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| - I've passed by this place a zillion times, it's across the the street from my butcher and just east of the LCBO. I never really gave it a thought, assuming it was just a twee coffee shop for fools who actually drink coffee that they don't brew at home first thing in the morning for medicinal purposes, ie. getting the BM done before you leave the house. I will never understand modern coffee culture. "Let's meet up for a coffee and see if things click," says every middle-aged man on OkCupid. Me: *rolls eyes* Click shmlick, how about let's go get a few pints and let the beer goggles do their magic. What is this clicking everyone is after? IRL it sometimes takes me months to figure out if someone is bone-worthy. You cannot possibly "click" over a cup of joe. Coffee has ruined modern romance and I will have none of it.
Anyway, this place is not a coffee shop, it's a breakfast/brunch place. And yes, I approve of brunch. In my perfect world, there would be only one meal a day. I love breakfast food but not first thing. It takes me hours to want to eat and I don't care what anyone says about breakfast being the most important meal of the day, if I can't get it down, I'm not going to force it. I like to let my stomach get all gnarled up with angry growls before shovelling in the coals, it's more grateful than if it constantly gets a steady flow of nuts and birdseed which keeps it complacent. I will have none of that either.
My friend Lorraine took me here yesterday after discovering it during a rain storm a couple of weeks ago. She knew I'd love it as the word "charcuterie" gives me lady boner and it's on the menu. She makes award-winning quiche (and yes, her name is Lorraine) but had Fiorentina's and actually said it was better than hers. This is high praise. Something about the eggs being like "eating clouds" and yes, she gets high a lot.
Inside, we grabbled the window stools which is perfect for summer people watching. Riverdalians are amazing. They're affluent hippie-types, from the beginning of the baby boom generation and they dress like Stevie Nicks. Even the men. I want to be a hippie when I grow up.
I ordered the Croque Madame, that is a Croque Monsieur but with two fried heritage eggs on top. Lorraine ordered duck eggs benedict. We had wine by the $5 glass, a highly civilized beverage for brunch, so we had two.
My sandwich was the best thing I ever ate. See, I let my stomach writhe with fury all morning and into the early afternoon, at one point I was so starving, I was chewing on my hair, sucking the salt out. IDK why my hair is salty but it is. But yeah, that sandwich tho... the eggs were sunny-side up, comically placed on top of the sandwich, I wonder do they call it a "madame" because it looks like a set of boobs on top of a monsieur, which is ham and cheese btw, and there's some crunchy fried bread involved, must be eaten with a fork. The eggs were "heritage," meaning what? Hand plucked from a chicken who ran freely in the sunshine? That is my interpretation. Chickens need sunshine and freedom. Anyway, these were the best eggs I've ever had on top of a sandwich I wanted to bone if it manifested itself into a man. We clicked.
I did not want to share with Lorraine but I let her have a tiny bit and she let me have a tiny bit of her benedict which had pulled pork and it was yum but I think she had food envy over mine. I will never order anything else when I come back.
Also: The Boston Cream donut. If the sandwich was a hot dude, then that donut was his prowess. Sweet Jesus.
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