A curious case of Canadian fast food

Canada is not the first place that comes to mind as a home of fast food, like burgers and pizza - poutine and Tim Hortons notwithstanding.

However, recently I've noticed some fast food outlets naming themselves after Canada or Canadian places. And as they say, 'three is a trend', so here we go.

In Larnaca, in Cyprus, I saw Toronto Pizza. I've heard of Chicago pizza and Detroit pizza, but not Toronto Pizza. (Though Wikipedia claims there is a Toronto-style pizza, as well as styles named after several other Canadian places.)

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In Spa, Belgium, I noticed this restaurant called Canadian Burgers and Pizza. The menu posted outside didn't feel especially Canadian.

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Finally, in Oldham, I spied Toronto Fried Chicken - and I've seen it called 'the best fried chicken shop in Oldham' online.

So, the big question here is: why? and why Canada?

Overheard: Manchester

 

On a recent visit to Manchester, here is what I heard.

• He's got no money, but going to t'South of France on holiday?
  
  
• He really thought his effectiveness was gonna drag him through.
  
  
• If you mention his name in any Italian restaurant in Manchester, they think he's a god.
  
  
• He's gonna have to wait and see what happens with what's-his-face health-wise.
  
  
• I did say to him, it would be nice if you come, at least I have someone in the car with me.
  
  
• She's alright but her lips are a bit off... she's got a massive nose as well
  
  
• We're on a hen do. The groom is French, so we're wearing berets.
  
  
• Has she told her mum that she's told the police?
  
  
• I was born in Manchester and I haven't been back since.

Manchester Mosiacs

I visited Manchester recently.

While there, I followed a Royal Geographical Society audio tour on Victorian Manchester.

It started at the newly refurbished Manchester Victoria station, with its marvellous tiles, and brought me to see buildings relating to how newly industrial Manchester cared for its poor and destitute.

Outside one brick building, I felt a surge of emotion about that institution helping those who were being left behind in the Victorian industrial metropolis.

Each brick, to me, symbolised all the small kind acts taken place there.

My fanciful notion aside, Manchester is a place full of brickwork and tiles, a city made of mosaics, the many making the whole.