Zak’s description of brunch was fairly accurate. There were many more examples of ravenous individuals than he listed. (Like the woman who grabbed a baguette out of a display, broke it in half, and piled it on her already heaping plate. Or the woman who filled two coffee mugs from her table with syrup from the buffet and then took them back to the table.) But it was also an absolutely lovely morning with my dear family and fabulous food.
After lunch we let the day slip away at the pool. The girls just had a blast and it continues to amaze me how well they get along. They played one made-up game after another until they were wilted raisins, at which point we headed back to the room to get ready for dinner.
As we approached our chosen dinner spot, we realized it was the Canadian version of Dick’s Last Resort. So we kept walking. We strolled through the quiet downtown area on Easter evening, obviously finding all the restaurants and shops closed. We figured we were defeated and built up inner esteem to fight off any rudeness at Crabby Joe’s, but then stumbled across B @ the Museum. It was open, had a beer list of complete unknowns to us, and had a handful of other diners and drinkers on Easter night. I can’t believe our good luck in finding this gem.
Zoe promised to blog about all the hipster characteristics of the establishment, so I’ll leave that to her. But I will add that it was the kind of place that when a patron left everyone gathered around for a group hug.
Zak and I ordered local IPAs and the girls had a treat of Sprite. (Not all that common when we travel, but these are two kids who didn’t eat a morsel of Easter candy today.) Ellie immediately found the free range chicken tenders with honey from local bees and knew she was set for dinner. Zoe, Zak, and I went with the shared plate concept and indulged in Caesar salads, duck mac and cheese, and, most notably, wild boar poutine. Yep, we are in Canada. I took one bite of the poutine and muttered something about this being the best thing I have ever eaten. Ellie looked up from her chicken and asked, “Mom, are you crying?” I wasn’t, but I could of been. It was that good.
We finished our meal and, like every other place we’ve had to pay in Canada, we were handed a handheld devise to swipe our own credit card, add tip into the machine, sign, and hand back. Very different than a server taking your credit card away from the table. We’ve figured it out though.
After heading back to the room, we are all tucked in bed, ready for a 7 hour drive home tomorrow. But, first, we’ll stop at Tim Horton’s in honor of our favorite Canadian, Denise!!