Furniture Woes Continue

We bought a little extendable dining table from a trendy furniture store a couple of weeks ago (not Ikea!!!) and I had expected we would walk in, pay, and walk out with it. So we were sad to discover that it takes 2 weeks to get it shipped out from their warehouse in Winnipeg, Manitoba (the armpit of Canada). Fine, we say, resignedly, it is the perfect dimensions for our place so we will wait.

Keith goes to pick it up today and he tells me that it is... MISSING A PART. And when he called the store to say so, they said we have to EMAIL someone to find out what to do next. What is up with the antiquated defective product procedures? Should we also telegram someone and request a tri-carbon-copy defective goods form, which we can then fax to a secretary of the Furniture Factory Foreman?

As I gouge my eyes out with two blunt chopsticks.

Getting ready for Halloween?

There may be only one fancy dress occasion a year in Canada, rather than every other month in all sorts of outlandish themes, but on the one occasion we certainly take it seriously. Check out these pumpkins for Halloween at fancypants grocery store Urban Fare in yuppie Yaletown!

Keith looking at things

Keith looking at the sea

Keith looking at a train

My nephew said "you guys have so many adventures!"

Olive bread

Attempt number two last night at making olive bread, with attempt number one last week literally falling flat because stressed out me neglected the baking powder. So that one was a soggy dense mess. Attempt number two seems to have turned out ok... Think it still coulda used a few more minutes in the oven but edible. Gonna smear butter on it ( butter covers all flaws) and sic it on ppl anyway.

Why it sometimes pays to be an impatient bee-yatch

Yes I know it's more of a fault than a merit. It's my worst trait and mostly ends up being damaging to my relationships (with anybody - husband, friend, family, colleague). But sometimes, just sometimes, it pays to be a bit of an impatient b*tch.

Or maybe it's better to phrase it this way - I expect things to be done right and I have no problems letting you know when you are not meeting that standard. No that still sounds pretty b*tchy.

Anyway! The point is, we had a most lovely meal at Fable, the trendy new(ish) restaurant in Vancouver opened by two Top Chef Canada contestants earlier this year. I'd heard about it from multiple sources and so decided that was where I'd take Keith for his 30th birthday meal.

Obviously, I'd chosen my starter (duck meatball and spaghetti) and main (duck breast - what? I love duck!) well before we even got there, but Keith settled on his chickpea fritters after perusing the menu, and also decided to go with the duck as well.

His fritters arrived and the first warning sign was probably when the server (not the one we'd ordered from) said "Here you go, chickpea fritters to share" and we said - nope they are just for him! but he it didn't seem like any mistake had been made since he did immediately say - "that's right, you've got a duck meatball on the way". So after a minute or so I told Keith he should just start since I'm sure mine was on the way. But even though he paused halfway through his starter and waited for me again he ended up finishing before mine had even arrived. During this interval the waiter did come by and say he didn't know why mine was taking so long and that he would check. But no sign of it. I expect more from any restaurant that attempts to provide an overall dining experience. Like Keith said, "this ain't no Chinese restaurant where they bring the food out to you willy nilly". Over a romantic dinner I would like for us to get to eat together and experience our food at the same time. So I beckoned our waiter over again and said "Is my starter still coming?" with a slight air of disapproval, and when he said "Yes I'm sorry, I'll check on it again" I did not smile widely and say "oh that's fiiiine" cuz it ain't fine! but at least I didn't say what was in my head which was "Yes, I think you'd better".

I must have conveyed the right amount of dissatifsaction because he came back within a minute and although he didn't have my duck meatball, he had something even better - a free starter! weeee! And it was the one that I'd debated ordering instead of mine. It was called "The Best Canned Tuna" and there was no description. What it turned out to be was seared tuna, potatoes, in a bit of sauce (don't know what), and a spoon of sea salt that you were required to grind into the tuna and potato mixture in the jar before spreading the whole concoction on tiny brioche slices. It was YUM! All forgiven. That's customer service!

And if I hadn't complained, we wouldn't have got it, that's the lesson I learned. Of course, What I guess I'll never know is whether my mouthiness ever triggers any wait staff to spit in our food. I hope not!

Overall everything was yummy and I highly recommend.

Attached pics, including Keith's birthday raspberry macaron.

Fraud!!!

Walked by this store and saw some really cutesy things in the window. Stopped and looked at the store name:

What the what? Notting Hill is not in SW1. Do the most basic research before you NAME YOUR STORE?!?!?

Update:

Showed this to Keith and David Duncan Digby Delware Dawson at the bar, which was followed by this exchange in which I prove my superiority as a Londoner, and by extension, superiority as a Brit, over those two amateurs:

M: Can you believe it? Notting Hill's not even in SW1. And it's not even like SW1 is Chelsea or something swanky. It's Victoria and Pimlico!

K: yea! hahahaha... what's the postcode for Notting Hill again?

M: W11?

DDDDD: nah W11 is Ealing!

M: ? Are you sure? Isn't Ealing W5? I'm pretty sure Notting Hill is W11. It's W-something anyway.

DDDDD: I think it's W4

M: No ways DDDDD. W4 is Acton.

DDDDD: Well i'm sure W11 is Ealing, because my old postcode was W11 8RY when I lived in Ealing.

K: you better trust him, May, if it was his own ADDRESS he should know!

M: I guess....

(15 minutes later, I break out my iphone and type W11 8RY into google maps)

M: AHA! you can't get more Notting Hill than that!!!

DDDDD: whaaaa?? oh wait a minute... I swear I lived at W11 8RY. oh wait maybe it was S11 8RY!

M: There's no S11 postcode in London!!!

K: I think there might be... but where in the south is it?

M: uh DUFI (no s because DUFI is the plural of DUFIS and they were both being a DUFIS) there are no S postcodes in London, only SW and SE. How do you guys not know this shiznit?

DDDDD: Oh I know!!! S11 8RY is where I lived in SHEFFIELD (i.e. not in London at all)

Amateurs.

Idiot can't hear accents

It's Keith's birthday. Booked the coolest restaurant in town. Seated by our lovely hostess. Keith asks her where the loo is. The loo, I think, he's slipped up! She won't know what he's on about! So I smile at her and say patronisingly oh he's English. They both look at me. And then Keith says - so is she.

I really need to learn to decipher accents