When we first got into Massey Hall I was thinking perhaps that the show may suck. Trying to squeeze my 2008 sized ass into a seat built in the 1920’s was a bit of an uncomfortable predicament. We also didn’t have the best view of the stage - and we had the cheap seats at 70.00 a pop.

Then it started and I kept laughing for about two hours straight. Nothing about the show was disappointing, ever. There were a couple of recreations of their show sketches that I did not feel matched the comic brilliance of their onscreen progenitors, but otherwise it was overtly fabulous.

Scott Thompson’s Buddy monologue was the showstopper. A backdrop consisting of what I thought was Buddies in Bad Times theatre’s bar lent a bit of a nostalgic touch to the sketch. I could have listened to a Buddy monologue for at least 30 more minutes, it ended way too quickly.

SuperDrunk was a fun new sketch that reminded me of Orgazmo for some reason. Very cheesy fun.

The Kids were older, thicker, and a little greyer, much like most of their audience. If anything, the show was the final show of our youth, the last time we were going to get to visit with something that we connected with when we were first exploring our collective Generation Fuck You selves. Most of us have moved on to being corporate space monkeys much like the ones portrayed in the office sketches, a sad fact that hit home for me during the Cathy sketch. I think I’ve worked with at least one of those women, sometime, somewhere. I guess that is the point! I think most of the people in the audience felt like our grandmothers felt when they went to a Tom Jones concert; I think I cried one lonely tear for that and just enjoyed the night.

I should also mention that Fran’s, a chain establishment across the street from Massey Hall, managed to trough us with a burger and fries in roughly five minutes from the time our order was received. The waiter was probably the best and cheeriest that I have ever met in Toronto, and I have dined in a few establishments in that town. My former memories of Fran’s consisted of going there for a greasy breakfast after not sleeping and drinking lots the night before, and then going home to finish off the night/morning by passing out on a full stomach of beer, bacon, pancakes, and eggs. I don’t even really remember what it looked like.

But it was all about the Kids, and they were definitely alright.

Posted: June 5th, 2008 under Anarchy, Restaurant Reviews.
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I felt the need to keep this restaurant to myself when I was living in Hamilton - now that I am no longer there, it’s time to let the cat out of the bag.

Forget the Schwaben Inn. Forget the Black Forest Inn. Zum Linzer is where you need to be to get your taste buds rocked and rolled.

When you walk in it looks like someone’s living room - there are cute little lace doilies on each table setting, and odd dishes on the wall that recall crafts in an old folk’s home. Looks are very deceiving.

You will need a reservation, regardless of the day of the week. I’ve tried to go there on a Tuesday evening and it was packed. Trust me, you’ll find out why.

On your first visit, you must order a dish that somehow incorporates Helmut’s (the owners) famous schnitzel. This is not hard. Most dishes on the menu somehow incorporate schnitzel. Try not to insult the poor dear chef by ordering chicken or fish - schnitzel is his god-given gift. You have to eat it.

There is a meat lovers dish that incorporates kassler, schnitzel, sausage, and a healthy wollop of the homemade sauerkraut - this is highly recommended for the meat lovers in your crowd. Otherwise, any one of the schnitzel dishes will do.

You start off with a salad and house dressing. The house dressing is delicious and the recipe will never be divulged. Once this is whisked away, your schnitzel dish will be delivered to you more speedily than if you had ordered it at a drive-through window. It will be heaven in your mouth - the schnitzel has a perfect breading on it, just crispy enough on the outside, with moist, delicious pork on the inside. Helmut is a master of his craft.

For desert, you want to order the desert that is named “Kasserschmarn” or something similar - it means hot love in German. It is partially called this so that the waiters can hear nice proper ladies saying “Give me some hot love”, and partially because that is exactly what it is - hot raspberry sauce and raspberries drizzled over vanilla ice cream.

For drinks, a good German white or some of the delicious on-tap beer both pair equally well. Coffee is strongly recommended with desert as you will not find finer coffee in a top-rated restaurant.

All of this for an extremely reasonable price tag make Zum Linzer the best dining experience in Hamilton. Guten Tag!

Dinner for 2, With Booze: Under $80.00
Location: Wentworth and Main, on Main - Park in plaza just a little further up the street
Chef: God (Helmut)

Posted: March 27th, 2008 under Restaurant Reviews.
Comments: none

Rajin Cajun…

Ever since I had my first taste of Cajun food, I have been in love.  There’s nothing worse than bad Cajun food though, like Campbell’s Chicken Gumbo.  It is like packaged bile.  The combination of spices and sauces really need the touch of a chef - I like to go out to restaurants for stuff I couldn’t possibly make at home, and that food definitely fits into that category.

About 8 years ago I used to live in what is supposed to be the most exciting city in Canada, Toronto.  While the only thing that excites me now about Toronto is the possibility of beating up fuckheads from there in a wet dream which doesn’t involve me getting arrested, they do have the best goddamn restaurants.  A restaurant that actually lasts 8 years or more in Toronto has to have something going for it, and Southern Accent is one of those places.

You walk in to this place and are seated by nervous but good-humoured wait staff, and they bring you garlic hummus and bread as a free appetizer.  Not that you need more food, but its a good starter and awesome homemade hummus.

What I remembered most about the meal that I had there 8 years ago was the Hush Puppies and Old Jack.  That’s not shoes and an 80 year old shrivelled penis, but yummy corn fritters and some of the best fucking beer on earth.  Well, they no longer serve Old Jack, but the hush puppies were still rocking.

Along with the hush puppies came some of the best chicken wings that I’ve ever had - these ain’t your basic pub wings baby.  They are hot, but just the right amount of hot that pounds the shit out of your mouth and then just kind of caresses it lightly after - whoa, kind of like some porn I just downloaded the other day, but that’s another story.

We also got the gumbo, which is an awesome pastiche of seafood, chicken, rice, and nummy spices that go down like a smooth soup that eats like a meal.  The texture is only half of it though, because when you are eating real gumbo and not the Campbell’s shite, the flavour is indescribably good.

For the main course we got shrimp done in an amber ragout, with a little bed of rice.  While this didn’t strike me as a main course but more as an appetizer, the yummy vegetables they served on the side made up for the portion size dissapointment.  Besides, with all of the appetizers we ordered, it was all we needed anyway.

To finish off we had a creme brulée that tasted like cum would taste if cum actually tasted could.  A wonderful caramelized top with an obviously homemade custard underneath mixed well with the fresh starfruit, kiwi, and strawberries that were served with it.

Every bite of food at this place was an explosion in my mouth.  The atmosphere was fab too, little candles and a psychic reader for those who don’t read tarot cards (I do so a reading for me would be slightly futile - I don’t really need someone to tell me how fucked up I am, I know it innately anyway).

Southern Accent is a great place if you want to treat yourself to a slice of Toronto that doesn’t suck, before you hit the clubs to dance it all off.  Those with a vegetarian bent will also find a menu that is friendly to their needs.  The staff was very attentive and friendly, with none of the “fuck you” attitude characteristic of a lot of Toronto waiters.

If you are a Cajun fan, or even if you aren’t and want to be initiated into the cult, check it out.  The worst thing that you can lose is money, and you know that you’ll do that somewhere else anyway.

Posted: March 22nd, 2008 under Restaurant Reviews.
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