Monday, December 3, 2007

AVENUE DINER (222 Davenport Rd.)

THE GUILTY PARTY: Chris, Tomas & Sarah

RATINGS:
FOOD: 4
PRICE: 2
SERVICE: 4+
AMBIANCE: 4+


ALL-DAY BREAKFAST: YES
COFFEE/ESPRESSO BAR: NO
COFFEE INCLUDED: NO
FREE REFILLS: YES
LICENSED: NO
HP SAUCE: YES
PATIO: NO
BOOTHS: NO
OPEN-KITCHEN: YES

Heema and Paul threw a shit-show of a birthday bash on friday and we all hit up Frans on College (which I was too lazy/hungover/still drunk to review but will get around to in the future) the following morning. On our way there to meet everyone, Tomas, Sarah and myself drove past the Avenue Diner, which we had never noticed prior, and said, "Tomorrow?" Guess what? It's tomorrow. On the corner of Davenport and Avenue stands what I would hazard to call the last true diner in this fair city of ours and one that's stood it's ground since 1944. This gorgeous piece of history, phallic signage and all, ranks near if not at the top of my list of any place I've ever set foot in with breakfast on my mind.

STANDARD BREAKFAST:
2 eggs
bacon, ham or sausage
homefries
toast
$7.25+tx.


THE FOOD: When I received my grub, I was surprised by the meager portions in front of me, but once my fork hit my mouth I was swept away to a land of quality over quantity. As Merrill Howard Kalin might say, "It's soooooo goood!" The bacon was on the same level as New York Café and everything else came in not far behind.
Tomas Side-Note: I like finding pieces of bacon in my potatoes. (or "hash browns", the direct quote is still under debate.)

THE PRICE: The only downfall to the entire place (next to the lack of a vintage coke machine as Tomas believed) was the price. A cher $13 in the end for the amount of food you get, but one that didn't take any convincing to justify considering the fact that everything else was nothing short of perfect.

THE SERVICE: All I could say the entire time was how much I wanted to take "grandma" home so she could fix me sandwiches and make me feel like a big boy.

THE AMBIANCE: As stated before, this is a true diner if I have ever seen one. From "grandma" yelling the orders from your table to Igor in the kitchen, to...everything really. If Norman Rockwell didn't die 30 years ago, he'd totally eat here. And then paint the place. And then eat here some more.

This joint is gold. Pure fucking gold.

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