Oh Summer, as lovely as you are, I’m truly looking forward to Fall.
Summer’s last weekend is considerably warmer than any of the days leading up to it, and I plan on taking full advantage. Last night’s events consisted of a CANFAR benefit to end AIDS, a trip to 416 Snack Bar, and the Thompson Hotel rooftop (which really does have a stunning view of the city if you can get past the douchiness). Quite the random collection of places, I know. But, it’s Summer.
The trek to Dufferin and Bloor isn’t all that arduous, and I’m pleasantly surprised to find that The Three Speed is only half full in the main room upon entering. I recall what Kate had mentioned about the patio, and I make my way through the dimly lit dining room and out the backdoors. Why waste such a great day patio day? There will be enough inside time for the Green Bay game.
Excellent-the patio is completely empty. I feel as if I’m standing on the threshold of someone’s backyard. With a stone fireplace, wooden benches, a picnic table and old patio furniture that looks oddly familiar, it’s just asking to be occupied. The bench upon which I choose to seat my keister feels so nice, I’m tempted to have a lay down as I wait for Sully to arrive.
I order an Earl Grey tea, look over the menu and locate the reason for my visit 5th from the top: ‘Eggs Benedict.’ No fancy spin on the name, just the traditional title.
Several people begin trickling in, the patio gradually filling until most of the tables are occupied. 11:50. Geez, and I thought I was late! I make a note to wait until noon before I start worrying that Sully has befallen some sort of bicycle tragedy due to the lack of protective wear on his noggin (Danger Bay Sull), and promptly return to my book. The Mazerunner is so incredibly addictive, I can’t help but be drawn into the world of a post-apocalyptic Battle Royale-esque storyline. After reading non-fiction all summer, I am devouring this Lord of the Flies meets Hunger Games fast.
Frank Ocean sounds in my earbuds, and my eyes find “60% of the time, it works every time.” He’s probably lost, the blockhead.
Less than a minute later, I hang up, read a couple more chapters, down the remnants of my tea and leave.
“You’re going to have to go on without me–I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” As I begin a slow, disappointed walk back towards Dufferin, my stomach rumbles and I sigh to myself, so after waiting half an hour I’m still not going to have brunch? What the blood fire? What sort of food enthusiast* skips out? It dawns on me that I lied to Sully, which doesn’t sit well with me, so I decide to rectify the issue.
“I thought about it, and it’s not okay Sull. That was not cool, so you’re going to let me rant,” I began. It occurs to me that he may have attempted to say something, but I continued on as if he hadn’t. “I know you’re tired, that you think you might be a little sick, but I have 3 hours of sleep under my belt, I’m hungover and exhausted, but yet I still managed to get here. I know that having brunch is not the be all and end all, but–that was not cool.” I inhale deeply, realizing that I’d used up all my oxygen. “That’s all.” I feel better, now I can hang up.
“I can meet you. I’m up now.”
Oh splendid, I’m so hungry! and I begin making my way back to The Three Speed.
“What the f–k is so hard about getting an English muffin?! Why are they trying to reinvent the wheel?” It’s either the hollandaise or the bread that incites Sully the snob.
As he takes his first bite, I watch and wait. He nods his head. This is good. More nodding. Is he going to say anything? At this point his bobble head on a dashboard routine has me convinced that speaking is not in the cards today, when I hear him grunt, “Good. It’s good.” That’s all? “This, is a traditional hollandaise.” Yes, that’s all.
I dig in. Yes–this is good, so much better than last week at The Bristol. I give a mental two thumbs up to Kate. Sully’s initial disdain for the cornbread is forgotten as the yolk and hollandaise soak in and compliment each other perfectly. Glorious! It tastes glorious. Screw the English muffin! The salad is tasty as well, a little too much salad dressing for my liking, but I inhale it all all the same (do recall I’d been famished considerably longer today). Afterwards, I devour all the salad on Sully’s plate. He wasn’t going to eat it anyway, that much I’ve learned. Normally I’m not a fan of the potatoes, but The Three Speed has revived my faith in homefries. Soft and delicious. I’ve no qualms giving this a solid 4/5.
After paying for brunch, we execute the handshake and it occurs to me as I begin walking towards Dufferin that Sully hasn’t chosen the next location. I call him, “you need to choose a place Sull.” Thus far, all my picks have been amazing (aside from Bonjour Brioche–but Sully wasn’t there for that, so technically it may not count) so we’ll see how his next choice fares. Later that evening I get a text:
Until next time Benny. . .
*food enthusiast, as opposed to foodie (some people are just more sensitive than others).