A key tool in acting (and we're all actors doing the Bill Shakespeare over and over) is the concept of sense memory.

And tonight, I was gripped by a sense memory of a steamie and fries, a Montreal steamed hot dog and fresh made really greasy french fries. The hot dog is all dressed with slaw, moustard and katsup. The fries have salt and vinegar.

If I was downtown, well, the Montreal Pool Room is the only place, but if I was wandering more afield, only a trip to LaFleurs, probably in Lachine, for the steamies and the "une steamie, une patate, suivant, nex!"

Sure, I could really go for a smoked meat, but that requires more planning, not to mention lining up and other rituals.

And in a couple of hours, a bunch of fresh, hot bagels would be great. Yes, they are the best damn bagels in the world, and you can only get them at two bakeries on Fairmont and St-Viateur.

You roll in drunk at 3 am, pick up a dozen after being at a club, go home, eat a couple, and the next day you have a bag of tasty, fresh bagels for brunch.

Crap, I'm hungry now, and what I want is 600 miles away.