2002-08-29

Overdosing on wasabi

Deb and I rode to Vancouver with Peter and his fiancee Eshaia to enjoy dinner at Tojo's. I drove my BMW R1150RT and Peter drove a Honda VTX; an 1800 cc v-twin monster bike.

Tojo's is well worth the drive from Seattle. They serve the most delectable Japanese cuisine that I have ever had the pleasure to taste outside of Japan! My advice is to order the omakase (chef's arrangement) and let the chef choose what is best from his kitchen. He knows the freshest and finest ingredients he has on hand and a good chef always likes to show off his best work. Make your reservation in advance and be prepared to wait but I promise the food will be worth it.

Peter and Eshaia stop for coffee on the way up scenic highway 9. We're having a great time!

Deb can't help smiling in Vancouver.

Properly stuffed, but ever so lifelike, on Tojo's patio overlooking Vancouver.

We are shocked, shocked!, to discover sushi is made from dead uncooked fish parts.

Peter ordered a side dish of wasabi and proceeded to eat a few bites of it straight up. I could only stare in complete disbelief as it goes to his head. Is he insane?

Peter and Eshaia have a plane to catch and head back early the next day while Deb and I take our time. We stop for lunch at a place called Papa Dave's Pizza. It looks like a typical small pizza parlor: formica tables, simple chairs, tiled floor and a TV in the corner. Deb is hungry and we just dropped in for a quick bite. An interesting experience is the last thing we expect to find here.

A middle-aged Indian woman comes out to greet us. She is Papa Dave's wife. We take a table and I tell her that I am the Papa Dave. She laughs and asks if I really am Papa Dave. Yes, I am! My name is Dave and I have two cats who think I am their papa so that makes me Papa Dave. She calls her husband, the real Papa Dave, out of the kitchen to meet us. We talk a bit and I order pizza and Deb orders the tortelini. Papa Dave's wife assures us that we will love it because no one makes tortelini like Papa Dave!

What makes all this so interesting is they are from India, cooking Italian food, in their restaurant in Canada, serving Americans who rode in on a German bike. We wonder, with more than a little apprehension, what sort of interpretation they have in mind for the pizza and tortelini. Our concern is unjustified. It is delicious! They make everything from scratch- including the pasta. We have a nice lunch and much pleasant conversation with our new friends.

Papa Dave tells us he plans to open a second restaurant in Vallejo, California early next year. It's just a little north of San Francisco. I'll drop by and look for him next time I'm in the area.

We wish them the best of luck with their new restaurant and get on our motorcycle to go. Just before we drive off Papa Dave runs outside to tell us one more story. He was on an airplane flight to New York when the stewardess asked him what choice of meal would he like: chicken breast or lasagna? He told her, "I'll have the chicken because I can't have the lasagna. Only I make the best lasagna." She replied, "Are you Papa Dave? Because Papa Dave makes the best lasagna." He was astonished that she would know him and answered that, yes, he is Papa Dave! From that point on he got the five-star treatment. She even took him to meet the crew.

I wish I had taken the time to get a picture. It was very much out of character to fail to get one but I will next time I return. If you're in Vancouver consider dining at Papa Dave's at 800 20th Str, N. Westminster, B.C. Be sure to tell him the other Papa Dave said 'hello!'

Just down the street from Papa Dave's is another Dave; Dave's Surplus Store. I can't resist military surplus stores though I already have just about everything I could imagine needing for motorcycle touring and camping. You never know when you'll find something new to add to your kit. We're in no hurry so we stop and go in.

We look around and see the usual things you find in surplus stores. Somehow Dave had gotten hold of many high-power automatic weapons and even something that looked like a rocket launcher. I'm sure they must be disabled. You never know what you're going to find in one of these stores.

Dave greets us and asks where we're going. We talk about touring and camping for a while and I tell him that I'm about to leave on a tour of the U.S. His eyes light up as he says, "I have just what you need right here! Everyone needs one of these!" He picks a small package off a shelf and hands me what appears to be a set of dental picks. I'm going to need to clean my teeth? I'm suddenly self-conscious about my dental hygeine. I'm asking what they're for and he says something about springs. Springs?? What??? Then it becomes clear. They are tools for working on guns. I tell him that I don't have a gun. "But you're going to America. You don't want to travel there without a gun." I assure him that I never felt the need to carry a gun when travelling. We say goodbye to Dave and head towards the border without the dental picks and without a gun.

We met two interesting Daves today. The roads and the sights are great fun but the people are what make travelling so wonderful.