On a lunchtime visit to Canvas, Anne DesBrisay raves about the colourful salsa that covers the shrimp "like a sunny blanket."
By Anne DesBrisay
It had been my plan to eat Vietnamese for this weekly lunch report. But after navigating the crusty banks of blackening snow in Chinatown, finding a spot to park, then walking the three blocks to the noodle house I had targeted, I was met with the Closed sign. It was Tuesday, a typical (well deserved) break day for many Vietnamese restaurants. Including this one.
So I turned the car west and headed to Plan B.
Canvas Resto-Bar-Etc. on Holland Avenue does a brisk lunch trade. It benefits from the constant traffic from Tunney’s Pasture to its north, and from the shops, galleries, condos, and theatres to the south.
Examining the menu, I was troubled with a need for grease. I had been in the mood for those Vietnamese, spring rolls and the mood was holding. I was craving the hot crunch, the soft guts, the messy crumbs of the crackling rice paper, the glistening path of oil on my chin. Can’t quite explain it. But once they grab hold — those oily thoughts — they’re hard to dislodge.
What do ideas taste like? We eat them all the time, though we may not be aware of it. And it is the city’s chefs who are the ambassadors of these new food ideas. Consider how many dots, foams, farms, towers, and trios made it to the plate the last time you ate out. The kitchen-as-laboratory movement — a maelstrom of ideas — continues to fire the imaginations of cooks and eaters across the globe. When 
