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  • Driving up Eglinton, it's hard to miss 'Peter's on Eglinton'. Just like the name says, it's right on Eglinton looking circa 1910. The restaurant looks like it raided an old cruise ship and took anything that was in one or more pieces. That was enough to convince me. Sadly, when you walk in, that's where the excitement ends. Right away, you're made to guess between two doors on either side, not sure which leads where. We pick left and open the door to see a man, sitting at a table, staring back at us. Another man comes and says "I'm putting you in the booth." Fair enough, I think aloud. I follow him. The wife and I take our seats and we look over the menu. They do everything for everybody - one of my biggest pet peeves. We decide we're not that hungry and we'll split a meal. (This is most definitely the wrong place for that, but more on that soon.) We're told by the waitress that it'll be $5 extra if the lady doesn't order something herself. We go with the Caesar salad. Since we weren't too hungry, we get a serving for one. When it came, it was so big that neither of us could finish it. To go with our meal of too much, we ordered a smoked meat sandwich. We were warned it would be big, but not so comically big. The amount of meat shoved in between inch-thick slices of bread was bigger than my fist. I had about 2-3 bites before getting any bread. The fries were stacked just as high, along with the coleslaw. Needless to say, it tasted like I took a bite out of a ham, rather than ate a sandwich. The stomach aches were not worth it. I was hoping to get out and call it a night, but the waitress was nowhere to be found. Full disclosure: It was a Saturday night. However, there were only 3 tables, including us, in the entire restaurant to serve. I could hear the waitress chatting it up in the back as we sit, holding our stomachs, waiting to be set free. She finally came about 10 minutes later and had a wireless Visa pinpad with the chip reader - easily the newest piece of technology in the place by 70-80 years or so. We paid and called it a night. Our date was over. Neither of us had the stomach to smile through the pain. I promptly went home and curled into a ball, hoping to forget the experience.
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