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| - The list of visionaries that have made a tangible, concrete difference in this world is short: Thomas Edison, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglas, and Jack Newman. That's it. The Imperial Pub is, if we're being honest with each other, an achievement in the vein of universal suffrage, civil rights, and the incandescent light bulb. From the shockingly affordable pints to the indoor plumbing, the transcendent steak sandwiches to the fact that none of their books have been burned, this bar represents everything that was right about the 17th century. Yonge and Dundas Square may be known for crack, but the only crack here is the one that this bar has driven through the veneer of mediocrity typical of other restaurants on this block.
While the servers are decidedly mediocre, the comfortingly erotic young cook that created my food made my experience one to be remembered until the day that I fold myself into the warm, sweet embrace of senility. Hary (I believe his name was, and presumably still is) is warm and charming, judging by the way that he interacted with the couple at the bar that I overheard. Truly, he is a diamond in a plentiful metaphorical open pit diamond mine.
Those below who may say that the Imperial is sub par are nothing but Cowards that live their lives constantly running from The Fear. I wouldn't recommend this place to my mother because she is a vegetarian, but if she ate meat I would. Go. Please. For you. For me. For the Duchess of Cambridge, their sister bar in Timmins.
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