What Our Editors Are Doing This Weekend: November 2-4
That's right: occasionally we leave the office.
November 2, 2018
As a person of Slovak heritage, I grew up loving all the Slavic foods—which were frankly a lot easier to get in Toronto than they are here (and just about anywhere in Alberta). But thank you, Ukranian Orthodox, for your once-monthly perogy suppers that are handmade by the church members and served up with rapid-fire, cafeteria-like efficiency. On the first Friday of the month, the lineups can snake out the church doors and down the street, but once you’re inside you’re treated to a real Main Street community affair—kids, teens, grandparents, and so many tattoos on the younger contingent—but we’re all here to dine on soft, pillowy goodness and a few cabbage rolls. (Borscht too, if you’re so inclined. Which I am.)—Anicka Quin, editorial director
I spend most of my weekends hanging around the weird little theatre that is Little Mountain Gallery, checking out whatever experimental comedy show is happening on a given night—but this Saturday night, it’s my pro-wrestling-obsessed partner dragging me there, to see the return of comedian Graham Clark’s Ring-a-Ding-Dong-Dandy show. Despite the number of New Japan Pro Wrestling matches I’ve been pressured to watch and the live local shows at the Commodore I’ve endured (no one can say I didn’t try my best!), I just can’t get into the sport…but at this show, I think Max and I will be able to find some common ground. Stand-up comedian and podcast host Clark is the king of riff comedy (he once mounted a Fringe show called Graham Clark Reads the Phone Book, in which he would flip to random spots in a Yellow Pages directory and spitball jokes off the cuff) and with Ring-a-Ding he’s out in full force, sharing and commenting on a hilariously curated selection of weird and wonderful old-school wrestling clips: something the whole family can get behind.—Stacey McLachlan, executive editor
OK, time to come clean. When I was four years old and ripe for a role model in the sport I loved, one was neatly presented to me in the form of Joe Sakic, captain of the Quebec Nordiques (my father is from Montreal so we spent a good amount of time in La Belle Province) and raised a few miles east in Burnaby. So yes, my fandom followed Burnaby Joe all the way to Colorado and I gleefully watched him raise two Stanley Cups. Now he’s the general manager of a young, fast and fun Avalanche team. Of course I’ve harboured a fandom for the hometown team all my life as well, and am genuinely excited for what the next wave of Brock Boeser and Elias Pettersson might accomplish. My heart will be conflicted tonight, but odds are I’ll be wearing my vintage white Nordiques Sakic jersey. My unrelenting addiction to nostalgia won’t have it another way.
—Nathan Caddell, associate editor
I’m assuming at some point it’s going to rain and when that happens I’m going to cue up this film that I’ve been wanting to see for a while but haven’t carved out the time (although I weirdly found time to watch all two hours worth of Ant Man and the Wasp). There’s no real point in me explaining the plot (you can watch the awesome Red Band trailer here) other than to say that by and large men are the worst and it’s extremely satisfying to see them get their comeuppance.—Neal McLennan, food editor