9th Avenue Grill

Saturday, January 24th, 2009

9^th Avenue Grill

1822 West Broadway
Vancouver, British Columbia
tel. 604.714.0744

http://www.9thavenuegrill.com

Brunch served 7 days a week from 6:30 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.

Anticipation – it was what made Carly Simon late and it’s what kept her waiting. Lame as I’ve always thought that song was, I couldn’t force it’s banal refrain from mind as we lingered for over an hour in the entrance to the 9th Avenue Grill on Broadway and Burrard. Clearly this was a sign: we need to start reviewing restaurants beyond walking distance of my apartment.

As much as I love breakfast, the meal’s inherent broad appeal and corresponding availability dictate that it’s not worth waiting more than 20 minutes for. If I’m required to queue any longer than this, I start to get agitated and develop all manner of nervous tics. This is usually accompanied by foul language which increases in both frequency and volume, the longer I wait; sort of a temporary Tourette syndrome. This is one of the pre-eminent reasons I never eat at Sophie’s Cosmic Café. Another reason is that most nursing homes serve tastier food.


I’ll admit it’s probably unfair to fault a restaurant for being popular. What is fair to fault it for is its complete lack of decorative inspiration or charm. The longer we waited, the more nondescript our surroundings became. Even the name, “9th Avenue Grill” leads one to infer that it was decided upon hurriedly whilst filling out the application for the business license. Ever the optimist, I insisted upon reserving final judgment until the food arrived. If the better things in life were worth waiting for, this veggie hash was going to lift me to new heights of satisfaction. Of course, I used the same reasoning prior to the release of “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” and we all know how that turned out.

Expecting perfection, what finally arrived in front of me could be more accurately described as perplexing. The hash itself was obscured beneath some kind of mini-omelette; a dry, unseasoned blanket of egg sparingly sprinkled with Monterey Jack cheese. The pedestrian combination of veggies and home fries that lay beneath was mediocre at best. Garden-variety peppers, mushrooms, tomatoes and onions failed to either excite or offend the palate and without the usual runny poached-egg yolk, it lacked a unifying element. I could readily recall adult film plotlines with more cohesiveness than my meal. Not a good start.

The Armada’s Monkeylover had a more encouraging reaction to her $8.99 Denver Omelette. The Denver or Western, as it’s known in most parts of the country, is traditionally filled with ham, onions and green peppers. 9th Avenue’s version introduced sautéed mushrooms, diced tomatoes and cheesy topping to the mix, all seemingly welcome additions. Monkey praised the quantity of the requisite veggies and delighted in the abundance of cheddar and Jack cheese gilding the surface. Things were looking up until…

M’s attempt at breakfast landed squarely on the opposite end of the satiation spectrum. His recent predilection towards pancakes provoked his selection of the $6.25 plate, which he supplemented with a $2.75 sausage addendum. Although the menu indicated the ‘cakes were meant as a meal, what arrived could only be accurately described as a side. Thin, flavourless and inexplicably speckled with parsley, they served as little more than a vehicle for maple syrup. Those looking for a similar experience would be advised to avoid the one-hour wait and pick up some McGriddles at the local drive-thru. This was indeed a dining failure of Arch Deluxe-ian proportions.

Vying with M for the title of the day’s most dissatisfied diner was Jamie. Her choice of the $7.25 french toast was rejected with the severity and unflinching determination that “Saved by the Bell’s” Lisa normally reserved for each one of Screech’s clumsy advances. Advertised as three “thick slices of egg bread,” the meal was an unqualified disappointment. The bread itself was thin, bland, chewy and had a ‘papery flavour'. The above-average tasting side of bacon did little to assuage her discontent as, at an additional $2.75, she felt it should have been included in the price of the meal. Not all news was bad, however, as she did agree to attend the Bayside High Tigers pep rally with me the following week.

Building on that positive note, Duckboy was, for the most part, satisfied with the 9th Avenue version of the standby classic. The over-easy eggs were cooked perfectly, the bacon was high calibre and his selection of bread (amongst white, brown, rye and sourdough) was evenly buttered and still hot from the toaster. The eggs did bear a slightly dry cast, betraying a brief stint under the heat lamp but this was looked upon as a mere misdemeanour given the magnitude of the brunching crimes taking place around the table.

As sub-standard as our experience was, I do want to put in a good word for the hard-working wait staff. Their effort was honest and tireless but they were clearly flummoxed and the understaffing was painfully apparent. Sadly, the only way 9th Avenue can be recommended is for those who don’t mind waiting and are willing to keep it very simple. As for my crew, well, when the light fixtures are the highlight of your breakfast, it’s safe to assume that repeat visits are not in the cards. Two and a half hours after first arriving, The Breakfast Armada was still hungry for a filling meal while the 9th Avenue Grill was still starving for an identity.