Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. I smell a pho that’s not ho hum.

Fee. Fi. Fo. Fum. I smell a pho that’s not ho hum.

Don Day’s Wife and I divide our lives almost equally between Toronto and San Miguel de Allende, two, obviously, very different cities. But what we eat in each of those cities varies very little. With one very big exception. In Toronto, a week rarely goes by where we...
Well I’ll be doggoned. A Costco eating alternative.

Well I’ll be doggoned. A Costco eating alternative.

Hot diggity, dog diggity, boom what you used to do to me. I mean just how many Costco hot dogs can you eat? As good as they are and as essential as they seem to be on any shopping expedition to Querétaro or Celaya, once in a while you yearn to wander. Our chauffeurs...
Chamonix. Why did we take so long to go back?

Chamonix. Why did we take so long to go back?

Guilty as charged. I’m constantly chasing the very latest and maybe greatest when it comes to restaurants in this town. And neglecting the tried and true. It resulted in a rude awakening last month. One of the few restaurants that’s been around this town as long as I...
How I talked Don Day’s Wife into going camping.

How I talked Don Day’s Wife into going camping.

Despite being a highly-educated woman, Don Day’s Wife sometimes has a somewhat limited vocabulary. Take that most Canadian of words, canoe. “Canoe? The only word I need to know that involves the possibility of people tipping is restaurant.” Then there are those hiking...