I have another blog

Like how I write? Check out my new blog 'Y-Knots' at http://y-knots.blogspot.com. It's an exploratory blog about journalism.

What the heck is journalism?

I thought journalism was well positioned words arranged into a sentence -- sometimes it makes sense, sometimes it doesn't, always it follows a set of rules invented by some grammarian who nobody knows (why does he/she get to tell us the rules?). And whether or not your words can be received depends on whether or not the sentence makes sense, after all what is a word after a word after a word anyway? Who really knows what words mean.

I thought journalism was supposed to deliver messsages, urgent news that could affect the rest of your life. When does anybody even care? Who even cares? And when?

What the heck is journalism other than a J followed by an O followed by a U an R-N-A-L-I-S-M? What the heck is a J? Aren't i supposed to find out? I'm the journalist.

I thought journalism was supposed to answer questions.

I thought journalism was a job, a career, a mode of employment -- how many words does our language need to describe one thing? Why do we describe, explain, reiterate what we're talking about? Don't we already know what we're talking about?

I thought journalism was a word, a series of letters connected together, a symbol.

I thought journalism was an action, a series of doings to make something happen, the researching, the asking, the writing, the delivering of a message.

I thought journalism was a sound, a series of tongue clicks-clacks-smacks against the teeth and ruby pink gums.

I thought journalism was a way to explore, an excuse to find out lifes secrets, a reason to probe and gossip, the revealing of the ugly hidden truth, a way to bring light to issues that've been shunned, pushed aside, ignored, trampled on, the love and passion of a writer who is only trying to put those little symbols from the alphabet together so you the reader/listener/viewer can get the message.

I thought journalism was an offering of trust amongst readers/listeners/viewers that you, the person in control, know what you're talking about and have prepared yourself well. The only question left is: who is listening?

I thought journalists were supposed to provide facts, so then what is this?

(Photo from getreligion.org)

Boon Burger: The Mature Version of the Ice Cream Shop

Remember when you were a kid and you would beg your parents to go for ice cream after dinner? I do. In my 5-year-old point of view nothing seemed like a better idea than taking a relaxing drive into town for an ice cream cone at the greasy smelling, worn out local ice cream shop.

Fast forward 15 or so years and I found the mature version of that ice cream shop atmosphere – Boon Burger Café, Canada’s first all vegetarian burger café. Everything at Boon Burger compares to the ice cream shop feel. The interior of the restaurant has giant industrial sized lunch tables which feel like picnic tables; extra condiments are set up on a counter only there isn’t crusty ketchup stuck on the sides of the bottle; you order and pay at the front (or through the bike only takeout window, which is the coolest novelty itself); and then diners are pretty much left to eat their burgers out on the Sherbrook Street crowded three table patio, at the lunch table, or even take your food to a nearby park.

As for the food, everything can be made vegan and everything is vegetarian. Take your pick from mushroom burgers, chickpea burgers, Greek burgers, ‘turkey’ burgers all are roughly $8 and you can order a side salad, soup or sesame French fries for an additional $3. I made the mistake of trying a vegan poutine which was really only disappointing because the sesame fries were so good by themselves – that and vegan poutine really isn’t like regular poutine, the gravy isn't as salty and soy cheese doesn't melt entirely well it seems.

This non-committal restaurant will not take a giant chunk of time out of your day – you can get in and get out quickly. When diners are in they can expect to feel relaxed and when they’re out they will feel satisfied. Boon Burger is the perfect place for a quiet lunch or a late evening dinner on a hot summer day.

Meat, Potatoes and Comfort...Not the Southern Kind

Gasthaus Gutenberger
2583 Portage Ave.
(204) 888-3133
Reservations Recommended

Gasthaus Gutenberger isn’t exactly a summertime hotspot. There is no outdoor patio nor does the menu offer a variety of lighter or barbequed meals, but, my god, they can cook meat.

Eating at Gasthaus Gutenberger is similar to eating at the Keg – you go for the meat, the larger portion sizes and warm atmosphere. All the dishes contain some type of meat – take your pick from an extensive variety of schnitzels and steaks whether it be beef, pork or veal. After an entire loaf of bread, followed by half a plate of meat, three fistful-sized balls of mashed potato and a small side of veg, I had zero room left for dessert – although I would’ve loved to try the chocolate brandy torte or Vienna apple strudel. At an average of $25 per dish, I left satisfied.

As for the atmosphere, it feels like you’re eating in a Swiss Alp chalet. There are very few windows as if to prevent you from seeing the blustery winter storm that is ravaging the outdoors. The only thing missing from the perceived outdoor chill and accordion player are loud beer clinking pub sounds. Gasthaus is not like that; it’s a place for calm filling meals with family and/or close friends after a hard days work.

Fed Up with Your Attitude

This past weekend was one of those weekends when I couldn’t help but ask myself why I became a server. How much disrespect did I have to put up with until I could shove my words down the yelling-person-opposite-me’s throat? How many snapping fingers did I have to put up with until I could mount myself onto one of the table tops and tell everyone to get out? How many veto cards did I get to play when I wanted to refuse servicing a table? How many times did I have to take back perfectly good food until I could charge the table for it anyway?

It’s nine o’clock, our last rush of the night. I look over my shoulder and standing in the doorway is a line up of hungry people that stretches into the parking lot (okay not really, but I can’t see the end of the line). My feet are throbbing; my stomach is growling. I need a break. Bam! My 12 table section is instantly full.

Fast forward to the middle of the rush and the barista station is overflowing. They can’t keep up. Tables are beginning to wait 10 minutes for a latte. Turn the corner and the cooks are sweating but aren’t nearly as busy as the barista’s. Their orders are coming up before the drinks. This isn’t good. I’m basically begging for forgiveness at every table for the wait. Many don’t sympathise. One table of ladies are debating between ordering one or two pizzas. I point to a table in the back corner also eating pizza and say that’s how big one will be. They look. I say if they ordered two pizzas it would be a filling meal and they would have plenty of leftovers. They get excited and agree to leftovers. I bring out their first pizza. Their lips curl up, their eyebrows scrunch together and their noses wrinkle at me as if I’m insane. Oh god; help me now. I can hear them bitching as I walk away. I bring out the second. The second pizza tray doesn’t even graze the table and all three of them are telling me I’m wrong. The attacks keep coming; I don’t even get a chance to remind them of the fact that they saw how big the pizza would be (only ten inches, I can eat a whole one myself) and agreed they wanted to have leftovers. All I hear is you, you! YOU! I take my chance to butt in with an apology for the miscommunication (server rule #1, always take the blame). They ignore me and continue their rant. I’m fuming. With more authority this time I say, with as much control as possible, “So you don’t want this?” Not the best way to say it, but people are staring now. I’ve had it. They are the fourth complaining table of the rush. I don’t even want to confront my manager with another complaint. I do. She’s pissed, but on my side. Sick of discounting bills she confronts the table. They say I offered to take the pizza back – did I really have a choice? They don’t pay for the second pizza.

Luckily, however, the cranky table behind them notices the pizza ladies’ behaviour and becomes patient and friendly. They tip very nicely and one lady at the end even pulls me aside to thank me for my service. I thank her but wonder if she knew how much I appreciated her extra step to thank me after a hellish night.

It’s 11 now and the final announcement that we’re closed goes off. I couldn’t be happier, but I’m cringing at the mess and the realization that I have to stay an extra hour and a half to set up the Sunday brunch. Pizza ladies are one of the last to leave. Their final words: “Well sorry.”

(Ever wonder if you have reason to complain? Check out a Winnipeg server of 25 years’ tips to you in today’s Winnipeg Free Press http://www.winnipegfreepress.com/life/Eat-drink-and-be-contrary-95875814.html.)

Where I've Been all Spring

“Can’t I just put anything this time?”

That’s how I felt every time I came to sit down and write another introductory sentence. My motivations to write sank to an all time low come April, yet my creative mind was racing with potential blogs, ads, montages and articles. I swear, I wanted to, but the thought of opening up another word document and facing another blank page was terrifyingly overwhelming.

Eight months of Creative Communications took my brain and twisted it, bent it, shook it and wrung out every last set of words I could possibly arrange into a grammatically correct sentence like a towel hanging from a clothes line in a violent downpour. Needless to say at the end of the downpour I needed a month or so to dry out.

But it’s summer now and it’s time to end my pity-party. I’ve got spring classes to attend, a book to write and a blog to serve – and only three months until the storm returns.

So this is my, not at all over-dramatized, way of apologizing for my absence and my way of saying I’m back and ready to sprinkle your hungry mind with some summertime dining delights and disasters.

A new love

I’ve fallen in love…with a menu.

It has everything a partner could ask for. Depending on what I want that day, it’s sweet, savory, spicy on my tongue. While it updates itself with specials, I know it won’t play games with me, every time I go I know some things will be the same. It understands I want to be healthy and provides me with such options. This menu realizes I’m busy and therefore accommodates for the limited amount of time I have to spend with it. And the best part is I haven’t had all it has to offer, so I know when I go back for more I can expect a new experience in the same comfortable environment.

Where can you find it? I probably shouldn’t tell you, but it’s okay, I can share. Located in the Exchange District my new love can be found plastered to the wall at Kay’s Delicatessen. Open Mon-Fri 9-6 and Sat 10-3 – the latter starting April 17th.

I swear it’ll have you saying: Can we do it again tomorrow?