Now I run because it means I can get the endorphins to flow. And keep eating out with good food. My reward after a race is breakfast, and my favoured meal at these times is steak and eggs. I believe this would be more suited for someone who'd just done an intense weights session, to restock on protein. But whatever. I run. I eat.
The race was very enjoyable. I enjoyed the view over the Juan De Fuca on Dallas Road. I loved the cheering crowds and the percussive groups playing along the streets. I got a buzz from the smiling faces around me. I also apologise to the lady who tried to engage in conversation around the nine-kilometre mark. I was a zone, but my grunt was hardly the proper reply to your encouragement. I ran in the sort of time I expected, with no tweaks or aches. I got my photo taken by the talented Kirsten James. Talented, as she made me look good.
In short, I had a good time, and the run really does show off Victoria's good points, in the people and in the course.
I had booked up a sixteen seater table at Vista 18 in Chateau Victoria. I have to give them respect for accommodating not only a last minute change to get that big a group, but also the way we kind of filtered in over time. I was hanging with friends, some of who had run the race, and some of whom are part of my breakfast crew. A bunch of people I hang out with on a basis that sometimes never quite often enough.
Vista 18 is on the 18th floor and has great views across the city, overlooking the harbour, the Empress, along Dallas Road and then back out towards Mount Tolmie. I feel like I must have written about the location before, but I haven't. It's probably the best view in Victoria, both during the day, and at night. I've had good drinks up there before on more than one birthday. The dinner menu isn't the greatest, for value or portion sizes, but as a lounge venue it works well.
The breakfast is solid. The steak was cooked medium-rare to perfection. That browned savoury flavour on the outside from the Maillard reactions. And the pinkish, rare flesh in the centre. I love it when I can see the different stages in how meat cooks through... the graduations of protein denaturing, the reaction of the myosin breaking down on the outside, but keeping it firm in the middle. The strands of the muscle fibres being clearly seen on the surface, but turning into a purplish, slightly shiny mass in the middle. The science of cooking can make food even tastier.
I got my eggs soft-poached, so the yolks could break and I had a rich, yellow sauce on my steak. It mingled into the thin sliced sauteed potatoes too. The eggs, I think, are cooked in cellophane, as they had an odd folded shape in the whites, which I am told is a sign that they've been done this way, rather than individually cracked into a bubbling pan. I am pretty sure I couldn't tell the difference in the flavour between the two methods though.
The meal was completed with two thick slices of crusty sourdough and a puck-sized mushroom cap. This had been grilled to the point it was weeping its juice, making it an excellent counter-point to the eggs. There was as much coffee as I could drink (four cups, before I cried uncle), poured generously by Sherry, our busy server. The only misstep in the meal, for me at least, was getting our bills and getting out of there. This took a bit longer than I expected, but they were doing a fine trade, and it's not like the surroundings were a hardship to stare at.
I heard good reports on the pancakes too, and the Mount Baker breakfast got served with a slice of ham so thick, it that must have been one fat porker it came from. The breakfast crosswich featured a half case of eggs barely contained in a super-sized croissant. No human could possibly get their mouth around the two sides, or keep all the contents lodged inside.
I would go back again for breakfast, or for evening drinks.
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