The Waffle

One great thing about a night out and about is to recover the next day with brunch.

Sadly, there is a lot of uneducated restaurant owners and managers who somehow believe that brunch is just a fancy breakfast.

It isn’t.

When people go for brunch, they are looking for breakfast and lunch at the same time. 
BReakfast.  lUNCH. BR + UNCH = BRUNCH.

See?

A restaurant that respects its clientèle should not advertise a brunch menu if said brunch menu offers only breakfast items and variations on the same theme.  A restaurant that respects its clientèle understands that a normally constituted person cannot sustain themself until dinner with an 11 am yogurt and granola.

Fortunately for me, we ended up at a location that understands:  the Irish Embassy Pub and Grill. 

Set in a splendid old bank building built in the 1800s located in the heart of the Financial District, and only minutes away from the Rogers Centre, the Irish Embassy is usually very busy with business crowds during the work week.  I have had lunch there a couple of times, and it was always buzzing.  

Not so much at brunch hour.  The place opens only at 11 am, so we waited not-so-patiently for them to open their doors.  First in, we sat comfortably in a corner and ordered a couple of brunch drinks.  Cider for me.

We looked at their brunch menu, which is a real one:

Some classic breakfast items, like pancakes, eggs Benedict and of course the classic Irish Breakfast. 
You could also find, randomly, salads, a burger, a wrap, a curry, crab cakes, quiches, and a stew.

I decided to open the hostilities with their soup of the day: A Corn Chowder.  I love corn, and when nicely done, this soup is very smooth, creamy, a sunny concoction with a zing.

This was a pretty good chow-daaah. There were nice chunks of corn, bits of red pepper, the zing was provided by fresh herbs and a generous helping of cracked black pepper. The portion, however, was a bit small, especially considering the 5 bucks I had to cough up for it.

I was hoping the portion would be better with my main course - the classic Steak and Eggs.

And it was sufficient.  I got my eggs scrambled, which is the only decent way to eat eggs.  Made with three fresh eggs, they were pretty good, not too dry.  They could have used more butter, but no real complaint.  The home fries were delicious - huge chunks, crispy outside, tender inside.  The steak was a AAA Angus 6oz NY striploin, grilled medium rare as I had asked.  It was very lightly seasonned, which is the thing to do when you serve it beside eggs.  The fruits were not super fresh and were kind of irrelevant.

Jean-Charles, always classy, decided to go with the Fish and Chips.  Two huge filets of Haddock arrived.

The Kilkenny battered fish were flaky, steamy, chunky.  All around well done.  The homemade tartar sauce that came with it was an excellent complement to the deep fried delicacy. 

Dominic decided to go for something sweet - he ordered the Blueberry pancakes with a side of sausage.

Now, Dominic had to return his pancakes.  Why?  What went wrong?  I can hear you eagerly ask.
You were not as eager to find out as the staff when we waived at them.

I’ll let you read the transcript:

11:23:12  The waitress: “Don’t worry, it’s an honest mistake. It happens.”
11:23:17  The Waffle:    “No, it doesn’t happen.”
11:23:21  The waitress:  “Yes, you are right, it never happened.”

Hillarity ensued.  Still clueless?  Let me rewind the tape further:

11:22:44  Dominic: “I’m really sorry, I made a mistake.  I thought this was Maple Syrup and I’ve put it on my pancakes.”

Hillarity ensued. 

What?  Still confused?  Let me rewind the tape further:

11:18:23  Dominic:     “What is in the bottle?”
11:18:26  The Waffle:  ”It’s vinegar.”
11:18:28  Dominic:      ”Ah.”

Hillarity soon ensued when Dominic received his pancakes and just assumed that The Waffle was either lying or simply dead wrong.  In the bottle, it must not be vinegar, he thought, but additional maple syrup for his pancakes.  Which he then happily splashed on his Blueberry pancakes. 

And this is how Dominic was inducted into the Irish Embassy Hall of Shame. 

If you drop by (and I encourage you to, considering the qualifty of the fare, the prime location and the quality of the beer list), and if you are served by Erin, be sure to mention the story.  We can still hear the laughter from the kitchen when she brought back the plate to the cooks and explained why.

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After a night of baseball, which included an encounter with Kelly Gruber and Rance Milliniks at Arriba (which incidentally was not broadcasting baseball but hockey games), I was in charge of finding a location for a breakfast and recovery meal.  Thankfully, I had brought along my CheapEats Toronto book.

Near the Skydome, there was not a lot of recommendations.  One caught my eye immediately though, the Avenue Open Kitchen on Camden Street in the Entertainment District.  It caught my eye for the location (near Queen and Spadina) and for the prices listed ($3.95 for a breakfast plate before 11 am); and it was listed as a “greasy spoon”.

And so we ended up there.

Classic diner environment, a long and narrow room, with stools by the open kitchen and small booths by the wall, an old fridge filled with pop, newspaper clippings and old pictures hanging everywhere.  The chef is one of the owners - his face is on a couple of the photos, although he did look younger and therefore probably was when they were taken.

Cheese omelette was the way to go for the Ladies.  Great fake cheesiness was inside this nicely cooked omelette, and the ladies looked content and ate with appetite.

For my part, I had to go with the peameal bacon and scrambled eggs special.  The eggs were impressive.  Usually, in establisments of this calibre, the eggs are overcooked and dry.  Not the case here, they were great, smooth and very tasty.  Two big pieces of bacon came with, and those were just great.  Peameal is not exactly a fine cut of meat, but it was perfect to get me started for the day.

As for the home fries, now these were a real treat.  Real potatoes, nicely grilled on the plaque, with bits of onions - no deep frying, no freezing, no breading - they were fantastic.  On the negative side, the bread was not great and had too much margarine spreaded on them.

Scott read the news clipping on the wall.  A very complimentary review, claiming that “what you may not realize is that there’s a fine art to making food that tastes so good but makes you feel so bad (physically and mentally). They then proceeded to highly recommend they $6 chicken fingers and fries combo - now a little over $7.  So no matter that it was only 10 am, Scott ordered the said chicken fingers.  And he was not disappointed:  thick, real chicken filet, breaded and sizzled perfectly.

Is there something more traditional in Quebec than a spring visit to a Sugar Shack?  I don’t think so.

A folkloric atmosphere, the comforting warmth of a wood stove, and the odours, from the burning logs, from the wood furniture, and especially the aromas from the kitchen.

There are a few cabane à sucre in the National Capital Region, and this time, la Sucrerie du Terroir drew the lucky number, and 6 of us plus a baby headed over, on a sunny springy morning.

Located in Val-des-Monts, La Sucrerie du Terroir is very traditional, smaller than most shacks, making it a very cozy place. The staff was very friendly, and were wearing traditional costumes.  Although they do not sell booze,  you can bring your own.

First came the French Toast.  

A classic appetizer.

Nothing fancy, just some thick white bread soaked in eggs and milk and fried. 

Covered with maple syrup, they sure started our meal the right way.

All you can eat.