Am I the only one that derives intense satisfaction from incidents in which some stranger comments on how cute some other stranger's baby is but mistakenly uses the incorrect pronoun? You know what I mean:
Stranger 1: "Awww, what a cute little girl."
Stranger 2: "Um, actually he's a boy."
Stranger 1: "Excuse me while I swallow my own tongue, an act I deem to be less uncomfortable than the embarassment I would suffer from lingering and attempting to justify my ignorant remark."
This is one of the best things I can conceive of and I wish it happened at least once a day. Maybe I'm the only one, but if you can't laugh at an ugly, sexually ambiguous baby, what can you laugh at?
Monday, March 16, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Theresa's
Saturday, February 7th, 2009
1260 Commercial Drive604-676-1868
Vancouver, British Columbia
http://www.theresaseatery.com
Brunch served Monday & Tuesday 8 a.m. to 2 p.m; Wednesday through Sunday 8 a.m. to 7 pm.
Co-operative. Most are familiar with the word but I suspect few really grasp what this business model entails. Sure, we’ve all been indoctrinated as to the benefits of co-operation via Jim Henson’s muppet-fronted socialist propaganda machine, Sesame Street, but what is it really all about? Is it hippies? Is it communism? More importantly, what the hell does it have to do with brunch?
Unfortunately, the very pleasant girl at Theresa’s counter seemed to know little about how their ownership structure functioned and even less about her own role in the co-operation nation. Who could blame her; we didn’t really care either. All the Breakfast Armada cared about was whether it would affect the quality of the meal (no) and whether or not we were going to have to do anything (oooh, yes).
Layabouts take heed! Those counting on exhaustive table service would be well advised to alter their expectations or prepare for disappointment and starvation. Theresa’s functions as more of a “build-your-own-breakfast” joint than a traditional set menu-based restaurant. Diners mix and match various fundamental edible elements from the menu whiteboard to form their own ideal comestible compounds. Orders are placed and payment made at the entranceway counter almost immediately upon entry.
It is now at the patron’s behest to co-opt themselves some coffee before finding a table amongst the unavoidable Commercial Drive hat-wearing, ukulele-toting hipsters. All pariahs, Unabombers and other such loners should keep in mind that, in the absence of available seating, you’ll be expected to share with people potentially even more unsavoury than yourselves. Two words: Bring mints.
Theresa’s does offer a few ready-made ‘feature breakfasts’ for those unwilling or unable to think on their feet. Such options included the $8 Hastings; comprising two appropriately earthy free range eggs, potatoes, toast and the choice of bacon or sausage, or the Grant; combining a vegan-friendly tofu scramble with tomato, avocado and the omni-present toast and potatoes.
Jumping at any chance to avoid thinking, The Armada’s Rear Admiral, Duck-boy, opted for the afore-mentioned Grant with lox and over-easy eggs. He sang the praises of the generously buttered toast and exceptional eggs but his avian eyes couldn’t conceal the envy invoked at the sight of the rest of the crew’s meals. It is with confidence and obvious self-reference that I declare him to have firmly missed the boat this week.
Ignoring the pre-fabbed pics, my choice was easy once I spotted the $4.50 stuffed French toast on the menu. I opted for strawberry over cinnamon “stuffing” and completed the ensemble with a couple of scrambled eggs ($2) and sides of home fries ($2) and wild lox ($3). The eggs and lox were both serviceable and the potatoes warrant their own discussion but the real highlight here was the French toast.
Theresa’s fabulous fe-mulleted cooks liberally distributed layers of cream cheese and sweet strawberry confection between slices of sesame-seed encrusted bread. Then, in a stroke of gourmet genius, they eschewed tradition and pressed the entire package in a panini machine, grilling it to a crispy perfection. Topped with powdered sugar and supplementary syrup, Theresa’s take on French toast is a true testament to the capability of lesbian collaborative cookery. Kudos.
Junior was trepidatious but also ultimately unable to resist the exotic allure of the fruit-filled French toast. Despite being “pretty sure” he was pleased with the dish, he found himself somewhat out of his comfort zone and at times looked like he needed someone to throw him a life preserver or, at the very least, a set of stylish waterwings.
The real talking point amongst the crew was the home-fries. These taters were unlike no others the Armada had absorbed in the past and they sparked a rather heated debate. Instead of the conventional crispy, deep-fried and lightly salted polyhedral potatoes, we were presented with a slippery, sepia, spud stew. The Dagobah of dining, if you will.
Despite initial reservations, I found that the deeper I delved into the starchy Satiation Swampland, the more enamoured I grew of its idiosyncrasies. Similar to Atreyu’s doomed horse, Artax, in the Neverending Story’s Swamp of Sadness, I was likewise powerless to resist the myriad of fresh herbs, onions and entire baked garlic cloves. Struggling at first, I gradually sunk deeper and deeper into the mouthwatering mire until it won me over and I was consumed by it. Falkor!!!
Sadly, my bland band of breakfast reviewers did not share my sentiment (or my detailed knowledge of that awesome movie). They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept of slimy potatoes and I think it really hurt their overall opinions of their meals.
Regardless, I still feel comfortable recommending Theresa’s sheerly for their transcendent French toast, smiling staff and their unique approach to a universal meal. If you find yourself confused by all the unbridled cooperating, just remember, there’s no “I” in team, but there is one in co-operative so get up and pour that damned coffee yourself.
Layabouts take heed! Those counting on exhaustive table service would be well advised to alter their expectations or prepare for disappointment and starvation. Theresa’s functions as more of a “build-your-own-breakfast” joint than a traditional set menu-based restaurant. Diners mix and match various fundamental edible elements from the menu whiteboard to form their own ideal comestible compounds. Orders are placed and payment made at the entranceway counter almost immediately upon entry.
It is now at the patron’s behest to co-opt themselves some coffee before finding a table amongst the unavoidable Commercial Drive hat-wearing, ukulele-toting hipsters. All pariahs, Unabombers and other such loners should keep in mind that, in the absence of available seating, you’ll be expected to share with people potentially even more unsavoury than yourselves. Two words: Bring mints.
Theresa’s does offer a few ready-made ‘feature breakfasts’ for those unwilling or unable to think on their feet. Such options included the $8 Hastings; comprising two appropriately earthy free range eggs, potatoes, toast and the choice of bacon or sausage, or the Grant; combining a vegan-friendly tofu scramble with tomato, avocado and the omni-present toast and potatoes.
Jumping at any chance to avoid thinking, The Armada’s Rear Admiral, Duck-boy, opted for the afore-mentioned Grant with lox and over-easy eggs. He sang the praises of the generously buttered toast and exceptional eggs but his avian eyes couldn’t conceal the envy invoked at the sight of the rest of the crew’s meals. It is with confidence and obvious self-reference that I declare him to have firmly missed the boat this week.
Ignoring the pre-fabbed pics, my choice was easy once I spotted the $4.50 stuffed French toast on the menu. I opted for strawberry over cinnamon “stuffing” and completed the ensemble with a couple of scrambled eggs ($2) and sides of home fries ($2) and wild lox ($3). The eggs and lox were both serviceable and the potatoes warrant their own discussion but the real highlight here was the French toast.
Theresa’s fabulous fe-mulleted cooks liberally distributed layers of cream cheese and sweet strawberry confection between slices of sesame-seed encrusted bread. Then, in a stroke of gourmet genius, they eschewed tradition and pressed the entire package in a panini machine, grilling it to a crispy perfection. Topped with powdered sugar and supplementary syrup, Theresa’s take on French toast is a true testament to the capability of lesbian collaborative cookery. Kudos.
Junior was trepidatious but also ultimately unable to resist the exotic allure of the fruit-filled French toast. Despite being “pretty sure” he was pleased with the dish, he found himself somewhat out of his comfort zone and at times looked like he needed someone to throw him a life preserver or, at the very least, a set of stylish waterwings.
The real talking point amongst the crew was the home-fries. These taters were unlike no others the Armada had absorbed in the past and they sparked a rather heated debate. Instead of the conventional crispy, deep-fried and lightly salted polyhedral potatoes, we were presented with a slippery, sepia, spud stew. The Dagobah of dining, if you will.Despite initial reservations, I found that the deeper I delved into the starchy Satiation Swampland, the more enamoured I grew of its idiosyncrasies. Similar to Atreyu’s doomed horse, Artax, in the Neverending Story’s Swamp of Sadness, I was likewise powerless to resist the myriad of fresh herbs, onions and entire baked garlic cloves. Struggling at first, I gradually sunk deeper and deeper into the mouthwatering mire until it won me over and I was consumed by it. Falkor!!!
Sadly, my bland band of breakfast reviewers did not share my sentiment (or my detailed knowledge of that awesome movie). They just couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept of slimy potatoes and I think it really hurt their overall opinions of their meals.
Regardless, I still feel comfortable recommending Theresa’s sheerly for their transcendent French toast, smiling staff and their unique approach to a universal meal. If you find yourself confused by all the unbridled cooperating, just remember, there’s no “I” in team, but there is one in co-operative so get up and pour that damned coffee yourself.
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