Toronto 3

First visiting a baker friend of friends for some admirable baked goods, then wandering around the Word on the Street festival soaking in the words, then strolling through the exhibits at the Royal Ontario Museum, home through serious rain to find a poet I thought I'd missed waiting for me with his latest collection- ok enough footwork! What's for dinner, Bishop?
Olivia's Place, an Italian restaurant he and Deb had savoured in the past now loomed as our culinary destination. Not too much more walking, I hoped.
We both ordered a couple of appetisers, salads and crustinis.
I tried to have just a bite of Bishop's bread covered with assorted goodies and it was so good I didn't want to stop. Maybe I should have ordered an entree! But the appetisers looked so good, on the menu. Many are the restaurant where the appetisers, like tapas, are more than enough for me as a meal. This unfortunately wasn't one of those. My ensalata is 90% spinach with an occasional mushroom wandering through like poorly reported UFOs. The combination of spinache and mushroom would perhaps enchant Pop Eye but enough to drown me in excessive greenery. Hot and piquant, the cheese does add considerably to the texture and eventual flavours. One must search for the mushrooms, as if one were in a children's book where one is encouraged to find the animal hiding on the forested page. Do I get a gold star? Shall I try the crustini, which seemed to evoke Florence's fantastic Boboli Gardens for discovery's possibilities? Olives, on leave from their planets, meet artichoke, in town for the Series. Looks like the head of Roman god. Fills mouth with words of worship. Do I break open this sacred head signalling me from a small piece of bread? Do I then gain its wisdom?
A much wiser Bishop had ordered smoked trout with pasta. He found it fishy. My bite reminded me of something I'd never eaten before. It wasn't fish. I'm thinking maybe the cheese flavour overwhelms trout and pasta but know not. Very intriguing, whatever it is. A pleasent break from the labyrinthe of spinache I ordered my way into. Is that a minotaur I hear?