Brunch at Le Petit Déjeuner: Toronto
As I limped along King East, my friend’s voice echoed in my mind.
“Get the waffles, order extra waffles.”
I’d been craving brunch at Le Petit Déjeuner since I heard about their famous Belgian out-of-this-world-amazing waffles and I wasn’t going to let a little foot injury stop me.
Part-diner, part-bistro, this iconic restaurant has been serving up plates of self-described Belgian-Canadian comfort food seven days a week for the past ten years. There is always a line, always. Last Saturday, I dragged Adam out of bed early with the hopes of having a short wait, and as luck would have it, we got a table right away.
The booths are covered in shiny green pleather, an old cigarette dispenser hangs on the brick wall amongst antique street-signs and photographs and festival flags hang from the high ceiling. The clientele is as eclectic as the decor — hipsters, senior citizens and families cram into the snug restaurant as pleasant servers scurry around.
Coffee came immediately, black for Adam, a piping hot cappuccino for me. The beet juice I ordered took it’s sweet time getting to the table but the earthy beet with ginger and apple juice made up for it, and is just one of the house-made juices available daily.
When the food arrived I was happy to see those famous Belgian waffles arranged into a fluffy lean-to on my plate, not underneath my sole egg Benedict.
The hollandaise was creamy and lemony and the bacon abundant. The accompanying coleslaw was fresh and very un-slaw like in the best possible way — the crisp green apple and lightly pickled cucumber were rustically chopped and topped with just the right amount of creamy paprika mayo dressing.
The waffles were…perfect.
Light and airy, crispy but soft on the inside and the perfect balance of sweet and savoury.
Adam’s Croque Monsieur came with the slaw and a thin and cripsy potato rosti — the sandwich’s thickly sliced bread housed thick layers of ham and swiss cheese with dijon mustard and gratin.
When we left, the line was stretching down the block, and my aching foot (and full belly) thanked me all the way home for getting out of bed on a Saturday morning.
The early girl gets the waffle.