The world stopped spinning on Monday. There I stood at the bakery counter, my eyes roving over the options in the glass counter case, my stomach anticipating the deliciousness to come. They scanned and paused. They looked up and down in disbelief. Within moments, I knew my life would never be the same.
For a moment I was confused. I read the tag "Turkish Bread." Nothing registered, but I had this niggling feeling that all my problems would dissolve if I just bought some.
My body swayed slightly as the bell rang in my head. Finally!!!!! Turkish bread!!! Here!!! In Canada!!!! I blinked myself back to awareness (by now the girl behind the counter was staring at me, her eyebrow cocked questioningly) and said "Turkish bread? You guys have Turkish bread?" I ordered the medium size.
I'll fill you in on my delight. While wandering the lands of Oz about six years ago, I encountered food I had never known. A delightful treat was Turkish bread; it is this amazingly chewy, yummy flatbread that must be made by the gods. I really have no idea if it actually hails from Turkey, but let's just say the Turkish should be revered for this bread.
When I returned to Canada, I searched high and low for this bread. Continually devastated, I never found the bread. After about two years, I almost gave up on my quest to find the delicious bread. For the following four years, I just kept my eyes randomly peeled when I went into a new grocery store or bakery. I was giving up hope, I had lost the will to live. I mean, the will to keep searching.
So there I stood. And there it lay. The bread of my dreams was right before me. And do you know where I found it? In the bakery that opened up just down the street from my old apartment in Toronto about two weeks before I moved away. Ahhh, the irony of life. I shake my fist wildly at it!
I asked the girl if I could tell her a story. She said sure and I revealed to her my epic search. She took the story in with graceful rapture (ha, yeah right!), and then told me that their bakery chain (Cobs Bread, for the record, now go and find one and get the bread!) was actually a part of the Australian chain Baker's Delight. It makes sense!!!!!
Currently, in Ontario, Cobs Bread is generally in the GTA. And I will drive the three hour drive on a regular basis just to get it. That is how much I love it. My life is now complete. God bless you, Turkish bread.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I think the best part of this story was when I called up my friend Charlotte to tell her what I found. She had lived in Australia for a year too, and experienced all that is delicious. And would you care to know her reaction? She shared in my joy, felt her heart rise, and revealed to me that she has been covertly searching for Turkish bread ever since she got home about five years ago...I promised to take her to Cobs Bread.
A ramble of what I do in Southwestern Ontario. And some other stuff you might be interested in.
Showing posts with label Australia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Australia. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Shark Week
"I think it is very exciting that a man-eating shark has been spotted off the coast of Cornwall," Mr Baxter, an Australian marine biologist said.
I don't know about you, but if I was taking a holiday in England and spotted a man eating shark at the beach, I would head for the hills. In fact, I would head for the hills in any country where I spotted a shark at the beach. This article I just found on Nine MSN tells how there is potentially a great white shark up there, even though England is not the typical playground for these sharks.
I have to admit, I am fascinated by sharks. I love watching documentaries about sharks and different programs, and I love love love Shark Week on the Discovery Channel.
But.
I am also terrified of sharks. And I say that is rightly so. Um, my flailing legs, their sharp teeth, it just does not paint a pretty picture. Have you not seen Jaws??? Do you not watch CSI Miami?? I like to play it safe most of the time, and have been known to behave like a chicken. Right before I left for Australia, I was invited to go sailing on the Great Barrier Reef with the family I was originally bunking with shortly after my arrival. I was pretty damn excited. Excited until my mom said "Oh! If you have your period, don't go in the water!!! There are sharks!!!!!!!!! They will sniff you out!!"
Now, I don't know if I've mentioned this yet, but my mom is a professional psychic. And when she gives out warnings, sometimes, it is hard to decipher if she is being a protective mom, or if she has been struck with some intuition that I am going to die a horrible death by being eaten by a shark.
So there I was. There we were. Sailing upon the ocean blue, singing silly folk songs to each other and losing our hats to the wind and ocean. A family of four, plus two. That makes for five people all trying to coax me to jump off the damn boat and get in water because there are no flippin' sharks around. Woo-woo Melissa, watch out for that sea cucumber.
So I relented. I was safe, it was good time for me to go in....no reason for a shark to 'sniff me out'. (Damn you mom...). I snorkeled and swam. I recited in my head in my fake French accent "Welcome to Jacques Cousteau's underwater adventure..." and made up names for all the pretty fish and coral I saw. It was quite hysterical in my head, I assure you.
And there were no sharks. I survived~we all survived! In fact, most people who go to the beach survive because sharks are not attacking them. Ahhh....my crazy imagination.
But I will add this, to emphasize what a chicken I am. Later in the year, MJ and I went to Byron Bay for a week, she took surfing lessons. I did not. I was still scared of being eaten by a shark....
I don't know about you, but if I was taking a holiday in England and spotted a man eating shark at the beach, I would head for the hills. In fact, I would head for the hills in any country where I spotted a shark at the beach. This article I just found on Nine MSN tells how there is potentially a great white shark up there, even though England is not the typical playground for these sharks.
I have to admit, I am fascinated by sharks. I love watching documentaries about sharks and different programs, and I love love love Shark Week on the Discovery Channel.
But.
I am also terrified of sharks. And I say that is rightly so. Um, my flailing legs, their sharp teeth, it just does not paint a pretty picture. Have you not seen Jaws??? Do you not watch CSI Miami?? I like to play it safe most of the time, and have been known to behave like a chicken. Right before I left for Australia, I was invited to go sailing on the Great Barrier Reef with the family I was originally bunking with shortly after my arrival. I was pretty damn excited. Excited until my mom said "Oh! If you have your period, don't go in the water!!! There are sharks!!!!!!!!! They will sniff you out!!"
Now, I don't know if I've mentioned this yet, but my mom is a professional psychic. And when she gives out warnings, sometimes, it is hard to decipher if she is being a protective mom, or if she has been struck with some intuition that I am going to die a horrible death by being eaten by a shark.
So there I was. There we were. Sailing upon the ocean blue, singing silly folk songs to each other and losing our hats to the wind and ocean. A family of four, plus two. That makes for five people all trying to coax me to jump off the damn boat and get in water because there are no flippin' sharks around. Woo-woo Melissa, watch out for that sea cucumber.
So I relented. I was safe, it was good time for me to go in....no reason for a shark to 'sniff me out'. (Damn you mom...). I snorkeled and swam. I recited in my head in my fake French accent "Welcome to Jacques Cousteau's underwater adventure..." and made up names for all the pretty fish and coral I saw. It was quite hysterical in my head, I assure you.
And there were no sharks. I survived~we all survived! In fact, most people who go to the beach survive because sharks are not attacking them. Ahhh....my crazy imagination.
But I will add this, to emphasize what a chicken I am. Later in the year, MJ and I went to Byron Bay for a week, she took surfing lessons. I did not. I was still scared of being eaten by a shark....
Friday, July 20, 2007
The Gist of the Conversation
As msn'd earlier this week......
Me: Yeah, it's messed...growing up
Simon: Yeah, I think I want to change things
Me: Like what?
Simon: I want to go back to school or something.
Me: REALLY???
Simon: I'm going to sell out of the company so I can do that.
Me: Are you kidding??
Simon: No, for real.
Me: Hmmm.....and what do you want to go to school for?
Simon: Environmental Management
Me: That's pretty cool.
Simon: I could apply to school anywhere....Here in Australia, or New Zealand, the UK...
Me: AND CANADA
(As I search for the York and U of T post grad websites to send him the links)
Simon: I could, lol!
Me: Ha. Ha. Ha. So selling out, eh??
Simon: Yeah, I don't want to be tied down
Me: TIED DOWN!?!?!?!? Does this mean you are NOT going to marry me after all!?!?!?!?
Simon: Geographically, Melissa, geographically....
(Breathe a sigh of relief)
Simon: So would you ever live in New Zealand????
Me: Yeah, it's messed...growing up
Simon: Yeah, I think I want to change things
Me: Like what?
Simon: I want to go back to school or something.
Me: REALLY???
Simon: I'm going to sell out of the company so I can do that.
Me: Are you kidding??
Simon: No, for real.
Me: Hmmm.....and what do you want to go to school for?
Simon: Environmental Management
Me: That's pretty cool.
Simon: I could apply to school anywhere....Here in Australia, or New Zealand, the UK...
Me: AND CANADA
(As I search for the York and U of T post grad websites to send him the links)
Simon: I could, lol!
Me: Ha. Ha. Ha. So selling out, eh??
Simon: Yeah, I don't want to be tied down
Me: TIED DOWN!?!?!?!? Does this mean you are NOT going to marry me after all!?!?!?!?
Simon: Geographically, Melissa, geographically....
(Breathe a sigh of relief)
Simon: So would you ever live in New Zealand????
- I'm pretty sure that meant he is going to propose to me. Any day now. I've finally worn him down. Thank heavens.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Scrap that
I like to tell stories. I like to make people laugh. I like to dig into my tickle trunk and pull out random funnies just for the hell of it.
Here goes. (I hope you laugh. Without my gesticulations and such, I'm sure it's not as good a story as I like to think.)
One fine evening in December 2002, my friend Mary Jane and I were strolling along the streets of Brisbane's downtown. (Ok, we were staggering. We were bar hopping.) We ran into our friend Simon, who had just left his Christmas party. He's pretty swank, so he was all suited up in a tux. He was also incredibly drunk~much more drunk than MJ or I. We caroused to a couple more bars, indulged in a few more beers. It was a nice time.
George St. is the home to some scrap metal kangaroos. Less than a block away is a pub whose name fails to be remembered by me. (Do you see where I am going here?)
We had some beers there, got hungry and went on a search for some street meat. Luckily, there was a vendor nearby. Unlucky for the kangaroo, we ended up right next to him.
We had some beers there, got hungry and went on a search for some street meat. Luckily, there was a vendor nearby. Unlucky for the kangaroo, we ended up right next to him.I will never be able to forget what happened next. Simon crouched down in his tux, pet the kangaroo, and started to feed him his hotdog. After a moment, Simon thought better of this. He took a few more bites, finished the hotdog, but had some bun left over. He placed the rest of the bun in the kangaroo's hand.
Now, Simon is not the first to do this. It is no big surprise to find on a Saturday or Sunday morning any of these scrapmetal kangaroos holding pieces of food or wrappers. Sometimes there are bits hanging out of their mouths.
Mostly funny, but a little upsetting for the guy who made them. Maybe. Hopefully he thinks it's funny too ;)
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