Slickity Jim's Chat 'N' Chew

Slickity Jim’s Chat ‘N’ Chew

Slickity's has long been an institution in Mount Pleasant, and the city's egg-eaters mourned it's loss to flame last year. 

But, joy of joys, they're back!

In a new location a few blocks south, Slickity's has been open for about a month.

When I first came to Vancouver I was a student, with all of the financial accoutrements that entails; i.e. I was really fucking broke.

As such, I didn't have the opportunity to eat at the old Slickity Jim's, or anywhere other than the food bank, for that matter.

But, times have changed, and I am no longer broke, just poor, so I will not miss out on Slickity's this time 'round (the in-laws also footed the bill).

I ordered the Breakfast of Broken Dreams - a delightful benny variant comprising the usual poached eggs on English muffins, but served with fresh spinach, caramelized onions, and an absolutely delicious gorgonzola sauce.

Unlike other egg joints I've reviewed - Paul's Place and Ouisi - there is little bad to be said about this place. Both of the aforementioned joints didn't even bother to ask how I would lie my eggs, and delivered them brutally overcooked. Our server not only asked how I wanted my eggs poached, but they arrived perfectly soft poached!

Woot!

My partner ordered the Huevos Rancheros and it looked delicious; the server neglected to inform her that the plate was smoking hot, a potentially dangerous oversight, but no injuries were sustained. I sampled the chili, and it was nice - nothing out of the ordinary, but good.

The service was prompt, and the servers actually knew the menu!

The ingredients were fresh and prepared nicely, save for the randomly tossed mint sprig garnish buried under my English muffins.

I am not accustomed to these trivial but necessary niceties at most of Vancouver's brunch joints.

Hell, at Naam not only do they serve absolutely tasteless gruel, assuring you that it's fresh made chili, or curry, or whatever, but the servers actually seem put out by your being in their restaurant, and they ignore you accordingly. Also, any menu inquiries undoubtedly receive the rote "I'll have to ask the kitchen" reply.

The only beef I have with Slickity Jim’s is with my side of spuds and my cup o' mud. The taters were simply par-boiled and finished on the griddle top without much in the way of seasoning - perfectly acceptable if they are at least cooked to crispy; mine were soggy and boring. The coffee was pretty standard fare for reasonably-priced brunch joints, i.e. palatable - not weak, at least, but not good quality coffee.

Everything else was quite pleasant.

Quite, Mount Pleasant, even.

(*groan*)

Fuck The Naam. That place sucks more than that last remark.

Go to Slickity Jim’s.

The Ouisi Bistro

NO GOOD!

3014 Granville Street, south of the bridge – closer to the Chinese Consulate than your average Tibetan would prefer.

I almost feel bad reviewing this "restaurant" as the server, the same server I've had all three times I've eaten here, is such a nice guy.

His "chef", however, is a douchebag.

And Bistro?

C'mon, who are we fooling here.

This is a confused atmosphere - part Mardi Gras, part wannabe jazz lounge, part run-down 80s bar and grill (big part), part Cajun (in idea, not execution - with a nice menu that simply doesn't deliver on the plate.

The first time I ate here, I had the 'Jackson Square' - a delightful benny alternative. Well, on paper it is a nice benny alternative.

It's described as, and I'm paraphrasing from memory, 2 poached eggs on house made crab cakes with sauce Choron and pan fries.

You get the picture. The first thing I noticed was the broken sauce. For those who don't know, sauce Choron is basically bearnaise sauce with tomato puree added to it. It's not Cajun, it's French, but that isn’t important – or a significant distinction, really. What’s bearnaise, you ask? It’s basically a hollandaise but the base reduction is made with shallot and it’s seasoned with tarragon. Bearnaise breaks easily if it's not made properly, or if it's kept in a steam table.

The second thing I noticed kept we from questioning the sauce - the perfect little crab cakes. They were truly delightful: big chunks of crab, nice smoky seasoning (Hungarian paprika, no doubt, judging by the mess of it around the edge of my plate), and a nice crispy crust. Lovely.

And the pan fries - obviously done in a fryer and not a pan - were not exceptional. Who cares, right?

Right.

On to the second trip.

Now, I live in the neighbourhood, and the non-Caffe Barney options around here are few and awful (see my review of Paul's Place), so Ouisi is more of a default than an actual destination. But, this trip was magical.

The coffee was still mediocre, but I'm an Italian espresso drinker so I seldom enjoy brunch joint coffee. It was way better than Paul's truck stop blend, however.

(Paul's Place really fucking sucks)

I ordered the same dish - the Jackson Square.

It arrived at my table and I was stricken aback.

Everything was perfect; well, there was still a mess of spices around the edge of my plate, but everything else was spot on.

The sauce was gorgeous - not the broken, yet tasty, mess I had experienced previously. It was creamy, zesty, and magical.

The eggs were a perfect soft poach and the crab cakes were as described above. The "pan" fries were essentially the same, but potatoes are always good when they're not burned (again, see my review of Paul's Place - a really shitty joint).

The food was great, the service was impeccable, and the tip was large.

My new favourite brunch spot, yes?

No.

I returned last week.

Well, it had been more than 6 months since my last visit, and I immediately realised that things had changed. There was nobody to meet my partner and I at the door, so we sat ourselves - taking menus from the stand by the door.

Our server came out - yes, the same delightful fellow - and barked that we had the wrong menus. So get a fucking staffed host station, jerks; don't fucking blame your customers.

Anyhow, the most important factor is the food.

I, quite uninterestingly, ordered the same dish yet again. I mean, after the last trip how could I not?

My dish arrived and I was immediately disappointed.

The sauce was not only broken, but clearly the butter to egg ration was off by a large margin in favour of butter.

Underneath the disaster of a sauce were rock hard, brutally overcooked, eggs.

Okay, I think, at least the crab cakes will be awesome.

Fuck.

Underneath what was already a disaster was the worst disaster of all. I don't know that the crab cakes were frozen – although I suspect it - but I do know that they were reheated in a microwave. So it doesn't really matter what their initial state might have been.

I simply cannot tolerate microwaved food, particularly when I am paying restaurant prices for it. Their crab cakes had been so delicious in the past, it's a shame to see that they are no more.

I complain, of course.

Now, my partner and I are seated by the front window, spitting distance from the kitchen pass through. Our server clearly had no idea what I meant when I said the sauce was broken, but any chef would know. We can hear the conversation in the kitchen, and it went like this:

"He doesn't like it. He says the sauce is 'broken'?"

"Yeah, there's nothing I can do about that," says the 'chef' without a care.

That was all I needed to hear. A so-called chef who doesn't care that someone was disappointed with his food, and has no clue about how to keep a hollandaise variant from breaking. 

Fucking pathetic.

So the server returns to the table and explains that that's just how the sauce is, that it melts when it hits the hot eggs.

I feel bad for the server - he only knows what the hack cook told him - but I can't be nice to him any longer.

If I'm served crap, fine. But, don't tell me it's perfect.

I know food. In fact, I went home and made a sauce Choron and it was great - didn't break at all. See:

I wish I had taken my camera to Ouisi with me so I could show
you the garbage they tried to pass off as food. This is the meal
I threw together at home. The sauce Choron was perfect, and it
didn't require a lot of effort, just a bit of knowledge and care.

On a final note, my partner is a commercial inspector. She commented - after leaving, as she is much more polite than I - that there was horrible grease build up on the equipment in the kitchen.

I would wager they serve it with eggs.

Paul’s Place Omelettery

2211 Granville Street, just south of the bridge.

I have been living in the Fairview neighbourhood for more than 4 years now, and I have wandered past Paul's a multitude of times; I had yet to breach the doorway until just this morning (April 6, 2011). All these years I lamented missing out on one of the neighbourhood's gems not for want of desire, rather out of pure absence of thought - also, I seldom eat breakfast out.



So, why today? Well, I was returning home with my son and just happened to be driving by with my stomach growling.


"Ooh!" I thought out loud to my non-verbal 5 month-old, "I finally get to try Paul's!"

I pulled up and rolled in jauntily, eager for this long-awaited new experience, and was pleased to find no queue before me.
We were promptly seated and coffee came around in relatively short order (I actually had time to read the entire menu and decide on my breakfast prior to receiving my cup o' joe, but I've become accustomed to slow coffee service in Vancouver's breakfast/brunch joints - a shitty trend to grow accustomed to, but nonetheless it is how things are at many of Vancouver's crappy breakfast joints). It was then that I simply should have gotten up and left. There was lipstick on the rim of my coffee cup, a sure sign that quality control is at a minimum. 
But hey, I really was quite hungry, and I can forgive them this one oversight, can't I?


I did.


That was foolish.


I have had better coffee at truck stops; but, this place didn't claim to be a café, did it.

It's an Omelettery!
It ought to be judged on its fucking omelettes, no?
So it shall.

I ordered the Florentine Omelette - a simple affair that cannot easily be messed up by "Vancouver's Best Omelette" chefs (a quote from Jurgen Gothe - formerly of CBC Radio - that I can only assume was from a time long passed).

Boy was I mistaken.
This is hands down the worst omelette I have ever eaten; well, the worst bite of an omelette - I could eat no more than the single bite I choked down. 

I sliced into it with my fork and water from the frozen spinach and mushrooms - clearly thrown in the omelette raw - drowned the miniscule portion of badly burned pan fries scattered next to the omelette.


Disgusting.

I figured I may as well hazard a taste test - I wasn't thinking too clearly - and was blown away by an absolute lack of any discernible flavour.
Had the kitchen run out of salt? They must have run out of salt.
Pepper too? Surely they must have; why else would one serve a dish without any seasoning whatsoever.


Well, given that there was salt and pepper on the table, I imagine the kitchen could have rustled some up had they desired to use it.

It suddenly became clear that this kitchen just didn't know - or didn't care about - what they were doing. Granted, the form of the omelette was lovely. The egg was cooked and it was rolled nicely. But it may as well have been microwaved; hell, it could have been microwaved for all I know, there were certainly no signs of it having ever been near a flame.

I pushed my plate away from me to the other side of the table. 

Roughly ten minutes later a server came by to ask me about my meal.
I told him it was disgusting and I couldn't eat it.
He took it away and returned a short while later with a doggy bag and the bill.
I explained how he had misunderstood me and that the omelette was the worst I'd ever had and I wanted nothing to do with it.
He said, "Well, it's free of charge then," spun on his heel, and launched the doggy bag over the bar into a waste receptacle. He clearly was not at all surprised by someone complaining about the food, and didn't seem to care one bit. A good server would have apologized and asked if there were anything that could be done to rectify the problem. He was not a good server.
He was, to his credit, a pretty good shot with a doggy bag.

There was nothing good about this experience. From start to finish the disappointment snowballed.



I do not recommend this place. 
Unless, of course, you like flavourless pig slop and a complacent wait staff. 

If so, you'll love Paul's.

Riverstone Bar & Grill - A Vacation Disaster in Prince George

Riverstone Bar & Grill is one of the worst establishments I have ever entered.

Tonight was my second visit to this awful place; the first time in, my partner and I merely wished to view a menu but could not manage to capture the attention of a single staff member.

The only reason we returned was that we are visiting from Vancouver (we are former PG locals, but seldom visit these days) and didn't know where best to corral our friends.

The one good thing that can be said about Riverstone is that it is central (it is in fact on Central). If one were passing through town, it would be easy to find, but one would be better off to continue passing through.

On to the food.

My partner and I, as we often do, ordered a few plates to share - at least, we tried to.

Attempting to order a few things from the same page of the menu, we were repeatedly told that they no longer sold those items - not that they were out of the items, that THEY NO LONGER SOLD THEM. The menus were standard faux leather with white paper inserts under clear plastic. A change of menu could quite easily be accommodated by simply printing off a new one which excluded the multitude of items no longer available.

At last, we managed to order some sweet potato fries and vegetarian perogies.

It is here where I must give some credit to Riverstone: you managed to put sliced sweet potato in the fryer and cook it. You managed to pour some premade sauce into a ramekin and put the works under the heat lamp.

Well done.

What you failed to do is note that while your spanakopita perogies are in fact vegetarian, they come buried under a mountain of overcooked bacon and greasy Costco sausage.

Disgusted at this oversight, we sent the dish back and ordered the ginger cashew stir-fry.

We ought to have ordered more fries.

After a considerable wait, far too long given that we were an unhappy table in a near-empty establishment (more than 20 minutes), we received our "food". We had ordered the dish with prawns on the side, and what we received were frozen prawns that had been microwaved to radioactive rubber. As for the stir-fry, there was nothing fried about it. There was a glowing, greasy orange liquid completely enveloping the overcooked white rice - like a rice soup - and on top was a heap of brutally overcooked vegetables, the whole mess inexplicably glowing orange.

This, was a stir-boil, not a stir-fry.

I quite daringly fished out what I believe to have been a carrot at some point and mushed it between my tongue and soft palate. Flavourless and greasy - nice.

I picked up a piece of broccoli (?) and it mushed to nothing between my fingers.

Disgusting, but at least I won't have to pay for it.

We ordered more beer, and waited for our bill. It arrived, and the "server" explained that she had taken off the perogies but we would have to pay for the uneaten stir-boil. I informed her that there was no way that I would pay a cent for inedible slop whereupon I was told that there was nothing she could do and that I would have to talk to the bartender.

Having worked 6 years in the restaurant industry, I was more than slightly put off being told that I had to do the legwork to resolve my dissatisfaction.

After sitting around while the server was on a smoke break, I again inquired about our bill and was told by two servers to take up my issue with the bartender.

They did not go get the bartender, inform him of the issue, and direct him to my table - no. I had to get up, garner his attention, and plead my case to a fellow who addressed me as though I had just pulled a knife and challenged him to a fight in the alley.

Thankfully, another unsatisfied customer (of many, I imagine) came up to the bar complaining far more loudly than I and with much more colourful language about the horrible service leading the bartender to back off on my issue and remove the charge from my bill while the back of house glared menacingly from behind the pass.

Having lived in Prince George for 27 years prior to making a life for myself elsewhere, I am accustomed to the redneck attitude. Nowhere is it more evident than at Riverstone Bar & Grill.

Terrible service, horrible food, and aggressive, under-qualified staff.

Thumbs down on all fronts.

Oh, the bathrooms were also disgusting.

But, of course they were.

Of course they were.

Dose Espresso Bar - Broadway & Granville

This place would be overrated if it were rated crappy.


The coffee is absolutely terrible.
I paid the usual $2-$3 for a double, 8oz Americano and received a cup of dilute piss that I would feel guilty serving if I worked at Denny's.

Instead of sucking back the swill at this dump, I recommend either heading south to Bean Around the World at 14th and Granville, or hitting up the JJ Bean on Granville Island - JJ Bean is the best coffee around, and is a Vancouver-based company with a great reputation.
Dose served up the worst cup of coffee I have had in ages.

I was excited to try this place, hoping for a nice local alternative to the chain coffee shops in the neighbourhood, but all I found was crap.

Very disappointing.