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| - D'you just pour that $3 special pint in a tall imperial -- maybe more -- glass? And did you just garnish my pastrami & burger burger with fried pickle spear at the top of the toothpick flagpole -- mighty pickled cuke tack in the wind!
On a Thursday night -- around maybe 10pm? -- there was maybe a 20 minute wait for a table, so we saddled up to the counter, which I enjoy much much more when alone or with another. And, on Valentine's Night... what's more adorable than a softly-lit late night diner together? Harry, Sally? Your regret was that you couldn't sit at a counter because you're not real and Rob Reiner needed a table in the middle of the room... but we all know... that's the worst table in the room. Plus, Harry, guess what... she picked me up from the airport the very first time.
The Lakeview has the proud distinction of being the very first place I spent Canadian money at, or, wait, maybe I was treated? Either way, first stop: The Lakeview.
And while I was told the Poutine here isn't the best... all it takes for me to be happy is to see potatoes in tube form dressed in the dark brown gravy like a slender Swede in Merino Wool.
Service steadfast. Lighting golden hued more than the fried pickle. Deco glass trimmings. Side pony & sleeveless hostess. Nicked wood. Employees ponied up next to us who took the gesture of scooting down a stool so kindly they concocted a pink boozy shot with pop rock rimmed glasses just for us. Not necessarily what I imagined to be the most romantic clink of glasses ever, but, hell, Canada, I've just arrived, and your Cupid (is it the same Cupid?) shot me right in my stool-wobbling rump at The Lakeview. In this lighting, I never want to leave.
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