One of the great mysteries in my life encompasses just what the hell goes on at The New Tasty Chicken House. I have, only on occasion, been brave enough to casually peep into it's dirty windows, (ok, well, with sunglasses on, as to avoid eye contact), and have yet to spot a peice of chicken. Or anything that could be considered tasty, for that matter. Even what I did see made me nervous. I think it might be cursed. Grubby tables. Lost souls. Missing teeth. And a juke box? It boggles.
Maybe one day it will be what the once dive bars on Ossington are now, when gentrification takes over the East End. Tasty's will start offering up a tasty of grub chic to all the cool kids, and we can say that it isn't the same as it used to be.
Or maybe not.