It Must Have Been the Ambiance
0 
Coffee, Pie, and Books That Brought Back a Childhood Memory.
Queen Street East in Toronto is one of those streets that I could easily fall in love with and I in fact did when I first set foot upon it about a year ago while my friends and I spent a week with our neighbors to the north. This long street, extending all the way to the west end of the city, was quiet yet not without anything to do. In “The Beaches” area of Toronto, where we were staying for the week, I found the exact sort of “getaway” I was looking for at the time. Quiet enough to make a clean break from the havoc of New York City but happening enough so that there was always something to do. The street is lined with apartment buildings, restaurants, bars, shops, bookstores and coffee shops. In fact, I never seen such a concentration of coffee shops in my life. Nearly one on every block. For those who love to find a little sanctuary in a quiet little coffee shop, you can’t go wrong here; and the great thing about it all was that the population is such that there’s no mad stampede, no rush, no feeling that you are trying to enter a subway car at rush hour.
There is a tram that rides up the middle of this street – taking you all the way into downtown Toronto and beyond, all the way to the end of the street which at that point becomes Queen Street West. Riding the tram you get a good idea of the city as it passes through each neighborhood – each with its own unique character. For a New York City boy like me, this was a nice, slow paced, relaxing way to see a city, and Toronto is a beautiful city. Green, clean, good people, lots to do. I knew immediately that Toronto was a city that I could see myself living in one day.
Along Queen Street East, one particular shop caught our attention. The Pie Shack – a very unassuming place from the outside. Nestled next to what I remember to be a medical center and a row of apartment houses, nothing prepared me for what lie inside behind the old, white screen door. My friends – Linda, Dawn and Mairead – were hankering for some pie and I, of course, was in dyer need of some strong coffee. It was a no brainer. Let’s go check it out.
Once inside, we all knew that this was going to be a place where we were going to frequent a lot during our time in the city. Essentially “country” in its decor – rustic and homey – we took the seats on the couches near the floor to ceiling window which looked out to a very green and lush park and the passing of the trams every few moments. There was no traffic on the road, no honking of horns, no scramble of the Type-A personalities one sees in New York and being that it was a particularly cloudy and relatively cool morning, only added to the ambiance of the place. Not to mention that the proprietor was the most welcoming person I’d ever met, who engaged us in conversation and made us feel as if he had invited us into his own home. He had a dog, a labrador if I remember correctly, equally as friendly and welcoming as the owner and only added to the feeling that we were hanging out in someone’s living room. The coffee was amazing as was the pie, of which a “slice” was a quarter of the pie. Now, I’m not generally a “pie person” or even a “desert person” for that matter. Give me a good cup of coffee – a nice strong cup of coffee – and I’m a very happy guy. I don’t ask for much in this life.
There was one other thing that caught my eye and it amused me quite a bit: the plethora of Hardy Boys books on the tables, which were nothing more than old rustic doors, stripped of paint, and laid atop makeshift legs. Interesting idea. But those Hardy Boys books – that brought me back to when I was a little kid.
As I looked at them, amusing myself at seeing them again after all these years, I turned to my friend Linda and told her that when I was between the ages of 10 and 12, I literally devoured those books. Looking at them again at a forty plus year old man, they seemed incredibly silly and downright laughable but boy did those books bring me an incredible amount of joy and entertainment as a little kid. I loved the “adventure”, the “mystery”, trying to figure out the clues along the way. I was addicted to these books and had nearly half the collection at the time. I suppose if you were a young boy in the 1970s, these books may have been on your shelf as well. Or perhaps I was just a little nerd, who knows? But I had a lot of friends in school at the time who also devoured these mini-mysteries, comparing notes, all trying to figure out the big surprise that usually came at the end of these stories.
It’s funny to think now how the “adventures” of a rich, spoiled, brother private detective team would generate such enthusiasm but I suppose at the age of 10, when you are reading these books, your mind had not yet been poisoned by all the “theory” and other “literary” nonsense you’ll eventually learn, turning your sense of innocence, wonder and simply enjoying reading a story for the story’s sake into the mess of overly intellectualized nonsense that it would eventually become. For a few brief moments, looking at these old books with their standardized design and Norman Rockwell-esque cover paintings, made me remember what it was like to read for the simple joy of reading and not having to bother to see what lurked beneath the surface or even caring what lurked beneath the surface. (As an adult, you don’t even want to know where that thinking had taken me and what amusing things I actually discovered in these books by doing just that!) Okay, so The Hardy Boys series is not the paragon of literary virtue in our culture but man, it entertained the hell out of me when I was a kid. As silly as these books and stories are now in retrospect, it did secure my joy of reading and seeing them only reminded me that there I was, thirty-odd years later, still finding the same joy in picking up a work of fiction and just getting lost in it.
And all because we wanted some coffee and pie…
Since coming back to America, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of this place. I really can’t say why it made such an impression on me. After all, it’s only a coffee shop. But there was something about the atmosphere there, something about the welcoming feeling from the owner, something about the overcast sky, the tram and the lush, green park that made me realize more than ever that New York City is not the center of the universe; how one could simply relax with a cup of coffee and let their mind wander without having some cretin sitting next to you sticking their nose into your business and getting all judgmental with you about what you are reading, wearing or simply doing. It was truly a sanctuary, a place to just “let go” and enjoy the lesser moments in life, free from all the responsibilities one has on a day to day basis. It’s a big world out there and sometimes little places like this can do wonders for your well being, that is, if you’re receptive to it.
All in all, this may sound downright silly to some, and that’s okay, of course. But for a couple of hours I felt that peace, that detachment from the craziness of the world and also brought back some very happy childhood memories. Considering what’s going on in the world today, that’s not much to ask for, is it?
It Must Have Been the Ambiance ,
Born and raised in New York City. I am a musician/writer/painter who has poems and short stories published in about 40 magazines and journals throughout the United States, Canada and Europe and also has 12 books under his belt:
"Standing On Lorimer Street Awaiting Crucifixion" (Alpha Beat Press, 1996), "The Terror of Your Cunt is The Beauty of Your Face" (Black Spring Press, 1999), "Street Gospel Mystical Intellectual Survival Codes" (Budget Press, 2000), "Scrape That Violin More Darkly Then Hover Like Smoke In The Air" (Black Spring Press, 2001), "Existential Labyrinths" (Black Spring Press, 2003), "Window Shopping For A New Crown of Thorns" (Lulu Press, 2007), "November Rust" (Lulu Press, 2007), "My Arrival Is Marked By Illuminating Stains" (Lulu Press 2007), "A Symphony of Olives" (Propaganda Press, 2009) and "Divertimiento" (Propaganda Press, 2009). His second novel "Naderia" was released in January 2011 and his third, "Be Still and Know That I Am" (Beat Corrida) was released in September 2011.
He is also currently playing guitar and bass for NYC singer/songwriter Linda La Porte.
View My Profile
Tags: apartment buildings, apartment houses, beautiful city, bookstores, childhood memory, clean break, coffee shop, coffee shops, concentration, downtown toronto, getaway, havoc, queen street west, rush hour, sanctuary, stampede, subway car, tram, unassuming place, west end
Julian,
“It’s funny to think now how the “adventures” of a rich, spoiled, brother private detective team would generate such enthusiasm…” As I recall, one did not think of the protagonists as “rich, spoiled” kids. They were kids who had chances to do things other young kids could imagine themselves doing at least in the context and allure of the books.
So we weren’t reading great literature. At least we were reading and learning [without knowing it] to appreciate language.
As a teacher, I was always encouraged to see kids enthusiastically reading almost anything. Both my sons are now serious readers, and when they were young, I did not care what they read as long as they read. Fortunately, they continue to enjoy doing so.
Great description of something we had a chance to gain when we might not have had the resources to gain much else or the care about that lack.
Larry
Thanks Larry! At the time when I read those books, I didn’t think that way at all, only in hindsight.
When I was like 8,9, 10 years old, I devoured those books. Loved them, in fact. It’s only when you look back at them that you see what these characters were. Not to take away from them, of course, but just an amusing thing to me when you look back on it. Interestingly enough, at that age, we were encouraged to read a lot, as you said, and I enjoyed them so much at the time that it lead me to other things, which hasn’t stopped until this day. 
Julian, isn’t it amazing the small things that make places so indelible in our minds? I loved this story, and can so easily envision you in this small, quaint shop that offered you strong coffee, pie, and the Hardy Boys. Thanks for the glimpse of Toronto through your eyes.
Thanks Cher! Toronto was a very nice city, one that I definitely plan on going back to at some point (hell it’s only an hour flight from NYC). We must have gone to this place every day we were there -- just to hang out. There was something about it that we really liked -- most likely the atmosphere (and not to mention that the owner was the nicest guy you’d ever want to meet). Our trip there was a sort of “getaway” from New York. Funny thing is that Toronto and NYC are very similar -- but there’s a huge difference in the pace, which is what we were looking for. I have to admit though, seeing those books, out of all things, brought me right back to when I was a kid. I found it amusing that there were so many of them just sitting around the place, you know? Perhaps the owner was a fan as well when he was a kid, who knows -- or they could have simply been “decorative”.
Julian: My son is an avid reader…he reads everything and re-reads the books. I love seeing him read and it has helped his writing tremendously. A few years ago he hated writing (long story there) but it was like torture to him. He always read though but in the last year he discovered writing can be just as fun as reading, okay, maybe I might have encouraged him a little -- but only a little. I believe it’s the books he devours that has really opened up his imagination. Reading something like this makes me look forward to his stories when he reflects back on his childhood.
Hi Katy! When I was a kid, these were the books that I got “hooked” on. I remember being an avid reader even when in grade school. I suppose this came from my mother reading to me and my sisters when we were really little. I think it’s important to instill that in a child, the love of reading. I still maintain that reading -- no matter what it is -- helps open the mind to the infinite possibilities in this world, and can very much offer a glimpse into how others live and actually “see” the world as well. It helps clear the mind of dogmatic attitudes as well (hopefully, anyway). Also, there’s always a story behind the story, something you can walk away with that may force you to look at things in a different way. At least that’s the way it always was for me. Funny thing is that I was just talking to my friend who just had a baby boy a few months ago and she was telling me how she was going to make sure to try to instill this love of reading and learning in him and particularly to open up his imagination. Books and stories are one way to do this.
We had the most wonderful pie place on Mt. Lemmon, around 45 minutes from Tucson, straight up. All the pies were made fresh and never sat out waiting to be sliced for more than thirty minutes. My favorite was the German sour cream apple! Sad to say, it is no more. Mr. Lemmon caught fire several years ago during a severe draught, and burned all the way down to the valley floor. We really miss that pie place. The scenery driving up the mountain was really spectacular, but the grand prize was a slice of that pie!!
Thank you Judie! You know the funny thing was that I’m not one of those who normally eats cakes and deserts, etc. Only occasionally. It was my friends who were hankering for the pie more than I was. I was more interested in the coffee (I’m a coffee addict). However, I did have some when I was there (why not, right?) and it was amazing. Their idea of a “slice” was 1/4 the pie. Huge piece and very good -- and as I said, I’m not one who normally eats pies, cakes, etc. I think the appeal to the place was more atmospheric -- a sort of sanctuary-type place that I wish I had around where I live, couple that with the area that it was in, with that park across the street, the friendliness of the people there, etc. A nice respite from the chaos New York can be at times. The beautiful thing about Toronto as a whole is that it has all that New York has to offer minus the “can of bees”-like atmosphere at times -- and all of us desperately needed to get away from that at the time. We happened on this place by accident, really -- it just happening to be in the neighborhood we were staying in. It became something of a “home base” whenever we were out and about, exploring the city. We always managed to wind up back there.
There is a Chinese restaurant back home I miss so much. The quality of the food isn’t the highest, and I have only eaten inside the actual restaurant a dozen or so times. Something about the family always arguing in a different language, and the smells coming out of their kitchen always made me smile. It just felt…familiar from the first moment I went in there.