About A Stepdad

Hilltop Café Diner.  Fraser Highway.  Langley.

I realized I made a big mistake, today.

It didn’t occur to me until I finished writing about the restaurant but once it hit me, there was no going back.

I was loving visiting some of the hidden gems of Langley but many of the gems I’ve visited have been the same type of restaurant.   Family-run.  Old fashioned diners.  Simple but delicious fare.

Without realizing, I’d fallen into a rut.

My bad.

Tomorrow I’ll do something different, something a little more out of my comfort zone.  Until then, a quick look at where I went today.

The Hilltop café, a classic diner.

See ‘classic diner’ again!  Doh!

The Hilltop is located right on the Fraser highway, heading southeast towards Aldergrove.  It was monsooning outside so bad that I nearly drove right by the restaurant but I did my best Vancouverite sudden and unexpected right turn and hurtled into the parking lot.  I got out and rushed to the entrance but by the time I reached the door, I was drenched.

I stepped inside, and as I wrung myself out, there on my right was a wall of pictures of people eating the Everest Burger.  Now, this isn’t a burger for the faint of heart, it’s a massive triple patty meal that, after yesterday, I knew I couldn’t eat, not this time, not with this damn cold.

So I shrugged off the last droplets of water and went into the restaurant proper.  It was exactly how a diner should be.  A chalkboard menu above the cooking window.  Pictures of old cars in the far corner.  Fresh pies in a display case on the counter.

Now this isn’t one of those places you have to dress up for.  This is like coming downstairs to your mom’s kitchen.  Baseball caps, ok.   Dirty jeans (that was me), no judgment.  T-shirts and sweats, come on in, you’re family.

I took a seat and ordered something simple.  Eggs.  Farmer sausage.  Fried potatoes.  Coffee.  It arrived so fast, I had only just loaded up my laptop and started to write.  It was decent food, well-cooked but nothing special.

What was special was the service.  Oh, how this is becoming more and more important to me.  It was fast, attentive and friendly.  It’s the type of place where the owner sits with a group of friends, chatting.  It’s the type of place where I am called love.  Or hon.   It’s the type of place where my coffee cup is never less than ½ full.  Like Cheers, this is a place where everyone will know your name.

You know what, I like these kind of places.  I like decent food for a decent price and I like being called Hon.  It’s like all the diners you see in the movies, especially the movie called Diner.  It’s like the ones you see in sitcoms where friends met but never eat.

Now, as I sat there eating my breakfast, someone came in and ordered the Everest Burger.  This actually looks larger in person and it took three people to eat the damn thing but their pictures were duly taken and the photo soon to be posted on the wall.  (This is their picture of the burger as mine was terrible but it’s pretty accurate.)

Say what you want about flash and fancy food, sometimes a good place to eat is where you feel like it’s home and you’re treated like family (except here, you don’t have to do the dishes.)

Tomorrow, though, a new adventure.

Estrella’s.  200^th st.  Langley.

If I hadn’t heard about this place, I never would have found it.  Sandwiched between a muffler store and the appropriately named Industrial avenue, it’s not a location I would have expected to find an authentic Montreal Deli and café but if it can survive here, there must be something to it.

Since I spent most of the day still sick, I didn’t get out for lunch until 3.  But that meant I had the place more or less to myself.  From the outside, it’s a simple café.  No neon lights.  No fancy stained glass.  No twisted cutlery above the door.

Inside, it was equally unremarkable with simple but clean chairs and tables, and a wall set aside for the owner’s pictures.  Once again, here was someone proud of their business, my favourite picture being him holding up a meat-filled sandwich that was so huge, it was about the size of his head.

An exaggeration, surely.

Right?

Anyway, I shuffled up to the counter and ordered two things that one should always try at a good Montreal deli.  Montreal Meat and a side order of poutine.

Now what is poutine?  If you showed a picture of it to your doctor, he would reach inside his desk drawer, pull out a gun and hand it to you, saying, “if you want to kill yourself, you stupid m*therf*cker, you may as well do it right.”  At least that’s what my doctor would say.  It’s basically fries and squeaky cheese curds smothered in thick gravy.   So very, very good when done right.  So hideous when done wrong (hello, DQ, I’m talking to you.)

But that’s what I ordered.  Artery-hardening poutine and a the ‘Canadian’, a large portion of Montreal smoked beef brisket stacked and I do mean STACKED on light Rye with Dijon mustard, and a kosher pickle.

First off, the kosher pickle was fantastic.  Best pickle ever.  Try one.  It’s almost a meal itself.

Next, the poutine was exactly what the cold needed.  The fries were perfectly done, the gravy seasoned with peppercorn and the cheese curds authentically curdy and cheesy.  So good.  The sandwich, though, well, look at the picture.  It was freaking huge!

I honestly don’t think I’ve even seen so much meat on a sandwich.  Ever.  Now, I’m a meaty guy, (some say fat but I say meaty, dammit), and that was too much even for me.  Had I gone with just the sandwich, I may have been fine but with the poutine and pickle, I simply could not eat the whole sandwich.

But taste-wise, the rye and Dijon and smoked montreal beef brisket was fantastic.  Maybe the prefect sandwich.

So to answer the question, is there such a thing as too much meat?   No but you better be prepared to take half of it home.

Says a lot, though, that when they give you a sandwich, they REALLY give you a meal.  Next time I’ll know.

So if you’re on the hunt for an authentic deli, the type you would see in say, Montreal, or NY, then give this place a try.  Everything here is homemade as well and if you like to be full, I mean, stuffed full, then dare to try the Canadian.

Choochoos.  Langley Village.

Still feeling sick.  A stupid cold.  So where does someone go when they really want to be in bed and curled up under the warm covers?  The answer.  A place that serves cheesecake, the well-known cure for any cold.

I chose Choochoos in the Langley Village based on the fact they sell home-made desserts.  How do I know this?  A recommendation from months and months ago.  It’s one of the local places I’ve kept meaning to visit so why not now, why not tonight?

The first interesting thing I noticed when I opened the door is that they have a foyer.  It’s filled with antique memorabilia and furniture, setting the stage for what I would find inside.  When I went into the actual restaurant, I saw a brightly lit display case filled with desserts, (cupcakes, pies, cheesecakes, chocolate cakes), and, beside it, a sign that said, “Dare to be Different.  Eat Dessert First.”

Not a bad thing to see when I’ve come in just for dessert.

A super friendly hostess led me to a table by the window, past the flying snoopy hanging from the ceiling, past the booths filled with more antique memorabilia, past the strange giraffe.   Now, what exactly constitutes ‘super-friendly’?  Well, she smiled, which is always nice, and she asked about my day, which is always polite but when she asked what brought me here and I said, Dessert, she told me, with pride, that they have great desserts here, really great desserts, all homemade, and then she told me which were her favourites. See, the thing is, she was excited to talk about the menu.  She was genuinely proud of what they had to offer.

I liked that.

I liked that a lot!

This also became evident when they brought out, not a menu, but a whole dessert tray and then went on to explain each and every selection.  So many good things to choose from but I went with the banana split cheesecake.

It was delightful.  Light and full of flavour, not a heavy, thick cheesecake.  Plus, they had that little extra that you all by now know I like, they wrote Choochoos on the plate is chocolate sauce.  It was a good sized helping with fresh graham crumbs on the bottom and proper whipped cream.  So good to taste, so very bad for my diet.

Afterwards, while paying for the bill, the hostess was excited to tell me that 99% of all the food they create is homemade.  Being me, I had to ask.  “What’s the other 1%?”  She said they were working on homemade salad dressing and should have it up and running by next week.  She told me to ask her about it when I came back, maybe for supper next time or lunch or, hey, ‘we have a great breakfast menu, too.’

Now, how can you dislike a place like that?

You can’t.

I’d be back.

I’d bring friends.

I’d recommend it to anyone, especially if you’re looking for a great dessert and owners who take great pride in what they produce.

Wendel’s Books.  Fort Langley.  Glover and Mavis

It was a cold, grey, wet day out here in the Fraser Valley.  So I needed a place to pick me up.  A magical place.  I think I knew just where to go.

Fort Langley Village is such a place, a small strip of quaint historic buildings housing everything from boutique shops to a host of antique stores and a wide variety of places to eat.  It’s worth a visit, no matter what your taste is in shopping or food.  There is something for everyone.

However, I came for the coffee and a chance to experience two of my most favourite things: Eating and reading.  In other words, a café and bookstore all under the same roof.

Wendel’s is situated across the road from the CN Historical site in an old wooden building.  It’s easy to find.  Trust me.  It’s a big building with plenty of signage.

There weren’t a lot of people on the street but outside the cafe, even in the rain, people sat at the plastic tables wearing rain-gear.  They huddled near each other, warm drinks in hand.  It’s a good sign.  It shows either a local favourite or a hangout for rain-loving loony-toons.

Inside, it was dark and smelled of coffee and toasted bread.  It was loud and full.  Crowded even.  The bookstore is off to the left.   The café to the right.  The chairs and tables in the cafe are scuffed and old looking.  The paint around the window sills was chipped.  The floor looked worn and beaten up.

As it should be.

This is not a new Starbucks.  This is an old-school coffee shop and bookstore.

I looked at the menu written in chalk on a blackboard and made my choice.  A BLT with sourdough bread, salad with homemade creamy, honey mustard dressing.  Americano coffee.

Others ordered home-made soup.  A seated couple were sharing what looked like a tiramisu and discussing the Hunger Games.   Lots of choices for such a small place.  Healthy choices, too.    Or desserts.

I sat on a creaking bar stool at the window and ate.  My sandwich was delicious.  Fresh tomatoes.  Crisp lettuce.  Back bacon.  Light splash of mayo.  My coffee was perfect, strong and smooth.  My salad, well, saladie but with the dressing, quite yummy.  Good food for a good price.

But it’s really a place to go for the buzz, the atmosphere, the antique feeling, a comfortable place to sit and talk (or in my case, write.)   It’s a place to watch the trains go by.  It’s a place to buy a book and sit and read it.

Now it may be too claustrophobic for some, the tables are so close together, expect to bump elbows or chair backs with your neighbour but if you’re looking for an experience, something you won’t get in a Starbucks, a small-town, family friendly feel, check this place out.

Then go for a walk around the village and the Fort.  It’s a perfect way to spend an afternoon, even in the rain.

I was sick today, so this review is from yesterday.  Saturday.

Red Robin.  Langley.  Willowbrook Mall.

There are a lot of great restaurants run by entrepreneurs and many more struggling to survive for various reasons.  But there are also quite a few chains and franchises.  Like any place, some do well, some don’t.  Red Robin, near where I live, always seems to be busy.

So why?

When you walk in, it’s bright, with lots of natural light, and it’s spacious, with tables not too crowded together and good-sized booths.  Posters hang on the walls, of movies or hip locations, and familiar hits play on sound system, loud enough to be heard but not loud enough to drown out conversation.

I arrived just at the end of the lunch rush so I was seated quickly even though the restaurant was still full.  I chose the bar area.  Easy to keep an eye on the people coming and going, easier for me to see who are their clients.

Because I’m not feeling well, I order something simple.  Burger.  Fries.  Coffee.  Water.  The waitress is young, full of energy and polite.  The food arrives quickly, is hot and well cooked.  It’s delicious.  Not OMGYHTTT delicious but it gets the job done.

But it’s nothing special.  Good food at a good price.

So why is this place filled, even after the lunch rush?

The menu is fine and has lots of comfort food.  That’s why I chose it.  A few safe pastas, good old fashioned burgers, big milk shakes, plenty of appys, beer and other alcoholic beverages if you want them.  But so what?  Why is this place full?

As I look around, I realize they have solidly hit their target market.  Is it a place where you might go with friends for a quick bite after shopping or seeing a movie?  Sure.  But that’s the location speaking.  What really struck me was the number of kids.

This is a place you can take the kids and still have a good time as an adult.  There’s plenty for the kids to eat, the corporate mascot is a funny looking chicken carrying a burger (which the kids all climbed over) and no one cares if they make a lot of noise or mess things up a bit.  There’s pictures for the kids to color, they have their own menu, and even a birthday club they can join.

Now, I’m not saying this is all new and earthshattering or that they have live unicorns or rainbows shining out of the chicken’s butt, but what I am saying is that they know what they are doing.

Can you imagine taking kids to the tapa bar?  Or the Twisted Fork?  Or the Four Seasons?  Good food but not really a kid place, and, on the other end of the spectrum, a place like Chuck E Cheese,  it’s kid heaven but if the parents don’t go home and take a fist full of aspirin, I’d be surprised.

It’s something I need to remember when choosing a place to eat.  It doesn’t have to be hip or uber-cool or even have OMGYHTTT food, but it has to have a niche and, in this case, that niche is huge: A family-friendly restaurant that’s an affordable place to eat.

So does the Robin lay an egg?  Nope.  It’s not the pretties bird out there, not the sexiest, not even the smartest but it knows how to get the worm – in this case, a table for 4 please, and two kids menus.

Or recommendations matter.

The Twisted Fork.  Downtown Vancouver.  Granville.

Busy, bustling, with a huge twisted wooden fork over the window, it was my friend, Anita’s choice for a place to eat dessert and it seemed very promising.  Inside, it was warm and smelled of lillies and seared beef.  Nearly all the tables were full of animated people chatting with each other, with waitresses hustling between tables taking orders, smiling and delivering food.

It seemed like a happening place with pillows on the benches and flickering candles.

Atmosphere makes a difference.

We were seated quickly, I adjusted the pillows and we were given menus on clipboards with a twisted fork as the clip.

Attention to details makes a difference.

Not just a sleek menu but one of a clipboard and not just a clipboard but one fashioned with a funny looking fork.  Cool.  And pillows.  In case I drink too much and need to snooze.

But was it all flash and no bang?  All sizzle and no steak?

When the waitress came to take our order she was charming, outgoing and eager.  Like we were old friends.  Like she would treat us right.  Like it mattered that we had a good time.

Service makes a difference.

We ordered and ate a vanilla crème brulee and a dark chocolate terrine (frozen dark chocolate mousse layered with raspberry sorbet and raspberry coulis.)  Both came very well presented, but the terrine stood out, the slices displayed like a beautiful building, one slice the tower, the other the entrance with sorbet like a red dome.  It was all surrounded by a few fresh raspberries, spots of raspberry drizzle (coulis)  and snow drifts of powdered sugar.  But not just powdered sugar cause that’s not how these guys roll, yo.  There was an outline of a twisted fork in the powder.

Details again.  Details.

The brulee was lovely but the dark chocolate terrine, OMGYHTTT (Oh MY God, You Have To Try This) good.   A perfect mix of sweet and tart, of dark chocolate and frozen sorbetie-goodness.  It took all my good upbringing to share it, let me tell you.  It was to die-for.  Or at least kill-for.

I left feeling like this was it, this was the type of place people have to check out.  They have managed to put everything together for a great dining or dessert experience.

And an experience is more than just good food.  It’s that OMGYHTTT moment.  It’s the smells and sounds.  It’s being treated like I look like Brad Pitt.  It’s the small details like the twisted fork clip and the outline in the powdered sugar.  It’s going that extra distance and understanding what will make people want to come back.

Now, it’s not cheap.  Two desserts and a coffee cost as much as the meal at the tapas bar.  But, if you have the money to spare, you’re not just getting good food but something to talk about.

First New Adventure

Scarlet Tapas Lounge.  Downtown Vancouver.  Granville.

Found?  On-line search.  Effective website.  Hundreds of other restaurants nearby but a tapas bar seemed like a good choice.  A variety of foods.  A variety of flavours.  Not too expensive.  A chance to try a few new dishes.

I was excited.

I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked in.  It was a long, narrow space, most high-seated tables across from the expansive bar, a reddish glow to the lighting and an old movie playing on the bar TVs and projected onto the plaster walls.  A retro look.  I almost expected to see a cloud of cigarette smoke hanging from the ceiling and Don Draper sitting at a table, lost in thought over his latest account or a busty red hair leaning on the bar, looking for a light.

But it was nearly empty of people. The good news, I was seated right away.

The menu was simple and uncluttered.  Gord Ramsey would have approved.   A good selection of appys, a few entrees and salads, and a couple of desert choices.

I ended up sampling 4 appy dishes.  Now, being tapas, they arrived when they arrived.  I had no problems with this, especially since the waitress warned me ahead of time.  So, in no particular order…

Chilean Crab Cakes with roasted corn salsa, avocado crème fresh and chili oil drizzle.  Very tasty.  The salsa added a lovely sweetness to them and the chili oil a little bit of heat.  Nothing too naughty.

Prawn Spring rolls with house dipping sauce.  Delicate and light.  Crispy and crunchy.  Well cooked, well wrapped and well presented. 

Spicy Green Beans with chili soy sesame glaze and red pepper.  My healthy choice.  A huge plate-o-beans.  Crisp.  Fresh.  Easy to wave around if you’re trying to make a point.  Very green.  Very yummy.

Tuna Sliders, seared tuna on a toasted bun, wasabi aioli and daikon.  This was definitely and delightfully out of my comfort zone.  Now, tuna I knew.  A toasted bun I have eaten but wasabi aioli, that could blow my head off if they weren’t careful and wtf is daikon?   (Well apparently it’s a radish the Japanese love to use in their cooking.)   Again the dish was well presented, the tuna fantastic and the wasabi aioli and daikon made it mildly hot but nowhere near deadly.  Surprisingly good.  Not something I’d make at home.

The meal, due to the 2-1 appy prices and no drinks, was $25.   A great price for that food.   No, seriously, that’s Denny’s prices for 2 to eat and this was a far niftier little experience.  The food was good, the presentation lovely, and I got to try some new things.  As well, it was quiet and I could chat with my companion without yelling.  Hell, I could even make eye contact with the waiter or bartender anytime I wanted.

However, here’s the thing.  A place like this, it shouldn’t be quiet.  This should be a loud, happening place with people talking to each other, drinks in hand, laughing, smiling, joking, the room filled with noise and energy and hustle and bustle.  The food was decent and the price excellent but none of the appys were OMGYHTTT (Oh My God You Have To Try This!)  The atmosphere, while watching Marilyn Monroe on the plaster beside my table was different, it wasn’t amazing.  Compare this to a friend of mine who emailed me about a dish and said, “It was the best thing I’ve ever put into my mouth.”  I couldn’t email back and say the same thing.

A good meal for the price.  I really believe that.  But I think they need to be brilliant at something.  The experience, the thing you would phone a friend about, is missing.   I think the market they are shooting for, the young, hip drinking crowd was lined up across the street.

It makes me sad to think that a place that served good food for a good price would be so empty but I guess it shows you, in a market like downtown Vancouver with a hundred restaurants nearby, you have to be special in some way.

Thanks to Anita who joined me on this adventure.

I tried a few new things tonight.  Expect a review tomorrow.  My first. There may be pictures.  None of them too rude.

In the meantime, here is an adorable review that went viral.  Most reviewers seem to equate being mean and hyper critical to doing up a proper review – especially with franchises – as if you have to trash them, no matter how good the experience may have been.

I have to say, being mean for mean’s sake isn’t going to be my style.  

I think a part of why this review went viral is that regular folk, the average Joes of the world, just want a nice place to eat, a place where they can talk to friends or family and a place that won’t cost them the equivalent of a Las Vegas vacation. However, traditionally, mean and snarky sells. It sells to the mean and snarky people who seem to like to put down everything and anything.

The rant endeth.  Here is the review.

http://www.grandforksherald.com/event/article/id/232570/

How do you choose a restaurant?

For me, first and foremost, it’s experience.  I’ve been there before. I’ve had a good time.  I’ve had good meal there.   I want to go back.  It’s safe.  I know what I’ll be getting.  I know what it’ll cost.

That’s the reason chains do so well, I think.  Earl’s in Victoria is pretty much the same as Earl’s in Langley or Whistler.  Denny’s is pretty much Denny’ anywhere in North America.  You can get the same Boston Pizza or pasta at any location.

It’s not a bad thing.  It’s actually a very human thing.  We like the familiar. We like the comfort.

But what do you do when you want to try some place new?

How do you make the decision?

Again, I think it’s experience.  Not your own but someone else’s.  A friend’s recommendation.  A type of food you’re familiar with.  A review in the paper or on-line.

It’s like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. You know, the one that says first we need food, then shelter then TV, then sex then discount clothing stores and way, way at the top is an audi TT convertible.  Or Boxter.

Choosing a restaurant has the same hierarchy of needs.

At least mine do.

It starts with.  A need for food.

Next –  what?  What do I want?  What do I feel like?

Then – cost.

Then where?   Dine in or out?  Is it far?

And off I go.

Let me give you an example… “I feel hungry.”  “I want to eat something.”  “Quick, it’s in- between hockey periods and I have nothing to stuff into my face.”

But what?  Hmmm.  Chinese?  Greek?  Italian?  Scottish haggis?  A double-double at Timmies?

No.  Something French.  But a croissant and espresso on a side street in Paris would cost $1500 with airfare there and back, a hotel room for the night and possibly a tip for the snarky waiter.  A bit much.  So more local.  But in or out?   A fancy restaurant where I will have first find good shirt, then iron it.  A chain?  Is it food I will eat?  Chateaubriand, sure.  Pickled goat testicals.  No.

This is where I rely on recommendations or reviews, usually.

Ah, a nice bistro.  One of my foodie friends says the bison bisque is the bomb.  That should be a neat experience.

And off I go to White Spot, instead, because I know I like their burgers.

However, for the next few weeks, something totally different.

Something new.  First.  A new place.  A new food.  A new experience.

A recommendation.  A review.  A groupon (or Couvon).  A neat sign.  A crowd outside.  Whatever will give me a cool and new experience.

In other words, I’m going to get out of my routine and experience life and food a bit more.  Goat testicals? Ah WTF, let’s give it a go.

Hmmm.  More chewy than I expected.

Oh so much to love and yet…

So there’s nothing like a good old-fashioned horde of flesh-eating zombies grr, arg, nrring their way towards our heroes to create a bit of tension and drama.  Rick and Carl in the barn.  Hershel determinedly defending his home to the last shell.  Andrea being left behind and her epic fight to stay alive.   Great stuff.

Then Andrea is saved by some hooded, ninja chick leading around two armless zombies!  WTF?  I mean, very cool visual but how come the armless zombies are acting like well-trained retrievers?  No grr, arg, nrring at all. 

However, what bugged me, what really got to me, was the way poor Rick was treated.  Lori being, what, angry, ANGRY, upon learning about Shane?   Shocked, I could see.  Sad, I could see.  But angry?  At Rick?   Made no sense. 

Then, for some reason, most the group (except Hershel) turned on poor old Rick after he revealed a wonderfully cool secret that CDC dude told him way, way back.  They are all infected.  Now, did they remember all the things Rick has done?  No.  Did goofy Glenn shrug it off?  No.  If it was me, Rick shooting those guys in the bar would pretty much earned him a pass on the whole secret revelation thing.  If it was me, Rick nutting up and shooting that little zombie girl earned him a little respect.   Rick holding them together and keeping them all alive, hell, that earned him the right to shoot all the whiners here and now.

The only character who would have, should have, had a problem with that whole secret thing was Dale and he’s dead.  Maybe that’s for the best.  He would have hated how the writers let the plot lead the characters instead of the other way around. 

But again, they have left us wondering what will happen next.  Andrea and her new ninja buddy.  The looming prison not far away.  The shattered group with no plan and no hope.

I will still tune in to see what happens.