Welcome to the new Toronto
Within minutes of my arrival to the Ritz-Carlton in Toronto's burgeoning Entertainment District, a bellhop whisked me upstairs to the 18th-floor club level check in, where a staff member offered me a complimentary glass of chardonnay. Not just any chardonnay, but one made from grapes grown, picked, pressed and bottled in nearby Niagara by the Lake, Ontario’s very own Napa Valley.
From my spacious room, floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a portrait-like view of the city's soaring CN Tower, a needle-like structure that narrows as it ascends toward a multilevel observation deck. One of the world's tallest buildings, it is now also home to one of the city’s most extreme adventures: the death-defying Edge Walk, where adventurists spend up to half an hour in a harness, meandering around the deck's outer circumference, 356m in the air.
Though it was my first time to the city, I felt as though I had been here before. Along with a population that is as ethnically and culturally diverse as London, Toronto has the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan, the neighbourhood feel of San Francisco and even a bit of the adrenaline-induced playfulness of Auckland – not to mention LA's high-priced martinis, which you can find at the Thompson Hotel's rooftop bar. And while Toronto's skyline remains dotted with remnants of its days as a British stronghold – the regal Fairmont Royal York, the bustling St Lawrence Market and the luxury King Edward, a hotel that once served as a love nest for an unmarried Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton – it is easy to tell by the towering cranes and endless scaffolding that downtown Toronto is in the middle of a reinvention, forming a new and modern identity that is entirely its own.
Overnighting No longer limited to old or outdated properties, Toronto visitors now have a handful of snazzy new lodgings to choose from. Along with the spacious Ritz Carlton (especially notable for its mirror-embedded bathroom TVs), 2010 saw the opening of downtown's boutique Thompson Hotel, where rooms have mahogany floors and built-in furnishings, and the elevators are consistently filled with glammed-up locals in black outfits and four-inch heels en route to the rooftop bar; in true club fashion, there is often a line at the entrance below. Since then, downtown's Trump International Hotel and Tower Toronto and the Shangri-La Hotel Toronto, as well as the flagship Four Seasons Hotel in the city's posh Yorkville neighbourhood have opened, helping transform Toronto from a weekend stopover into a five-star haven.
Dining outAlong with building high-end properties, Toronto has been busy securing its spot on the culinary map with a restaurant boom to rival cities worldwide. Located in the Entertainment District just outside the city's Air Canada Centre sporting arena, E11even is a classic North American eatery serving one of the tastiest- burgers on the planet (seriously). Despite its top-tier price tag, the 25 Canadian dollar Maple Burger – served on an egg bun with double smoked bacon, Guinness cheddar cheese and a dollop of roasted garlic aioli – is not only one heavenly bite after the next, it is also worth every cent.
Gracing the 54th floor of downtown's flashy TD Tower, Canoe attracts the Hollywood elite who come to town for September’s annual Toronto International Film Festival. The restaurant offers outstanding views and a regionally focused menu of seasonal dishes, such as Alberta lamb with baby turnips and butterball potatoes, along with a wine list that is as diverse as Toronto's residents. But it is New York chef David Chang's trio of recently opened Momofuku concept eateries that are Toronto's hottest tickets, namely Shoto, serving Asian cuisine as an ever-evolving, 10-coursetasting menu that require both ample time and a hearty appetite.
Florida’s stunning island sanctuary
Amid Florida’s theme parks and overdeveloped beach fronts, a slow-paced, family friendly refuge cuts against all Sunshine State stereotypes. Sanibel Island, located in the Gulf Coast near the city of Fort Myers, is part hard-won watery nature reserve, part vigorously defended small town, where more than a century of careful design continues to pay dividends to its people and its wildlife.
A mere toddler in geographic terms, the 117-square-mile sand bar is only about 5,000 years old. Storms gathered sand into a reef where mangroves eventually rooted, holding it in place and encouraging the formation of an island. Today, its entire south coast is a crescent of white sand, while the north is a maze of shallow mangrove bayous protected as the JN “Ding” Darling National Wildlife Refuge, after the Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist who helped create it. Between the beach on one side and the bayous on the other, the rest of the island is modest resorts and a quiet town of about 6,000 people. None of it rises more than 10ft above sea level.
Because of the length of the beach and the set back and height restrictions on the resorts, much of the island feels secluded. Wildlife spills from the refuge, and it is common to see flocks of snowy egrets perched on lawns and several gopher tortoises crawling beside the heavily speed-restricted roads and numerous bike paths.
A cautious history
“Welcome to our sanctuary island”, a sign greets those arriving via the three-mile causeway from the mainland. “Do enjoy. Don’t destroy.” That cautious, conditional reception sums up the Sanibel approach to visitors since the arrival of the first Europeans 500 years ago by early Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon in 1513. He returned in 1521 and unloaded 200 settlers, 50 horses and farming implements onto Sanibel to establish what would have been the first European settlement in America after the Vikings. But the formidable native Calusa tribe, who had already been there for 2,500 years, did not take kindly to the invasion. They attacked, wounding de Leon in the thigh with a poison dart. He died of the wound in Cuba.
“Welcome to our sanctuary island”, a sign greets those arriving via the three-mile causeway from the mainland. “Do enjoy. Don’t destroy.” That cautious, conditional reception sums up the Sanibel approach to visitors since the arrival of the first Europeans 500 years ago by early Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon in 1513. He returned in 1521 and unloaded 200 settlers, 50 horses and farming implements onto Sanibel to establish what would have been the first European settlement in America after the Vikings. But the formidable native Calusa tribe, who had already been there for 2,500 years, did not take kindly to the invasion. They attacked, wounding de Leon in the thigh with a poison dart. He died of the wound in Cuba.
Within two centuries, European diseases and Spanish ships had driven the Calusa from Sanibel. Pirates, settlers and various naval expeditions came and went until the Reverend George Barnes from Kentucky discovered its charms when his boat ran aground in 1889. The Presbyterian mystic fell in love with the island, built an enormous church to seat three times the then island population of 100 and started working Sanibel into his sermons wherever he went, convinced that God had arranged his boating accident.
Barnes constructed a 30-room inn he named Casa Ybel, which lured wealthy Americans such as Thomas Edison and Henry Ford down the coast for great fishing, eternally sunny weather and shell collecting. Today, the original lodge and the additional 114 one- and two-bedroom suites are still a destination in their own right; holidaymakers come for the fine dining, in-room spa services, tennis courts with a resident pro, an Olympic size swimming pool and of course the miles of beach right at its doorstep. And “shelling” remains one of the most popular island pastimes, leading to the posture locals refer to as the “Sanibel Stoop”. In some places, the beach is literally ankle deep in shells. To see one of the world’s best shell collections, make time for a visit to the Bailey-Matthews Shell Museum on the Sanibel-Captiva Road
How the Quebecois came to love poutine
The day began eight hours earlier in Europe, under the light drizzle of Switzerland’s rain. As the plane began its descent into Montreal through layers of blue, pink and peach-streaked skies, the vast Canadian landscape came into view. Soon we were on the ground, making our way through the buzzing airport, past maple syrup souvenir shops and a cacophony of French and English conversations. Almost immediately, a familiar craving crept up and my stomach began to rumble. Poutine was calling.
Poutine is the ultimate Quebecois comfort food – a pile of thick-cut French fried potatoes, generously sprinkled with fresh cheese curds and slathered with velvety gravy. When in the province, duck into a greasy spoon, stop by a cabanes à patates (roadside chip wagon) or take a seat at some of the city’s haute cuisine hotspots – invariably some version of poutine will be on the menu. As Montreal food blogger Na’eem Adam put it, “we all have a little gravy in our blood”.
Here that gravy is usually made with a chicken, veal or turkey stock mixed with a roux of equal parts butter and flour. The result is a savoury sauce thick enough to coat a spoon and hot enough to warm – but not melt – a scattering of cheese curd. The by-product of cheese making, the curds are separated from the liquid whey of coagulating milk and heated until they reach a doughy consistency. In poutine, their freshness is paramount, measured by an unmistakable “squeak” between the teeth while chewing.
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