Maybe it’s homesickness, maybe it’s nostalgia, or maybe I’m just craving some fresh seafood, but damn you, Nova Scotia, you and your salty breezes are in my blood.
I haven’t done a review of Starving Artist even though I’ve been there many times, but to be honest, I know you’re all sick of hearing me talk about my love for Eggs Benedict. So for now, just a snappy paragraph or two to save face and make you wish it was Sunday again.
Starving Artist has three locations in Toronto: The original is at Landsdowne just above Bloor and blocked all the time; the College Street location is equally as cool, small, and busy, while their newest location on St.Clair West boasts a shiny new (and larger) space for hungry brunch-goers. They only sell waffle-based dishes and espresso. What else does one need?
On Saturday, my little sister Maggie who was visiting and her best friend Julia decided to meet at the College Street concession for waffles before a day of shopping. We waited in line for 40-minutes (or, I should say brunch-hero-forever Julia waited in line while the Peyton sisters slogged west via streetcar), but it was totally worth it. The Waffle Benny ($10) — Two delightfully buttery mini-waffles, almost-candied-sweet bacon, and poached eggs smothered in hollandaise (there was actually enough).
We all ordered it. We all loved it. Brunch perfection. Enough said.
When unique food, good service, and great company come together, it’s going to be a good night — DaiLo delivers effortlessly.
This quasi-Cantonese-European place sits amongst a trifecta of delicious hotspots on College Street between La Carnita and Bar Raval on the corner of Palmerston. Last week, my friend Erin and I decided to take a chance on getting a table at this place once we decided standing around a barrel at Bar Raval was just too tiring, no matter how good the food and drinks are.
This is utterly and truly a first world problem. But it happens, I just can’t help myself.
I hate-hate-hate when someone order’s something more delicious than me at a restaurant — order envy strikes when I least expect it.
A week after I started my new job, I was standing in the grocery line getting increasingly annoyed by slow people at the self-checkout when it hit me:
“I forgot my blogiversary,” I said aloud.
As I limped along King East, my friend’s voice echoed in my mind.
“Get the waffles, order extra waffles.”