Cooking Schools In Toronto

cooking schools in toronto

    cooking schools
  • (Cooking school) A cooking school or culinary school is an institution devoted to education in the art and science of food preparation. It also awards degrees which indicate that a student has undergone a particular curriculum and therefore displays a certain level of competency.

  • Toronto is a town within the city of Lake Macquarie in New South Wales, Australia, approximately from Newcastle's central business district and is a commercial hub for the sprawling suburbs on the western shore of the lake.

  • A city in Canada, capital of Ontario, on the northern shore of Lake Ontario; pop. 635,395

  • the provincial capital and largest city in Ontario (and the largest city in Canada)

  • Toronto was a Canadian rock band active during the late 1970s and early 1980s. It was formed in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, by guitarist Brian Allen and American-born singer Holly Woods.

The Long Road To Woodstock---The Return From Eden (That Would Be Seattle To You)

The Long Road To Woodstock---The Return From Eden (That Would Be Seattle To You)

I'm not sure at what point during the summer of 1969 I decided that I would go to Woodstock. I read RollingStone religiously in those days, and I would guess that that is where I first saw the concert mentioned. I doubt if I said to myself, "This is going to be the greatest concert ever and I have to be there." Certainly it was being touted as the be-all and the end-all of concerts in 1969, but the CounterCulture stood astride the World of Youth and Music in a way it does not now, even if its/our influence over the World of Politics was less than we hoped, or even imagined. So there would be other years, and other mega-concerts, no doubt. I imagine I said something like, "That sounds really cool. I'm going."
Once I had made the decision to go, I had to decide how to get there. I had hitch-hiked across the United States and, although the trip had its moments---the lovely and moving tomb in Hiawatha, Kansas, the layover in Ogden, the long ride with the Newlyweds in Oregon and Washington---I didn't really have any enthusiasm for going back the way I had come. But I guess my return route had been decided even before I left to go out to Seattle, because at some point before I left Ohio, I saw my grandmother Van Noate. Grandma was a school teacher and thus, had her summers free, and with no husband and a conservative approach to fiscal matters, she always had plenty of discretionary funds. So she traveled a lot. One of her tours (she went on those bus tours favored by matronly school teachers and the like) was of the Canadian Rockies. She handed me a ten-dollar bill (quite a bit of money for those days) and told me that, if I got to the Lake Louise Chateau (I guess it is officially Chateau Lake Louise) in Banff National Park., I was to stop and eat in the hotel dining room. So I told her I would, and put the money in my pocket. I would imagine that I was the one who said I was coming back through Canada, and that put the idea of a meal in her head. She, more than anyone I knew (and of course my father had inherited her passion), cared about food, and cared about the quality of the foodstuffs that went in to her cooking. If she was going to eat something, she wanted it to be the certified best of breed.
Canada was a good choice for the return journey for another reason. You got on the Queen's Highway in Vancouver, and you got off of it in Toronto or Montreal. You didn't have to think about what route to take. I didn't even need a map (and I'm not sure I had one.)
I had done no research. I didn't even know if hitch-hiking was legal in Canada. I didn't know how far it was to Montreal, but I imaged that a car could drive that far in three or four days, so I figured I could hitch-hike in ten or twelve. The Woodstock Festival was scheduled to start on Friday, August 15th, so I planned my trip to begin the first of August. I'm not sure if I left on July 31 or August 1 or when, but it was almost certainly about this time. I suppose I had cleaned out my apartment, which didn't mean much, because I hadn't accumulated much of anything in my time in Seattle---the apartment was furnished, I didn't really cook (that I remember), no music, just a backpack and a sleeping bag, my limited inventory of clothing---very little. It all fit in the backpack. I imagine I turned in my key, shouldered my pack, and headed down the hill to the ferry terminal. Maybe I caught a bus.
Now about this photograph. That curly-haired little girl is not mrwaterslide in another life, though he's probably been called girly-man, or words to that effect,from time to time. He did have longish hair---though he tried to keep it clean. No beard at that time. Blue jeans, t-shirts, one imagines, his felt hat with the beads.
I could have asked my friend Ezook (on flickr, here, now, 2009, not even born I don't think in 1969) to go down to the ferry and take a picture for me, but I didn't think of it until too late. But the photo does seem apt, especially now, looking back. Like a naive pilgrim, I set out on a fantastic voyage (okay, a fantastic hitch-hike). I was blissfully unaware (wary, but nevertheless unaware), and I was protected by some magic forcefield. I had a series of adventures, was tested from time to time, cut the knot, solved the riddle, found the secret passageway, and came out whole in the end, Wiser and perhaps a little Sadder.
That's how it should have been, anyway. In practice, I'm not so sure---but here I am, so at least I returned from my journey.

Apple Orchard

Apple Orchard

The Register

Thursday, October 30, 1902

A Visit to the Valley.

“Lally Bernard” a well known special correspondent of the Toronto Globe,
has recently visited Nova Scotia. She writes an interesting letter
which appeared in the Globe of October 4th under the heading “The
Orchards of Nova Scotia.” “Lally Bernard” evidently had a good deal to
learn about fruit growing in Nova Scotia, and seems to have been
surprised as well as pleased by what she saw. Her mission, however, was
of a special nature and is thus described: -

“My visit to Wolfville was made in connection with the question of fruit
farming in Canada for women from Great Britain who might have a little
capital and a certain amount of experience in horticulture to warrant
their embarking upon a business career in this special line of work.
Educationists are today in the older parts of the world training women
in many branches of out of door employment. In England both the Lady
Warwick Hostel and Swanley College of Horticulture are daily sending
women equipped for the work into the arena of skilled labor. The
question has again and again been asked the writer, “Does Canada offer
any inducements for women of this class?” and the question had to be
answered by a lady orchardist who had fourteen years of practical
experience in her profession.

“As yet Canada is not overstocked with really high-class fruit farms,
and the question is at this date very simple to answer. Let three young
women, who between them can scrape up a tidy little capital, which might
bear from a hundred to a hundred and fifty pounds per annum in the
motherland, invest that capital, or a portion of it in a orchard in the
Annapolis Valley, bring with them a scientific knowledge of horticulture
and a readiness to learn from the school of horticulture established by
the Fruit Growers’ Association, in Wolfville, all that concerns “local
conditions,” and they ought, if willing to work on a co-operative plan
which will enable them to do a great portion of their own planting,
pruning and budding and grafting, as well as the household work, easily
increase the interest on their capital to 10 per cent, from the usual 2
? per cent in England. Close to the seaboard from which the fruit is
shipped to England, in touch with people in the motherland who can
arrange for their market, light and sure in their handling of fruit, and
natty and honest in the packing of the larger quantities, they should by
all the laws of common sense be able to compete with success with any
male orchardist in the country.”

“Such is the experience of a practical lady orchardist, who has seen the
work connected with a fruit farm where apples, plums, pears and peaches
are grown with great success. “The heaviest item of expense I could
find,” she said, “was the commercial fertilizer, which in this
particular instance had to be freely used. Next came the weekly
upturning of the soil between the trees, with the disk harrow, the work,
of course, being done by a hired man.” But my lady friend was
enthusiastic on the subject of a woman’s fitness to graft, bud and prune
the trees, as well as her success in the discernment of ripe fruit. “A
man,” she explained, “Invariably goes to a tree and bruises the delicate
fruits, such as plums and peaches, by pinching them to see if they are
ripe enough. We women, who for generations have been accustomed to
measure lengths by the eye and to note color and a thousand little
indications of the ripeness of the fruit we cooked or served at the
table, use our powers of observation almost unconsciously. Where a man
will use a foot rule, we can measure with the eye. Where a man uses his
hands we use the eye.” This opinion concerning a woman’s dexterity as a
packer and handler of fruit I had confirmed again and again, even by
men; and, curiously enough, men are not always prone to accept the fact
that women are experts in this kind of work.

“It is amazing,” my friend went on to say, “how a woman can pick out a
basket of plums of exactly the same size without measuring one with
another; and when she handles the fruit she uses all her fingers, giving
a uniform but gentle pressure in doing so, and not bruising the fruit in
the least, while a man will pick fruit by fairly ‘gripping it’ between
two fingers. Tell him to sort out a basketful of plums of a uniform
size, and he has to measure nearly every one by the sample you give him,
while a woman instantly manages the same without any extra handling.”

cooking schools in toronto

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