It may seem strange, I know.  A quest for the best eggs benedict in Toronto you say?  How narrow and subjective!  Precisely why I’ve decided to document my findings.  I’m not the first person, nor will I be the last to take on this quest.  Back in the day (it was only 2010 but that’s longer than most laptops survive these days) the Toronto Star released their review on a Benediction for Eggs detailing what makes or breaks a great eggs benny (just a side note, I’m very proud of that line-definite knee slapper for sure).  Toronto.com released an article in 2012 naming 3 of the best restaurants to find eggs benny.  In 2013, She Does the City author Haley Cullingham, wrote an article in celebration of National Eggs Benedict Day (Did you know there was a Nation Eggs Benedict Day?  Going in the calendar!  Repeat annually).  One of my favourite blogs, BlogTO has already done some research of their own and detailed the results of their findings in a nicely written article on The Best Eggs Benedict in Toronto.  And more recently, The Eggs Benedict Tour is broadening their scope to include not just Toronto locations, but restaurants in Alberta for example.  It’s plain to see this is not a new concept, so why do what’s already been done?  Why indulge?

First, let me tell you a bit about myself.  Up until very recently (and by recently I mean within the past year) I abhorred any eggs that were not boiled, over hard, or scrambled.  I absolutely, positively despised yolk that was not cooked through completely.  It was slimy, gooey, downright sticky and gross.  I refused to eat it as a child, and would much rather eat off the table than suffer the yolky residue left smeared on my plate after my sister had kindly attempted to spare me by gobbling up the egg that was oozing yellow goo.  I repaid her in kind by eating her bean sprouts which she loathed with all of her being (and still does-you’ll not be reading a blog about how her disgust for bean sprouts has miraculously changed).  Some people hate mushrooms (they have creepy faces, come on admit it), some people can’t stand preserved Chinese vegetables from a can, and I would not go near runny, soft, mushy or otherwise less than solid yolk.

Until one day, the inconceivable occurred (obviously not that inconceivable because here we are no?).

I found myself at a Cora’s, and after receiving my order of eggs benedict (over hard of course) I noticed immediately after my knife came in contact with the egg, that it was most definitely not hard.  Crestfallen, I stared at the atrocity before me, and listened uncomfortably to the sounds of my stomach as it squealed a symphony of “I’m hungry!  Make me a sandwich!  Feed me!” I looked, forlorn at my friend seated across from me, and he suggested the impossible, “Just eat it.”

I resisted the urge to throw an egg in his face and scream irrationally “NO YOU EAT IT!” which he would have done in the blink of an eye, and glanced about the crowded restaurant.  I noted the raised and disgruntled voices of the customers seated behind me who still had not received their orders after waiting a bajillion years, and the sweat beaded foreheads of the servers as they ran about frantically like racoons crossing the 401.  *sigh*  The voice of my mother echoed in my mind from my childhood, “picky eaters starve.”  I’m going to have to eat this abomination.

Two things happened.  One.  I was surprised to find that runny yolk (when in combination with bread and smoked salmon) wasn’t nearly as retched as I remembered from 1986.  In fact, it was mind blowing!  My reaction was similar if not more dramatic than this skit by Aziz Ansari during his Buried Alive tour (on Netflix for your viewing pleasure).  Two.  I inhaled it so quickly I choked and almost died on the floor of a Cora’s restaurant.  No, not really.  But I most definitely inhaled it at record speed to put into question whether or not I actually chewed.

So I then found myself wanting to try different variations of eggs benedict, which then led to different restaurants.  Everyone has their favourite go-to spot for a specific dish.  I however, do not.  I don’t have a favourite restaurant.  I don’t have a favourite dish.  I don’t even have a favourite food in general.  But I do love to eat.

This is my first attempt at narrowing down a couple favourites:

  • favourite eggs benedict
  • favourite restaurant that serves eggs benedict

Chasing Benny is written in the form of a narrative, more specifically, a Hero’s Journey.  But after much discussion and brainstorming, Sully and I settled on the word Quest, preferring it over Journey.  Has a better ring to it if you ask me.  A rating system has yet to be determined despite already providing a rating in the first post (note that it is a temporary one) and will be up for discussion.  The thoughts, musings and ideas are my own unless otherwise quoted and referenced by me.  As a reader you may agree or disagree with my findings which is within your right.

I love to eat, it’s summer, and I’m injured.

Here I come Benny, and I’m hungry.


2 thoughts on “About

    • First off, it’s summer I know, but check your spelling for Pete’s sake teacher! Second, if I ever catch you coming toward me with any yellow substance resembling yolk I will end you!


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