Rose's Cantina

One of the things I've always loved about Ottawa is its small town feel. Tourists may know this place because it is the Nation's Capital, a place of political theatre and the gargoyles that grace the Parliament Buildings. They come for the festivals, and the souvenirs, for rides along the waterways in amphibious boats. Sophisticates marvel at the charity balls, high priced boutiques and restaurants that serve tiny food.  But townies adore the other side of Ottawa -- the square pizza at the Prescott, quarts at the Chateau Lafayette, and the markets that pop up every May, like clockwork. Townies, even transplanted ones like me, know all the great spots in town, all the delis serving smoked meat sandwiches piled high, the best places to hear blues on a cold and rainy Sunday afternoon, and the little cafes in Little Italy where we can buy the best damned cappuccino and biscotti this side of Tuscany. We also love, love, love our local television which for years has reflecte...

The first time I met Leigh Chapple she came breezing into the newsroom at CJOH wearing a pair of white sweat pants. That was 1977 and she was only 22 or so, hardly chunky with a honey voice and pretty face. She announced to the newsroom that she was joining a gym. Even back then, she was worried about her weight. I was there as a Carleton University "intern," something that the newly branded CTV Ottawa stopped doing after Max Keeping left the station. For me, a committed print person even back then, the internship was a fascinating glimpse into the face of broadcast news in Ottawa. Every night, somebody would be dispatched to get a bottle of rum and boutonnieres for the gentlemen. After the broadcast, Max would sit down with the crew and have a belt or three and conduct a relaxed post-mortem. It was clear from this experience that I was too nervous for the television game. The one piece I managed to put on the air sucked the big one and I didn't do television again f...