Once again this year, I was privileged to be one of the invited judges for the World Wine Expo that happens every year in November in Moncton. The wines are submitted by agencies in plenty of time to be judged, medals awarded, and the extra wines ordered for the show to meet the extra demand for those wines created by their winning medals.
Unlike the Nova Scotia "medals" these ones are actually earned in a publically judged, unbiased, blind competition.
There were three judges from Nova Scotia, and the remaining 5 from New Brunswick.
In order to do this work, and trust me, it is work, I have to do something I am not good at. That is, spitting, or as I see it, not drinking, wine that I have put the effort into getting into my mouth. My spitting, unlike some experts, tends to create a partial drool down my chin that I am constantly wiping off, resulting in a slightly darker part of my face from mouth to chin after a while. With red wines, anyway.
I got to judge with a famous NB wine personality - the guy whose picture is on the shelves in the ANBL stores recommending certain wines, with food matches. This competition, again, unlike the Nova Scotia medal designation process, is not run by the government monopoly. Unlike comparably backward Nova Scotia, the ANBL recognizes that the public sector might have some knowledge of wine, and cooperates very effectively with the Canadian Association of Professional Sommeliers. In fact, the two people in the New Brunswick organization who choose wines to list are both CAPS members, fully certified sommeliers, and good ones at that.
After the hard work (I judged and scored 83 wines over 4 hours, I think), we got to see the wines we had scored (medal categories will be done statistically) and we were happy with how we had done, in terms of matching our preferences with published reviews in other places, and general reputations of some of the entrants.
We then sat down to a very good meal of soup, steak and baked potato, from Bruno's, the in-house restaurant at the Fredericton Delta. The soup was great, a creamy buttery mushroom soup capped with a baked on top pasty crust.
Then we drank as many of the wines as we could (you can only pretend to be a sedate, stately judge type for so long, eh?). There were 149 of them and that represented a lot of work! I stopped sometime around 4 am. After all, I had to get up and drive to Moncton in the morning, to do some work during the day, and to attend another wine event there that evening.
There were some good ones left to drink, and the organizer, strategically, allowed us to drink them all, thus conveniently forgetting which wines will probably get gold medals, and keeping them secret for the media launch. But if you are a wine geek, you can make some guesses from what I have written.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Pythagorean Perfection
I wonder how much research went into the naming of Seven Restaurant in Halifax. Apparently it is located on the site of Fire Station 7, but a more superstitious person, especially one of Greek origin, might be very pleased by its numerical significance.
Known as the "perfect number" to the Greeks, one wonders if the owners take comfort from this.
A planned group trip to Lunenburg was altered by the weather, and we ended up going to Seven instead (peoples gotta eat). Of course, this was a party made up mostly of employees of Seven, or past employees. But they were all interested in eating there, as the menu was only a day old, and most had not tried any of the new offerings.
For a first course, I ordered the Spinach Salad, which came with hazlenuts, crumbly goast cheese, and poached pear. I think it was poached in Sambuca, or Pernod, as there was a nice licorice character there.
Discussion was focussed on which of the steaks to order - now they are not new items to the menu - Seven's wood fired grill simply cooks great steak. On the advice of the lovely Tab, I order a rib eye - the same way she does - "chef's choice". I learn that this is the way to order fatty steaks in good restaurants, as the chef can match the cooking with the meat's character, so you get it as it best tastes.
In my case, that was about medium rare (I would normally order rare). It was huge, and I traded a chunk of it to my neighbour for some of his halibut. The steak was not super tender, but it was really tasty, an excellent source of protein for a growing boy! The black pepper they have is great stuff, earthy, and rich, with not too much heat. I had a lot of it on my steak. The course included some baby vegetables, and perogies stuffed with leeks and blue cheese. The perogies were extremely yummy.
The Halibut was the best I have ever tasted, though this is not saying a lot, because I almost never have it. Clean, flakey, and done the way I like fish done (just barely cooked).
Wine with the salad was the Spy Valley Riesling, which was excellent, both as a drink and with the salad. It had some serious petrol notes, in nose and taste, and some pear fruit in addition to the normal riesling grape tastes, and the typical linear acidity. One of the smelly-eye-eh types at the table selected the Stump Jump Red (d'Arenberg) to go with the main course. It showed remarkably well.
One thing I was not quite sure about. It turned out that the young lady sitting across from me, who was not really taking part in the conversation until I kinda drew her out, was the girl friend of one of the servers, actually the manager. When he poured me wine, topping me up, he tended to tap me on the shoulder on the side he was coming in on. And not exactly lightly. I don't recall that technique being used on me before. Then again, maybe he was just swatting me for chatting up his gal?
Dessert arrived - one large plate, with blobs of tasty treats arranged on it in Pythagorean perfection. These included four of those chinese type soup spoons with homemade ice cream on them. One of those was a sour cream ice cream. Now that may not sound promising, but that was the best "new to me" thing I have tasted in a long time. I could have eaten a quart (sorry, litre) of it in about 3 minutes, given the chance.
I got the chance to tell the chef later how much I liked the ice cream. Brad, his name is, I believe. Turns out he made it himself.
Dinner, including wine, tax and tip for one (I had more than two glasses) was about $100. The point of sale system they have is amazing. The server was able to split shared things any number of ways. For example, some of us split a bottle of still water, others, sparkling. My wine share was larger than my neighbour's because I drank more than he did - they can estimate a share on refill count, or whether you take the red or white or both, for example. The servers love it.
Oddly, we were seated with women all on one side, and men on the other side of the table. And although there were eight of us, on this night, the sum of two sides was a perfect Seven.
Known as the "perfect number" to the Greeks, one wonders if the owners take comfort from this.
A planned group trip to Lunenburg was altered by the weather, and we ended up going to Seven instead (peoples gotta eat). Of course, this was a party made up mostly of employees of Seven, or past employees. But they were all interested in eating there, as the menu was only a day old, and most had not tried any of the new offerings.
For a first course, I ordered the Spinach Salad, which came with hazlenuts, crumbly goast cheese, and poached pear. I think it was poached in Sambuca, or Pernod, as there was a nice licorice character there.
Discussion was focussed on which of the steaks to order - now they are not new items to the menu - Seven's wood fired grill simply cooks great steak. On the advice of the lovely Tab, I order a rib eye - the same way she does - "chef's choice". I learn that this is the way to order fatty steaks in good restaurants, as the chef can match the cooking with the meat's character, so you get it as it best tastes.
In my case, that was about medium rare (I would normally order rare). It was huge, and I traded a chunk of it to my neighbour for some of his halibut. The steak was not super tender, but it was really tasty, an excellent source of protein for a growing boy! The black pepper they have is great stuff, earthy, and rich, with not too much heat. I had a lot of it on my steak. The course included some baby vegetables, and perogies stuffed with leeks and blue cheese. The perogies were extremely yummy.
The Halibut was the best I have ever tasted, though this is not saying a lot, because I almost never have it. Clean, flakey, and done the way I like fish done (just barely cooked).
Wine with the salad was the Spy Valley Riesling, which was excellent, both as a drink and with the salad. It had some serious petrol notes, in nose and taste, and some pear fruit in addition to the normal riesling grape tastes, and the typical linear acidity. One of the smelly-eye-eh types at the table selected the Stump Jump Red (d'Arenberg) to go with the main course. It showed remarkably well.
One thing I was not quite sure about. It turned out that the young lady sitting across from me, who was not really taking part in the conversation until I kinda drew her out, was the girl friend of one of the servers, actually the manager. When he poured me wine, topping me up, he tended to tap me on the shoulder on the side he was coming in on. And not exactly lightly. I don't recall that technique being used on me before. Then again, maybe he was just swatting me for chatting up his gal?
Dessert arrived - one large plate, with blobs of tasty treats arranged on it in Pythagorean perfection. These included four of those chinese type soup spoons with homemade ice cream on them. One of those was a sour cream ice cream. Now that may not sound promising, but that was the best "new to me" thing I have tasted in a long time. I could have eaten a quart (sorry, litre) of it in about 3 minutes, given the chance.
I got the chance to tell the chef later how much I liked the ice cream. Brad, his name is, I believe. Turns out he made it himself.
Dinner, including wine, tax and tip for one (I had more than two glasses) was about $100. The point of sale system they have is amazing. The server was able to split shared things any number of ways. For example, some of us split a bottle of still water, others, sparkling. My wine share was larger than my neighbour's because I drank more than he did - they can estimate a share on refill count, or whether you take the red or white or both, for example. The servers love it.
Oddly, we were seated with women all on one side, and men on the other side of the table. And although there were eight of us, on this night, the sum of two sides was a perfect Seven.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Home on the Grange
Wine buddy and former local star chick sommelier A was in town for a brief hello before heading back to winemaking school. We met down at Mosaic for a drink and some snacks, and I had invited some other wine geeks out to say hi, and imbibe.
Not many of them showed. You losers!
One who did show was the co-owner of the place, and A's former employer.
As the party grew in number, we pretty well tasted everything on their tapas style menu. Highlights included the Chevre/Asparagus/Beet salad, the Pork Belly, Steak (from PEI, apparently), Lamb Riblets, Duck with Mushroom Spring Roll, and Tuna Sushimi, but it really was all very good. The shellfish things looked good too. They disappeared pretty fast.
Then up to Seven afterward and, in honour of her visit, the co-owner allowed A to raid the cellar. This resulted in an open bottle of 93 Grange. This wine is $800 a bottle on the list there, and I got an entire glass, so I took my time with it. I think I nursed it for about two hours. The wine was very tight at first, and although the cork was near the end of its life (nearly penetrated to the top on one side) the wine was young, with a lot of primary fruit and good tannins remaining. It probably had 10 more years left on it, if the cork could hang in. In time it opened up, and displayed incredibly deep spicy Shiraz aroma, and a very classy palate that could have been fine French wine.
A local Coca Cola rep was with us, and he started buying weird shooter type things with energy beverages and girlie liqueurs... tasting them between the Grange.... well that was a bit surreal. I examined a 6 oz can of something called Tab. The amount of legalese disclaimer type lingo on it was amazing. It's a wonder I am still alive. Perhaps they now own something of mine and I just don't know it yet.
But back to the wine. Drinking the Grange called to mind a story that Australian winery owner Alan Heath told me about the blocks of vines from whence come the grapes for this wine, and that his block of 100 year old vines had been used on occasion as a source. I looked up over my glass rim, and there, in front of me, was Alan. Displaying his usual larger than life grin, he was offering his hand "How are ya mate!". I was a bit startled at my almost having summoned him to the bar from the other side of the planet, and took more time than I should have before acknowledging the presence of another A lady, right beside me. I shared tiny bits of the wine with them, Alan guessing it to be a Penfolds RWT or something, and A pronouncing it "yummy", as is her wont.
I thanked our host, paid my regards to A who had suddenly taken up smoking, and left, practically sober, at 1 am. Women (customers) were up dancing on the bar. Who would have thought, Thursday night at Seven - dancing girls! Free!
A was having a great time on her visit back to Halifax, thanks mostly to C. In fact, I am sure I saw her up on the bar for a few seconds.
Not many of them showed. You losers!
One who did show was the co-owner of the place, and A's former employer.
As the party grew in number, we pretty well tasted everything on their tapas style menu. Highlights included the Chevre/Asparagus/Beet salad, the Pork Belly, Steak (from PEI, apparently), Lamb Riblets, Duck with Mushroom Spring Roll, and Tuna Sushimi, but it really was all very good. The shellfish things looked good too. They disappeared pretty fast.
Then up to Seven afterward and, in honour of her visit, the co-owner allowed A to raid the cellar. This resulted in an open bottle of 93 Grange. This wine is $800 a bottle on the list there, and I got an entire glass, so I took my time with it. I think I nursed it for about two hours. The wine was very tight at first, and although the cork was near the end of its life (nearly penetrated to the top on one side) the wine was young, with a lot of primary fruit and good tannins remaining. It probably had 10 more years left on it, if the cork could hang in. In time it opened up, and displayed incredibly deep spicy Shiraz aroma, and a very classy palate that could have been fine French wine.
A local Coca Cola rep was with us, and he started buying weird shooter type things with energy beverages and girlie liqueurs... tasting them between the Grange.... well that was a bit surreal. I examined a 6 oz can of something called Tab. The amount of legalese disclaimer type lingo on it was amazing. It's a wonder I am still alive. Perhaps they now own something of mine and I just don't know it yet.
But back to the wine. Drinking the Grange called to mind a story that Australian winery owner Alan Heath told me about the blocks of vines from whence come the grapes for this wine, and that his block of 100 year old vines had been used on occasion as a source. I looked up over my glass rim, and there, in front of me, was Alan. Displaying his usual larger than life grin, he was offering his hand "How are ya mate!". I was a bit startled at my almost having summoned him to the bar from the other side of the planet, and took more time than I should have before acknowledging the presence of another A lady, right beside me. I shared tiny bits of the wine with them, Alan guessing it to be a Penfolds RWT or something, and A pronouncing it "yummy", as is her wont.
I thanked our host, paid my regards to A who had suddenly taken up smoking, and left, practically sober, at 1 am. Women (customers) were up dancing on the bar. Who would have thought, Thursday night at Seven - dancing girls! Free!
A was having a great time on her visit back to Halifax, thanks mostly to C. In fact, I am sure I saw her up on the bar for a few seconds.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
More March Madness
This post may be a bit wine-geek oriented, but I can't help to point out yet another illogical move on the part of our beloved NSLC. I downloaded and read their marketing plan and focus for the wine category. You know, I could swear I recall reading that Argentina was to be a country of origin that was to be featured this year.
Now, when anyone who knows wine considers Argentina, one of, if not the first name that stands out is Catena Zapata. Nicolas Catena, and his daughter Laura, make the best wines at just about every price point, and style in the country. That's not me talking, that's pretty well a summary of the international wine press. Yes, there are others, but there is no argument as to the Catenas' position. First rate on quality and on value.
So I find out recently that our beloved NSLC turned down the Catena Zapata line of product when it was offered to them. This can only represent one of three things.
1. Ignorance of their own strategy (so why have one?);
2. Incompetence in the assessment of the category;
3. Indications of the presence of some form of industry kickback, or extortion the agency/company was unable, or unwilling to pay; or
4. A combination of the above.
For the non wine crowd, this would be like saying you are going out to buy pizza, and driving past the best joints in town to get a Pizza Joe Delight special. The Argentinian wines available here are, for the most part, from the big government run conglomerate called Penaflor (Trapiche), which is like PetroCanada for wine in Argentina. They have lots of cash to buy shelf space at our Shoppers Drug Mart style Liquor Corp. And pay for trips for the non wine expert CAO to travel the world. The independent producers get squeezed out.
Now, when anyone who knows wine considers Argentina, one of, if not the first name that stands out is Catena Zapata. Nicolas Catena, and his daughter Laura, make the best wines at just about every price point, and style in the country. That's not me talking, that's pretty well a summary of the international wine press. Yes, there are others, but there is no argument as to the Catenas' position. First rate on quality and on value.
So I find out recently that our beloved NSLC turned down the Catena Zapata line of product when it was offered to them. This can only represent one of three things.
1. Ignorance of their own strategy (so why have one?);
2. Incompetence in the assessment of the category;
3. Indications of the presence of some form of industry kickback, or extortion the agency/company was unable, or unwilling to pay; or
4. A combination of the above.
For the non wine crowd, this would be like saying you are going out to buy pizza, and driving past the best joints in town to get a Pizza Joe Delight special. The Argentinian wines available here are, for the most part, from the big government run conglomerate called Penaflor (Trapiche), which is like PetroCanada for wine in Argentina. They have lots of cash to buy shelf space at our Shoppers Drug Mart style Liquor Corp. And pay for trips for the non wine expert CAO to travel the world. The independent producers get squeezed out.
Getting her Goat
Lunch at Rani's Curry & Roti Stop on Green Street, I order the Jerk Beef and Roti but no beef today - not that the chicken is so bad. L orders curried goat with a rice and beans dish on the side, and some fried plantain for dessert.
My roti arrives without rice, but L has far to much for just her (that's my story) and I steal some. The side of hot sauce is the real deal - dip a fork in it and use the residual on the tines, that will be enough to start. The food is delicious, and a banana flavoured Snapple, and some Mango juice (bottled in the UAE??) make fine accompaniment.
L enjoys her lunch, and I paid, so I guess I did get her goat!
My roti arrives without rice, but L has far to much for just her (that's my story) and I steal some. The side of hot sauce is the real deal - dip a fork in it and use the residual on the tines, that will be enough to start. The food is delicious, and a banana flavoured Snapple, and some Mango juice (bottled in the UAE??) make fine accompaniment.
L enjoys her lunch, and I paid, so I guess I did get her goat!
Monday, March 12, 2007
When the world arrives....
When the word arrives at your door, what do you do?
I started writing this blog for myself and some friends who tend to rely on me for wine and food recommendations.
But now, "other" people are reading it.
I installed Google's Analytics package and it tells me how many, and roughly where they are.
It is more than I suspected.
I can take it quiet, take the blog off "public", so you have to know the address to go to it, or I can leave it as is.
Now this is not that anonymous - anyone who can use Google can figure out who I am pretty quickly. Someone who can use Google and knows the ways of the net can figure out just about any handle. But the idea of taking a semi private thing, and acknowledging it as public, is a big step.
I am going to think about it.
What do you think? There is a way to comment below.
I started writing this blog for myself and some friends who tend to rely on me for wine and food recommendations.
But now, "other" people are reading it.
I installed Google's Analytics package and it tells me how many, and roughly where they are.
It is more than I suspected.
I can take it quiet, take the blog off "public", so you have to know the address to go to it, or I can leave it as is.
Now this is not that anonymous - anyone who can use Google can figure out who I am pretty quickly. Someone who can use Google and knows the ways of the net can figure out just about any handle. But the idea of taking a semi private thing, and acknowledging it as public, is a big step.
I am going to think about it.
What do you think? There is a way to comment below.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Road Trip - Fishless Fish Cakes, and Glenfiddich forced down our throats...
I manage to weasel a free spot on a Valley Wine Tours van trip to "A Wee Dram" a Glenfiddich marketing event in Pictou NS, the place from whence many Scots once fled to New Zealand many years ago.
After failing miserably to identify many of the scents from the scent kit game they play on the Valley Wine Tours trips, I am in a mood to eat lunch when we arrive, around 1:00 PM.
A new place beckons with a street board sign - The Old Post Office Pub. OK, let's do this. Down the granite stairs into the basement and what sure looks like it was a Post Office (it was). Beautiful restored stonework, although blighted by our modern fixation with fire suppression and the obligatory sprinkler lines, the place looks new. It turns out to have been open only a month.
My spirit is lifted on seeing three draft taps, two with no tap handle, but one remaining showing Granite Ringwood Ale! But alas, they have no draft beer left (they really are new to the business) and have violated the ancient code of never leaving a handle on a tap that cannot offer beer. Needless to say, I am bummed.
We are seated together in what looks to have been a vault at one time, but now has a gas fireplace, and is very well appointed. I am expecting a full suit of armour to appear in the corner, and talk at the table is of secret passageways.
I order a glass of Jost Eagle Tree, and later change it to Acadie Chardonnay and the ET only has one glass left in it. But they get points for serving local wines, and all by the glass. Unfortunately, my wine arrives in a state that shows it to have been opened for some time. I should have sent it back, but they were trying so hard....
Food around the table (we are 8) includes Guinness Pie, Fish Cakes, Veggie Curry, and Onion Soup and Chowder. The consensus of that it is quite good. Our fish cakes are nice, but neither of us can find very much fish in there. More like potato cakes with a hint of fish. Oh, the carrots served as a side vegetable were awesome, I think maybe stir fried in honey?
I think this place has a chance to become one of Nova Scotia's great pubs, but they need to have someone who understands pubs help with glassware selection (cut crystal in a pub?), pour size (they were overserving the wine, which we can't complain about, but won't help them in the long run) and keeping beer in stock.
The washrooms were amazing - like those at Seven, or Il Mercato in Halifax, with real individual hand towels like in hotel washrooms. Nice, but perhaps out of place in a pub. This was not fine dining at all, good pub food, so they need to focus on being a great pub. That does not come from great glassware or hand towels -it comes from atmosphere, which they have a start on, great beer, which they seem to know is important, but you have to have it to sell it; and patrons - who will come if you provide the first two.
Then, across the street at the DeCoste Centre....
We are in town to attend "A Wee Dram", an event put on by the DeCoste performance centre as a fundraiser, with Peter Mielzenski Agencies, the Agent for Glenfiddich in Atlantic Canada, bringing in Ian Miller, Chief Brand Ambassador of the Glenfiddich distillery in Scotland.
The event was billed as a talk about Scotch whisky, the latest trends and the proper nosing and tasting techniques, but it really was a very well planned, and practiced marketing presentation for Glenfiddich, as they apparently pursue a strategy to up-sell their single malt line. This is similar to the current marketing strategy under way at our own beloved NSLC, which I cynically (me, a cynic?) describe as trying to get all the guys I grew up with to acquire my drinking tastes. That is, in this case, the aim was to get people who currently buy the basic Glenfiddich, or cheaper blends, to choose the more expensive (and superior) 15 Year Old Solera product from this distillery giant.
Miller reviewed an impressive 30 years’ experience in Scotch whisky, at almost all arts of the whisky making process, including time spent at Bladnoch, Mortlach, Blair Athol, Dalwhinnie, Linkwood and Glen Elgin Distilleries in Scotland before joining William Grant & Sons/Glenfiddisch/Balvenie/Kinnivie, as well as a stint in Holland with brewing giant Heineken.
The man clearly knew his stuff, and just as clearly knew the program he was assigned to promote. His presentation could be "distilled" as:
1. Single Malts are the best distilled product.
2. The 15 year old Solera Glenfiddich is the one to buy.
3. Scotch is for drinking, not keeping.
4. He is always right.
I thought he was also expert at skirting a question that might make it look as though Grant's made blends, or that a blend was worth buying, that there were independent bottlers, that unfiltered whisky might be better than chill filtered, and that Nova Scotia's Glen Breton Canadian Malt Whisky was any better than Chinese rice liquor used to counterfeit Johnny Walker.
On the last, as long as we have to continue sending gaelic teachers, stepdance teachers, and fiddle teachers back to Scotland to help them relearn their lost culture, they can go to hell about thinking that the Scots, who had to leave Scotland, are less entitled to call a valley a Glen, a stream a Burn, or name their product after a place name or word in common use in their culture.
Heck the lead singer of the biggest Scottish rock band (Runrig) is none other than Cape Breton's own king of self love, Bruce Gouthro.
But he was funny at times, and did bring some 30 year old stuff for us to taste, so we'll let him live.
After failing miserably to identify many of the scents from the scent kit game they play on the Valley Wine Tours trips, I am in a mood to eat lunch when we arrive, around 1:00 PM.
A new place beckons with a street board sign - The Old Post Office Pub. OK, let's do this. Down the granite stairs into the basement and what sure looks like it was a Post Office (it was). Beautiful restored stonework, although blighted by our modern fixation with fire suppression and the obligatory sprinkler lines, the place looks new. It turns out to have been open only a month.
My spirit is lifted on seeing three draft taps, two with no tap handle, but one remaining showing Granite Ringwood Ale! But alas, they have no draft beer left (they really are new to the business) and have violated the ancient code of never leaving a handle on a tap that cannot offer beer. Needless to say, I am bummed.
We are seated together in what looks to have been a vault at one time, but now has a gas fireplace, and is very well appointed. I am expecting a full suit of armour to appear in the corner, and talk at the table is of secret passageways.
I order a glass of Jost Eagle Tree, and later change it to Acadie Chardonnay and the ET only has one glass left in it. But they get points for serving local wines, and all by the glass. Unfortunately, my wine arrives in a state that shows it to have been opened for some time. I should have sent it back, but they were trying so hard....
Food around the table (we are 8) includes Guinness Pie, Fish Cakes, Veggie Curry, and Onion Soup and Chowder. The consensus of that it is quite good. Our fish cakes are nice, but neither of us can find very much fish in there. More like potato cakes with a hint of fish. Oh, the carrots served as a side vegetable were awesome, I think maybe stir fried in honey?
I think this place has a chance to become one of Nova Scotia's great pubs, but they need to have someone who understands pubs help with glassware selection (cut crystal in a pub?), pour size (they were overserving the wine, which we can't complain about, but won't help them in the long run) and keeping beer in stock.
The washrooms were amazing - like those at Seven, or Il Mercato in Halifax, with real individual hand towels like in hotel washrooms. Nice, but perhaps out of place in a pub. This was not fine dining at all, good pub food, so they need to focus on being a great pub. That does not come from great glassware or hand towels -it comes from atmosphere, which they have a start on, great beer, which they seem to know is important, but you have to have it to sell it; and patrons - who will come if you provide the first two.
Then, across the street at the DeCoste Centre....
We are in town to attend "A Wee Dram", an event put on by the DeCoste performance centre as a fundraiser, with Peter Mielzenski Agencies, the Agent for Glenfiddich in Atlantic Canada, bringing in Ian Miller, Chief Brand Ambassador of the Glenfiddich distillery in Scotland.
The event was billed as a talk about Scotch whisky, the latest trends and the proper nosing and tasting techniques, but it really was a very well planned, and practiced marketing presentation for Glenfiddich, as they apparently pursue a strategy to up-sell their single malt line. This is similar to the current marketing strategy under way at our own beloved NSLC, which I cynically (me, a cynic?) describe as trying to get all the guys I grew up with to acquire my drinking tastes. That is, in this case, the aim was to get people who currently buy the basic Glenfiddich, or cheaper blends, to choose the more expensive (and superior) 15 Year Old Solera product from this distillery giant.
Miller reviewed an impressive 30 years’ experience in Scotch whisky, at almost all arts of the whisky making process, including time spent at Bladnoch, Mortlach, Blair Athol, Dalwhinnie, Linkwood and Glen Elgin Distilleries in Scotland before joining William Grant & Sons/Glenfiddisch/Balvenie/Kinnivie, as well as a stint in Holland with brewing giant Heineken.
The man clearly knew his stuff, and just as clearly knew the program he was assigned to promote. His presentation could be "distilled" as:
1. Single Malts are the best distilled product.
2. The 15 year old Solera Glenfiddich is the one to buy.
3. Scotch is for drinking, not keeping.
4. He is always right.
I thought he was also expert at skirting a question that might make it look as though Grant's made blends, or that a blend was worth buying, that there were independent bottlers, that unfiltered whisky might be better than chill filtered, and that Nova Scotia's Glen Breton Canadian Malt Whisky was any better than Chinese rice liquor used to counterfeit Johnny Walker.
On the last, as long as we have to continue sending gaelic teachers, stepdance teachers, and fiddle teachers back to Scotland to help them relearn their lost culture, they can go to hell about thinking that the Scots, who had to leave Scotland, are less entitled to call a valley a Glen, a stream a Burn, or name their product after a place name or word in common use in their culture.
Heck the lead singer of the biggest Scottish rock band (Runrig) is none other than Cape Breton's own king of self love, Bruce Gouthro.
But he was funny at times, and did bring some 30 year old stuff for us to taste, so we'll let him live.
Johnny's - The Breakfast
After our pleasant trip to Johnny's Snack Bar earlier in the week for supper, I propose a morning hike over to have breakfast.
A brisk morning walk is just the thing to revive the near dead, and as long as there is coffee waiting at the end, the 10 minute walk is great.
We get the booth by the window, and I make sure L gets the side with no-one behind her to jostle her with the shared seat back.
Coffee comes, served by what may be the son of the owners. He is great, on the ball, and definitely more awake than us.
I order a cheese omelet and ask for homefries, ready to pay the extra for them - "Oh, no," he says, "they come with the breakfasts!" Things are looking up. L orders sausage and eggs (what is up with the sausages, that's twice she has ordered them here?).
The food comes right away, in about 5 minutes. The home fries are fabulous. Real potato, hand cut into dollar size, or bigger, slices and fried dark golden brown. Cooked through, and hot. My omelet, almost predictably, uses processed cheese. This parallels my dinner experience, where I had from-scratch fried chicken, but was served frozen french fries. It is like they do some things the old way, but some of the newer, less authentic foods, and shortcuts are creeping into their menu. If there had been real cheddar in that omelet....
I steal one of L's sausages (hey, they served her, 6 or so)and I get a glimpse of why she ordered them again. They are browned and crispy on the outside, but normal sausage meat inside. It is a fine eating experience to bite through that crispy case into the tasty filing inside. The coffee is as good as diner coffee gets, and the refills keep coming. L's eggs are done as she asked, the toast is whole wheat, and the cost, well, less than $10 for the two of us. What more can you ask?
I just wish I had a camera to show you those home fries.
A brisk morning walk is just the thing to revive the near dead, and as long as there is coffee waiting at the end, the 10 minute walk is great.
We get the booth by the window, and I make sure L gets the side with no-one behind her to jostle her with the shared seat back.
Coffee comes, served by what may be the son of the owners. He is great, on the ball, and definitely more awake than us.
I order a cheese omelet and ask for homefries, ready to pay the extra for them - "Oh, no," he says, "they come with the breakfasts!" Things are looking up. L orders sausage and eggs (what is up with the sausages, that's twice she has ordered them here?).
The food comes right away, in about 5 minutes. The home fries are fabulous. Real potato, hand cut into dollar size, or bigger, slices and fried dark golden brown. Cooked through, and hot. My omelet, almost predictably, uses processed cheese. This parallels my dinner experience, where I had from-scratch fried chicken, but was served frozen french fries. It is like they do some things the old way, but some of the newer, less authentic foods, and shortcuts are creeping into their menu. If there had been real cheddar in that omelet....
I steal one of L's sausages (hey, they served her, 6 or so)and I get a glimpse of why she ordered them again. They are browned and crispy on the outside, but normal sausage meat inside. It is a fine eating experience to bite through that crispy case into the tasty filing inside. The coffee is as good as diner coffee gets, and the refills keep coming. L's eggs are done as she asked, the toast is whole wheat, and the cost, well, less than $10 for the two of us. What more can you ask?
I just wish I had a camera to show you those home fries.
Talay Ho!
Sipping IPA's after work, one of our regulars is bemoaning the horrible lunch she was forced to endure at an all-you-can-eat Pizza Delight buffet in Bridgewater that day. This really does call for a move to somewhere besides a pub, to make up for her earlier disappointment.
We barely squeeze into Talay Thai, on Barrington, just before a rush hits that fills the place up and into the street.
Our server is a guy, and I later find out that we hit the right spot, as well as the right time, as he seems to be the one there who can move the meals along at a pace faster than digestion.
We order a round of Propeller beers, some spring rolls, both kinds (fresh and cooked - or as we decided to call them, stale), plus an order of Thai Beef Salad. They arrive promptly, and are all really good. The Beef Salad is something I will go back for.
We each pick out a main course to share around. My choice is the Duck Curry, and others include Chicken Phad Thai, Thai Spiced Tilapia (fish), and the Beef Curry. Despite not being a big fish eater, I enjoy the Tilapia, though its baleful gaze is something I am more accustomed to seeing in the bottom of a boat. The heat level on everything seems about right - no one is breaking out in fits of persperation, or having premature hot flashes.
I love the duck curry, and am happy to have it, except that the very person who triggered our coming here will apparently not eat things that talked in childhood animal stories (except chickens, pigs, cows and fish). So she won't touch it, despite how yummy it is. I especially love how the grapes, cooked into the sauce, become these little curry bombs when you bite them.
The Phad Thai is OK, and, oddly, perhaps the weakest thing we have, compared to my past experience with this dish. Maybe I just needed more of it. The beef curry was excellent.
In the end, we leave, very happy, full, and with a bit of the glow from the spices and the company to take us home to our beds.
We barely squeeze into Talay Thai, on Barrington, just before a rush hits that fills the place up and into the street.
Our server is a guy, and I later find out that we hit the right spot, as well as the right time, as he seems to be the one there who can move the meals along at a pace faster than digestion.
We order a round of Propeller beers, some spring rolls, both kinds (fresh and cooked - or as we decided to call them, stale), plus an order of Thai Beef Salad. They arrive promptly, and are all really good. The Beef Salad is something I will go back for.
We each pick out a main course to share around. My choice is the Duck Curry, and others include Chicken Phad Thai, Thai Spiced Tilapia (fish), and the Beef Curry. Despite not being a big fish eater, I enjoy the Tilapia, though its baleful gaze is something I am more accustomed to seeing in the bottom of a boat. The heat level on everything seems about right - no one is breaking out in fits of persperation, or having premature hot flashes.
I love the duck curry, and am happy to have it, except that the very person who triggered our coming here will apparently not eat things that talked in childhood animal stories (except chickens, pigs, cows and fish). So she won't touch it, despite how yummy it is. I especially love how the grapes, cooked into the sauce, become these little curry bombs when you bite them.
The Phad Thai is OK, and, oddly, perhaps the weakest thing we have, compared to my past experience with this dish. Maybe I just needed more of it. The beef curry was excellent.
In the end, we leave, very happy, full, and with a bit of the glow from the spices and the company to take us home to our beds.
In this Corner....
Lunch at the Celtic Corner, on Alderney Drive in Darkmouth. Fish is good, reasonably freah, and the batter of the beer type. I am finding it hard to find bad fish and chips in town, which is a good thing. Still nothing to touch Phil's, for my tastes, though I appreciate Freddie's in the BLIP monstrosity and Wharf Wraps in Eastern Passage's disney-esque landscape for what they are - very good, just different.
The standard beer batter style found all around town is at many taverns, including the Midtown. Perhaps Fries and Co. does it best, though I have some sentimental attachment to Willman's (Kane and Isleville).
The Boxty was enjoyed by an eating companion on this day, and it looked great. I can recommend the Celtic Corner's food, this was my third good meal there,and they offer a very good beer selection as well.
The standard beer batter style found all around town is at many taverns, including the Midtown. Perhaps Fries and Co. does it best, though I have some sentimental attachment to Willman's (Kane and Isleville).
The Boxty was enjoyed by an eating companion on this day, and it looked great. I can recommend the Celtic Corner's food, this was my third good meal there,and they offer a very good beer selection as well.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Playing Games with the Common Wealth
Well, the whining has stopped, and the games are over for Halifax, it looks like.
One cannot help think that perhaps the Games Organizing Committee are all running around looking for another full expenses, untendered, competition free, cushy job to continue their explorations of the globe.
But I can't help but wonder what they were thinking, keeping money for a public project secret from that public for that long. This is Nova Scotia - it was a certainty that mistrust (usually warranted) of politicians and political processes that now exists here would bring them down.
I have some advice, albeit late, for the Committee. Bring in Mick Jagger. Yeah, the Rolling Stones guy. He seemed able to convince anyone in government that it was worthwhile to inconvenience, and endanger, lots of people, solely to put a paid entry event on public lands. That event took away public lands for what is now 6 months and counting. How much is that worth? And it was public land (much is still fenced in) that by law is owned by everyone in Nova Scotia, in common (hence the name) that HRM is obligated to manage for the good of the people, not for the good of their wet dreams, hoping for a chance to kiss Mick's butt, and boy did they ever suck up to him.
So I see that council now wants to look at more concerts on my land (and yours too). Right on wet grass, in the middle of the most populated area of the Province, right by our hospitals, schools, main traffic and Emergency Measures Organization routes, and seniors apartments.
This when we have places like the Atlantic Motorsport Park, the Atlantic Winter Fair Grounds, and the unused runways at Shearwater that could do just as well, or better.
Everyone says the last concert was a great success. No it wasn't - they got lucky. There was no riot, there was no major accident that required emergency access to the Hospital, and it rained like crazy, keeping people out of the place, such that the full capacity was not there, and the troublemakers were too wet and cold to make trouble.
I say, while we are pulling plugs on things, lets get this idiotic idea of mega rock concerts on our common land flushed to where the Games have gone.
One cannot help think that perhaps the Games Organizing Committee are all running around looking for another full expenses, untendered, competition free, cushy job to continue their explorations of the globe.
But I can't help but wonder what they were thinking, keeping money for a public project secret from that public for that long. This is Nova Scotia - it was a certainty that mistrust (usually warranted) of politicians and political processes that now exists here would bring them down.
I have some advice, albeit late, for the Committee. Bring in Mick Jagger. Yeah, the Rolling Stones guy. He seemed able to convince anyone in government that it was worthwhile to inconvenience, and endanger, lots of people, solely to put a paid entry event on public lands. That event took away public lands for what is now 6 months and counting. How much is that worth? And it was public land (much is still fenced in) that by law is owned by everyone in Nova Scotia, in common (hence the name) that HRM is obligated to manage for the good of the people, not for the good of their wet dreams, hoping for a chance to kiss Mick's butt, and boy did they ever suck up to him.
So I see that council now wants to look at more concerts on my land (and yours too). Right on wet grass, in the middle of the most populated area of the Province, right by our hospitals, schools, main traffic and Emergency Measures Organization routes, and seniors apartments.
This when we have places like the Atlantic Motorsport Park, the Atlantic Winter Fair Grounds, and the unused runways at Shearwater that could do just as well, or better.
Everyone says the last concert was a great success. No it wasn't - they got lucky. There was no riot, there was no major accident that required emergency access to the Hospital, and it rained like crazy, keeping people out of the place, such that the full capacity was not there, and the troublemakers were too wet and cold to make trouble.
I say, while we are pulling plugs on things, lets get this idiotic idea of mega rock concerts on our common land flushed to where the Games have gone.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Welcome to the Diner Zone
I had read on Chowhound that there was a quiet buzz about this Johnny's Snack Bar place on Almon Street. Googling it up, I find it is right around the corner from Vivo, which, if you have read earlier posts, you know I am not in love with. I cannot ever remember noticing this place.
So went there for supper there tonight. The first thing you see is signs telling you there is free parking for a Johnny's customer across the street in the Forum parking lot. Inside, Johnny's looks like any other old diner in the city. Sagging booths, round mushroom stools along a bar, and some tables with what I seem to recall were actually red and white chequered tablecloths, but don't take that as gospel, I may have hallucinated it.
The Menu was on the table. One per table. Specials handwritten on a small piece of paper proclaimed chopped beef and pan fried haddock as the specials. There were some older people, Greek, I think that is the language they were using, sitting chatting with the cook, who was standing over them.
The waitress, who is closing in on 60, was at our seat pretty quickly to see what we wanted to drink. Alas, the milkshake machine is broken, so my first choice is relegated to a later visit. But will there be another visit?
I decide to order what is, for me, THE TEST, when in a place like this. They have Fried Chicken on the menu. Normally, this ends up being a deep fried frozen very salty breaded product. One of those that looks like the batter was applied by an automobile undercoater. I figure that if I get real fried chicken, I have found a place to rely on. L orders the sausage dinner.
In a fairly short time, I have my answer. Three big pieces of fried chicken are lined up side by side on my plate separating my fries (unfortunately, these are of frozen origin) from what looks to be homemade coleslaw and some cranberry sauce. And they are real. Some of the chicken is missing bits of the very simple batter. It is not too salty. It is crunchy in some places and not in others. Gee whiz, Granny, that's fried chicken! Now before you get too excited, I think it had been perhaps baked or precooked a bit and then fried up for me, because some of it was a bit dry, but it was not some industrial food product.
The fries had probably seen the inside of the Florenceville Factory, but they were cooked about as good as frozen gets. The waitress casually tossed some Heinz Ketchup packs at my plate on her way by. I ate all the chicken, and half the fries, most of the cranberry and all the coleslaw.
L's sausages were very brown on the outside, but she said they were not overcooked, and were tasty (I never got to steal any...). Her mashed potato was very good, creamy and light.
Things had happened so fast (you haven't seen me around fried chicken before) that we had time for a dessert. Not wanting to completely ruin things, I had to ask what the "Cream Pie" on the menu meant. Seems it meant, at least for today, Coconut Cream. That falls into my list of 50 greatest weaknesses. So I order a piece. It was homemade, the crust being a bit like my Mom's, the filling not as rich as I am used to, but very coconutty, and the topping was a whipped cream, but I think from a can or container. I don't think it was synthetic, I am pretty sure it came from a cow.... The pie was very good. I'd have had more, but I let L eat along, which is a way to ensure you're not going to get as much as you thought you were.
So, yes, it's a diner. No pretensions whatsoever (unlike the place around the corner that I have given up on). I just can't believe I had never noticed it before. It is almost like one of those twilight zone things. read about it on the net, sure you never saw it before, and, there it is, a 5 minute walk from your house.
Oh, and the cost of the meal, that included a Coke, water, fried chicken platter, sausage dinner, and coconut cream pie, was $19.50 tax included, plus grat.
I plan to return, probably for breakfast. They do a good cheap B&E, and they have cinnamon toast!
So went there for supper there tonight. The first thing you see is signs telling you there is free parking for a Johnny's customer across the street in the Forum parking lot. Inside, Johnny's looks like any other old diner in the city. Sagging booths, round mushroom stools along a bar, and some tables with what I seem to recall were actually red and white chequered tablecloths, but don't take that as gospel, I may have hallucinated it.
The Menu was on the table. One per table. Specials handwritten on a small piece of paper proclaimed chopped beef and pan fried haddock as the specials. There were some older people, Greek, I think that is the language they were using, sitting chatting with the cook, who was standing over them.
The waitress, who is closing in on 60, was at our seat pretty quickly to see what we wanted to drink. Alas, the milkshake machine is broken, so my first choice is relegated to a later visit. But will there be another visit?
I decide to order what is, for me, THE TEST, when in a place like this. They have Fried Chicken on the menu. Normally, this ends up being a deep fried frozen very salty breaded product. One of those that looks like the batter was applied by an automobile undercoater. I figure that if I get real fried chicken, I have found a place to rely on. L orders the sausage dinner.
In a fairly short time, I have my answer. Three big pieces of fried chicken are lined up side by side on my plate separating my fries (unfortunately, these are of frozen origin) from what looks to be homemade coleslaw and some cranberry sauce. And they are real. Some of the chicken is missing bits of the very simple batter. It is not too salty. It is crunchy in some places and not in others. Gee whiz, Granny, that's fried chicken! Now before you get too excited, I think it had been perhaps baked or precooked a bit and then fried up for me, because some of it was a bit dry, but it was not some industrial food product.
The fries had probably seen the inside of the Florenceville Factory, but they were cooked about as good as frozen gets. The waitress casually tossed some Heinz Ketchup packs at my plate on her way by. I ate all the chicken, and half the fries, most of the cranberry and all the coleslaw.
L's sausages were very brown on the outside, but she said they were not overcooked, and were tasty (I never got to steal any...). Her mashed potato was very good, creamy and light.
Things had happened so fast (you haven't seen me around fried chicken before) that we had time for a dessert. Not wanting to completely ruin things, I had to ask what the "Cream Pie" on the menu meant. Seems it meant, at least for today, Coconut Cream. That falls into my list of 50 greatest weaknesses. So I order a piece. It was homemade, the crust being a bit like my Mom's, the filling not as rich as I am used to, but very coconutty, and the topping was a whipped cream, but I think from a can or container. I don't think it was synthetic, I am pretty sure it came from a cow.... The pie was very good. I'd have had more, but I let L eat along, which is a way to ensure you're not going to get as much as you thought you were.
So, yes, it's a diner. No pretensions whatsoever (unlike the place around the corner that I have given up on). I just can't believe I had never noticed it before. It is almost like one of those twilight zone things. read about it on the net, sure you never saw it before, and, there it is, a 5 minute walk from your house.
Oh, and the cost of the meal, that included a Coke, water, fried chicken platter, sausage dinner, and coconut cream pie, was $19.50 tax included, plus grat.
I plan to return, probably for breakfast. They do a good cheap B&E, and they have cinnamon toast!
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Mezza Mezzets
Dinner at a new place, with friends. L and I suggest Mezza, a new Lebanese/Mediterranean place on Quinpool near Oxford. A movie after dinner at the Oxford.
The place is very well appointed, in fact another couple we know, coming in as we were ready to leave, ask "what is this place doing on Quinpool?"
Making great food, is the answer.
It turned out that Ian and Pam are as adventurous as we are, so we almost had one of everything. The cold and hot Mezzet plates were all scrumptious, service was excellent, prompt, and where not totally informed, motivated to go to the chef and get the answer to a question.
My only beef is one I imagine they will soon fix. Like many startup places, they seem to have been "captured" by the Molson's money bag marketers, thus depriving their customers of good beer, for the most part. The final beer our server named, on being asked what there was, was Propeller Bitter, in bottles. They sold us a few. The rest was all Molcrap.
But the wines? Howdy, what's up with this? The wine list is excellent, and impressive with several Lebanese wines simply not available elsewhere in Atlantic Canada.
Not wanting to scare our friends, I order one I know, that is usually available. The Chateau Ksara Reserve Couvent impresses me again, with great fruit and tannin at a fair price.
One question answers the mystery, and once again, the legacy of Adam Dial and his sommelier training program enhances the Halifax dining experience. It seems George Kapetanakis, also owner of The Armview Restaurant, did, or helped with the list. George is currently awaiting the results of his final Canadian Association of Professional Sommeliers exam. I expect he will pass.
To be brief, we ate almost everything on the menu, in bits and bites. It was all good. Highlights for me included the Baba Ghanouj, the Bastorma, the Sambousik and the Chicken Kabob, plus the excellent thickened yoghurt we were served in place of tzaziki sauce.
I will be back. And with some wine geek friends to try some of the obscure Lebanese wines on the list.
The place is very well appointed, in fact another couple we know, coming in as we were ready to leave, ask "what is this place doing on Quinpool?"
Making great food, is the answer.
It turned out that Ian and Pam are as adventurous as we are, so we almost had one of everything. The cold and hot Mezzet plates were all scrumptious, service was excellent, prompt, and where not totally informed, motivated to go to the chef and get the answer to a question.
My only beef is one I imagine they will soon fix. Like many startup places, they seem to have been "captured" by the Molson's money bag marketers, thus depriving their customers of good beer, for the most part. The final beer our server named, on being asked what there was, was Propeller Bitter, in bottles. They sold us a few. The rest was all Molcrap.
But the wines? Howdy, what's up with this? The wine list is excellent, and impressive with several Lebanese wines simply not available elsewhere in Atlantic Canada.
Not wanting to scare our friends, I order one I know, that is usually available. The Chateau Ksara Reserve Couvent impresses me again, with great fruit and tannin at a fair price.
One question answers the mystery, and once again, the legacy of Adam Dial and his sommelier training program enhances the Halifax dining experience. It seems George Kapetanakis, also owner of The Armview Restaurant, did, or helped with the list. George is currently awaiting the results of his final Canadian Association of Professional Sommeliers exam. I expect he will pass.
To be brief, we ate almost everything on the menu, in bits and bites. It was all good. Highlights for me included the Baba Ghanouj, the Bastorma, the Sambousik and the Chicken Kabob, plus the excellent thickened yoghurt we were served in place of tzaziki sauce.
I will be back. And with some wine geek friends to try some of the obscure Lebanese wines on the list.
77 and Counting
OK, so you are not really supposed to state a woman's age, but my Mom turned 77 this week. As I was rushing out of the house to head downtown to a brief meeting, a lunch grab in the mall, followed by a long afternoon meeting, I realized, while putting on my shoes, that it was my Mom's 77th birthday.
I stood up from putting on my shoes, and the doorbell rang. It was Mom and Dad, in town for a medical appointment, wondering about parking in our driveway while they lunched at janes on the common to celebrate her good news checkup and her birthday.
This is where working for yourself really pays. You know what I did.
Yep, I blew off the early meeting and had lunch with them, and was able to buy, thus satiisfying any obligatory present stuff.
It was at this lunch that I had a mini epihany about janes, and why people like it so much. More later on that.
Mom had a cup of beet and apple soup, with some yougurt in the middle - beautiful to look at and she loved it. Dad had the chowder, which he said was excellent. I had the special, an open faced beef sandwich with cheese and carmelized jalapenos on top. The food was predictably great, and Mom decided she'd really celebrate and have dessert. I suggested that they split one, as the portions are large for her normal intake, and they ordered the warm gingerbread with rum/maple sauce. I decided to try the Belgian hot chocolate - I had never had that before.
The gingerbread had real candied ginger in it (Mom loved it), and my hot chocolate had marshmallow floating on top, but not just any marshmallow - it was made there - it was a cube, cut out of a pan of marshmallow. And here begins the epiphany. What jane has done, in a lot of the things on her menu, is take food we all know and remember fondly from our youth, and have them made the way they were originally conceived. No gingerbread mix, no institutionalized, industrialized shortcuts, just the real deal. If you look at her menu, especially, or particularly the dessert menu, this becomes quite clear. The main courses are often enhanced versions, perhaps, of the old favourites, but in general, that is the theme here. Real food done fresh, and not a lot of fakery.
Of course the other "secret" to jane's success is her attention to detail - the relishes, chutneys, garnishes and so on are all perfect and homemade. The interior design is thought out (Breakhouse Design) and the staff very well trained. All this care, but the place still projects a relaxed atmosphere. That is not an easy thing.
And maybe that is why it appeals to such a broad demographic. I can take my Mom and Dad here, or my most radical politically aligned friends. They are all human, and jane's works on a human scale.
I stood up from putting on my shoes, and the doorbell rang. It was Mom and Dad, in town for a medical appointment, wondering about parking in our driveway while they lunched at janes on the common to celebrate her good news checkup and her birthday.
This is where working for yourself really pays. You know what I did.
Yep, I blew off the early meeting and had lunch with them, and was able to buy, thus satiisfying any obligatory present stuff.
It was at this lunch that I had a mini epihany about janes, and why people like it so much. More later on that.
Mom had a cup of beet and apple soup, with some yougurt in the middle - beautiful to look at and she loved it. Dad had the chowder, which he said was excellent. I had the special, an open faced beef sandwich with cheese and carmelized jalapenos on top. The food was predictably great, and Mom decided she'd really celebrate and have dessert. I suggested that they split one, as the portions are large for her normal intake, and they ordered the warm gingerbread with rum/maple sauce. I decided to try the Belgian hot chocolate - I had never had that before.
The gingerbread had real candied ginger in it (Mom loved it), and my hot chocolate had marshmallow floating on top, but not just any marshmallow - it was made there - it was a cube, cut out of a pan of marshmallow. And here begins the epiphany. What jane has done, in a lot of the things on her menu, is take food we all know and remember fondly from our youth, and have them made the way they were originally conceived. No gingerbread mix, no institutionalized, industrialized shortcuts, just the real deal. If you look at her menu, especially, or particularly the dessert menu, this becomes quite clear. The main courses are often enhanced versions, perhaps, of the old favourites, but in general, that is the theme here. Real food done fresh, and not a lot of fakery.
Of course the other "secret" to jane's success is her attention to detail - the relishes, chutneys, garnishes and so on are all perfect and homemade. The interior design is thought out (Breakhouse Design) and the staff very well trained. All this care, but the place still projects a relaxed atmosphere. That is not an easy thing.
And maybe that is why it appeals to such a broad demographic. I can take my Mom and Dad here, or my most radical politically aligned friends. They are all human, and jane's works on a human scale.
More Monkeying Around
A recent lunch at the Wooden Monkey shows they are getting better. I think so anyway. The oven fries were less greasy, and my old fave, the Seitan Sandwich was yummy as usual, with the umani character of flavour growing as one eats, until, at the end, you are happy.
The Propeller Root Beer, on tap, was excellent, reminiscent of the old A&W drive in on the Bedford Highway we used to get to go to if we behaved in the car.
K, my "lunch date" had a veggie pizza which was very very tasty. She was about to take some away with her, but decided to eat it instead. The only knock was that it did take a while to get food on our plates (almost 40 mins from when we sat down).
The Propeller Root Beer, on tap, was excellent, reminiscent of the old A&W drive in on the Bedford Highway we used to get to go to if we behaved in the car.
K, my "lunch date" had a veggie pizza which was very very tasty. She was about to take some away with her, but decided to eat it instead. The only knock was that it did take a while to get food on our plates (almost 40 mins from when we sat down).
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