No surprises here, twas another food-filled weekend for the VTV crew. Nicki and I always try to one-up each other for Instaglory, and this weekend looks like it’s a close call for victory. You decide…
Adam’s Eats and Treats | Instagram: amazerall | Twitter: @amazerall
My harem and I were supposed to trot over to the Oasis at Gretzky’s patio launch party Friday night, but Ms. Mother Nature was in a pissy mood so our plans were washed away like Britney Spears’ hopes of regaining relevancy. Instead, we headed over to Pacific Junction Hotel to fake that the incessant rain was a tropical storm. The perfect venue for a hot and humid rainy night, PJH’s oyster po’boys were an immediate order…
…as were the cafeteria nachos – potentially named for being a li’l lacklustre? No matter, good drinks + decent food + four femmes + moi = good times no matter the locale.
ADVERTISEMENT |
I’d been looking forward to Saturday night for weeks. My P-I-C (which I’ve been told I need to clarify stands for Partner-in-Crime… you’re welcome Nicki) nabbed a couple seats to The Book of Mormon, and any musical written by the fellas behind South Park is obviously a must-see. Without belabouring the point, this show was a freaking phenom… I’d go again in a heartbeat.
Afterwards we marched over to Earls on King, where a grapefruit Arnold Palmer was a necessity to replenish and refresh after the previous hours of chortling at the theatre.
Subsequently, I molested a plate of dynamite prawn and mango rolls with the fervour of an overweight kid having his last meal before fat camp.
Three guesses where I spent Sunday. (If you routinely read this column, you need not more than one.) Yes… I was at The Combine Eatery, my home away from home, perched at the bar working away on my laptop. I was in for some treats this particular weekend (well, lezbehonest, every weekend I’m in for treats at The Combine), when Ms. Amy gave me a sneak peek of next week’s brunch feature, the Down n’ Dirty Danny…
ADVERTISEMENT |
…and next week’s dinner feature, her crab-stuffed, bacon-wrapped, smoked chicken drummies – offensively good. Needless to say, I violated the vessel with vittles voraciously. Weekend = done.
Nicki’s Eats and Treats | Instagram: viewthevibe | Twitter: @viewthevibe
So my work-wife left me for bigger and better things Friday, when she flew out to Montreal for her father’s 75th birthday bash set to take over the Sofitel on Saturday night. (Which she organized with aplomb and grace… mostly.) Upon returning to her hometown, Ms. Nicks went on a double date to Le Bremner, which proved to be an “interesting” dining experience as she later recounted. At least they shucked some awesome oysters…
…and can make a Maritime ‘za like nobody’s business. For anyone who thinks a lobster pizza sounds blasphemous, look below and you’ll be born again…
Not surprisingly, she was off the airwaves Saturday as she dealt with last minute details before the big night. But Sunday morning, she found some hangover comfort in the form of a Croque Madame at La Societe Montreal. (Yeah… the Frenchier version of the upscale Toronto French bistro – I’m convinced Charles Khabouth is going to buy out all of Canada one day.) While the sammy looks delish, I’m more impressed with the side order of fries instead of Nicki’s normal order of humdrum greens.
She finished the weekend in five-star fashion at the table of one of Quebec’s best-kept-secret chefs: her mother. It’s no longer a wonder where Nicki’s culinary talents come from. Starting with giant softwater shrimp and a cherry tomato mix…
ADVERTISEMENT |
…they then answered the question of “Where’s the beef?” It was lovingly carved by mommers, doused in a Madeira sauce, and served alongside roasted seasonal vegetables. Moms are the bestest!
