From a reader desperate to get us start posting again. Guess what, it worked. Here's a look at the Yaletown Steakhouse, Pinkys from a reader:
"Went to that Pinkys Steakhouse on Saturday. What a douche-a-palooza. The food was alright, but typical Yaletown shite.
If you are going to do a steakhouse, it should probably be better than the Keg and your unique selling feature shouldn't be that you have the cheapest shots of Patron in all of Yaletown. That said, it was good value. $25 for salad, steak/pasta and dessert, but would probably just go to the Keg next time. Still it did have more people in it on that night then I think Lily Kate had all time. PS: how douchy are the wine glasses? I almost refused to drink out of them. "
Pretty sure Britney will now forever etch into my brain the following, "don't drink Dr. Pepper, that's for crackheads like Britney Spears." Thanks a lot bumpkin. It does however turn a delightful jingle on its ear. And no, I wouldn't like to be "a pepper too." I would count this as a PR nightmare for Dr. Pepper.
Dear McDonald's. Your shameless 'viral' attempts at keeping the blessed third heat on your awful creation known as the McRib really chaps my hide. You're sick. That is is all.
Encore Avenue was playing Army of Darkness tonight. One word: rad. Which tickled me mostly because for some reason I was in a Legion/70's era rec room bar in Toronto this week. Clearly trying to avoid the major douchery that was spilling from the earth's core/suburbs for the Bon Jovi concerts (mullets + cougars = a pure hell) was harder than it first appeared. On a light side the 5 Buds + Chili Nachos for $24.99 was all sorts of low brow fun. The fact that our bartender looked like Bruce Campbell was an added bonus. PS: how is Army of Darkness 15 years old already?
Finally, someone else has validated my love of that truly trashy, but truly tasty drink: cider. Apparently, cider is the new fall beverage of choice, and I can't wait to get on board with that. Bye-bye white wine, I'm back on the Glacierberry. But for those with a more sophisticated palette (shades of high school much?), there are plenty of fabulous apple-based bevvies to choose from that don't involve a non-existent fruit. Strongbow comes to mind as the most obvious choice, but for those of you lucky enough to be passing through Ontario, defintely consider giving Magners a try. It is absolutely delcious, and its flavour doesn't hinge on the addition of a lot of sucrose-fructose. Who knew the harvest season could be so tasty?
This one is a few months old, but it sure is nice to see Hennessy promoting a clean weekend of booze free fun. Ridiculous. Although it makes me want to go mock some people fauxsters at Republic very soon. (Via AdFreak)
"I had a period where my chef Marc-Andre [Choquette] quit, then my sous-chef Jeremie [Bastien] quit, then Antoine [Baillargeon] - his right-hand guy - he quit, then Guillaume [St. Pierre], who was doing the fish, he quit - it all came within a month for me," Feenie told the Globe. "Then the same thing happened at Feenie's - all these people left and went up to Chow. It was a big hit for us."
Globe and Mail food critic Alexandra Gill begins her colum with, "I'm feeling crabby. And no, the mood has nothing to do with any gripes I might have about recently reviewed restaurants." Maybe it is because you just lamely started an article about crabs with that line? Sorry to hear about that Alex.
Andrew Morrison over at Urban Diner had him some fun this week. He invented a restaurant called Spanish Tasting Bar, even set up a website, and then some other website wrote about it like news. Well played Morrison. Well played.
Nice to see Artigiano raising the bar on smug coffee. Today they launch the, "staggering $15 per eight-ounce cup ($135 per half pound in bean form), the Panama-grown, 100-per-cent geisha varietal bean is the most expensive coffee ever to hit lips in this coffee-crazy city." See you there.
I just made my friend Anthony dry heave with this video. I think he's completely nuts, because this is totally amazing. This is as Adfreak calls it, "Pizza technology moves forward yet again." The Japanese are amazing, proving once again, Pizza, is there anything it can't do? Luke will love this.
Since Urban Diner called me out for my shameless and pathetic excuses for not blogging - I completely agree with the coined term 'slothtrodden' Morrison! (It's on, sir! Let's hit the town soon you cheeky bastard!) Really, I do - I answer with a trip to Gastropod and a timely review with the $15 dollar 'bacon' taste still in my belly.
But seriously. Gastropod (1938 West 4th Avenue). I didn't know what to think - I mean the constant buzz of the West 4th foodie explosion is enough to just write off crossing any bridges, but then again, why not - they serve Le Vieux Pin wine which is secret code for yummy, I've heard (more on this later, trust me). The brightness of the space - and what my friend Kasia called the clinical "The Handmaid's Tale" uniforms of the waitstuff were a bit much. But the food. Good lord. I think my tastebuds are drunk.
The Salmon Tar Tar was excellent, and anytime - and I mean ANYTIME - you have something that is as ridiculously tasty as the smoked veal sweetbreads - like I said the best $15 piece of bacon. Evah - you have to just abide. The Duck Sous Vide was pretty unreal, but the Lamb loin sausage was particularly insane. Ya, sure, I'll go back to having hot dogs after that? Serve with Malbec and discussion of current politics of Poland and William L. Shirer's classic and voila!
PS: The lemon tarte, however unnecessary, was absolutely ridiculous. Honestly, "lemon tyme ice milk" and fresh basil. You're out of control. Eating this basically made question my place in the universe. Okay, that overstates the facts a bit. But you get the idea.
Andrew Morrison sums up Kits in his latest Westender piece with delightful zest: "On any given day of the week, a stroll down West 4th sees the two generations morphed into one master demographic of Capers-loving, Goretex-wearing, Starbucks-loathing, mountain bike-riding, dog-walking, and restaurant-going shopaholics with more money than sin and equal appetites for self-indulgence and fitness."
All this "foodie" talk, but I have to say I'm with Keith Talent at Urban Diner on the word: "I can’t stand the word foodie. It’s overly simplistic and calculatedly lowbrow so as to offset the pretension of calling someone a “gourmet”. It’s sort of a Rachel Ray vs. Paul Bocuse question."
At anyrate, it's really no wonder I'm scared to cross the Burrard St. bridge most time to say nothing of coming face to face with those Kits eco-robots scare me. In a related piece of news I'm meeting some of my oldest and trusted friends for lunch today at Guu. Apparently I'm so awash with cash I'm paying, but I hope my 'green-y' friends bought this excuse. Feel free to try it yourselves:
"All of my cash is tied up in unethical weapons manufacturing stocks, and oil companies and otherwise in offshore accounts.
Gotta run, my Hummer has been running all day long down in the parking garage and I need to refuel it. See I'm doing my part to support global warming. Aren't you proud?"
I'm sure one of them will still try to sell me some sort of ethical investments anyway.
A weekend with weather as gloomy as this one, calls for some good old fashion coffee blogging, yes? Let me start with a short review of Mink Chocolates Inc. ("On the Park" 863 West Hastings St). Let me just say that if you are having a crap day - say today for instance - go here, drop cash on a mocha with dark chocolate (holy cow) and a chocolate bar, or two. Willy Wonka, eat your hat, sir, this is the good stuff. Sure that combo will run you about $18 bucks, but you'll feel better about yourself.
I tried the "Tawny & Ruby Are Friends" - a bar with port and dark chocolate ganache, and the "Romeo & Juliet" - 1/2 white chocolate and 1/2 dark chocolate ganache. These were ridiculous. And my friend Anthony will be happy to note that they do indeed have bon bons - something he was talking about a few weeks back like he was Peg Bundy. I need to go back to have the chocolate fondue or the insane looking waffles. This store is trouble. And the modern space and branding details are pretty amazing. This experience isn't cheap, but if it was cheap, then you'd probably go everyday and be dead in a week. Okay, chocolate is good for you, go now. It's retarded how good this place is.
Danes Got it Going On.
In the April edition of Monocle - a magazine I mocked at first, and since have become addicted to - there was a write up on Emmery's. A pretty awesome looking place - "It is a unique Nordic mix of chic 7-11 meets Dean & Deluca." Let me get this straight, it's like a fancy cool 7-11. And these aren't everywhere because why? My goodness.
Starbucks Vs. Ethiopia
And this would be more so, after my so-so Americano at Starbucks today. Damn I want me some funky 7-11 cafe of awesome. And speaking of the brand, Starbucks got into a battle with Ethiopia recently over the trademarking of coffee.
Checked out Social, er, I guess that should read, So.Cial (332 Water St.) the other day. I'm not certain if you're supposed to include the period in the name, or not. Quite frankly, anyway you look at it, that increases the potential smugness at least a few points. Although the news, even following the end of the Canucks tyranny on the city this season, that it has some filthy hockey money behind it (Kirk McLean and Bob McCammon) probably evens things out.
It's a nice space in Gastown - old building loveliness with requisite impressive high ceiling awesome - and the concept seems like it should do pretty well in this city - meats, osyter bar, and more meats. Who is to deny that theme? It was lunch and I had a roast beef sandwich with mustard cabbage something or other - which was tasty and massive - the bread was delicious, but almost too hard to consume (artisan bread is cool, but this was hardcore)- even though the bread to start, served with a beanish-y dip was fantastic. The frites, well, they were pretty perfect. Other items, like the chicken sandwich looked great too. And there is something about a $14 sandwich during the lunch hour that is, well, ridiculously fun. So.there.
Okay. Let me explain. And yes, I totally retract this early review. Sure when you opened last year, your unisex bathrooms were sort of cute. Cute in that late 1990's I want to smack Ally McBeal in the face kind of a way. Sure the patio is pretty great - until you realize it is a pretty lame patio in the middle of gastown practically on the street. But last Friday this 'hotspot' had the worst waitress working in the entire city and delivered the worst service I've ever recieved in a bar/restaurant in Vancouver. A dubious honor if there ever was one.
The scene: It took three try's to get the blonde beer I ordered. So close to the three strikes, your out rule. It was like the server didn't want to make money - and that was clear after our table was finished, ready to go, money out ready to pay and 20 minutes went by. I actually went up to her at the computer with cash in hand asking to pay and she had the nerve to say, "No. I have 5 other things to do first can you go see the manager." Say what? You won't take my money? Are you nuts?
The manager tried to help, but he didn't seem to grasp that this girl was completely useless. Although hopefully he got it later, which might explain this job ad. I guess when your service is actually worse and slower than, say, the Cambie, you have problems. And need new wait staff.
I figured that after posting all that nonsense about Smiley's I should offer you just the littlest bit of ginger to cleanse the pallet. In this case it is in the form of Nigella Lawson. Only good comes from spending time with her. Only good. If you don't like her talking about CocoPots, revel in her demonstration of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Thanka, thanka very much.
In a momment of total weakness last week somehow I ended up at the worst fake Irish pub in the city, Smiley O'Neals. The fact that the Guinness looked like flat Pepsi that had a hobo blow bubbles into it to provide the creamy head was a dead giveaway. The trio of burnt #2 specials - the old Buffalo burger with sweet potato fries. I know - what in the hell was I thinking right? I was too hungry to bother sending mine back. Probably a good call, since I have no idea what possessed one of my dining adventuring friends to replace his burnt burger with the halibut and shrimp burger? What the...
Irish pubs just shouldn't have halibut and shrimp burgers. It's just not right. It's just not right, Mr. Smiley O'Neal. I don't like your fake name either pal. In fact your whole menu seemed just freaking weird. I just don't understand why you need to serve fajitas or an asian stir fry at all. If Gordon Ramsay walked in you would be, well, probably open handed slapped after 15 minutes of verbal abuse. On the other hand your photo gallery is great. Your theme nights of "creepy old man nights" sound awesome!
I thought you also had the most ridiculously poor service in the city. I did until I had breakfast at Whitespot on Sunday for the last time ever. I think every table in this feeble person's section had some sort of issue. You would think at somepoint you would say, "I'm not a good waitress". And yet you still have a job.
1. The bartender Dylan: He lived in the Virgin Islands and makes a mean Surfer on Acid.
2. My new favourite wine: Stoneleigh Sauvignon Blanc
3. The sushi tower: An amazing mash-up of crab, avocado, cucubmer, rice, soy sauce and wasabi.
4. The plush booths and "mood" lighting
Last week I checked out Kitanoya Guu with Otokomae in Gastown (105-375 Water Street). I haven't left a restaurant that completely stuffed and satisfied from a meal since, well, I can't remember when. Shout out to Ken for dragging me out, translating, and hooking us with more food than needed.
Let me just say. This place is casual. Packed. And features plenty screaming japanese people. Love that. They yell when people come in, when people leave, and when your large Kirin beers are up at the bar. Handy. They were looking for a waiter, but I am pretty sure that large white guy wouldn't really fit in. Or would I...
Where was I? Oh right, highlights from this feast:
Memorable items included: the deep fried brie with mango sauce. Ridiculous. The massive chunks of seared tuna. Retarded. Whatever shrimp we had. It was preposterous. There was about 11 other dishes. There was way too much food.
Boy this is embarassing. Yeeesh. Just yesterday I was saying, "honest to god I was getting sick of Cassis all the time." And then of course I was there for lunch right after it. That's awkward....
Now they probably have one the best BLT's ever. "Pancetta bacon, roasted tomatoes and avocado." Always a great call. But, I've been there. Done that. Many times. So did I really see this on the menu: "Meatloaf Panini - $10.75 Veal meatloaf, roasted tomato chutney, caramelized onion mayo, jalapeno havarti, ciabbata". Um. You had me at veal meatloaf, Cassis, and I stayed for the jalepeno havarti. Good lord. Bonus points: tomato cumin soup that was as crazy as Britney Spears. Serious. Bottom line: you could pay 8 bucks for a Subway sandwich, or your could pay 10.75 for a slice of heaven. Your call.
Downsides: No expresso. Please. And their new website branding is nothing like a french bistro or the joint itself.
Got a special little review of Jules Bistro (216 Abbott Street) hot off the presses:
At first you're going to say: casual French Bistro in the same building as the Lamplighter in Gastown? Are you for real you pompous jackass, Murphy? (clearly...)
But then you're going to go there and say: really? Did I just have the most amazing nearly Parisian Hot Dog on a baguette with delicious mustard and spicy sausage and some frites?
Then you're probably going to say: And the cafe was pretty decent too.
Finally you might say: And there was actually a charming young french girl serving us (although the accent might have been faked. You never know).
You might add: and honest to god I was getting sick of Cassis all the time. (So smug).
I've had two pretty good brunches recently. What this has to do with classic TV is beyond even me. But stay with me anyway. It will be worth it. Sort of.
Now, I know what you're thinking. It's a little bit too hipster, non? Yeah, it probably is. I don't buy it's faux hipstery anymore than you do. The waitresses with the perfect little outfits - complete with I'm cooler than you hats and ridiculous belts. The bartender with that "don't look at me and my perfectly skinny black jeans" look in his eye. Anyway, the food is actually good - although I don't get how these hipsters can even get food to you in a timely manor. The americanos are good (and smugly served with a water on a silver tray) and the chorizo frittata is tasty. I highly recomend sitting there and reading something obnoxious - I chose Mark Steyn's America Alone. Believe me reading this book in a hipster-y retreat like this is quite hilarious. Trust me.
This one is too easy. Any place that has groovy live music for an average Sunday brunch is satisfactorly ridiculous. I had the House Smoked Chicken and Sweet Potato Hash - "fresh tomatoes, scallions, cilantro,
poached eggs, chipotle hollandaise 14.00". Anything with chipotle hollandaise is good. Anything. The ever present champagne and orange juice is an added bonus. I also pretended that I was American on a weekend vacation, which was rather fun.
How does the classic TV fit in? It doesn't really. But walking off the greatest brunch i've had in 2007 was done with DVD shopping. Looking actually. But here's the thing: can you believe these two things are on DVD?
Riptide? Really? Stephen J. Cannell you're a genuis. I love the robot. 1984 was so cute, thinking everyone would have a robot, a boat, and an old helicopter. So cool.
Emergency!Thank God. (original opening here) This was what made life worth living when I was just discovering the magic that is TV. Now it's out on DVD. Best. Thing. Ever.
Good lord, I'm so very glad I went to Sip Resto Lounge (1117 Granville) before going to their website (Reservations at Open Table). Otherwise I wouldn't have gone. And believe me if you stay too long the place becomes a dance club by the sounds of it. That said I shared some great starters, wine, and dessert there on the eve before Dine Out Vancouver ruined the restaurant scene for a couple of weeks. Although it seemed like some of the Dine Out population was already out. Do these people ever go out for dinner? Dine Out Vancouver is pure evil hell. That was our first topic of conversation. Next was the Serbian and Croation fans fighting at the tennis match in Australia. But that is another story, what about the damned food already:
I'm not sure if they do in fact have "The Best Crab Cakes Ever" (bold statement) like they claim to on the menu, but they were tasty - and best of all kind of as good as one of those one-bite brownie deals. Pop 'em in your mouth, yum. Then again when you have Belgium Beer Battered fries served with a bunch of shooters full of sauce you're pretty well setup. Fries and sauces are good - and it was refreshing they they weren't yam fries for a change. Not that I have anything against yam fries. But enough is enough. The 7 Cheesy Dip (how do you go, no it needs more cheese when you have say 5 or 6 cheeses in a dip?) was great and put some of that with the fries. Just do it. It says there is 18-year old Glenfiddich in there somewhere. Sure. The calamari wasn't anything special, but maybe it was because the cheese perogies had lots of chorizo bits with it. Hard to compete. Bonus meats, always a good call.
Oh ya, and the Mocha Bailey's Creme Brulee was completely ridiculous. As is my nature I am writing them a letter to see if they would come make over to my place and turn my bathtub into the biggest creme brulee ever. Yes, it was that delightful. And don't forget, it is open until 2am, which is nice if you want a late night crab cake.
First, was hitching a ride with Jesse in his fairly smug Rover of somesort. I don't say that to mock him, or to sound particularly smug either, but he found a parking spot on Granville in like 5 seconds and so what if he drove that thing all up and over the curb. The homeless kids on the street begged for money in the following way, "You have to give us something for having to watch that." And we did.
That was only the start. We had a fairly strict "two Canuck jersey" rule going into Doolins Irish Pub. There were at least three within the first 5 seconds. Ouch. And when Jesse kept asking our waitress Stephanie for both a Pimms and a cheese plate (it's Doolins) every time she came by, you can imagine, hilarity ensued. Doolins makes you question the whole concept of the Irish Pub and, well, Irishness in general. Thank goodness there is yet another one coming to Vancouver one block over at Smithe and Granville in the old Skybar location called Ceilis. It's not open yet and it looks awful. I no longer question the assertion that there is such a things as "Irish Pub in a Box."
So over to the Granville Room (seriously, did they just play Pixies music when I went to the website? That's just awesome) we went. A cheese plate was had and Jesse introduced us to the infamous Pimms Cup. Or a version of it anyway - served with Ginger Ale, a cucumber slice and an apple slice. Wierd. Smug. Wackily Delicious. (Anyone for a Pimms?) I just can't believe I used to mock the bottle of Pimms behind the bar. The lesson: cheese plate + Pimms = instant awesomeness.
Saw a fairly craptacular Starbucks print ad in the Globe and Mail. It's probably not new, but it certainly is Vancouver. Gastown actually, which is fine but did they really write this copy:
8:45 a.m. Mark and Scooter.
Searching out the fifth (and best) tree for Scooter to pass his hellow to the next pooch to come along. Mark's reward for this little adventure? A double Americano with room. And serious bonus-points for walking his girlfriend's dog.
Life happens over coffee.
Jesus. I don't even know where to start. But who exactly are they trying to get pumped for Starbucks with this ad? He's walking a ratty little dog with a jacket on while Mark's girlfriend is probably sleeping in. Or is that just his cover story? Double Venti Lameness. Okay, that was bad. I regret writing it. So The way I see it #322: Be a man Mark, you pussy.
For about two years - and three or four trips to Oliver for some wine tasting goodness - I've passed the Black Hills Winery. Not that they have ever had a single drop of wine. That was almost enough for me to never bother, but i split a case of thier Alibi 2005 with Dan from WineGlow.
But before you get your hopes up, its already sold out. So i'm just smugly taunting you now. There are probably some restaurants you might be able to pick it up at for a price. Nice for us.
This is a pretty swish wine - and for the price ($23.90) this isn't something you should be breaking out at the end of the night. It's good, so drink it first, by yourself preferably - then break out the boxed stuff for your friends. Okay, I don't do that, much. But I've thought it. The tasting notes talk about grapefruit and limes and that's pretty true - something that comes from the subtle citrus from the 83% Sauvignon Blanc grapey goodness. I'd call it overated, but it's not, it's just so damned smooth and drinkable that it would be crazy for me to do so. Bonus points for the screw top as always.
I *vowed* extra hard this year that after a thoroughly debauched New Year's Eve that I would be well behaved - no more excess, particularly when it came to rich food and liquor. Irony of ironies was that my actual New Year's Eve was relatively tame, but I've since run amok in the few days since when I was supposed to be abstaining.
Yumminess abounds in the plush decor of Bacchus at the Wedgewood Hotel - it's a little old school luxury accompanied by good wine and a damn fine dessert menu.
Hello salsa? Risotto is calling and it wants the title of my new favourite menu item at Bin 941.
And just for a little variety, pints of Strongbow and one of the best people-watching patios in the city can be found at The Fountainhead on Davie.
"One part egg nog, three parts sake!" The Nog-a-sake was the call to arms in last week's holiday episode of The Office. Best Christmas episode of the season. I dare you to try this at a Japanese restaurant this week - although if a place would do this, it's got to be Kobe. Throw that bad boy into a Moose mug - as seen in Christmas Vacation - and you've got a can't miss holiday treat.
Sunday morning it was time for brunch and it's tough to find a good one downtown. So I checked out Cassis for brunch. Just like with lunch and dinner, the food is good and not too pricey. For a low $14 and change the orange juice, coffee and delicious bacon and eggs was totally worth it, Shaun of the Dead zombies walking around be damned.
The bacon was double smoked, and full of just plain yum. The free range eggs were perfect - the yokes a ridiculous golden colour - and the hash browns were awesome. The bonus fruit salad and the best french loaf toast ever was kind of a cheerry on top of a slice of heaven. I felt like a bit of a moron for asking for ketchup, but they had it, and it wasn't a big deal. If I had been in Paris, my guess is I would have gotten a really great snotty, "non." One friend from Wineglow had the Cassis Rissole which looked quite hardcore. Massive bacon bits, mushroom potato hash, swiss cheese and eggs. It was big and looked great. The only question that remained was why the place wasn't completely packed. Still not sure the salt and pepper on the table is sanitary in the long run.
If the idea of these Campari ads featuring Salma Hayek doesn't make your season bright, I don't know what will. [See them all at GoldenFiddle] It gets better/creepier at the website, Hotel Campari. Sure this isn't as cool as this compilation of 1968 Campari ads, but, the what could be?
A bottle for your smugest friend? Make it so. So you can roll Steve Zissou style:
Steve Zissou: Hey intern, get me a Campari. Intern #1: On the rocks? Steve Zissou: [gives him the "gun" thumbs up salute]
Over at Urban Diner, Lorna Yee in her latest Food Porn column writes about a Mac 'n Cheese cook off and gives her own recipe. It's a little dissapointing. Don't get me wrong, the Mac n' cheese sounds more than great, it's more that there just isn't any photos of Lorna actually making said awesomeness. Tease.
The amount of bacon and cheese and cream is pretty amazing, but lets get real, it is no $55 Mac and Cheese at the Waverly Inn in New York. It's 55 bucks because of the mountain of shaved truffles over it. Now that is, smug. "To its credit, the Waverly gave the couple several free glasses of vino. The price probably works out in the end, considering the waiter came by and sneezed caviar in their wine." [More at Eater]
All I can say is, You just knew Graydon Carter had to be involved here. Totally smug. [More smug Graydon Carter here]
Our friend Anthony is currently in St. Petersburg, Russia and we are pleased to bring you his vodka soaked ramblings from the Mother Country for your morning reading pleasure.
"Russia. What can I say? Sorry about that whole "communist" thing...but would it kill you to smile?
Most tourists I've ever met in Vancouver just smile and nod like an idiot when they've tried to ask me "where time chicken"? I usually smile back, and simply point in a randomly selected direction, and say "the pony midnight". They thank me for not ignoring them, we go our seperate ways and we both make fun at how ignorant and uncivilized the other is. It's a sweet deal.
Now, I'm that tourist...with that dumb look on my face smiling saying the three words of russian I know, then getting frustrated and start playing a game of charades all the while instictively blurting out words in my own language...which for the first time in my life is useless to me. Unlike my morning karate dance fighting.
And to add insult to injury with the smug red cups and overcrowded retail junk, you can check out Itsredagain.com or worse, Cheer Pass Central. The former site, is hosted by some creepy sweater wearing Tradition Keeper. [More via: Ad Freak]
In a related story, I had to go to The Hudson's Bay Company this week. I know what you're thinking. Apparently using your passport as a wallet isn't very cool, nor is not having a shower curtain. But honestly, is it really required to be selling Christmas stuff already? The fact that they call their Christmas area, the 5th floor, "Christmas Street" is totally ridiculous. Oh, and it's November.
Nothing screams melting pot like a fusion restaurant - fortunately, in the case of Clove, this has resulted in a melt-in-your-mouth deeeeelite. While I'm not necessarily a huge fan of the whole geometric/Ikea chic decor, I was won over by the charmingly casual server. Despite the fact that he was pretty much there to hang out with his friends at the bar, when he did come over, he was actually quite nice. Or maybe I'm just biased by the fact that he thought it was really awesome that we were rushing through dinner to get to a dodgeball game.
But really, Clove is pretty much about the food, and that's where the place really won me over. Always a fan of the deep-fried, the bhajis were crispy on the outside and tasty on the inside. They were also full of about eighteen different kinds of vegetables, which made me feel healthier than I should have. For a main course I tried the kofta, which had all the elements of a divine spread: dumplings and creamy curry goodness. My dinner companion had the beef salad, and while as a vegetarian I wasn't able to give it a taste, the words "ridiculously tender" were uttered enough times that I was pretty sure she liked it.
Being the world class dodgeball players that we are, we stayed away from the wine for the evening, but I could definitely head back there for a few drinks and some more yummy goodness. Did I mention that there were cushions strewn throughout? I'm not actually a restaurant critic but I know what I like, and Clove definitely gets a gold star from me.
Having a George Foreman Grill in your kitchen is like having perforated toilet paper in your bathroom. Not really a necessity, but a necessity all at the same time. It's what we educated people call a paradox.
I made this last night on my George Foreman grill:
2 Slices of thick bread. Preferably something dense just not crusty
Some smooth peanut butter
Some strawberry jam
Some really soft butter
Start by smothering 1 piece of bread with peanut butter up to the edges. About 1 cm in thickness. Then the other piece with jam, again up to the edges just not as thick as the PB. Now butter the outside of the bread. And lastly, like with any sandwich, you need to create a butter fortress by buttering the sides and filling gaps like mortar.
Place sandwich on center of hot GFG and close lid. (the ideal bread would have been thick enough for the top of the grill to touch the top slice of bread)
In about 6 minutes get ready for the end of that tight body as you know it. You are about to eat what the immortals eat for breakfast probably every day; like Santa Clause, God, his hippy son and of course any surviving Highlanders.
I kept trying to take pictures of the sandwich with my new cyber shot so I could share it, but something wasn't allowing the image to be captured. I could take pictures of other things though.
I almost forgot about this one. Saturday night, a friend took me to a wine tasting. I should have known that this would be extremely creepy because a.) It was in Capilano Mall (North Vancouver’s 2nd most ghetto mall after the awesome Lynn Valley Centre) b.) It was Saturday Night in North Vancouver and c.) Did I mention it was in a Mall?
On one hand the people were ridiculous – I mean a Rotary Club Gala Wine Festival in a freaking mall brings out the freaks. And by freaks I mean drunks that looked like they don’t normally go out, or drink wine. The guy in the sweatpants and old Canucks Halloween logo jacket took top prize. And yes, it was for charity. And yes, I am a total jerk. On the other hand, there was plenty of free food, although mostly from places I would never eat at. But Starbucks was giving out pounds of coffee, which is kind of a nice freebie. But if you want to find cheap wines for drinking everyday, this could be the venue. I’m not kidding. Your “hobo wines of the week”:
Friday night I made the mistake of having some dinner at The Yaletown Brewing Company. Now, the food was fine, nothing special - actually the Mac & Cheese with chorizo was a bit ridiculous - enough cheese in there to kill a Frenchman, or at least a Swiss Frenchie, which is quite frankly good. On the other hand, the only thing good I heard said about the chicken satay was that it was dry. I'm presuming that is bad. But being away from the city for so long, you simply forgot how utterly absurd it is to watch Yaletown douchebags high five every time the Canucks score. If that is your bag, this is your place. Let me explain:
It was 7:00 pm and the place was packed as usual. Full to the brim with, well, you know the types. The guys that spend more time working out than anything else, you know them as the big necked, tight shirted wankers in leather jackets. They have midget (sorry: petite) looking, flat chested, blond girlfriends with crazy bra setups to make them look 19 rather than 14 and they do big "Oh Yeahs" and then tell their girlfriends why they "Oh yeah'd." Thankfully in this urban jungle nightmare there was the Yaletown "fembot" waitress who was serving on the patio. This girl was amazing, in that Deal or No Deal model kind of a way. She must have been French since she was completely indifferent to everyone she was serving with an almost vacant Katie Holmes deadeye stare. I didn't enjoy the service I got, but seeing her completely ignore the high fivers was quite incredible and well worth it.
PS: If you ever want to make some quick money, put on a Firefighter t-shirt and bring around an old gumboot collecting money for charity, any charity - it's clearly a money maker with the drunks in Yaletown to make them feel good about themselves.
Got a positive double secret review of Hapa Izakaya (1479 Robson St.) hot off the presses:
"This place is deliciously retarded. Two words: ebi mayo. Small fun japenese appies and the deep fried chicken was almost life changing! Great prices and fun drinks.They have a hello kitty drink. Seriously, that is fun."
Kind of a shame about the website. But the thought that something deep fried will change my life is exciting.
Andrew Morrisson's shiny new site, Urban Diner is open for business, and I already like it. Especially the pro and con discussion of Rachel Ray. And already learning that there will be a companion site to Salt, called, Pepper and they are blogging it Opening Soon style.
Monday lunches demand to be smug, or at least smugly delicious. And I'd be lying if I told you that I achieved this, as there was no linens or table service, but in a way I did. Checked out Finch's Tea & Coffee House (353 West Pender).
Seriously, the Curried ginger yam soup was pretty ridiculous, and when you add the brie and grape baguette (wrapped brown paper style with a ribbon) and the massive oatmeal chocolate chip cookie and you have achieved a pretty decent lunchtime bit of moral superiority. And the cookie was good enough to forgive the hipster making the sandwich with a goofy mini-fedora. Let's just say that when you wake up in the morning and throw on that kind of hat and brown Chuck Taylors you're mission in life isn't a speedy sandwiche - you're an artist damnit and artists take about 10 minutes to make anything. And the $12.50 price tag was steep but worth it. Bonus points for the three stage duece tables at the windows, which can raise your smugness to a huge level for eating brie sandwiches while on display for the homeless people. And the slight reference to the greatest character in American Pie.
And served with this juicy cheese website and you can mock pretty much anyone you meet all day long.
I recieved an email over the weekend and it was almost worse than getting a press release but certainly worth sharing. Actually a press release would have been better, since it may have had a point of some sort, and yet we still feel dirty and in need of a shower. Now, normally, I would have just copy and pasted it, but the emailer in question actually had the balls to add a disclaimer suggesting the email was subject to copyright and you know how much I hate lawyers. Whatever. We totally feel like Jack Black in High Fidelity right now. "Well, it's sentimental tacky crap. Do we look like the kind of store that sells I Just Called to Say I Love You? Go to the mall."
Anyway, the email was from someone at Food Vancouver - which I link to, even though they didn't bother hyper-linking their own company URL and I had to take the time and copy and paste it into my browswer. God I hate that. But wait there's more. Their amazing email spoke of their magical 53,000 visitors a month and a promising "interesting" food site. Wow, that means i am one of 53,000 visitors now subjected to both one of the least visually appealing and completely not-interesting restuarant guides in the city (yeah, this one really does take the cake). Even Google cleverly ranks them one and two for Vancouver restaurants for your convienence. As Stephen Colbert would say, look it up. I'm sure if you look in about a week it will show up if you google "Vancouver Restaurants Ugly Websites". But I'm just being grumpy and mean now.
Obviously so many people are going to their site, they needed to tell The Vancouverite all about it. The inclusion of a article about the company from The Vancouver Sun - as if that was supposed to impress me - was from May 2006. How cute. Clearly this was more important than, say, their own URL, since this was the only clickable link. Who needs to write a proper email, when you can link to an article about yourself in The Sun. Wow. Thanks.
And the worst part about this is that the website really likes to tell you all about restaurants which can and will cater to your every special dietary need, like how awesome Earl's is. Great. So good for you, congratulations Food Vancouver, we just wrote about your food site. I hope you are happy now.
I'm sure that our complaining about your souless flackery wasn't what you had in mind. And no, we didn't have any quesions about your novel "concept". It is surely heating up the interwebs.
Yep, people are still talking about Salt in Blood Alley. Here's another review and photo sent in:
“Salt eff’n rules. I even took a photo of my gigantic beer. It was served in a wine glass. We were jammed in there, but it does have a super cool vibe, if you can forget about the rats running around in the alley of course. Oh, and the quasi-creepy walk down blood alley! Anyway, there are three choices: cheese plate, meat plate, cheese and meat plate. We let them pick them for us and got a cheese plate and a meat plate. We had ox tongue, a fennel salami and pork tenderloin on the meat plate and I can't remember the cheeses but they all were absolutely killer.
Okay, it’s $15 a plate. But come on, it comes with a huge breadbasket and each meat/cheese combo comes with a condiment to match - peach/pear/apple slices, Guinness mustard, pine nuts, etc. Effing perfect! Great Service."
Last week we had the pleasure of a knocking around a little Q & A session with the man formerly known as Waiterblog, Andrew Morrison. Morrison has parlayed his blogging into a real life career as a powerful food critic in Vancouver, writing for The Westender, Vancouver Magazine and EAT Magazine.
Now he’s hung up his apron, handed in his wine crank, sold his Waiterblog website, and is starting fresh at a new site called Urban Diner. About to launch, Hi
