Life in Cowtown

This was my hood yesterday morning.  We got our typical April dump that comes right after the first few days of sunshine and spring, just to give us that kick in the pants that says don’t get too comfortable – this is Calgary.

Right before I left my last job, (the one that was moving to the States), I had the chance to grab lunch with a couple of my co-workers, and we walked over to Trader’s Grill at the Mariott Hotel.

The Grill is past its glory days – it used to occupy a bigger space on the second floor, with large windows overlooking the city, and served a good lunch buffet. Now it’s on the main floor, and is little more than a cafe with a bar.  It was mostly empty the entire lunch, perhaps a quarter of the tables were occupied. 

The menu is simple but very well thought out. There is a decent selection among all the main food groups, and the dishes are not boring. I am sick to death of the usual assortment of salads, sandwiches and steaks that comprise many lunch menus, and was glad to see something like an omelet, or short rib pasta, or baguette with boursin, or the chicken schnitzel which I incidentally ended up having.  Apparently they have excellent daily specials as well, which happened to be grilled cheese on the day we visited, and it would have to be a heck of a grilled cheese to beat my homemade one.

The food took a while to arrive given the lack of patrons, but when it arrived, it did not disappoint.  Just look at it!

The schnitzel was piping hot, with a crunchy, well seasoned breading, and the chicken inside was fork tender. The roasted taters were very good, the salad was lovely if a bit simple, and the grilled lemon was simply genius.  It was a superb meal on a chilly Calgary day.

It seems like more hotels are expanding their restaurants, and trumpeting about them on Twitter and blogs. The Mariott on the other hand seems to be heading in the opposite direction, which is a shame, as the food at Trader’s Grill is as good as some, and better than many lunch options in downtown Calgary.  I should also mention that I can see the appeal of the large windows in the summer, it would be great to people watch while lunching.

4/5

Trader’s Grill

Stephen Avenue
110 9 Ave SE
(403) 231-4503

My grandmother passed away last week, and the entire family has been busy sending her off.  Please, no condolences are needed – she was a very respectable 85, and had cancer which left her very frail and tired at the end.

My grandmother loved entertaining more than anything, and had a full life, with plenty of drinking, eating, singing and friends.  She sang beautifully until about a year ago, and lived independently until the last couple of months. All in all it was a life lived to the full, and up until the last few days she enjoyed a teaspoon of cognac in her tea. Given that she called vodka her elixir of life, this was a concession indeed.

The funeral was very simple  – a private service, and a road trip some three hours away to a small Orthodox Convent where she was buried. The convent is located in the middle of Nowhere, Alberta and was once a place of sanctuary for a scholar turned monk.  Upon his death he turned it over to a convent, as there was a shortage of fellow monks to carry on the tradition. There is a wee church built without nails that still stands on the grounds today. The nuns live simply with the support of the varied parishioners who help them homestead on their free weekends. They also have a small cemetary where those who desire can be laid to rest.

The service was simple and beautiful. There was a soft snowfall and rustling wildlife in a remote chunks of the woods that surround the convent.  I’m not a religous person by nature, but like all people find a lot of comfort in ritual. And even though I never grew up going to church, I find liturgy calming, especially in the chanting manner of the Orthodox Church. Our priest is a very colorful friend of the family and was a great tension breaker on the drives to and fro.  Orthodox priests are allowed to marry, which generally means they don’t molest children, which greatly mitigates the disgust I have for the transgressions of the Catholic priests.

In fact, I think that’s a great contribution of religion, to provide a framework for celebratory and solemn occasions alike.  We are social animals and have developed a number of rituals to mark special occasions in life, from the vision quests of puberty to elaborate wedding ceremonies and funeral rites.  Which is great at connecting a community and providing guidance when dealing with charged emotions. It’s a template for behavior, when you badly need one.  In a multicultural country such as Canada, different cultural groups have less of a sense of community to bind them, so belonging to a religious community provides continuity of culture.  But enough with crazy theories.

After the service we had a colorful wake, joined by family and friends, and toasted her often.  All in all it was a wonderful way to say good-bye. May she rest in peace.

We’ve barely emerged from a very deep freeze here in Calgary, and the sharp wind that ushered in our Chinook barely feels like an improvement. It’s + 2 C outside, but feels much colder, and frankly I’d take -20 with no wind any day. It’s a cold cold wind.

Matters appear to be equally wintery in other parts of the world, and our US neighbors are also not spared their winterland adventures, while Australia battles a huge hurricane. Like my co-worker poetically phrased it: ‘everyone’s getting bent over this year’.  Crude but right.

So if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to take a moment and escape. I’d escape to the tropics, but even CUBA plunged down to a memorable +1.6 a few weeks ago, and people, their homes have no heaters. Imagine an unheated concrete box and how much that would suck.  So in order to properly escape, I’m going back in time, to the height of summer and a lovely garden stroll in a very unique inner-city garden of Calgary.

It’s unique because of it’s odd location, it’s sandwiched between the chaos of the Stampede grounds and the quiet of a large old cemetary. The garden literally flows down the hill in meandering pathways and is a tiny hidden oasis in the bustle of city traffic.

It never used to be there, I’ve spent some time walking around that cemetary and where the garden is flourishing now used to be a messy tangle of vegetation and not much else. It was restored to former glory quite recently and my brother and I took some time to explore it.

The topography of the park is rather crazy – neat wooded paths lead to steep hills and cliffs and quite a bit of terrain is covered in such a small area. 

There is a little wooden bridge:

A lovely pond (with some empty beer bottles), c’mon people!

And a ton of native vegetation, all of which I know not the names of, but thanks to reading garden blogs, I did identify all some of the hostas! Aren’t you proud of me? The flowers range from modest prairie flowers like these:

And these:

And these:

To some pretty exotic specimens, that likely didn’t see too much life on the prairie: (Unless they did of course, my knowledge of botany ends with color.)

I don’t know what he was, but he was gorgeous, and HUGE!

And I sincerely hope that’s a peony:

And did I mention I got the hostas number? I betcha no one else was as excited by hostas as I was. Familiarity breeds love you know.

As well as some of the largest leaves of… something known to man. Seriously, I could make a bed of one of those.

Of course there were some hilly sections where you got to climb. All those stones criss-crossing the hill are actual narrow paths. You can play mountain goat:

And they’re steeper than they look, at least 30 degrees I’d say.

But very pretty:

And once you’re at the top, you can have a lovely rest in a shaded oasis:

Then you meander some more, a bit lost really, which is hard to do since you’re in a pretty small space, but the layout FEELS like it.

Well hello there – who’s pretty in pink?

And how exotic is this?

And find some oddly tucked away chairs to ponder life in:

Until eventually, you find a glimpse of the rebuilt house of the guy who started the garden – waaay back when.

The house is now a cafe, and I’m sure it’s a great spot for a drink, although we weren’t in the mood.

Overall I loved this garden more so than many others, and the crazy meandering layout is largely why. I hardly ever get the opportunity to get lost in the city,  to follow an unexplored path, or to find something hidden from sight. Most parks are lovely spaces, but much more open and with way less flowers of course.  Many gardens are more formally laid out with straighter lines and stricter paths. It’s very neat to find yourself a bit disoriented, it’s like a small adventure with plenty to see on the way, and a drink at the end.  Sure beats winter.