Two weekends ago, Julia and I went to Skoki Lodge. Skoki Lodge is a backcountry cabin just over 11 km North of Lake Louise, situated in the Skoki Valley. It’s a log cabin originally built by a group of Banff Residents in the 1930’s to cater to ski-tourists. Today, it’s relatively untouched from the original structure and for only ~$700(!) a night you get a truly rustic experience, including no running water or electricity. Fortunately, your stay includes high quality meals and you have amazing access to various trails around several nearby mountains.

Part of the Skoki adventure is getting to the cabin. You ‘pick your own adventure’ and can hike, XC ski, or alpine ski tour/split board in. Having never been before, not knowing any 1^st degree connections who had been, not finding great information online, and receiving poor instructions from the 60-year old ski bum who checked us in at the base of the village, we were woefully unprepared. We brought classic XC skis and no skins (i.e., grips for the bottom of your skis that allow you to climb uphill without constantly slipping backwards), not realizing that much of the journey is a steady uphill climb. From the trailhead, you climb ~500m and must get over Deception pass (~2,500m elevation), which feels like scaling a mountain. Everything you need you carry in on your back so we each had a ~25lb pack on.

The combination of the wrong equipment, severely underestimating how hard the journey would be, and -25°C weather, all combined to make it one of the more challenging physical activities I’ve ever completed. It took us 5.5 hours. I burned nearly 3,000 calories. When we were maybe ~2/3 of the way in, looking uphill at Deception pass and realizing due to the lack of skins we would be walking up the entire way, I was reminded of the concept “Type 2 Fun”, a former colleague, Matt, had explained to me several years earlier. Type 2 fun describes an activity that can be uncomfortable or extremely challenging throughout, but which you find enjoyable in retrospect.

Now that a few weeks have passed, I can confidently say the trip squarely fits in the Type 2 Fun category. I’m incredibly grateful we did it, even though a lot of it sucked in the moment. This got me thinking about whether the concept of Type 2 Fun can be applied in a professional context. And I was reminded of my experience at Onex working on the SIG investment.

SIG Combibloc is a multi-billion dollar aseptic packaging company headquartered in Switzerland. With a small team, I worked on evaluating the investment for nearly a year, of which six months was particularly grueling. For the six months leading up to the acquisition, I literally did nothing but work. I worked 7 days a week, usually for as long as I physically could. With very rare exceptions, I’d arrive at work Monday to Friday at 9 am and leave the office between 2 and 3 am. On Saturday and Sunday, I’d arrive at ~10:30 am and leave at ~3 to 4 am. I spent 5 weeks straight living out of a hotel in London. I travelled to various manufacturing facilities in Germany, Switzerland, and made a 24-hour trip to China. I gained 15 pounds and the week after we signed the deal, I became severely ill. The experience had a lot of suck in the day-to-day… but in retrospect, it was one of the most rewarding professional experiences I’ve ever had. I’m incredibly grateful for it and remember it fondly, and a decade later am still proud of the work we did.

I’ve also had many experiences of working under similarly hard conditions, which I have absolutely hated, look back with zero feelings of gratitude or joy, and know with certainty that many of those unhappy and long, hard work periods were key drivers to making a career change. So what made the SIG experience different? What are the characteristics that can make an experience, which might be really challenging or difficult in the moment, later fit in the Type 2 Professional Fun bucket? For me, it was a sense of deep accomplishment after the fact (i.e., you worked hard, but you knew the hard work was meaningful and had purpose); enjoying the company of those you’re on the journey with; and having a sense of self-improvement or betterment because of the associated learning from the experience. I believe if those characteristics are present when working through a really challenging period, you’re likely to look back upon it fondly even if it wasn’t enjoyable at the time.

Importantly, the ability to recognize in the moment the potential future benefits of your current suffering, can make it much more tolerable. That was certainly the case for how I felt ~2/3 of our way into the journey to Skoki.

The last week of December is one of my favourite times of the year. For me, it’s often spent with family and close friends, enjoying big meals, and lots of time to relax. Work usually crawls to a standstill. There’s something special about everything feeling a little bit slower; less traffic, less email, less of the typical daily routine. There’s a symbolic feeling with it being the last week of the year, like the closing of a chapter. It often serves as a good time for reflection and looking ahead to 2024. As one chapter closes another one begins. Regardless if 2023 was your best year yet or if it was a tough year, there’s an opportunity to look forward and start anew.

I’ve never been a huge fan of New Years Resolutions, which generally feel a bit rigid to me. I am, however, a big fan of jotting down some reflections from the past year, and some priorities or things I’d like to focus on next year, the next three years, and the next ten years. I never spend too much time on this or overthink it too much; I’ll typically sit down for ~30 minutes and jot down the key themes that come to mind. I’ll also flip through my calendar, which helps serve as a reminder for the bigger milestones and events from the past year. I’ve been doing this since 2019 and it’s fun to look back and re-read what’s been written as time goes on. It’s amazing how much of my behavior and actions have loosely followed the themes of what I’ve written.

I also love the first week of January. It’s a bit like that first week following Labour-day weekend. Everyone is back in action, the pace of work and life picks up. People get back into their routine. There’s a bit of a buzz going around. There’s a bit of overwhelm and chaos.

However you spent the end of 2023, I hope you found at least a few moments of joy. Cheers to 2024… hopefully the best year yet.

I love food. It’s something I’m incredibly passionate about and absorbs a lot of my mind share. I wake up and think about what’s for breakfast… after I have breakfast, I’m thinking about what’s for lunch. After lunch, you guessed it, I’ve got dinner on my mind. It’s not a burden; it’s a joy. Every meal is a treat in its own way.

Years ago, whenever I was asked for restaurant recommendations, I found myself drawing a blank in the moment, or defaulting to the most recent places I’d eaten. So I started to track restaurants in a sheet and rate my first experience there as a way to quickly build a reference guide and better serve others with recommendations. You can access my Calgary list Here. I only recently started one for Toronto so it’s a little lacklustre, but I’ve included it here as well. The ratings are totally subjective and lack a formal framework; however, you’ll clearly notice one thing: there isn’t a single 10/10 rating. That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed some amazing meals. But even my best dining experiences have had opportunity for improvement. That’s not a Calgary or Toronto specific phenomenon; I can’t remember finishing a meal, including at three Michelin star restaurants, and thinking “that was 10/10”… until two weekends ago.

Two weekends ago I went to Prince Edward County with family and on Saturday night, we ate at Darlings. It was a 10/10 experience. This got me thinking, what conditions are necessary to have a 10/10 dining experience? On reflection, I believe it’s excellence across a combination of these factors: (a) atmosphere, (b) food, (c) company, and (d) service. I’ve added some commentary below on what stood out in this regard.

1. Atmosphere. Atmosphere is a combination of ambience and setting. What vibe does the restaurant give off? Is it good-noisy or bad-noisy? Is the dishware a nice compliment or an awkward setting? At Darlings, the setting was unique and ‘cool’ – it’s situated in what feels like an old house, in a residential neighborhood. The lighting is dim and the music was great; it was loud, but good-loud. There were only four tables and bar seating, which created an intimate and “special” atmosphere. The atmosphere was complimentary to and matched the menu, which was served family style.
2. Food. Food is a combination of taste, quality, and consistency. What stood out about Darlings, is that I loved every single dish. Even at very high-end restaurants, I find there’s nearly always at least one or two dishes which are “pretty good”, but not great. To try more than 5 dishes and love every single one is a rare treat, and for a restaurant, a tall feat.
3. Company. It’s impossible to have a 10/10 dining experience if you don’t really enjoy the company you’re with. Fortunately, this one is (almost) always in your (the diner’s) control!
4. Service. Fantastic service dramatically enhances the overall dining experience. A server who is assertive, knowledgeable, attentive but not overbearing, and has a positive attitude will elevate your meal. A little hipster sass is ok, to a point. We had all this and more at Darlings, including a strong Manager who pitched in when needed. Post-COVID, there’s clearly been a general degradation in Service levels, which only highlights how important it is to the overall dining experience.

Two considerations I’ve excluded are price/value and consistency of experience among diners. I believe assessing a dining experience should be largely independent of the price to allow for broad comparability, albeit with some calibration (e.g., I’m assessing Sunday morning Dim Sum differently than a Michelin star restaurant, even though both can be excellent or poor dining experiences). And while ideally the entire group feels similarly about a dining experience, it’s ultimately a personal perspective.

I also haven’t addressed the quality of the drinks menu. While certainly a component of the overall meal, I personally haven’t found the quality of the drinks menu to be as influential to the dining experience as the other factors listed above (i.e., if I’m having a shit dining experience, a great cocktail probably won’t change that; if I’m having an incredible experience, a limited wine list is unlikely to change that). It also allows for better comparability across meal types (i.e., breakfast/brunch, lunch, and dinner).

I welcome any feedback or input on this framework. Also, I’m always on the hunt for great dining experiences and welcome any Toronto or Calgary recommendations.

*I felt compelled to write about Darlings… back to regular content next week.