Saturday, January 3rd, 2009
Fets Pasta Bar & Grill
1230 Commercial Drive
Vancouver, British Columbia
tel. 604.255.7771
Fets is a place we’d been meaning to hit up for years but for some inexplicable reason, let’s call it “sloth” for sake of argument, had just never gotten around to it. In an effort to placate some of the now suburbanite (and subordinate) members of the Armada, I suggested a more centrally located haunt. Despite the snowy conditions, we made our way down to the Drive and in doing so, were richly rewarded by one of our best breakfasting experiences in a long while.
Self-described “Pasta Bar” by night, the restaurant’s motif is decidedly pop culture, brandishing murals of the usual array of dead celebrities supplemented with a healthy dose of the Rolling Stones. Come on, is there anyone under 45 who still thinks the Stones in any way meet even the most liberal definition of cool? If you’re out there, we need to have a frank exchange of ideas as soon as possible. At any rate, the space itself is large, even drafty, but there are a lot of nooks and velvety couches to allow for a satisfyingly intimate meal with your own swarthy crew.
Our server, Veronique, was cut from the Armada’s type of cloth: attentive, patient and knowledgeable. She was also unabashedly hung-over but never let it interfere with her service or tableside manner. Coffee cups were refilled promptly but without prompting while upselling was soft, remorseful and only done to legitimately enhance the meal. Our wait time was reasonable and when the food did arrive, it took our combined Tetris skills to arrange and accommodate the vast array of plates and side dishes.
After inexcusably mistaking a likeness of Jimi Hendrix for Lionel Ritchie, Junior attacked his $11 chorizo hash with gusto. Rich in delicately fried onions and peppers, the hash was topped with two poached eggs and offered the choice of toast or, as a very enticing option, an English muffin. The meal was awarded top marks although he bemoaned the lack of a ‘certain sauciness’ that I suppose he’d come to expect from the likes of Milestones’ borderline inedible, barbeque-sauce soaked prime-rib hash. I personally appreciate a drier, crisper hash and prefer the option of adding any additional sauces myself.
J-llows, Junior’s long-suffering wife, is admittedly not the biggest breakfast fan, but enjoys the social aspect of the meal. Her choices tend to err on the side of conservatism and today was no exception with her selection of the $7 Full House. Both as simple and as easy as Jessica Simpson, this dish consisted of two free range eggs (done in the diner’s requested style), hash browns and toast. Every breakfast restaurant I’ve ever been to serves a variant of this meal and if you can’t get it right, you’re not going to get a lot of repeat business. Fets’ Full House was well-executed, attractively presented and would handily satisfy the less adventurous members of your party.
Ever the insatiable beast, M opted for the $12 Big Meal, comprising two eggs (any style), two pancakes, hash and a choice of ham, bacon or sausage. Like Leann Rimes, this sucker is all about value (Barenaked Ladies alert!!) as the gargantuan pancakes alone justify the pricetag. Available in a simple buttermilk or more flashy fruit-filled version, these ‘cakes were dense, delicious and dripping in syrup. Recommended for fans of both nitrates and carbohydrates.
As for my meal, well, it’s nearly impossible for me to say anything negative about something as innovative as a perogy hash. I have always deemed perogies to be one of Mother Nature’s perfect foods and the mere idea of utilizing them in a breakfast meal is immediately compelling. “How did they pull it off,” you ask? Imagine a deep dish of traditional Slavic dumplings, fried up with a spicy blend of peppers, onions and andouille sausages, then topped with a couple of medium-poached eggs. Perfection? Not until the masterfully upsold side of sour cream arrived to complete the ensemble. I ate voraciously and succumbed to a Ukrainian daydream, complete with cheap vodka, mail-order brides and good-time nuclear fallout.
Complaints? The general consensus amongst the group was that the eggs were somewhat overcooked and the single-slice-of-melon fruit garnish was underwhelming. The coffee was of the tolerable restaurant variety and the OJ looked and tasted like it had been cut with Sunny D, a definite negative for anyone not named Juno. I also really feel that if one is expected to shell out fourteen bones for a perogy hash, the price should damn well include the sour cream.
However, when faced with a great meal and overall fantastic experience, these were minor objections and all in attendance agreed that they’d return without hesitation. Hell, if they took down that grade seven, c-minus student’s, aluminum foil, blinking UFO science project hanging from the ceiling, I might even come back for dinner. ‘Til next time, never forget the most important meal of the day,
Dirty Johnny
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