[stylist] Back to writing anyone?

Thu Mar 13 07:45:44 UTC 2014

My girl. I'm a chocaholic.
I had the Baklava because it was different and they didn't have any 
chocolate, but maybe next time I write about food, it'll be after a day at 
Mr. Wonka's chocolate factory--or the real-life equivalent thereof.
Thea

-----Original Message----- 
From: Applebutter Hill
Sent: Wednesday, March 12, 2014 4:52 PM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: Re: [stylist] Back to writing anyone?

Dang! Again with the food! When my days at Suite 101 were winding down, I
was running two concurrent series -- one on accessible websites and the
other on chocolate. I really enjoyed writing about chocolate, interviewing
people about chocolate and doing research on chocolate. Now, all I do is eat
chocolate. Excuse me, while I go to the fridge for a fix.
Donna

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Homme, James
Sent: Wednesday, March 12, 2014 8:07 AM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Back to writing anyone?

Hi,
This reminds me of a book on Bookshare called "Will Write for Food," about
... food writing, I think.

Jim

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Miss Thea
Sent: Tuesday, March 11, 2014 1:02 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Back to writing anyone?

Okay, girl, you got it.
I whipped this up yesterday.

Thea
This will appear on my blog shortly, but for now, here it is.

Try The Baklava

Description: On the first above-zero day in March, I crawled out of my shell
and visited Terry's restaurant and Bar on 120 Ellesmere.

I left the medical building on 120 Ellesmere, in Scarborough, and walked a
few steps. The cool, sunny air sent waves of savory come-ons. I walked into
the first restaurant, where the come-on was the most savory, and the
closest.

As a totally blind person with pain issues, whose mobility isn't that great,
I've learned to take whatever's first on offer.
I pushed my way through a glass door, and found a seat by the entrance.
Soon after I sat down, a friendly server came by and asked if I'd like a cup
of coffee. I asked for Decaf, but as the kitchen was too small to carry both
a regular coffee-maker and a coffee-maker for Decaf, I skipped the Sanca and
went for orange juice on ice.
I brought a Braille book to read-one of those old, musty, fragrant Braille
books whose smell reminds me of the Braille library on the 3rd floor of W.
Ross MacDonald School for the Blind, where I attended between 1970-1977,
when I left in seventh grade to move to B.C., and its infant mainstreaming.
But that's for another day.

While reading, I sat back in my chair and "listened" to the place. People
spoke from two rows of tables-the one I was sitting at, and one to my right,
with nice walking space between.
Again, the friendly server came and asked what I'd like to eat. I asked what
they had.
I chose the Eggs Benedict from their all-day breakfast menu. I'd go for the
Suvlaki the next time I went to Terry's Restaurant and Bar.
Solemn promise.
I read, listened to the quiet conversation, and Toronto's at-work station.
It suited the cozy place quite well, I thought. I liked the uncrowded feel
of the place, my table seated as it was, beside a metal Venetian blind,
where the sun touched my fingers.
Of course, I did a little tactile exploring.
The Eggs Benny came, and I concentrated on the homemade breakfast and the
serenity of the first above-zero day in the year. The announcer on the radio
declared the day "gorgeous", and the happy chatter around me gave credence
to his words.
I'd heard my server talking to others, heard them choosing from a wide
variety that included burgers, chicken suvlaki and Greek salad.
When she came to ask if everything was satisfactory, as she did a few times,
I asked her if this was a Greek restaurant.
"Not really," she said, "though it's Greek-owned. This is a family-owned
restaurant, and everything we make here is homemade."
"Such as ." I grinned at her. "dessert?"
They had two choices. I chose the baklava.
My server presented me with a roughly triangular  pile of onion-skin thin
phyllo pastry layered with crushed almonds and walnuts and saturated in
syrup. The honey and cinnamon smell wafted up to me. It didn't stand a
chance. I began undoing all the chef's hard work. First, a slice of
syrup-saturated, paper-thin Phyllo. Neat texture, I thought, as I chewed.
Feels like wet paper, tastes like honey. After that, a mouthful of meaty
nuts. The pile grew smaller and smaller.
It had the taste of some of those grain cereals lathered in honey.
I made short work of that baklava.
I made sure to tell my server that I would do my first "blind foodie"
write-up on my blog about Terry's Restaurant and Bar.
Though I never sampled the bar, I found the restaurant with its friendly
server, its low-key crowd, and its unobtrusive music, a thoroughly enjoyable
way to spend an afternoon.
Not only that, the very capable chef gave me a piece of baklava to take
home.
-----Original Message-----
From: Bridgit Pollpeter
Sent: Monday, March 10, 2014 3:40 PM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: [stylist] Back to writing anyone?

Hey,

It's been a while since we posted our actual writing. Anyone up for a
writing exercise? We've had some great discussions lately, especially about
self-publishing. But it would be great to flex our creative muscles a bit.
Maybe no specific exercise but just post a short bit of writing?

Bridgit

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