Author: Katherine

Return to Lanna Cuisine – A Luxurious Thai Fusion Experience

Posted on by Katherine

A few years ago, in March of 2020 to be exact, I had the honour of being invited to participate as a blogger in the Dine Out DTM Festival presented by Downtown Durham. This celebration of food and drink invited consumers to discover the vibrant culinary culture of this up-and-coming urban location through a prix fixe menu and ticketed culinary events from participating establishments. The purpose? To encourage visitors to try out new restaurants, or to revisit old favourites at special, lower prices.

One of the restaurants which my husband and I attended was Lanna Cuisine. This upscale, fusion-inspired Thai establishment is on a mission to bring the food of Northern Thailand to the heart of Markham, and the cooking style of Chef Tim Chen pays homage to the Thai belief that the secret to authentic flavours lies in using natural elements which are sourced locally as much as possible. 

Of course, when I visited two years ago with my partner, Peter, I did not know any of this. I thought: Sure, I like Thai food. I get it at the food court all the time. Such cringeworthy naivety was put to rights on first bite. From my writeup of the experience:

Given that it was just the two of us, and the prix fixe menu had two choices each in the salad, entrée and dessert categories, we ordered everything and shared it between us. I cannot adequately describe the flavours of Chef Chen’s dishes. The term “subtle complexity” seems to me an oxymoron, but that is exactly what it was. I could taste a variety of wonderful notes and spices, herbs and flavours. Yet not one flavour stood out over another. It was culinary harmony in a way that I would never be able to replicate in my own kitchen. Needless to say, everything disappeared—when our waiter asked if he could remove our empty plates, I very nearly tapped his hand away because there was still some curry around the edges that I hadn’t mopped up.

(By the way, the in-house curry is out-of-this-world good. As in, I would order it as soup if I didn’t think I was going to get some funny looks from the other patrons who are more refined than me.)”

https://yorkdurhamheadwaters.ca/thai-excellence-at-lanna-cuisine/

Two years and one global pandemic later, and the hubby and I returned to Downtown Markham to revisit our fondly-remembered culinary experience. The menu has changed (obviously–no one likes a static menu, after all), but it was no less delicious than that first visit. We shared our mango salad appetizer, our pineapple fried rice and our pad Thai noodles with chicken… as well as the necessary argument over which of us was eating more than their fair share, of course. The ambience was just as elegant and the service was just as friendly as we remembered. It was, in short, another memorable date night at Lanna Cuisine.

But here’s the thing that makes our return worth writing about. Through all of the challenges with the pandemic, through all the lockdowns, shutdowns, and reduced capacity limitations, two years later, Lanna Cuisine is still thriving. The meals are still as phenomenal as I remembered them to be, and there was even a brand new menu in the works which, to me, highlights a positive outlook on the future. Over the course of this tumultuous time, restaurants have been forced to close their doors. Yet others have found a way to push through the challenges–thanks in no small part to the local community and regional organizations which were determined to support them through different shop local campaigns, tailored special events and online ordering solutions. Lanna Cuisine stands as a testament–one of many–to the unfettered spirit of our local eateries, businesses and citizens who will not let something as monumental as a global pandemic seal their fate.

For us that night, it was as if there had never been a pandemic. Lanna Cuisine was just as sensational as it had been during our visit two years ago. What’s different now is the gratitude I personally feel when I reflect on how far we’ve all come, and how much stronger we’ve all grown to be. It is both a humbling, and gloriously empowering thing.

How wonderful is that? 

Historic Downtown Orangeville: My Day of Summer Leisure on Broadway

Posted on by Katherine

This summer, I had the good fortune to spend a week for my birthday in my own backyard… or, well, near enough. With travel restrictions limiting where we could go and what we could do, my partner Peter and I decided to explore the sights and experiences in the nearby region of Headwaters. If you are not familiar with it, Headwaters is the Orangeville, Caledon, Shelburne area… and yes, I know I am missing a bunch of other great places, but these are the more widely known ones to the outside world.

This year was my fortieth birthday. The big four-oh. I normally don’t spend a week celebrating a birthday like this. But, hey, it was a big one. Peter’s birthday is two days before mine, so we do like to celebrate a little bit as a general birthday rule. For this landmark occasion, we settled on a week away, just the two of us (No. Kids!) with days upon days to chillax, enjoy… and for me to come to grips with the fact that I’m getting older.

Our destination this year was Hockley Valley Resort and Spa in Mono, Ontario. I had the double good fortune to be able to write about my adventures for the York Durham Headwaters blog, which you can read about here if you’re so inclined:

A Day of Golf at Hockley Valley Resort
A Spa-Cation at Hockley Valley Resort
Celebrating Wine (and a Birthday) at Adamo Estate Winery
Food and Fire: A Culinary Experience at Hockley Valley Resort

But apart from these particular experiences, there were many more that were just too wonderful not to share. My day on Broadway in Orangeville, for example.

My Day in Orangeville

Photo Credit: Central Counties Tourism

I have been to the beautiful, historic downtown Orangeville before. I’ve driven the streets and have gazed longingly out at cute shops, antique buildings, lively theatres and fun places to eat. But I’ve never stopped to wander. Now, this is mostly because these previous trips had been business-related… but not entirely.

Because we were staying at Hockley Valley for a week, Peter and I decided to go out and explore downtown Orangeville (he’s brilliant at motivating me to actually get up and get out, since deep down I am a proud hermit). The first thing we did was drive up and down Broadway, which is the main historic street, looking at all of the available dining options. We landed on a cute upscale eatery called Rustik—a wonderfully paradoxical name, I might add.

I’ve written an article before about the legacy of covid on our complement of patio dining (which you can read about here: Spotlighting Our Patio Legacy in York Durham Headwaters). At Rustic, this is what I was talking about. Their outdoor patio was an annexed section of the sidewalk, enclosed by a cute fence and peppered with umbrella-shaded tables. At a time in our history when eateries must adapt to health and safety restrictions, this is what happens when a circumstance is not simply made the best of, but used as an opportunity. The result was a simplified, chic menu set against the backdrop of historic Broadway. It was like having lunch in our own little world.

Photo Credit: Central Counties Tourism

After Rustik, we wandered. With no aim, no intention. Just wandered. At our whim and leisure, we popped in and out of shops, sometimes making a purchase and sometimes not. We met new people and saw new faces (mask-covered though they were). There was no rhyme or reason to the shops we browsed. There was a glass shop, a comic store, an antique market, a candy shop. All random and incoherent in a beautifully cohesive way that tied in everything Broadway in Orangeville was.

But the best part is that I got to visit places I’ve written about before. I’ve spoken to the owners, was moved by the passion with which they talked about what they do, and now I experienced it first-hand. Living in Durham Region, it’s a bit of a hike to get out to Orangeville, admittedly, and I don’t always have an easy opportunity to visit the places I write about. Fromage is one such business. On our day in Orangeville, Peter and I picked up a delicious selection of deli meat and cheese (for Peter), as well as homemade preserves and artisan crackers (for me) for a few charcuterie lunches back at our room at Hockley Valley. I also snagged a cute Christmas gift for my father. Then there was Maggiolly Art Supplies, a sweet, playful art shop. And though we did not stop in, I enjoyed walking past Theatre Orangeville to at least put a physical location to the place.

Photo Credit: Central Counties Tourism

Read some of the articles I have written on the above businesses here:

#ShopLocal Spotlight: How Our BIAs are Helping Our Businesses Through Covid-19
Art for the Whole Family
Behind the Scenes (…Literally!) at Theatre Orangeville

It is a bit humbling as a writer to travel to places like these and to experience what I’ve written about in person. I am a strong writer (if I do say so, myself), and enjoy a talent for spinning words into pictures in the minds of readers. In truth, I’m spinning them into pictures for myself at the same time, creating a delightful vision that encourages a visit. To actually go to these places and have my visions confirmed when they are even more magical than I painted them in my head… well, it’s one of my favourite things about being a writer.

My day in Orangeville is one that I will not be forgetting any time soon. It is one I look forward to repeating, and one I suggest you add into your repertoire of memories as well. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Where Is My “I Survived Yukon Striker” Tee-Shirt?

Posted on by Katherine

It’s that time of year again. Canada’s Wonderland in Vaughan, Ontario opens its gates for another season of summer thrills. New for 2019 is Yukon Striker, the tallest, longest and fastest dive coaster in the world.

Wonderland has been a firmly entrenched part of my Southern Ontario experience for as long as I can remember. As a kid, it was a once-per-summer trip with my parents and sister, with picnic lunches on the lawn outside (Mom’s mock-chicken and ketchup sandwiches) and every last ounce of fun squeezed out of the day from 10 a.m. opening until 10 p.m. closing. As a teenager, it morphed into a once-per-week destination for my giddy, giggly friends and I, thanks to seasons passes and freedom to navigate the two-hour GO Transit route from Scarborough. Today, Wonderland is about making memories with my kids. Making memories for my kids so that they might look back and have the same nostalgic fondness for this magical place that I do.

With that in mind, I have to say that one of the coolest things about being a writer is that I get to go do awesome stuff and then write about it. On April 24th, I was invited to Canada’s Wonderland’s media preview event to ride Yukon Striker for the first time. You can read my official write-up in the York Durham Headwaters Ultimate Summer Road Trip magazine (soon to be released).

Here, on my own blog, is my unofficial write-up. The true story. Officially, I am a daring, thrill-seeking young(ish) go-getter, up for any challenge and selling the awesomeness of the experience with all the verbal dexterity in my power. The reality, though, is that I’m a big fat chicken, I don’t like heights, and the fear of that first drop on roller coasters makes me break out in a cold sweat. I might as well admit it.

That’s not to say I won’t go on roller coasters. I can brave the initial plummet because I enjoy the rest of the ride. I love The Bat, The Vortex, The Mighty Canadian Minebuster and The Wilde Beast. (No, I will not drop the E in “Wilde”; that is a sacred E! If you’re my age or older, you will know what I’m talking about.) But Behemoth and Leviathan are beyond my limits. I know this. I accept it. Instead, I enjoy watching people far more brave than I conquer those orange and teal swells of terror, and content myself with the voyeur’s knowledge that they are brimming with adrenaline over every death-defying inch of track.

Here is where I went wrong… or right, depending on your viewpoint: I didn’t read the stat sheet on that brilliantly sunny April day. I did not know that Yukon Striker holds records. With Behemoth in view in the distance – a deceptive point of reference since obviously Behemoth is much taller, and therefore Yukon Striker can’t possibly be anything I can’t handle – I confidently conducted my interviews for my YDH article, built up my determination, and marched up the ramp to tackle my first ride.

It wasn’t until I was strapped into my seat with no means of escape that wouldn’t include a humiliating meltdown that I figured it out. I was the only person on that car who was a single rider. Everyone else was a member of the American Coaster Enthusiasts group, also media guests to the park that day. They knew the stats. And they were all talking to one another about speed, and height, and vertical drops.

About this time, certain bodily orifices of mine began to pucker.

Noticing my panic, my car mate on my right informs me, “Oh, it’s nothing. Honestly, it’s so new and so smooth. It’s like riding a couch.” That’s all well and good, but I have no desire to ride a couch that’s going to pitch me at 90 degrees to my doom. I think this rather than say it, because at this point there is not much coming out of my puckered windpipe (… which bodily orifice did you think I was talking about?!).

Here is how that first ride goes for me:

I spend the ascent hyperventilating and laying a smack-down on my fight-or-flight response. At the top, Yukon Striker suspends riders over the first drop so that, if you are not an aforementioned Big Fat Chicken like me, you will have a breathtaking view of the entire park. “Open your eyes,” my car mate on my left tells me. “You have to see this. You’re missing everything. Open your eyes!”

Foolishly, I oblige. I look down. I see my fate. And then the brakes release and I scream.

And scream, and scream and scream.

(In retrospect, I can only describe the sounds which came out of my mouth during those three minutes and twenty-five seconds as a cross between a train whistle and squirrel chatter. In the back of my mind I was vaguely conscious of the fact that my car mates were laughing at me in between their own gasps and hollers of delight.)

“You’re fun,” my new friends tell me when the ride is over and I discover that I have not died after all.

So there it is. I survived Yukon Striker, and I unwittingly (literally unwittingly, as I had ZERO wits about me from start to finish) made people laugh. I’ll take it. It was an awesome day.

I may even ride it again next time.

Alton Mill – Where History and Art Live Side-by-Side

Posted on by Katherine

Originally posted on York Durham Headwaters

The village of Alton, located in the gentle hills of Caledon, Ontario, is a small, historic town. Historic houses, shops and buildings of minor commerce line its single main street.

It should come as no surprise, then, that this village has a historic mill, too. Like so many small towns which lie outside Toronto’s urban cityscape, the bones of this industrial complex are tucked out of sight from passers-through, and quietly attest to the existence of the once thriving Beaver Knitting Mill.

But Alton Mill is far from the crumbling, derelict building you might be imagining. Instead, it has been resurrected from the annals of history, and is now an oasis of culture surrounded by babbling streams and the kind of vivid scenery that can only be found in rural places like Caledon.

Despite its renovation, the character of a bygone era has been lovingly preserved and married with the crisp, fresh lines of modern times. Here, the echo of creaking wood from the beams above, exposed brick and rough, timeworn plaster are juxtaposed against fresh hardwood, floor-to-ceiling panes of glass, and clean, modern fixtures.

It’s your classic Cinderella story. Today, the Alton Mill Arts Centre is a vibrant attraction, and houses the collections of career artists who are still carving their names into the woodwork of today’s art scene.

I came to the mill to attend Out of the Cage, an exhibition held in the Bartlett Gallery for Canadian recluse-eccentric Mendelson Joe, and to write a blog post about the event. It was fascinating; I had a great time. But when I sat down to write, I found that I had so much to say about the exhibit, and even moreto say about Alton Mill itself, that I couldn’t fit everything into just one post.

(As an aside, I didn’t ask if I could commandeer space for two posts, so if you’re reading this, it means Central Counties’ marketing department has been gracious enough to indulge me.)

In an effort to add some culture to our lives, I convinced my husband and son to come along. Because we thought that Christopher, whose entire six-year-old world centres on Pokémon and Skylanders, probably would not be interested in art, I was left on my own while the two of them high-tailed it to the general store for candy.

Imagine our surprise when, upon returning to pick me up, Christopher insisted on touring the gallery. He proceeded to lead me by the hand, from collection to collection, upstairs and down, examining with awe the colours and craftsmanship. “Wow, Mommy, they did a really good job!” became his mantra.

I had a death-grip on his sticky little hand for the first ten minutes (the last thing I needed was to ruin a contemporary masterpiece with half-dissolved Nerds and Pop Rocks smudges). But I soon learned that he intuitively recognized the unspoken trust and respect that came with these items being close enough to touch.

None of this surprised Meg Floyd, Alton Mill’s general manager. When I related this anecdote to her, she said, “It’s amazing. Kids—they go into museums and other art galleries where the things are at a distance, and you can’t touch them because an alarm will go off. But here it’s so close that they get it.”

We were not the only ones there with a young person in tow—a handful of other kids were touring the gallery with their families that day. From the looks of awe on faces old and young, I understood that this place, the Alton Mill Arts Centre, has a magic that appeals to a wide-ranging audience. You don’t have to be “into art” to enjoy Alton Mill. When you’re there, the place transforms you and the way you think of art.

It transforms the way you think of yourself in relation to art. Alton Mill brings you into another world where past and present live side-by-side, and where art is so much more than swirls of paint and chiseled sculptures. It’s a living, breathing entity, as real as the talented men and women whose working studios are housed within.

It left an impression on me. When you go, you’ll see what I mean for yourself.

Mary Pratt exhibit opens at McMichael Gallery

Posted on by Katherine

Originally written for Central Counties Tourism, January 2014

McMichael Canadian Art Collection gallery

The McMichael Canadian Art Collection, located in York Region’s picturesque, historical downtown Kleinburg, is a bastion of Canadian artistic talent. With its impressive array of permanent and special exhibits, along with its outdoor walking trails, sculpture garden and historical landmarks, McMichael is an oasis of culture in our modern, chaotic world dominated by mass production and big box retail.

As romantic a picture as these words paint, I have to make a confession at the outset of this post: I’m not an art buff. I do (like a lot of people, I suspect) appreciate art … in theory. I staunchly believe that Canadian art is an important piece of our national heritage. I’m an armchair supporter of Canadian talent. I’ve heard of the Group of Seven … Unfortunately, that’s about the limit of my knowledge of the Canadian art scene.

I’ve always wanted to change that, but until now, I’ve never gotten out to visit the McMichael Gallery (or any other gallery for that matter). Not because I had no interest, but because in my busy life, with my busy family and my busy job, I’d forgotten the magic of those quiet, introspective moments that only art can conjure.

This past Saturday the McMichael Gallery opened its Mary Pratt exhibit to the public. When I was offered the opportunity to go, I jumped at it. Am I ever glad I did.

In describing Mary Pratt’s work, I’m not going to resort to oft-used terms like “photo realism” or “existentialism.” With my limited background in art, I’m not even sure I would be using them correctly. What I will say is that Mary Pratt’s work is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. Whether you’re a veteran gallery-goer or as green as I am, her work is something that anyone can understand; that anyone can consider; that anyone can appreciate.

Jelly Shelf by Mary Pratt.

My guide, Communications Coordinator for McMichael Rachel Weiner, made the comment that Mary Pratt’s work plays on light. “It’s like walking into a jewellery box,” she says.

Somehow Mary Pratt manages to capture the fleeting quality of light and translate it onto a piece of canvas in a way that makes the work alive to all the senses. It’s hard to describe in mere words what standing in front of one of her paintings does to you on the inside. I don’t have enough room in this post to even begin to try. But it’s a phenomenal experience, one which I’d recommend to anyone.

And did recommend—no word of a lie. I gushed about the exhibit to anyone and everyone that would listen for days afterwards!

While I was there I had the opportunity to meet Mary Pratt herself. I can’t say enough wonderful things about her. She is the most unassuming, self-deprecating septuagenarian I’ve ever met. To illustrate my point, Chief Curator for the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia Sarah Fillmore said, “If you ask Mary where she thinks her art will be in fifty years, she’d say, ‘probably stuffed into a closet with all the other forgotten artists.’ ”

Such modesty, and yet such a contrast to the vivacity of her work, and the depth and breadth of her talent. It’s a microcosm of the McMichael Gallery itself. Spacious, multi-levelled, multi-layered, McMichael is a place for everyone. Here, anyone can appreciate art on their own terms—regardless of their level of experience or knowledge.

Christmas Fire by Mary Pratt.

Whether they’re iconic paintings rendered by the hands of iconic Canadian artists, whether they’re the mystical carvings of First Nations and Inuit visionaries, or whether they’re Karine Giboulo’s whimsical dioramas with their powerful, underlying messages—they wait quietly within the gallery, ready to ignite that spark of magic that only art can stir.

Walking through the McMichael Canadian Art Collection, you come to understand that you, the visitor, are as much a part of Canada’s national cultural heritage as the artists themselves. And that is a powerful thing.

That being said, I am officially a convert. My armchair appreciation days are over. McMichael will be seeing me walk through its doors more often from now on.