ok, time to cut the snide sarcasm: yesterday my article on Roncesvalles Village was published. also yesterday, a man who was a constant fixture in the heart of roncesvalles, sadly passed. i feel like a total shit for writing about frivolous things and neglecting to mention the people, especially him. his name was/is tony clemens, a homeless man/blogger, on the streets since his wife died in 1999 and no family would take him in. since moving here i’ve shared some leftovers with him and referred to him as “my friend”. he seemed like such a genuine, kind man…..and luckily, you can read about his life in and around Roncesvalles Avenue from October 2006 to present at Homeless Man Speaks, penned by Philip Stern. i wish i knew about the blog before he passed and i wish i got to know him better. i guess it’s a gift to everyone who didnt get that chance to go through the archives. i’ve never cried so much for someone i barely knew. (no, not even PRINCESS DI).
first impressions (warning im pmsing):
• ew it smells like smoke in here.
• here comes the waitress i mean boobs i mean boobsattachedtoawoman i mean a waitress i mean should i touch them i mean dont stare i mean does she want us to stare i mean will those get in our food i mean?
• we place our orders and i declare im going to the washroom just to ‘inspect it’. see what i mean about pmsing? this is unfair. anyhow, i said “ew” out loud when i walked in because the smell of smoke was even stronger in there. wtf dudes*? sneaking away to smoke in the girls room? smoke+food=not appetizing. plus like, health codes and shit.
• we get our food and i forgive them for the above.
uhhh..almost.
paul had the “hail caesar eggs benedict” which was fucking fantastic, (“Clamato poached eggs a top genoa salami and an english muffin garnished with a pickle, celery worcestershire salsa”), and i had a regular old benedict which was good.
• but the latkes were weird. they tasted like someone had ashed in them or the air had just permeated my taste buds. or they had burnt the shit out of the leeks. also they seemed to have been re-heated. like premade hours (DAYS!? MONTHS?! jk) ahead and then “heated to order.” haha yuk. also they were unnecessarily large.
• the smoke smell could very well have just been leftover from whateverwaspreviouslythere. it’s clear they left in the old booths and bar area. and uhhhh walls? so maybs “just” GUT THE ENTIRE PLACE AND START THE FUCK OVER.
• in conclusion i would still go again maybe for a drink or something or the bloody looking eggs (you’re welcome) because the music was not horrible and it’s pretty close by and i saaaaiiiid the caesar eggs were good i’d just skip the latkes and bring in an air exchange unit. because that is a thing.
2.5 stars. dont give up. keep trying.
*in this case, ladies. “dude” is an asexual term everyone knows that.
went for a bike ride to high park and INEVITABLY TO THE LCBO with paul today. was pretty fucking fantastic. i love this neighbourhood and will never shut up about it!
go here if you’re in the neighbourhood! so simple and pretty and they are usually playing good music.
my only complaint is how HOT it is. maybe it’s just because we’re in the weird winter/spring transition confusion time??? but my glasses always fog up and it’s embarrassing.
it’s homey enough that i feel comfortable sitting in there by myself. which is a huge deal if you know how socially retarded i am. oh yeah, and the coffee is real good.
