

See for yourself: http://girlinflorence.com/2015/10/21/brunch-in-florence-try-florian/

MASTERPIECES IN MARBLE

roger@pocwebbuilder.com (Roger van Maris) — Thu, 22 Oct 2015 05:00:00 GMT

In Florence, my heart has taken the reins. So much for sightseeing on a schedule; I’m a lady of leisure! I’m starting to really get the hang of this European relaxed pace thing. Everyone wanders languidly, as if there’s nowhere to be. And yet, they are everywhere – lives so full but never hurried. It’s a lost art, I think.

To make up for the gelato, I’ve been sweating it out by climbing to the top of the city’s towers. Worth the frizzy hair and sweaty brow was the Duomo at the Cathedral of Sante Maria del Fiore – the most breathtakingly beautiful work of pink, white and green marble. Delicious – like my Tuscan gelato – yet delicate and thoughtful.

Those stairs though. Whew. Who needs pilates? Buns of steel courtesy of Florence.

FLORENCE

Thu, 22 Oct 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Firenze, Firenze, Firenze…where do I begin? I’m in Florence and completely mesmerized by all of its treasures. I’m in a Florence trance. And I never want to wake up.

Naturally, I hit up all the tourist-y “Musts”– Like Michelangelo’s David (nice abs!) and the Ponte Vecchio while I was strolling down the Arno with gelato in both hands. You only live once, right?

But what’s really got my jaw agape and my heart skipping beats is the graffiti! It’s like little whispered secret love notes tucked away in the alleys or hiding up high near windowsills. Chalk artists paint the sidewalks in the morning and the rain washes away their talent by dinnertime. Artisans and craftsman sell their wares on street corners. Their hands are callused by the passion. History meets urbanity at every turn in Florence and I can’t get enough of the juxtaposition.

Denise from Uni is going to meet up with me in Venice in a few days. We’re already drooling over our shopping prospects. I may have to keep my wallet under lock n’ key. Murano glass and Burano lace? What’s a girl to do?

COOKING CLASS

Sat, 10 Oct 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Learning to cook in Tuscany? Check. It’s officially off my bucket list (and on top of my “best time ever” list). I worked my carefully crafted charms (using tips from my departed Romeo) to sneak my way into Lella’s Scoula di Cucina and into a classroom full of Brits! The combination of fresh pasta and British accents? It was like my own sweetly concocted heaven.

With wine in one hand and dough to roll, knead, and stretch in the other, four hours simply vanished! We made course after course of “Menu Tipico Toscano,” a traditional Tuscan meal. Lella moved around the kitchen like it was a dance. We oohed and aahed. We salivated. We drank more wine and laughed as we botched our crostini with caramelized onions. We made Pici with caccio e pepe sauce – think Mac N’ Cheese on a cloud with rainbows and fireworks. Then, I tasted my first ever Ricciarelli cookie. I tasted two. Okay, five. But they were small.

When’s breakfast?

GORGEOUS DAYS AND HANDSOME KNIGHTS

Sun, 04 Oct 2015 05:00:00 GMT

I quite literally had to drag myself away from Abruzzo – its gorgeous views, smooth wines, and jaw-dropping architecture are branded on my soul. Every day, another festival. Every evening, more festivals. I began to doubt that there was even a reason to celebrate at all, except maybe just to celebrate (which I guess is as much a reason as any, right?) My kind of people.

But a girl can only stay in one place – and with one ‘friend’ (gasp!) – for so long. I took off to Tuscany without my smooth-talking tall drink of Italian acqua. Of course, this is not ciao forever. We’ll meet again…

Siena is quintessentially charming. Medieval. Wistful. Like time stopped in 800 BC, it’s an indescribably endearing time capsule. I fully expect Charlemagne to show up anytime over the hills with a laurel leaf crown, his toga blowing in the wind. That said, I’d settle for a brawny knight defending my honour in a duel in the Piazza.

COFFEE

Sun, 27 Sep 2015 05:00:00 GMT

It’s official: I am a coffee snob. I intend to fully and unapologetically preach to my Starbucks-drinking, drip-coffee-making friends when I step back on North American soil. Just know, friends, that I am right. The bialetti is my new java religion. Espresso never tasted so rich, smooth, creamy, electric. It is the start, middle, and sometimes second wind nightcap to this Dolce Vida of mine. (which, by the way, is a real thing – not just a beautiful overused Italian phrase!)

Now that I’ve clearly mastered the art of Italian eating, I’m keen to head to Tuscany and take a cooking class in Sienna. Rumour has it you drink wine while you learn (my kinda school!). My friend says we should travel on together – “con accompagnatore” is the only way to go, he insists, usually with a flirtatious wink.

I shrug. We’ll see, Casanova.

WEDDING

Wed, 23 Sep 2015 05:00:00 GMT

With bellies stuffed with pasta and cheeks sore from laughter, Romeo threw me a curveball as the sun set over sweet Roma: “My cousin is getting married tomorrow in Pescara Valley. Will you come?”

The next day, just a heartbeat from the Adriatic Sea in a blink-and-miss-it village (Torre de Passeri) with all sorts of character and dripping with history, we checked in to Villa D’Abruzzo. A charming B&B with – get this – Canadian hosts, Jake and Lisa, who are THE cutest and nicest. Ever. And they didn’t judge, but rather offered us an amaro digestivo and a warm chuckle when we showed up at 3am after 11 courses, 5 hours of dancing, and shoes around our necks.

CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE

Wed, 16 Sep 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Back in Rome now with the dark-haired Romeo. We met at the Testaccio Market at sunrise as vendors set up their tables, opened cartons of produce, and laid ornately-pattern tablecloths over plastic tables.

“__Today, you choose”, he said and gave me four options for the day: a cycling-picnic combo in Villa Borghese, lunch in the piazza at Pierluigi, a swim-dance-drink trifecta at Fregene, or a pool party with some stylish Mediterranean babes in the Hills. Naturally, guided always by my taste buds and ever growling tum, I chose lunch.

Though the grilled umbrima with roasted tomatoes was quite possibly the embodiment of fresh n’fabulous and the man across the table was equally (and undeniably) delicious, I found myself mesmerized more by the piazza itself. The most marvelous, colourful, joyful mosaics – on the floors, fences, gates, walls, and ceilings. All older than time yet vibrantly alive! Colours I don’t even have the vocabulary to describe. It was like dining in an Alessandro Pautasso piece.

AMALFI COAST

Wed, 09 Sep 2015 05:00:00 GMT

I’ve been in love before, sure. Most recently with a guy whose pants were too tight but whose 5 o’clock shadow made up for that misstep, until – I really couldn’t handle his nose whistle any more… And then I met Amalfi.

I’ve spent my days here lingering on seaside terraces on the steep edges of glorious cliffs. I’ve feasted on grilled meats, fresh fish, local porcini mushrooms, and wine from Campania. Been kissed by the sun (and a few bold and handsome strangers). Walked through the piazza (which glows like liquid gold in the sunlight) waving and calling out “Ciao” to the locals. (Initially, I was convinced this made me super cute and endearing; however, my new friend pointed out that it may have been super annoying – especially to the woman hanging laundry out of the window three stories up – whom I waved at over and over again waiting for acknowledgement.) Sorry, Magdelana. But thank you for the wave back!

Now, off to Roma with the aforementioned new friend. He has a five o’clock shadow too, for the record.

BEACHES UMBRELLAS

Wed, 02 Sep 2015 05:00:00 GMT

I dipped my toes (then knees, then torso) into the crystal clear waters in the Gulf of Salerno. Tiny waves lapped; children splashed; the sun sparkled. So fresh! Like bathing in a postcard, really. But the real delight was the flashy (but not at all obscene) rows upon rows of wildly colourful umbrellas. It was as if any moment, like in a Pixar film, they’d come to life, twirling, dancing, singing in unison. The beach was a kaleidoscope. Every direction, a new row of vibrant lollipop sun shades. Patterned happiness at every turn! It was a feast for my eyeballs. Ooh, Amalfi is delicious!

ROMAN HOLIDAY

Wed, 26 Aug 2015 05:00:00 GMT

Buongiorno, Italy! Blue skies and air that smells like fresh panini and rosemary. I’m already in love – and hungry. Very hungry.

But first, a ride on a Vespa. I hopped on a vintage two-wheeler and cruised toward the dramatically stunning Amalfi Coast. Of course, Ms. Hepburn makes scooter navigation look breezy. I, on the other hand, succeeded quite wildly at white-knuckling, wobbling, and shrieking down quaint little streets as the locals cruised by. There was an incident with a fountain and a local kid with a pizza. The boy was unscathed; the pizza however met a gruesome end. And I learned some Italian swear words.

Good news: by the time beautiful Amalfi reflected with sparkles in my aviators, I had a smile bigger than my face and a messy mane of windblown hair.