I’ve already reported to you about my first day at the World Fantasy Convention in Brighton, and had hoped to fill you in further, but I now realize I have to abandon the idea of writing about my other three days there—life since my return has proven to be just too busy, and I’m forced to admit I’m not likely to ever get around to my traditional oversharing.

Besides, a whole week has already passed, so any write-ups now would violate Edelman’s First Rule of Convention Reporting, which I’m sure you’ve all internalized from my repeated mentions of it.

Instead, you’ll have to be satisfied with heading over to Flickr and checking out some photos from the weekend, like the one above of me hugging it out late at night (or should that be early in the morning?) with F. Paul Wilson.

But I still reserve the right to tell you all about my marvelous dinner at Graze and the bizarre limited edition cheeseburger crust pizza I picked up at Pizza Hut.

Which ought to show you where my priorities are!

I took a redeye out of Dulles Wednesday night, arriving at Heathrow earlier than I usually wake up at home … and exhausted. My United flight was deserted, with only two people in my nine-person row, and most of the cabin similarly empty, so we were all able to stretch out. But even so, I didn’t really sleep well. The flight, which was meant to take seven hours and 15 minutes, arrived early, and with drinks followed by dinner at the front end, and a breakfast snack at the other end, not much time was left to even try to snooze. So by the time I got to Brighton via bus, even with a bit of napping along the way, it felt as if I was running on fumes.

Not a good way to begin a con, particularly when I had a panel and a reading as some of the first programming items!

I couldn’t access my room early enough to take the nap I’d planned, which meant that when I finally got in, I only had time to dump my bags, take note of the ghostly remains out my window of a pier which had burned down (setting the proper mood for a World Fantasy Convention, I thought), and then rush off to my panel “Thanks for the Memories,” on which I was to reminisce with Kim Newman, Gary K. Wolfe, Roz Kaveney and Rodger Turner on all those we lost since last year’s WFC in Toronto.

Unfortunately, through a combination of exhaustion and the labyrinthine nature of the hotel, I didn’t arrive for the panel until 12 minutes in. There was still plenty of time to remember fallen friends, including one I’d entirely forgotten about until Geoff Ryman prompted us from the audience as to whether there was anyone in comics to celebrate, and I remembered the great Carmine Infantino. In retrospect, I realize we spent too much time on the superstars, that is, those with whom the audience was probably already familiar, the Ray Harryhausens of the world, and so ended up leaving out those not quite as famous, such as Rick Hautala and David Silva. Sorry! But remember them anyway, OK?

And then it was time for my reading. Were you there? Because I wasn’t! (more…)

Arrived back home late last night from a fun and exhausting World Fantasy Convention in Brighton. There’s lots to tell you about good times with good friends and good food, but I’ve no time for that now, as I’ve got to leap into the work which allows me to go to places like Brighton and have those good times eating good food with good friends.

So for now, let these nine photos stand in until I’m oriented back to life in the U.S. and am able to fill you in on the details …

Stephen Jones’ Psycho-Mania! anthology—which contains a story of mine—launched with a book signing at which I was told 23 contributors were on hand to autograph. (more…)

I’ll be heading off to Brighton two weeks from today for the World Fantasy Convention, the first time it’s been outside of North America since 1997. My first WFC was—yikes!—a third of a century ago, and took place in Providence, Rhode Island in 1979.

Here’s where you’ll be able to find me … officially anyway. Because I’ll of course spend much of my time schmoozing in the bar and lobby as well.

Thursday, 31 Oct., 3:00–4:00 p.m.
Thanks for the Memories
It’s been a brutal year for losing people from the genre. With input from the audience encouraged, the panel recalls the lives and works of a number of writers and others who made significant contributions to our field, including Iain M. Banks, Basil Copper, Harry Harrison, Ray Harryhausen, James Herbert, Jack Vance, Frederik Pohl and of course, our own Guest of Honour, Richard Matheson.
with Roz Kaveney, Kim Newman, (mod) Rodger Turner, Gary K. Wolfe.

Thursday, 31 Oct., 4:00-4:30 p.m.
Reading
I’ll probably read bits and pieces of my short story appearing in Psycho-Mania, as there’ll be a launch party for the book at the con.

Friday, 1 Nov., 8:00-10:30 p.m.
Mass Signing

Foodie that I am, I’ve also arranged some good eats, so I’m also looking forward to the “Roast Partridge, Spätzle, Braised Leg, Creamed Savoy, Fig and Thyme” at Gingerman and the “Braised pork belly, black pudding and fig roll, fresh fig, watercress, vanilla celeriac puree” at Graze.

Look forward to seeing you all on the other side of the pond!

If you’ll be heading to the World Fantasy Convention next month, make sure to drop by the launch party for Psycho-Mania.

What’s Psycho-Mania? An anthology about “psychos, schizoids and serial killers” edited by Stephen Jones, and featuring an introduction by Psycho author Robert Bloch, who’s caricatured on the cover below.

(You can see an earlier version of the cover here.)

I don’t know where at the convention the launch party will be occurring, but if you’re in Brighton over the Halloween weekend, look us up. You want a chance to read my story “The Trembling Living Wire,” don’t you?

But that’s not the only publication of mine coming up … (more…)

Let’s get one thing straight first. My visit to the newly opened Cafe Boulud—the second restaurant in Toronto whose birth I was alerted to via a post in Eater, a food porn site I visit daily—was nothing like that of Amy Pataki from the Toronto Star. I did not feel “something is off with the Toronto iteration,” plus I witnessed the opposite of “distracted servers, unaccommodating reservationists and fumbling busboys.” I’m assuming she just wandered in on an off night, because everything I saw told me Cafe Boulud was staffed by an attentive team serving mind-blowing food.

Cafe Boulud was my final meal in Toronto before heading home from the World Fantasy Convention, and I drove in with Ellen Datlow, John Clute, and Elizabeth Hand. This was my fifth trip from Richmond Hill in search of foodie gold, which some con-goers thought a bit much since there were perfectly serviceable restaurants in Richmond Hill. But I was in search of more than just serviceable. I wanted to see what artists could do at the top of their game. And also, as with my trip to Momofuku Shoto the night before, I wanted to experience a restaurant at the moment of its birth, and since Daniel Boulud’s newest spot had only opened at the beginning of October, this was my chance to see the place while it was still shiny and new.

After making our way through the Four Seasons Hotel and checking our coats, we were led to our table in the brightly lit, modernistic dining room, which, surprisingly for such a high-end restaurant, happened to be under painting featuring The Avengers—which felt very strange, not only because such a thing was unexpected in that environment, but also because I’d actually once helped write an issue of that comic!

It turned out that this was no cheap knock-off mash-up, but the work of Mr. Brainwash, whose paintings filled the dining room. We were told they were all for sale, and if we were interested, one could be ours for from $55,000-$90,000. Not in my league, I’m afraid. (Hey, restaurants like Cafe Boulud are themselves only rarely in my league!) (more…)

Somehow, I’ve never made it to Momofuku Noodle Bar in New York, so when I saw that a branch would be opening in Toronto while I’d be there for the World Fantasy Convention—which I only learned about because of my daily reading of the food porn site Eater—I knew I’d finally get inside a David Chang restaurant. But I decided that before heading to the Noodle Bar for lunch, I’d see whether I could get reservations for the evening tasting menu at Momofuku Shoto.

I was able to do so, which required diligence, though nothing like the obsessive/compulsive checking of the Internet that was required to get into Alinea and Next. To book seats at the U-shaped Shoto counter means logging on to the Momofuku site at exactly 10:00 a.m. 13 days before the date you’re seeking. So at 9:59 a.m. on Sunday, October 21st, I was hitting refresh, refresh, fresh until the site allowed me to book seats for Saturday, November 3rd.

Which was a relief, because I wanted to see Momofuku while it was all shiny and new, with excitement still in the air about a new adventure just begun.

My co-conspirators for the evening were Charlie Anders, Annalee Newitz, and Cecilia Tan (who also joined me for my orgy at The Black Hoof). We experienced an amazing meal, but what’s most alive in my memory isn’t just the food (which I expected), but a strange encounter in the Men’s room (which I did not). But I’ll get to the urinals conversation in a bit. First, the food. (more…)

I try to scoop up a group of friends at every convention I attend and go out for dim sum at least once. I know where I want to head when I’m in Maryland or Philadelphia or even Vancouver, but since I was going to be in Toronto—well, Richmond Hill—I put out the call. Who makes the best dim sum in town? The answer I received from both friends and strangers was Lai Wah Heen.

Some friends wanted to know why I was bothering to drive 30-40 minutes into the heart of Toronto when there were plenty of dim sum parlors right by our con hotel. Well, all that advice, for one, but also because of what one reviewer had to say over on Yelp: “If your idea of dim sum is $2 steamers and old ladies yelling from carts, then go back to Richmond Hill.” That slam on the entire neighborhood in which I was staying made me laugh.

Not that there’s anything wrong with dim sum at the basic level of comfort food. I do that all the time. But dim sum prepared by an internationally recognized chef, and incorporating such ingredients as lamb, emu, and foie gras? That’s not something you get a chance to eat every day. (Or, come to think of it, at all. At least, I’ve never seen any of that offered before.)

And so four of my friends—Sharon Kier Patry, Shelly Rae Clift, and Karen and Charlie Newton—piled into the car last Friday, and we bombed into town, dealing with Toronto’s marvelous midday, midweek traffic. But what we found when we got where we were going was worth it.

Everything on the menu was enticing, so we just kept checking off boxes on the order sheet until we feared we’d be unable to ingest all the promised wonders. I wasn’t disappointed in a single choice, but here are the ones that most amazed me. (more…)

When I began making plans for where to eat during my recent Toronto trip, the first restaurant on my must-hit list was The Black Hoof, famous for its offal. Who could pass up roasted bone marrow, foie & nutella, and spicy horse tartare?

As it turns out, lots of people.

I’d rented a car so I could more easily get from my hotel in Richmond Hill to downtown Toronto, which meant I’d have plenty of room when it came time to hoof to Hoof Thursday night. Cecilia Tan was in the moment she heard about the menu, but as for those other spots in the car? They turned out to be not so easily filled. Nearly every person I asked to join us gave me one of those “Are you out of your mind?” looks, and said things like, “Yeah, right” or “Suuuure … ”

Luckily, I bumped into first Mike Willmoth and then Jim Minz, both of whom proved to be as enthusiastic about offal as Cecilia and I were. (more…)

When it came time to figure out where I’d be eating while in Toronto for the World Fantasy Convention, I knew that in the midst of all the fine dining I had planned, one stop was going to have to be at the city’s best burger joint. (Finding a great burger has always been high on my list when traveling.) But which restaurant would that be? I tossed the question out on social media, and though there was intense disagreement—you’d have thought that I’d started a discussion on the presidential election—the consensus settled around The Burger’s Priest.

So last Thursday morning, for my first meal in Toronto, I bombed into town from Richmond Hill with so many co-conspirators we needed two cars. When we reached Burger’s Priest, I was surprised to find it was take-out only, with nowhere to sit, and soon realized that there were two locations—one which apparently seats around 20 over on Yonge Street, and the one we ended up at on Queen Street East. But as that wasn’t going to affect the taste of the burgers, I didn’t really care. Besides, all those parked cars filled with people chowing down on their burgers told me this was food worth eating whether it had to be done sitting, standing, or running in place.

(more…)