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| - It's that week between Christmas and New Years where you're getting your winter bod on point and eating/drinking whatever comes your way. At least that's what I'm doing. I call it "Orgy Week" pertaining to food, not sex, ugh, deleted Tinder, too bloated for that. Besides I'm looking for something more serious, which basically means Netflix and starfish. Under the covers.
Anyway, my son Freddy is home from uni and we are blithely eating our way along Queen Street in Leslieville. Last night we were going to our favourite pizza place but they had gone fishing for the holidays so hopped back in the car for a new game plan.
I'd been meaning to try this place out since it rebirth from its previous incarnation so now was the perfect time. We got there at 6:30 and the hostess asked us if we had reservations. LOL. We were both wearing our baggy assed Roots sweatpants and our hair still matted from napping all day. We definitely looked out of place but whatevs, I had lipstick in my purse, I could fake it. We got to sit at the bar which is where I want to be at all times anyway.
Freddy was like "this place is classy, we are in over our heads, mother."
I saw a burger with fries go by which was a relief, how fancy pants can it be? Also the guy beside me was drinking draught so we were in the right place fo sho. We both ordered the cheeseburger.
The beers on the menu were a sparsely curated of brews I had never heard of, though the ones in the bottles were equally obscure except for Steamwhistle. We both ordered a $9 Stone IPA on the tap which was really good but NOT a pint, ugh, I hate that, but whatevs.
The $20 burger was phenomenal. It was on a chewy sesame bun and the patty had some crunch on the outside and pink in the middle. Yes, rare, omg, the best. "I like my burger well-done," I can hear some of you say. Grow up. The cheese and condiments, whatever was i there, were at one with each other. To be honest, I didn't even read the description in the menu as I forgot my readers and the floaters in my eyes get bad when I drink hard liquor over the holidays. The fries didn't disappoint either. Usually I don't eat them because I am from a small town in Quebec where greasy fries are sacred and come from little huts on the side of the highway and nothing else compares. But I ate these and without ketchup. Because they didn't offer it. The service was kind of hit and miss.
All in all, a lovely experience. A good date place for sure, not a Tinder date because it's too expensive to get drunk on $9 half pints, but maybe if you were on that Our Time or match dot com site and had stated you were a "foodie." Ugh, aren't those people just the worst?
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