Picnic Too, Downtown Victoria

My first comment to Andrea on Picnic Too was:

"better than Tim Hortons"

This was not acceptable, she said via her Twitter account:

"Saying picnic is better than Timmy's is like saying it's better than dogs*** #obvious #nocomparison"

I followed up on Twitter with:

"For the record, it was MUCH better than Timmies.  Flavour, fresh veggies, proper smooth Americano "

This passed the Andrea test. Or at least she didn't come around my apartment, knock on my door and leave a paper bag of turds on fire on the carpet outside my door.  And that is acceptance if you ask me.

I went back with my brunch crew this morning to go a for second round.   I got there early and hooked up to the WiFi, on the wooden table in the window. The inside space is small and comfortable, with a variety of low and high seating, and walls covered in a maze of wooden slats. The staff are all super pleasant.

I ordered my 'better than Timmies' breakfast of an Americano and Breakfast sandwich again.  Guess what?  It's just as good as last time.  For $8, this a bargain. The Sour Pickle may give you more for your dollar, but nothing I know is this level of quality for under $10. Tasty crisp sandwich with all the right textures and colours melting together.  The pro-tip if that you can double it for a lunch meal.

But even after that, I had buyer's envy.  The plates of full breakfast that came out smelled like home. A home where hot buttered toast and rosemary and eggs and bacon are on the breakfast table. A home where you have awoken from a deep sleep on crisp cotton sheets, and the thickest, most comfortable pillows imaginable.  Breakfast is ready, and you are just refreshed enough to function within twenty seconds of opening your eyes.  You walk to the sunny kitchen table, where everything is ready for you.

It smelled like that.  It looked like it smelled.  I assume it tasted that way as well.  The breakfast burrito was a tightly rolled mass of eggs and meat.  The red potatoes on the side of the platters had been squashed gently, spilling out their white insides into the buttery covering.  The bacon was crisp.  The yolks golden.  The congee was full of greens and 

The Empire doughnuts they sell are stuffed to the gunnels with fillings. They are not a sorry sad affair, with a squirt of fake jam into a defrosted sugary lump that has been made two thousand miles east. 

I need to go for a run again down Fort Street soon, and then go and eat at Picnic Too again.  The next time I will go beyond the sandwich.

The Sour Pickle, Downtown Victoria

Hands down the best cheap breakfast and lunch in Downtown Victoria.

It's not fancy, it's not going to serve you free range bison on top of artisan bread rolls made by refugee farmers from the Okotoks.  The eggs are eggs made from battery hens, the bread comes from huge loaves, pre-sliced on delivery, the bacon is unsmoked and simple.

That's fine.  When my BLT and coffee give me change from a ten dollar bill, that's value.  Especially when the food is fast, fresh and well prepared.  Two slices of brown bread, a thick slice of tomato, crisp lettuce bed and a couple of rashers of bacon.  Nothing to complain about there.  It's not the world's greatest BLT.  But it's a good one.

To go with it, there's a small pile of crisp fries.  Wedged shaped potato chunks with the skin, they have a crispy outside and a fluffy centre.  There's not much of a potato flavour in there, but they are also decent, and work well with the hot sauce.  The hot sauce has a fair kick to it, just for the warning.  It's not just for flavour effect.

My friends got a thick Monte Cristo sandwich which looked to be overflowing with ham and chicken. The sandwich was scoffed up with no trouble at all and a happy smile on the recipient's face.   The two egg breakfast also got approval by my friend with a lighter appetite.

The service was friendly and kept the coffee levels topped up.  They serve water in thick plastic beakers, and for some reason, cold water never tastes right to me in plastic beakers.  But I have to stay hydrated. My neighbour told me so as I left the building this morning.

The Sour Pickle is small, maybe 20 seats, and simply adorned. Shoved in between Swans and a Hairdressers, they use floor area well, and it's close enough to main areas of the town to be convenient.  They are very welcoming to children, with books and crayons for them to be entertained with.

It'll probably never win an award, or make any top hipsters lists. It will get my business again.

 

James Bay Tea House and Restaurant, James Bay

Afternoon Tea is apparently a big English Tradition.  Something I only ever had once in the UK before I moved here, at a small, 70's decorated tea room in Halifax.  I was there collecting money for charity as a student, and we decided to have an afternoon tea after the lunch rush and before the commuters set off home.  I don't recall much about it, except there were little cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off and a massive pot of strong tea.

I've had plenty of Cream Teas (which involve piling as much clotted cream and jam on to a fragile scone as possible).  I've had Scottish High Tea which involves a lot of meat before the tea and bread and is effectively a dinner-time meal.  But Afternoon tea with tea cups and petit-fours and pinky fingers crooked out is something that is a special event, not a household thing.

Now, in the space of six months, I've had two Afternoon Teas in Canada.  The expensive, but incredibly practiced one at the Empress, and the lower budget version at the James Bay Tea House.  These are two different ends of the experience.  The first is all formal, in gorgeous surroundings and everything has to be just-so.  And the price point reflects it.

The James Bay Tea House is in a wooden heritage house (or at least looks like it from the outside).  Inside, the tables have white cotton tablecloths, and a pile of condiments in the middle. The walls are adorned with a variety of china plates and pictures of the Queen, Winston Churchill, and Kate Middleton and her baby.   With a pair Union Flags to set things off to show this is meant to be BRITISH and PROUD.  If you look at older pictures of the insides, the walls used to be crammed with double the amount of Royal memorabilia, the pillars covered in horse brasses, and high shelves with commemorative tea sets.  All a bit much, and I'm glad they've toned it down.

Myself, with the lovely Brunette of my Acquaintance and a friend of ours, visited on a quieter afternoon for a natter and a catch up.  I've been told to be nice about the Tea Room.  The Brunette enjoyed herself and thought it was a very lovely place.  Our friend also enjoyed the Afternoon Tea we got served.

I'll relay what I thought as we go through.  We got two smaller afternoon teas along with a veggie burger for the Brunette.  It was served with hash browns.  They were cubed, parboiled and sauteed potatoes for those on Hash Brown Watch.  Rich, red skinned ones, perfect for that sort of treatment.

The tea room had run out of clotted cream.  So we had extra butter to go with our jam. Not quite the same thing, and a shame, as the scones and crumpet served on the lower deck of the triple layer of food were excellent.  The scones were moist and crumbly with a good helping of dried fruit inside. The crust was crunchy, but not crisp.   The second layer had some more scones, which I think were of a slightly different provenance.  They did the trick too.

On the top, we had three small petit fours: a butter tart, a square of Nanaimo bar and something lemony. The butter tart was fantastic.  Buttery, rich and sweet.  I don't like Nanaimo Bars.  The coconut base doesn't do it for me.  This didn't have much of a desiccated coconut flavour at all, so I enjoyed it.

The teapots had little-knitted cosies on them.  This didn't help me much when mine had a bad case of spout dribble.  I'm afraid the table cloth was left a lot wetter than when I sat down.  The brew was good and strong. Not Red Rose, as far as I could tell.  I'd drink it again, for sure.  We got a nice china tea cup and saucer to drink out of.  I could crook out my little finger if I wanted.  I managed to drink using the handle, rather than a paw wrapped around it.  The Brunette has been training me to be seen in polite society.

The service was okay... we had to call back for cutlery, and it was a little slower than I'd have expected for a quiet afternoon.  But there was service, and we got everything we wanted with a smile and pleasant attitude, so not really a big deal.

Overall, this is a pleasant enough spot.  It serves a decent set of food for a fair price.  You don't get the silver service of the Empress, and the view is a crossroads on Menzies Street, not the Inner Harbour.  But at 25% of the price, and a short, short work for the Empress, I'd send a visitor here if they want English style tea room without breaking the bank.

Ground Control Cafe, Downtown Victoria

I am now a digital hobo.  I've started in business for myself, and part of that will mean working in various coffee shops and wi-fi friendly cafes, as convenient places to dock up between meetings.  Or to have meetings in.  Expect this blog to be covering convenient lunch spots for the mobile knowledge worker over the coming weeks.

The Ground Control Cafe resides on the first floor of Fort Tectoria, ViaTec's new space for IT entrepreneurs and go-getters.  ViaTec promotes Victoria as a place for technology, and use the space to incubate start-ups and early stage companies.  Their sponsorship with Shaw means they have access to some of the fastest internet in town, and they share it with anyone using the cafe space.  The space is a little dark, with the only external light coming through the front doors.  But it's comfortable, with plenty of space, multiple desks for working at, and a comfy sofa area as well for more relaxed working.

The Cafe itself is a small booth at the front entrance.  Jill, the owner and operator, runs the shop with a big smile and friendly demeanour.  She makes a good Americano, which got my gears working last Friday, while I struggled with working out how to do my books for the last couple of months.  There was a great soundtrack playing of 60's Americana, or you can easily stick in your own headphones if that's not your thing to work to.

For lunch, I ordered up a second cup of coffee, straight from the filter this time, and a large grilled chicken sandwich.  The panini was prepped earlier and taken fresh from the fridge into the press.  Once ready, it was brought out to me by Jill, two halves cut to show off the sliced chicken deli meat and the rich red peppers.  This was a good meal, with the pesto flavours working well with the chicken and the crisp, warm bun.  $6 well spent.

So, good spot to work from, good food, good service.

Jamie's Italian, Covent Garden, London

I was in Central London on a hot day, walking around and just generally enjoying visiting the capital. I decided I needed a bite to eat, and being in Covent Garden area, there's a whole surfeit of options. I came across Jamie Oliver's Italian Kitchen and stopped by to scan the menu. Jamie's got his detractors, but I like his passion for food and his simple dishes with good ingredients. I like how he gets getting stuck in with both hands when cooking, with no messing around wit odd gadgets. His faux Cockney matiness along with his explanations to an unseen and unheard interviewer just off to the side of the camera were artifice. But they at least made him stand out from some of the more boring TV chefs in the 90's.

The menu reflected this attempt to be the every man. Words like 'great', 'tenner' and, I'm sure 'nosh' abounded in the columns of options. Simple line drawings broke up the text listing fresh ingredients and easy, breezy preparations. I went in. It seemed like a good idea. A bowl of pasta and a salad would give me some nutrients before I went to the pub for the third day straight.

Before I walked in, I had no idea this was a large chain that had taken off Britain. I assumed it was a lower budget version of his other offerings, with maybe one or two branches. I didn't know otherwise until I left and mentioned it to friends. But this is a big chain restaurant. There's a small patio area accessible via a set of sliding doors. Though in use, but not full, I wasn't offered a seat outside, and instead sent to sit against the wall of Jamie's books. Hundreds of copies of his recipe books adorned the shelves. I thought about taking one down to read but was worried I might splatter the pages with sauce, and have to buy a copy to lug back to Canada. My bag was heavy enough already.

There were a lot of white tiles on the rest of the walls, the parts visible behind the chalkboards advertising different specials - fish special, cocktail special and bruschetta special. One waiter served me tap water ('still or sparkling, sir?', 'Thames, please'), then disappeared for the rest of the service after taking my order. A different waiter brought the pasta, and a third brought the bruschetta. A fourth brought the bill and a fifth took my money. A sixth and seventh were hanging at the front desk. No-one came by to check if the food was okay. All the guys had groomed beards and tired back ponytails. They had posh accents and pressed trousers and shiny shoes. Like there was a special clone factory for them somewhere in Leicester Square.

The pasta I ordered was the Rigatoni Pomodoro. It promised a sweet tomato sauce with garlic, basil, hard cheese, mascarpone and herby breadcrumbs. I think Jamie must have run out of breadcrumbs. There was none in the sauce. The pasta was mostly a solid al dente... the first bite was underdone, but the rest just fine. The sauce was disappointing. I've done better with a can of tomatoes, an onion and a lump of butter. The basil was scattered on top, not flavouring the food. The creaminess of the cheese lost in the sauce. The sauce that hinted of rich ripe tomatoes, the way a casino hints of winning millions. You hope for it. You see how it might happen. But you don't get it. It just was not worth it the price (6.25 Pounds or $12 Canadian for a small portion), rather than being an abject failure. I expected more from Jamie.

The bruschetta was a different story. A spring vegetable creation, it piled curls of courgette (zucchini in Canada, but I'm in London, so it's courgette) on a minty, bashed pea and creamy cheese base. The idea of freshness and growing vitality came through in the dish, and met the promise of the chalkboard special description. There was a zest and a bite to the flavours. The texture of the peas offset the cloyingness of the cheese. The courgettes added some heft to the dish and gave up their flavours to a bright olive oil dressing. The bread base was a little thin, and a little small, but that's a quibble. If the pasta had been as good as this, I'd have no complaints.

But as it is, Jamie's Italian Kitchen is just another eatery. It's farming out a brand of food that's priced over its value, playing off on the celebrity name. Plus, I am not sure I can forgive being forced to listen to terrible 80's music while I dined.