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Privacy matters.Words, too. And pizza.

September 19, 2024   ·   0 Comments

by ANTHONY CARNOVALE

The Brother Grimm’s fairy tale, ‘Two Brothers’, is a rapacious, rowdy, and circus-like tale. It tells the story of two brothers who, from starvation and hunger, eat the heart and liver of a bird. The bird is magical, and whoever cooks and eats its heart and liver will find a gold coin under their pillow each morning. Their father is frightened when he learns about the gold pieces and is convinced that they have fallen in with the devil. He kicks his two sons out of the house, at which point, the boys set out to seek their fortunes. Over the course of their journey, they come across a variety of animals, a witch (who turns one of the brothers into a stone) and battle a seven-headed serpent. The journey (like the story itself) is a long one— one that starts when two hungry boys left their home to find something to eat. 

Most of our lives don’t leave room for dancing animals and seven-headed serpents. We’re too busy with Life and living and kids and work and surviving. Today, we’d be more likely to have the ‘heart and liver’ delivered than to set out on our own to find it. Think of all the stories that are lost when everything can be delivered to your front door. 

In our house, we take food seriously. I mean, why order pizza, when according to my children, my pizza is the second-best pizza in town? I love to cook. No matter how busy we are, cooking never feels like work. In our house, food gets the attention it deserves. To me, taking the kids to McDonald’s isn’t a treat — it’s a punishment. 

But there are times when there is simply not enough time. We’re busy with work, school. Soccer takes up most evenings. I write. I lead workshops in the community. We have a dog. Sometimes, we need a break (and McDonald’s ain’t it).  

Since we’ve lived here, the area has had some good food joints. Some have come and gone. Others are still kicking at it. Our favourites over the years include: Soulyve (I miss the Reggae Wrap; I miss Phil). Eat Like Sabby. Rebekha Sushi. Coriander Kitchen. Craft Pizza. And when the kids crave a Dynamite Roll it’s worth the drive to Inaka Sushi in Caledon. 

The place I love dropping into more than any other (for pick-up or dine-in) is Pia’s on Broadway. Pia’s has a vibe and feel that’s just as sumptuous as the items on the menu. It’s laid back with just enough funk to feel like you’re hip and still with it. The dining area is long and narrow which means patrons sit close to one another, and that you have to be careful when opening the washroom door. The tables are as natural as the food that they serve. I love the fact that we can look into the kitchen and see our meals being prepped and cooked. The tiny jar with the tiny yellow flowers is like a small appetizer of sunshine.

But something happened on our most recent visit that I’m still trying to make sense of. While we waited for our food, I sat back in my chair and watched the patrons: a mom bouncing her young child on her knee; two women sitting across from one another, staring into their phones while their sweet potato fries sat and soured. There was a woman. She sat with her back to us. She was alone. As I watched the server set down her order of macaroni and cheese, I was suddenly overtaken by a feeling of profound joy. I mean, I know what that sounds like (profound joy?) but it was, it happened. I’ve been trying to put words to it for weeks now.  

Was it because she was alone? When I was younger, I was afraid to eat alone. I grew up in the 80’s where people who ate alone, ended up blowing up towns and buildings for dessert (at least they did in the movies I watched).  

It sent my imagination spinning; my brain clicked into story mode. 

Theme: Craving: 

There was just one thing. Nobody could give it to her. Not even him. When the server arrived, she didn’t wait to be greeted. “I’ll have the mac and cheese”. She smiled. 

Theme: Personal Freedom: 

He wasn’t around to remind her. His eyes. That smirk. The snide remarks. He was away. She was hungry. She could eat whatever she liked. “I’ll have the Three Cheese Mac and Cheese.”

Theme: Goodbye: 

She made sure she could see outside the window. One last time. Before she leaves this town for good. Her goodbye meal. To never return. “Mac and cheese, please.”

I don’t know. Maybe, it wasn’t even about her. Maybe, it was about me, being out, with my family, in the community I love living in, eating in a place where I know the people cooking my food. I was still smiling when our food arrived. 

My wife: Half Veggie Sandwich with Kale Salad (no chickpeas).

My son and daughter: Pulled Pork Sandwich.

Me: Half Winter Classic with a side Beet Salad.

Us: Fries; Deep Fried Pickles.

It was a moment. Not quite on the scale of a fairy tale, but pretty close. I mean, before we left the house that day, my son declared: “I swear, I can hear that pulled pork sandwich talking to me, right now.”

That’s when you know something is good. That’s when you know that something is worth leaving the house for.

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