Down to the Dirt

from Down to the Dirt’s Website

As many such journeys begin, Down to the Dirt started with a decision at the dining room table. In 2004 Writer/Director Justin Simms, Producer Anna Petras, Novelist/Lead Actor Joel Hynes and Co-Screenwriter Sherry White sat over tea and agreed to make the feature film adaptation of Joel’s first novel, Down to the Dirt, in which his ne’r-do-well alter ego, Keith Kavanagh, finds a most improbable redemption. Four years and thousands of cups of tea later, the film exists. (And all four key players are still alive.)

By far the best movie I’ve seen in a long time.

From the opening line to the end, it engaged me.  The characters were very realistic, and I felt that the movie truly captured what the writer (and lead actor) was trying to convey about life in ‘The Cove’. The writing was unique, witty, and raw.  From what I understand about directing, I think it was really well done.

There are some very graphically violent scenes, but I highly reccomend this movie.

 

 

A still from one of my favourite scenes:

the musical fruit

toot toot.

speaking of; tried a new burrito place tonight. Burrito Bar. It’s on college street, west of bathurst.

I went there for me to have meal, mark to have a snack.

While I was waiting for our ‘mixed’ burrito and our nachos to be made, I read a newspaper article they had posted on their wall.  It was about how they and Big Fat Burrito are within 1o minutes walking distance of each other and still both stay alive and have both taken over spaces notorious for not having the greatest business.

The article pits the two burrito joints against each other and says that Burrito Bar is more authentic while Big Fat is more unique. I say they’re both good, but Big Fat Burrito has their act together better. They can feed and satisfy mass amounts of people in a short amount of time.  You might miss out on a bit of freshness in their haste but it’s worth it because when you’re going out for a burrito… you usually want it big and fast.

Burrito Bar DID have canned corn on their nachos… a bit odd, but totally delicious. I would return… but I’d definitely reccomend sharing one (mixed chicken-steak; small 5.60+) with a friend and then upgrading to an extra value meal or something. For 7 bucks extra you get a meat nachos and two soda pops.

kaBLAM.

Sempre used to be simple

*disclaimer* - this is my first blog and I realize it is excessively long. There’s a lot of built up emotion/opinion behind this entry… subsequent entries will be much more succinct…. 

Flashback - April 16th, 1999. The day after my 16th birthday. EIGHT years ago. I have just gotten home from leadership camp and four of my closest friends blindfold me, kidnap me, and drive me to a surprise location.  The mini-van halts, the door loudly grinds open, the blindfold gets taken off and I see the familiar red window and door frames of Sempre Pizza Pasta.  I am taken out for a delicious meal of fresh Italian bread with too much butter, crispy calamari, ceaser salad and margarita pizza.  I am given my very first cell phone – a clunker, with a yellow and black smiley-face cover. This memory fills me with gluten-filled, gooey nostalgia.  I have visited this place many times since that day, and I vaguely recall minute details of each experience.  I haven’t been there since I became deeply embedded in the service industry. 

My girlfriend (one of the original four) and I make dinner plans tonight and we decide on an old favourite.  I meet her there, and characteristically; I am late.  The still-familiar restaurant is about a third full, with four other full tables.  One of the tables has 8 diners, who appear to be in the stage of choosing appetizers. I am appalled that I have noticed all of this before even saying hello to my friend.

She sits tucked behind a little wall, at a two-person table with a glass of water. Our server immediately comes over to ask us what he can get for us, and I ask for a diet Coke, with little ice, and a glass of water.  My request for the water trails off, as he walks away in the process.  Mich gives me a look and says ‘I was going to ask for a water for you also, but he walked away too fast.’  Uh oh…  she knows my disdain for poor service.  He promptly returns with my drinks and asks if we’re ready to order our meal. One of us says ‘not quite yet…’ and he starts to walk away. We have to literally call him back to order our appetizer.  He doesn’t seem impressed, but we explain that we’re very hungry.  Neighbouring tables are delivered their complementary basket of bread and butter, while we wait with empty stomachs and emptying glasses.   I ask if pastas come with salad, and get a snarky-toned response ‘Our menu is á la carte.’ We decide to share two more appetizers and a pasta, and he haughtily informs us that the appetizers will arive first.  Mich and I look at each other as if to say ‘obviously’ but keep quiet.

We notice our waiter socializing at the bar while our flatbread waits at the serving station.  Another server also notices, and pushes it towards our own server.  It seems he doesn’t want to insult him, but notices our impatience.  It’s at this point that I decide to start making notes.  He finally notices, and with a panicked face, brings it to our table.  There’s no apology for the delay. In fact, there is no comment at all when he drops it off.

I should note here, that I am very picky with servers, probably more unforgiving than necessary, but this place is supposed to be ‘fine Italian dining’ and we are being treated worse than when we use to arrive to pay for our meals with coins.

Lucky for ‘John’, the food saves the experience; a rosemary and oil encrusted flatbread, served with exquisite olive oil paired with perfectly aged balsamic vinegar.  The  bread is separated into pizza-sized slices, but the beauty in this starter is in the fact that each slice is further perforated for effortless portion control!  I comment on this many times and Michelle smiles patiently.

When it’s time for our spinach salad (made with mixed baby greens instead, since they are out of spinach) and calamari, our server clumsily and without indication of actually caring what he’s doing, shoves our previous plates aside to make room for our other dishes.  I can’t help but think that he should suggest the possibility of us moving to one of the many empty 4-person tables, or at least be nicer. Either way, he is beyond ON my nerves, he’s in them. He has infiltrated the very essence of my nerves. I now hate him.  I am aggravated but excited about our appetizers.

 The salad is delicious even without the spinach, with a perfectly tart honey mustard dressing, and fresh shulled sunflower seeds.  Chopped celery is a nice addition, not often found in salads of late.  The calamari… oh GOD the calamari. It brings me back to my 16th birthday all over again. It’s over-battered with spiced crispy batter, and delectable and perfect and is the exact texture I’d been hoping for.  A second slice of lemon would have been nice to season it further, but luckily only I enjoy the zing on my seafood.

Both appetizers are (not overly) salty, and our water has emptied completely. If our server had come by to ask how either course of our starters were, we’d have had a chance to ask for more water… this is not the case.  I decide to look past it and enjoy my conversation time.  John comes by to take away one of our dishes, but says nothing to us.  I feel like he’s treating us like the C-group at the highschool cafeteria. (ten points for anyone that knows this reference).

So our entree comes and finally he wins a point for service, he split our entree into two separate plates. Penné Giselle, with whole wheat penné, a rosé sauce, proscuitto, roasted red peppers and (minimal) spinach.  It’s good.

 Michelle goes to the bathroom and while she’s away, our server comes over to me and says, get this; “Any dessert for you ladies?” Not only is it rude for him to assume I’ll know what she wants, he refers to me as if I’m both of us. I say, “I dunno, I doubt it but…” and again he walks away.  The bill arrives just as Michelle sits down and the time printed is HALF AN HOUR before he gives it to us. It’s pretty obvious that he wanted us out of there long ago.

 It’s very rare that I tip less than 10% but I haven’t felt that insulted in a long time.

When I go back (and I will go back – I’ve had too many good experiences there to let him ruin it for me) I will specifically request a different waiter.

PHEW. This dinner was days ago and I only finished this entry now… it has stayed with me, and with the click of the ‘publish’ button, I will release myself from the anger that hangs over me… too many other good food-related experiences to speak and think about!