Where there's a will, there's a Subway...

You know what? You try to come up with a clever title every week. No really, I'd like to see you try. You couldn't, could you? Ok then, my point exactly. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to review Subway's tasteless breakfast flatbread thing they half-assedly throw together. May I continue? I know I'm being a bit of a prick, but- no, you shut up! No, you! Eat shit, pal. No, you eat it! Grow up. No, you grow up!

Wow. Sorry about that.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand, or should I say, in hand, because that's where the majority of Subway's Flatbread Breakfast Sandwich ends up. This would be understandable if it was a sloppy joe, but it's not. It'd also be fine if it was a sloppy sub, but it's not. Not once in their cute little picture on their overhead menu did they tell me that this sandwich was about as tidy as a pudding sandwich eaten by someone with hooks for hands.

But overall, it tasted pretty good. With a Nestea zero, it cost about $4.00, which seemed right.  The egg was tasteless, and the bacon was ok... SIGH.










SIGH.











SIGH.









Yes, now that you mention it, something is bothering me. Here I thought, that my breakfast blog was the most creative, original thing on the planet since sliced bread. Turns out though, a little googling would have revealed that someone's already done this idea, and done it way better.

I'm done with the breakfast blog game. Too many cooks in this kitchen, so fuck it. I'm out, I'm done. Go check out Breakfast Winnipeg if you want dining advice.  I'll be coming up with something new in the near future.  Stay tuned.

Thanks For Nothing, Perkins.

This entire review is going to sound like the ramblings of a spoiled first-world baby, who's crying that his golden egg isn't golden enough. And I realize that on this Thanksgiving Day weekend, I should be thankful that my breakfast isn't being delivered to me in a burlap sack with a red cross on the front of it. But as thankful as I am that I have the luxury of eating and writing about various breakfasts around the city, I have to think that even the poorest little boy from the slums of Mogadishu would recognize the price vs. quality discrepancies that can be found at your average Perkins. "At the least burlap sacks were free!" he'd say.

Perkins has a notorious reputation among my friends and me, and every human, as a place that overcharges their customers for runny and slimy eggs, limp and lifeless bacon, air-flavored hash browns, and either way too buttery or way too not-buttery toast. After spending an hour at the Perkins on Panet Road, I remembered why this reputation is so well deserved.

I'm going to start off the review with something that I absolutely love about Perkins. The way they give you coffee. The coffee itself was about as interesting as watching The View on a slow news day, but the delivery method is genius. THEY GIVE YOU YOUR OWN POT. Laziness breeds innovation as they or I say, and I'm so glad that Perkins' staff can't be bothered to come by and refill your cup every five minutes. I'm not being facetious. Instead of giving you the Aunty Darlene treatment ("drink that first, and then you can have some more"), they give you an entire pot. There you go customer. Here's your four or five cups that you're gonna drink over the course of your meal. Now shut up and leave me alone.  I love it!

It should be said that when I went into this Perkins, it was a graveyard. A ghost town. No one was there. The waitresses looked annoyed that I was interrupting their conversation, but their forced pleasantries were delivered quite convincingly. The food delivery was also pretty prompt. 10 minutes after I ordered, I had my meal in front of me. It was hot, and fresh.

OK, now. Let's get real here.

The toast looked completely dry on top, and I was starting to lose my shit just a little bit. Nothing worse than toast without butter. But when I picked up the piece, it almost fell apart. I picked up the first slice, and it sagged down like a really sad clown face. The butter was dripping on to my eggs. I'm not watching my weight or anything, but dear lord. It was like they had a tub of Imperial margarine with an abundance of toast crumbs in it and used an ice cream-scooper to mold four slices of what resembled toast. It was pretty good actually.

The bacon was also a disappointment. You should all be well aware by now of my "if it tastes like bacon, it's good bacon" rule. But like they so proudly advertised in the menu, this was SMOKED bacon. Ooo la la monsieur Perkins. What? A frying pan doesn't do it for you anymore? I didn't know you were so high and mighty that you felt regular fried bacon just wasn't cutting it anymore and needed altering. The nerve. It was still pretty good, but just not the same.

The eggs were also decent, but barely. I poked into one with a fork and yolk came shooting out like Egg Faithful. This would usually be a good sign, but it actually turned the rest of the barely cooked egg into a egg white/egg yolk soup. Normally I would've just used my toast to soak this up, but that was also a buttery soup, so I didn't know what to do. I started to look for a spoon. 

This is where the hash browns came in handy. They were just sitting there in the corner of the plate, not doing or saying anything. No real problems but no real personality either. I decided to turn the shredded pile of Plasticine into an egg flavoured stirfry/soup/something. This is not how I would have preferred to eat my breakfast, but it actually turned out to be pretty good. Like I said in an earlier post, breakfast is the hardest meal to screw up. Even when you do, it'll probably still taste good.

I should note that Perkins does have options. You can replace the shredded hash browns with the cubed breakfast potatoes (which I should have done), or fruit (HAHAHAHA). You can also replace the toast with pancakes (which I should have done). An old lady sitting behind me did exactly this, and specifically requested that her pancakes be brought out later, so that they would be fresh when she ate them. Take note youths, with age comes wisdom.

The price for this meal was a fucking atrocity. It cost me $13.63 for this meal, and after a really crappy tip that was completely deserved, the entire experience cost me $15 dollars. I'm not one to whine... well, I guess that's exactly what this blog is about, but still, I'm a student, dammit! One more Perkins meal and I'll be back to reviewing Aramark Tater Tots. 

All in all, it was a breakfast, and it was pretty good. But since this blog forces me to sit and think about what I just ate, I'm starting to realize the subtle differences between a Perkins and an Osborne Village Cafe, or The Don. Perkins has the mainstream appeal, but as they approach a broader market with multiple chains per city, quality eventually goes down... I don't wanna get into it.

Bottom line, if you have to have something to eat on a road trip or something, and you're on the outskirts of Moose Jaw or Medicine Hat, and there's nothing else around, try a Perkins. But in Winnipeg, you can do a lot better. Have some self respect and find yourself a decent breakfast that's worth what it costs. 

To Be, or Tot to Be... That, is the Title.

Tater Tots: the bite sized snack that forever changed the potato game. When the Tater Tot was released in the 50's, it broke all the rules. All conventional potato standards were shattered. People were shocked and offended at this brazen new shape that potatoes could assume. Potatoes would never be the same, and neither would the mindset of millions of well-to-do middle class families, their cookie cutter starch world brought down and shattered by the Tot.

So anyways, I'm super broke and couldn't afford to buy a decent breakfast to review this week. I don't see why you're so mad... this shouldn't be a big deal. Please stop throwing stuff and saying words like that. Listen, I'll get a super sized breakfast next week, ok? Please, just stop. Thank you.

When I went into the Red River College Aramark inside the Princess Street campus, a certain feeling of dread lowered itself onto my shoulders and started laughing at me and taunting me. It knew I hadn't the money to get anything good. This feeling knew that I would be eating something so substandard, so shitty, that no review, no matter how scathing, biting, or vomiting, would be able to encapsulate the complete crappiness of my breakfast. It was the menace of the Aramark Tater Tot.

Before I begin, a brief history of the Tater Tot is in order. The Tater Tot was invented to solve the problem of wasted potato slivers when potatoes were cut into cubes. One chef (read: a god among men) decided to press the slivers together, push the resulting string through a hole, and cut it off in sections. The resulting potato cylinders were then spiced and fried, resulting in the worldwide phenomenon known as the Tatermania.

I wasn't super optimistic when I saw the cardboard container filled with Tots sitting in the nearly empty food cart. They didn't look good in that Aramark lighting, or maybe it was the college lighting. Or maybe just light. These Tater Tots definitely would've been better eaten in a pitch black room. But I always loved Tater Tots when I was a kid.  What's not to love? It's a deep fried potato, in bite-sized form. It's like a french-fry, but it's a cube. It's like a hashbrown, but it's a Tot. These things are awesome.

Usually.

As I held my Tots, I joined Stephen Burns in pouring a cup of coffee.  I looked at Stephen and asked, "You ever have those days, where you wake up, and you just know that you're gonna have to eat some Tater Tots?"

"Yes. Yes I do." Stephen Burns knows what's up.

Eating a Tater Tot fresh off the fryer is one of the essential steps of human enlightenment and spiritual transcendence. Ok, maybe not, but they're pretty damn good. Soft steaming hot starchy goodness held together by a golden crusty, flaky shell glistening with deep fryer oil... now that's a goddamn Tater Tot.

How the Red River College Aramark managed to screw these Tots up is a mystery. A mystery on par with the location of Jimmy Hoffa's body, the Zodiac killer, and the existence of pet rocks.

Granted, these Tots may have been delicious right after they were fried, but by the time my crooked teeth sank into them, they were long past their prime. They just weren't good. They were stale, cold, and bland. They were soft, but not in a good way. They were gritty, but not in a good way. They were Tater Tots, but not in a good way. They were shit, but not in a good... well, you get the point.

The thing that saved this breakfast for me though, was the price. It cost me $3.80 for the Tots and a coffee. A coffee is $2.25, which means the Tots cost $1.65. I was given 18 Tots. This amounts to just over 9 cents per Tot. I couldn't find out what the average price of a single Tater Tot is these days, but to me, that seems really reasonable. These Tots sucked, but I'd definitely pay 9 cents a piece for them.

So if you're ever as broke as I was today, and you just need something in your stomach to prevent it from collapsing or self-cannibalizing, I recommend the Tots. Head to the smoker's pit, look under some benches and find some empties. Cash them in, get some dimes, head down to the Red River College Aramark, and stock up on Tater Tots.

You won't enjoy eating them, but you won't be hungry after you do, so munch away. After all, beggars can't be choosers.