Random Musing #859

When my home phone rang tonight at about 9:16pm, I thought it a very strange and rare thing. I only ever use my cell, and because we have kids no one we know ever calls that late. After 9pm it’s just the shameless legion of telemarketers who, even more oddly, have never taken “fu% you” for an answer.

It was my grandmother, Doreen. Coolest grandma ever. She’d called to tell me about her dinner tonight.

In any family it’s not unusual to have parents and siblings relate their most recent restaurant experiences among themselves. In mine, we don’t. I have no idea why. We should really do it more often.

Save to reminisce about White Spot or the noodles, Cheez Whiz laced wiener rolls, and awesome desserts she used to make my brother and I when we were grasshoppers, my grandma and I don’t talk about my work. I suspect that she sometimes reads my columns, but we don’t get into it. I’m kind of glad of it, too. In my head, a grandson should eat his fill, say “Thank you”, and then retire to the den for Time-Life pictorial histories of World War II and the third period, plus overtime if we were lucky. Grandsons don’t say the things I sometimes hear myself saying (or read myself writing).

Still, I can’t tell you how much I appreciated the recommendation.

Who charmed her enough to call, so late and off the cuff? It was Suvai, a little Asian-tempered French bistro in Kerrisdale.

I remember reading some positive reviews when it opened up last fall (Murrills or Stainsby, can’t remember who). It’s such a nice, clean name: Suvai. I read online that it means “taste” in Tamil, the ethnicity – I presume – of the owner/chef, Segar Kulasegarampillai (born in Sri Lanka, lately of New York’s “Quince, Toronto’s “Mildred Pierce”, and Michael Stadtlander’s “Eignsinn Farm”). She was giddy with the adjectives, describing individual dishes enthusiastically, closing with a taut paragraph on the first rate service she received in rapid fire.

I’m totally sold, and I’m looking forward to dinner in the near future. I have a hell of a time picking a restaurant to review each week, so this was very welcome. Especially so since the recommendation came from my uncharacteristically compelled grandma, who just must have had her bell totally rung.

It’s in a neighbourhood that I very, very seldom venture into (my mom and grandma are from Kits). Kerrisdale is where my wife spent a lot of time growing up, and I know it more from what she has told me than what I’ve seen. It sounds like a Bret Easton Ellis novel meets Coronation Street to a Pet Shop Boys soundtrack, with everyone driving 1992 BMWs and wearing Roots.

I’d love to hear the experiences of any readers who’ve been.

Keep in mind, though…if you contradict my grandma, you’re totally banned forever. :-)

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