Have the damn gelato
It is a(nother) Tuesday morning in Toronto, the sun is shining, the wind is brisk and I have a small side-kick holding my hand. Our youngest is recovering from a cold. She is hovering on the border between being almost well-enough for school but not-quite, and so we opt for staying home. Ish.
After dropping the older girls to school, we stop for a quick coffee at my now-beloved local, Rooster, before heading off on the kind of indulgent errand I imagined people on sabbatical might enjoy. The kind of errand that Georgie-not-on-sabbatical would roll her eyes at.
We jump on a streetcar bound for St Lawrence Market to pick up some fresh fish for dinner. But not just any fish! Wild sockeye salmon to be precise. I learned from an Australian foodie friend on the weekend that sockeye is only available fresh and affordable for a very short window each year. It’s a window we’re in and so of course I plan an outing to add it to my basket because what sort of self-respecting sabbatical-taker wouldn’t???
Upon finding the specific fishmonger who purveys this delicacy (feel free to roll your eyes) we were told they had just taken delivery of the day’s sockeye supply and were in the process of slicing it. Could we come back in 20 minutes? Well, I suppose we could take a tour of the selection of food stalls for twenty minutes.
We wander, we browse various delicacies, my companion valiantly seeks to procure a new plush toy from every tourist stand we pass, and I valiantly resist.
On our final loop back towards our fish-dealer we are mesmerised by a young man making fresh waffle cones. Watching him gently pour the batter into the waffle iron, close the lid, flip it over, ease the creased biscuit up and then quickly mold it into conical form is hypnotic. Noting our enjoyment the young man behind the glass points us towards a small bowl of cracked cone pieces to try. These crisp shards are delicious. So delicious Ruby and I laugh out loud. The kind of cone that would do on its own and that’s not a scenario I envision lightly.
Our new friend in the apron offers us a taste of gelato. Now, while I can resist buying plush moose toys from a cheap souvenir shop, I am helpless in the face of a taste of gelato even knowing, as I do, that a taste is the gateway to a cone for my companion.
Ruby tries butter caramel and her face melts in delight. I chose pistachio and I’m afraid there aren’t words. The shop is called Bomba and the tagline is mind-blowing gelato which absolutely tracks. The cone, while very good, is not going to out-hero this sublime gelato.
“We’ll take a cone of butter caramel and I’ll be back on the weekend to have a pistachio cone myself,” I say. “Tuesday is a bit early in the week for an ice cream.”
Just as soon as that sentence ends, another begins.
“Scrap that. Let’s make it two cones: one butter caramel, one pistachio.”
It’s only Tuesday but it’s the best decision I’ll make all week.
It was a message from a friend back home in Australia that sparks my swift change of heart. Soph is on parental leave with her third baby for the next six months and gave these clarifying instructions.
On Tuesday Sophie wanted us to devour a cone of mindblowing pistachio gelato. Of course she did! And I did too. Of course I did.
I remember being on parental leave with our third baby so vividly, the one who has grown into the sweet, quirky seven-year old now holding my hand, sharing my delight exploring our new city and indulging in superior creamy cold goods. As I’m handed my cone I cannot wipe the smile from my face.
Have the damn gelato. Everytime.
PS In the interests of full transparency the salmon was a fail. The fish itself was delicious but dinner was an unmitigated disaster. The worst meal we’ve had over here on account of the family-wheels falling off in spectacular fashion before we ate. We’ve instigated homework hour here before dinner and let’s just say it became a family-wide hotbed of frayed patience, fiery tempers and frustration that did not a happy family evening make. Cute! So the lesson I’m taking here is skip the fishmonger but definitely don’t skip the gelato?
