October 31 2009
Thistle Curling Club
280 Burnell Street
Hours of operation: They did not post them!
Breakfast Special - $7.19 with tax & coffee
The Thistle used to be on Minto street but is now sitting across from the Grey Goose station on Burnell, in what used to be the Valour Road Curling Club.
The inside smells just like a curling club should – a mixture of desperation and urinal pucks.
That suggested that their patrons were exclusively regulars who knew better. The cook was quite nice, in fact. When we asked for a menu he simply inquired “What do you want? I can make you an omelette.” We asked about Eggs Benedict, he said “No, I said omelette.” Okay.
We got a breakfast special with bacon and coffee, and he called out our names individually when the orders were up.
Everything was self-serve – cutlery, coffee, jams… it was a breakfast of inches. The coffee made Leif sob a bit, it was so weak. The hashbrowns were appalling - the kind you can buy at the corner store, itty-bitty and deep fried. McCain brand maybe. The bacon was alright, same as the toast and eggs, but the real tragedy was the omelette that Chantal got. It was coated in a thick layer of cheese slices, forming an indigestible barrier to the eggs. She powered through it, thanks to her secret stash of Frank’s hot sauce. The Louisiana Hot sauce they provided just wasn’t going to cut it.
The tragedy of an omelette
The omelette corner with Chantal Guénette
Thistle Curling Club: Bacon,
mushroom & cheese omelette
Bouquet: The mushrooms were fresh, not canned, and the bacon was real –not that you find a lot of fake bacon around restaurants, I’m just saying. Surprisingly, they had hot sauce. When we inquired as to whether or not they had any, they asked if we wanted hot sauce, or *really* hot sauce. Naturally, we wanted the *really* hot sauce and were given Louisiana Hot Sauce in a squeeze bottle. Not bad.
Boeuf: I got an omelette for breakfast. ONLY an omelette. No hashbrowns, and if I hadn’t reminded them that they asked me when I ordered what kind of toast I wanted, they never would have given me my rye toast. Lastly and most frightening of all was the processed cheese bubbling on top -not *inside* as is customary- of the omelette. I have no words to describe how I felt when I saw it and knew that I had to eat it.
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This is our third curling club breakfast, and they all seem to be catering to a crowd in their 50’s who accept plastic cheese as something that belongs on their plate and who have known the cooks for decades. They turn off younger diners, but at least the curling is good.
