Taste T.O. devours The Edible City
Part historical recollection, part rallying cry and part love letter to all things gustatory in our fair city, this compilation has an angle for every taste and tolerance.
A sampling of the more bizarre pieces include Darren O’Donnell’s “Eat, Meet and other tactics to chew my way to Sesame Street” which in a roundabout way explains the genesis of his Eat The Street project. Then there’s Kathryn Borel Jr.’s slightly risque “The Chicken and the egg,” a recounting of sexual exploits woven together to form the context of a discussion about trussing a chicken. Or RM Vaughan’s “I, Rat,” which provides a humorous account of nourishing oneself in Hogtown, as seen through the eyes of a rodent.
The Edible City is more than just a collection of outre essays and sordid tales, though. History buffs will find plenty to love in Sarah B. Hood’s opener of “Pickerel, pork and President’s Choice” as it sets the stage for the development of our agricultural industry. Mark Fram picks up the thread with “Greenhouse Toronto, once upon a time,” which speaks of a bygone era of market gardening, while Chris Hardwicke lobs one home in “Reviving St. Andrews Market,” his call to arms for an improved public works space contrasted brilliantly by lush descriptions of the bustling market’s heyday.
Policy nerds can get their fill, too, with articles by dietitians Ilona Burkot, Laura Burr and Jane Lac pinpointing the actual cost of nutrition in “Putting a price tag on healthy eating in Toronto,” thus proving it’s more expensive than you think. Chris Ramsaroop and Katie Wolk fuel a healthy debate around migrant workers’ rights in the agricultural industry (“Can we achieve racial equality in the food security movement?”), and Wayne Roberts brings the house down with his optimistic vision of food policy in our city in “How Toronto found its food groove”.
The sentimentality factor runs high too, as a trio of authors tug at our heartstrings by weaving tales of family traditions ensconced in food. From John Lorinc’s Hungarian history (“Walking towards the schnitzel”) to Rea McNamara’s quest for the roti of her memories (“Never see come see”), and Amanda Miller’s ode to ‘granny skills’ (“Not your grandmother’s pantry”) these stories underline that the commonalities connecting us are our culinary staples.
After immersing myself in this book, The Edible City left me well informed about the evolution of our food industry. For instance, did you know that Toronto has it’s very own cocktail containing a bitter called Fernet Branca? That and other tasty tidbits are yours to discover should you choose to pick up this book ... like a smorgasbord or all-you-can-eat buffet, there’s always a little something worth sinking your teeth into betwixt these glossy covers.
