Sargent & Victor & Me - A Play Review

One thing I enjoy about writing a blog dedicated to nothing but breakfast reviews, is that it affords me the opportunity to review plays.

Recently I attended a play called Sargent & Victor & Me, starring Debbie Patterson, who played all of the characters. It was a great experience.

I was shocked to learn the dialogue of all the characters were based on real interactions. Most characters seemed to be caricatures rather than realistic interpretations of the people. For example, the character Bob Fonda was so boisterous, loud, and nonchalant, even when telling horrible stories of police brutality. Of course I don't know this guy, so I can't really speak to whether it was real or not, but I just didn't buy it.

I feel that Patterson exaggerates most of the characters on her show, or at the least, selectively picks either offensive or extreme things they've said, and paints the picture like that's all they are. If I was one of the people that these characters were based off of, I'd probably be upset. Again, I don't know these people personally, but to me, they didn't seem as three-dimensional as they might be. 

The only character I thought was very realistic was Theresa, the 15 year old gang member. I thought her mannerisms and pattern of speech were very accurate, and her stories were very tragic. I liked how the stories that Theresa told were upsetting and tragic, but Patterson didn't make them any more dramatic. She told shocking, heartbreaking story after shocking, heartbreaking story and was fairly casual in her tone when doing so. I thought this was very well done. I'm glad that she didn't act like Theresa was crying or breaking down. I think that Theresa had seen enough in her lifetime, from her mom huffing gas to getting raped and pimped out, that she would be nonchalant in telling stories that anyone else would be repulsed by.

It was great that the story ended with Theresa helping Gillian off the ground and back into the food bank. I liked seeing that full loop, and seeing the ending actually turn into the beginning, where Gillian met Theresa. That being said, it was pretty depressing hearing all of these brutal stories that Theresa was telling, and not getting a bow on that package. That's life, I guess, but still, it would've been nice to see Theresa's story go forward somehow. 

I really enjoyed the parts where the main character, Gillian May Fonda, tells about her experience in Thunder Bay. The spot that really seemed to be her "happy place". The memories that she carves out there seem really positive, and while it's sad that her Multiple Sclerosis will prevent her from going back, I loved hearing her stories about the place, like taking acid for the first time, or just drinking beer there. On a technical side, I loved the lighting during these parts. The background was a blue sky with other colours mixed in. It was great. 

I've only been to one other play, and that was Richard III at the MTC Warehouse, featuring William Hurt. That play was an interesting modernized version of the Shakespearean classic and in addition to an Oscar-winning actor, it featured an elaborate and detailed set with the costumes to match. Sargent & Victor & Me was driven by its story, and on the budget she had, the props weren't important at all. I think one thing this play did really well, was the lighting. The different lighting cues and radio news stories really added to the play. Another difference was that this was a one-person play, where as Richard III featured many different actors, so my respect for Debbie Patterson is a little stronger than the respect I had for anyone on the set of Richard III. 

This play affected me in several ways. I lived on Langside near Sargent for a few months, and while I didn't directly see a lot of violence, I could always tell that it was different than living in East Kildonan. You always have to keep your guard a little up, and that does unseen things to the psyche of a person. So watching the play made me realize that beyond the violence, prostitutes, and gang members, there are people in houses that have broken hearts from looking out their windows and watching their community devolve. 

It also woke me up to the struggles of people with Multiple Sclerosis. I never really understood the disease or the effects it has on the people afflicted with it, but after watching the play, I won't just gloss over ads or fundraisers talking about the dangers of MS. It really is a killer, and plays like this do a great job raising awareness for it.

So, overall, it was a great experience, and if I didn't have a mountain of homework to do, I would've stayed for the Q&A, but alas, priorities. It was a great one person play, and I recommend it to all.

Nahlah Ayed - A Thousand Farewells

I recently read Nahlah Ayed's book A Thousand Farewells, and while it wasn't quite as good as a big plate of bacon, eggs, hashbrows, and a glass of milk, it turned out to be quite an informative and enjoyable book. 

A Thousand Farewells begins with Ayed's journey from St. Boniface, to Amman, Jordan, where her parents forced her to spend seven years of her childhood to teach her about her culture and people. It then speaks of her return to Osborne Village to work in a store with her family, before going to Ottawa for journalism school. The majority of the book however revolves around her experiences as a reporter as she covers the war in Iraq, unrest in Lebanon, and the revolution in Egypt. 

This book works great because of the subject matter and the way that it is presented by Ayed. Ayed is living a journalist's dream for the most part. She was one of the first reporters in Afghanistan after America invaded, as she was for the Iraq war. She also happened to be in Lebanon during the Israeli hostage crisis, and the more recent Egyptian revolution. I think the stories of mosque bombings, shoot-outs, and interviews with people describing incredible and usually horrible events make the book hard to put down.

What didn't work for me though was the bouncing back and forth between Ayed's personal experiences and the political and historical conflict that she was involved in. It was done as well as it could, but I was so struck with a witness's testimony about Iraqi torture houses, that I really wanted to hear more about it. But by that time, Ayed was talking about funerals, and after capturing that so well I naturally wanted to hear more about it, but by that time, she was writing about her time covering the mass exodus from Iraq to Syria. She's a reporter, so it's her job to just touch on things and give a three-minute news piece about it, but I would've loved more detail on some subjects and less details on others. 

One of the only things missing from A Thousand Farewells was a definite conclusion, and that's hardly Ayed's fault. It's hard to put a bow on a story about the Middle East, and I felt like her epilogue only raised a ton more questions. It was like her book ended on a question mark and that was pretty unsatisfying, but it's non-fiction, and I guess that's the way it is sometimes.

I think journalists can learn a lot about talking to people and how to get something when you know they don't want to give it to you. As a female reporter in the Middle East, it must have presented difficulties for Ayed that would have been tough to overcome, but she somehow gets interviews from a lot of people. One of my favourite parts in the book is when she's interviewing an Iraqi man who just got one of his relatives out of a mass grave made under the Saddam Hussein regime, and then man asks where she's from. After finding out she's a Sunni, he gives a disapproving look and people gather and start rabbling.  Then Ayed pushes back and says, "I've lived most of my life in Canada. I know what he did and it was wrong. Do you want to do this interview and tell the world what's happened to your family or not?" And the man relaxes and does the interview. Ayed says early on in her Jordanian refugee camp house how she felt angry when boys got preferential treatment over girls, and that shows today. She knows when to push back, and when to be kind, and this is information journalists could definitely use.

A few years ago, I read Faith at War by Yaroslav Trofimov and that was a terrific book. It also took a look at the Middle East and featured interviews with civilians affected by the war. I feel that book though, had a certain topic that it was focused on, while A Thousand Farewells, rather than focusing on war in the Middle East, focused on Ayed's experience while covering war in the Middle East. 

This book affected me in several different ways. My heart broke for her as a child, to be uprooted from her cozy Canadian life and cast into a Jordanian refugee camp is pretty heartbreaking. During her adult years though, I felt a mix of emotions. Heartbreak for the people of Iraq and Afghanistan, joy and sadness for Egypt, and all this with an underlying pride that Ayed was able to be there for it all. 

Plus, she's from Winnipeg, so that really seals the deal. 

Little Sister is Watching You

Little Sister Coffee Maker is a small, independent coffee shop on River Avenue. I used to think that it's sole customers were pretentious hipsters looking for anti-corporate biscotti's to Instagram. But after going there a few times, I think Little Sister delivers a truly great product that everyone can enjoy.

Or maybe I'm just a pretentious hipster... Oh, shit. My whole world just collapsed. Excuse me.

Nah, that can't be it. I keep it real on the regs, and that's a fact.

Here is the Pastry Bomb in question.
The croissant looks innocent enough, but take a bite, and
flaky pastry shrapnel flies everywhere. It doesn't harm
anyone, but you look like a maniac eating it.

Also a fact, Little Sister's chocolate croissants are such a delectable treat, that even Eckhart Tolle would get lost in the memory of it. Eating it felt so good. I haven't felt that good since I bought that old Fleetwood Mac bootlegged 7" and lost it while I was riding my unicycle home, but then found a copy of the Rumours LP when I was tending to my organic vegetable garden in Wolseley. It was THAT good.

That being said, it was pretty damn flaky. One bite in, and the thing exploded in my face like a pastry I.E.D. It was delicious, but I looked like a weirdo walking down the street eating it. The trail of crumbs I left behind me made me look like a pig, and I don't appreciate that Little Sister! I wish it was a little softer and chewier, like McDonald's or Starbucks.

I'd love to see them change up the designs
in the foam of these lattes. Looking at this
design 5 different times a day gets boring!

Little Sister's coffee tastes great, but their latte's are downright addictive. In fact, they're so good that it's kind of a piss-off that they don't have a larger size available. While the average person living in Osborne Village prefers to live a French lifestyle of keeping it small and treat-like, I, on the other hand, prefer to live an upsized-Arkansas lifestyle, and gorge on the great trough of extra-large sized gluttony. If the cup fits in the cupholder in my car, it's too small. So I'd love to see Little Sister come out with a bigger cup, like McDonald's or Starbucks does.

Sometimes I'll order two, as if I'm bringing one for a friend, but I'm not. I'm chugging one on the walk home, and then slowly sipping the second. It's a secret that I'm spilling like so much latte foam on my chin. I've taken your small, independent, socially and politically conscious espresso hole and turned it into a glutton hub, no better than a McDonald's or Starbucks.

Little Sister Coffee Maker is literally the little sister company of Parlour Coffee, but I'm not gonna go into the history of it. You should know this. You should also know that Winnipeg has a really high number of independent coffee shops, from Thom Bargen, to Urban Forest, among others, there's no shortage of places to Instagram your coffee. No one is gonna Instagram McDonald's or Starbucks, unless it's for ironic purposes.

But I recommend you check out Little Sister, mainly because you might run into me there, waiting for a latte and judging everyone that looks exactly like me.

As a special bonus for this post, I'd like to point out that popular rock n' roll band, Queens of the Stone Age actually wrote a song about Little Sister Coffee Maker and performed it on Letterman! Incredible publicity for such a small, independent coffee house. As a CreComm student, I'm impressed!

Stressed Breakfast Phones It In!

Last night I dreamt of breakfast reviews past,
eggs and bacon were put on blast. 

My thoughts were heavy with things to do, 

for without time, there's no review. 

Come back next week! I'll have some pics 

of eggs and bacon prepared by dicks, 

who don't know what the term 'over-easy' means!

I promise.

-Tyler Penner

Timmy's: Canada's Boring Sweetheart

I cringe when I think about all the times some Canadian patriot has played host to American acquaintances, and has said, "Well, geez buddy. You're in Canada, so we just gotta go to Timmy's and get a coffee. It's our national specialty, eh?" *shudder*

With Tim Hortons being the symbol of Canadian culture that it supposedly is, it's no wonder that Canada is seen as the vanilla sponge-cake of the world. Contrary to world belief (i.e. American belief), Canada is not bland or tasteless. It's people are not just satisfactory, yet ultimately unmemorable. Tim Hortons coffee, on the other hand, is all of these things.

The three friends who came to the party at 6 when it started
at 8. They each had a Mike's hard lemonade,
and left at 9 because they all had curfew.

I had a pretty good discussion with a buddy of mine the other day about the taste of Tim Hortons "coffee". While you (M.L.L.) are cringing at my misuse of quotation marks, let me explain. Tim Hortons has no right to call their "coffee" coffee. While it is hot, and liquid, that's where the similarities stop. Tim Hortons' hot breakfast beverage doesn't smell or taste like coffee, so why is everyone calling it coffee?

From now on, Tim Hortons "coffee" will be called "hot morning beverage" or "hot breakfast beverage". The debate is ongoing.

Unlike McDonalds' coffee, which is rich, bold, and generally resembles coffee, Tim's has somehow become Canada's darling coffee franchise all while pumping out a pretty inferior product. I guess that's how marketing works though: show kids playing hockey, show hockey mom in the stands cheering the Cornwall Whatever's, and then show the whole family going to Tim's afterwards for celebration hot-morning-beverages. That's all it takes in this country. *sigh... Oh, Canada.

Tim Hortons' food, while not as horribly overhyped as their coffee, is equally as boring. Their "Sausage Breakfast Sandwich on an English Muffin" (pfff, nice name), is about as interesting as Ben Stein voicing the Twilight audiobook. Also, they should really put a disclaimer on these sandwiches that say, "Assembly Required".  The egg is on the left, the unmelted slice of cheese is on the right, and the sausage could be anywhere.

This picture was taken after I reassembled it. The cheese is finally
melting, but that's just because I stored it in my pants until I ate it.

Unlike McDonalds' breakfast sandwich, which slaps you in the face with greasy, fatty flavour, Tim's is about half as greasy and about a quarter as tasty. I'd rather take the extra grams of fat in exchange for something that makes me go, "Oh God, I should get another one".

The hashbrown patty I ate today is the second version of the Tim Hortons hashbrowns. The original Timmy's hash was replaced a few months, maybe a year ago, because it sucked. Originally, Tim's tried to move in a different direction than McDonalds by offering a "homestyle, good ol' fashioned, just like your Canadian granny used to make 'em" hashbrown. Too bad that Granny sucks and so do her hashbrowns. A few months ago Tim's caved, and are now offering hashbrowns that are a DIRECT RIPOFF of the McDonalds' hash. They might even get them from the same company for all I know, and Tim's still manages to make them inferior to McDonalds'.

Overall, the breakfast sucked, but not as much as waiting 25 minutes in line, like you have to do every time you go to any Tim's, anywhere. I'm getting really tired of Tim's being the reigning champion in the Canadian made breakfast industry. I'm sick of their pathetic tear-jerker or downright unfunny commercials, but most of all, I'm sick of the equation that people make between being Canadian and loving Tim Hortons.

Robin's Donuts is just as Canadian as Tim's ever has or ever will be. I didn't grow up on TimBits, I grew up on Robin's eggs. Sure, Robin's coffee tastes like it's been brewed with burning paper, but it still TASTES LIKE SOMETHING, dammit! I'm really hoping for the industry to even itself out, and I'm looking forward to Robin's Donuts getting back in the game.

For now though, if I'm gonna go evil, I'm going for the evil I know. I'll stick with McDonalds until this country gets over it's infatuation, bordering on obsession, with Tim Horton's, and we realize that it's not a Canadian landmark, or a symbol of who we are as a nation.

We'll see it for what it is: a coffee place with crappy coffee.

Do you have milk on your person?

Got milk?

Yes, yes I do.

Due to delays in the Manitoba Student Aid payment system, I was unable to get my usual "doctor's nightmare" breakfast earlier in the week. Then, thanks to a faulty debit card, I was unable to spend the student aid that finally made it. It's been a hard week.

Front row: 2% white; Back row: Chocolate, and wet air.

But for a combined cost of only 3 dollars and change at the local RRC Mercantile, I bought three different types of milk, and now, I'm ready to complete my master experiment... comparing different milks.

Milk is a healthy part of any nutritional bowl of Chocolate Lucky Charms. I feel like a lot of people take milk for granted, and every time I try to convince people to enjoy Earth's white nectar of the gods (milk), they always start filling their diapers with the same old and tired complaints.

Wahhh, it's high in fat! 
Of course it is. That's why it's so delicious.


Wahhh, the cows they get it from are pumped full of steroids!
Well, just think of how strong your bones will be.

Wahhh, I'm lactose intolerant, and throwing up all over my new area rug!
Get a new area rug, it's worth it. I mean come on, it's 2014. Aren't we past intolerance of any kind?

Don't get me wrong, some milk is terrible. I bought one skim milk, one chocolate milk, and one 2% white milk, to see if I could find out which one would be worse than the others. I wanted to drink the crappiest milk first, so then afterwards, I could use the better milks to wash the taste of crappy milk out of my mouth.

Skim: It even sounds gross.

I went with my gut, and picked the skim milk first.

Whereas 1% milk is the Diet 7up of milks, skim milk is the decaffeinated, piss-warm, Diet Spritz Up of milks. Milk's unique taste only relies on one thing to be fantastic - texture. Milk is defined by its texture. 2% has a heavenly creamy texture that makes you want to swish the liquid cloud in your mouth like Listerine. Skim milk feels like someone took an old glass that had a little bit of old milk sitting on the bottom, and filled it with ice cold Brita-filtered water. Skim milk is what I'd imagine cotton balls tasting like. It was like kissing someone you don't like right after that person had a glass of 1% milk. 0% fat! Why? Maybe, if you're so desperate to watch your weight, stick to pouring water or Pepsi Max over your frosted flakes.

Right after taking a sip, I immediately spit it out all over the compusadrt I aws orwekin on. Ocne I nmaaged to clean that up, I reached for the chocolate milk as quick as possible. Chocolate milk should be drank with a straw. Even the dumbest milk novice knows this. Chocolate milk touches that thick texture I was talking about earlier, but then kicks it up a whole notch. In fact, I don't think it should even be called chocolate milk. They really need to invent a beverage that has the consistency of something between milk and milkshake, because this chocolate milk was so thick, it would be a stretch to classify this substance as a liquid.

Chocolate milk is great for
washing skim milk out.

Of course, the taste was spot on. Sweet, thicker-than-milky, and wholly refreshing. But for some reason, as good as it was, it still isn't on the top of the milky food chain.

The truth is, 2% white milk will always be king. The milky-white colour, the milky aftertaste, it's milky texture... it's all just so, milky. Milk. Milk. Milk. 2% milk. I think I'm having a milky breakdown. When you realize what milk has done for you in your life, you'll breakdown too.

Where you be without a trusted, delicious milk, huh? I'll tell you where: dead in a gutter, choking to death on a lump of hot brownie, unable to scream because of all the peanut butter in your mouth, and dying from internal bleeding because all those jagged shards of rock-hard, chocolate chip cookie just sliced a hole in your stomach lining. Thank milk you're not there, yet.

The holy grail of milks. Often overlooked, it
still causes moments of sheer ecstasy, which
can result in hideous facial paralysis (above).

Without milk, millions of our beloved senior citizens would be playing cribbage until all hours of the night until their withered old fingers broke off and rolled underneath their rocking chairs. But no, milk made their bones strong, it made their cribbage game better, and it warmed itself up to tuck Grandma and Grandpa into a beautiful, drooly, lactose-induced slumber. 

This is not some sort of advertorial. That is to say, I have not yet received funds for my efforts in directing the public to the greatness of milk. Please though, just to prove that I'm not some nutjob that is obsessed with milk, do me a favour: buy ingredients to make fresh, warm, ultra-rich, ultra-chocolatey double fudge brownies. After you've made them, baked them, and pulled them from the oven, let them cool just enough so that they won't burn you. Spread enough chocolate frosting on the brownies so that the frosting melts just a little bit, then sprinkle crushed walnuts. Then, put the brownie up to your mouth, and take a bite. A big bite. Let the chocolate swirl into every crevice of your mouth, and let the batter gather up inside your gums. Then, when you've finished the brownie, out of a nice tall glass, take a big sip of ice-cold, wonderfully refreshing... water.

See what I mean? Don't take milk for granted.

Mickey D's Artery-Clogging Classic

I've been a long-time McDonald's fan/fiend/addict. I remember living in the country as a boy, and weekly trips to the Superstore were always capped off with some Big Macs. Being an old country boy, the heavily coveted McDonald's breakfast only happened maybe 5 or 20 times in my childhood, which is why I told myself that when I became an adult living in the city, I was going end the fast food breakfast famine, and make sure that I had my fill.

Food on the go! And you'll have to go, if you eat
breakfast at McDonald's. You've been warned.

And here I am today: a heavy-set, heavy-breathing, heavy-consumer of McDonald's products and services, catching a bus to go twenty feet down the road to my local McDicks. I wouldn't change a thing... well, I might change the sporadic chest pains and constant nausea, but other than that, I wouldn't change a thing. Some things should never change.

That's why I was happy this morning to find out that McDonald's has done nothing to change anything about the Sausage n' Egg McMuffin. McGriddles and Breakfast Bagels are all well and good, but when it comes to the Sausage n' Egg McMuffin, McDonald's played it smart and left well-enough alone. A lot of people, myself included, don't want to get fat trying new stuff. We want to get fat on the classics.

McDonald's breakfast combo setup is as classic as it gets: McMuffin. Hashbrowns. Beverage.

Now THAT'S a breakfast, people: nary a veggie in sight, grease pooling at the bottom of wrappers and spilling onto shirts, and a rapidly increasing rapid heartbeat... O beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain.

Anticipation is the best part.

Let's get down to business. McDonald's didn't become the unholy dark lord of the "good food, prepared quickly" industry because their food sucks. If you don't care about the insane calorie count or whether or not you're eating real food, the bottom line stands -- it tastes good. Yes, it does. If you disagree with me, fine. I reserve the right to respectfully think you're in denial. It tastes delicious.

I want to get serious here for a moment. The rest of this blogpost has been kind of facetious, but I'm dead serious when I say that McDonald's coffee is wonderful. There's a lot of fish in the breakfast/coffee industry barrel (weak metaphor, whatevs), but McDonald's has some of the best coffee out there. Unlike Starbucks' melted tire roast, or Tim Horton's burnt hair roast, or Burger King's... water, McDonald's actually has a rich, flavourful, full-body roast that is too good to not be at the expense of some exploited African nation. Then again, it's McDonald's. You should know what you're getting. I recommend it.

Chewing is for amateurs.

The hashbrowns are delicious as well. I was a little concerned when I didn't see the hashbrown patty glistening with grease, but then I flipped it over and saw that all the grease had sunk to the bottom... haha, phew! It was as mouth-wateringly fattening as it always is, and we all know the golden food rule: FAT = DELICIOUS. Burger King offers the breakfast potatoes (puh-lease), and Tim Horton's has a bastardized version of the McDonald's hashbrown, but nothing comes close. This menu item is a staple in the breakfast branch of the fast food industry, which is ironic too, because shortly after eating the hashbrowns, it felt as if I had swallowed some staples.

Pain is the dessert for every
McDonald's meal.

The Sausage n' Egg McMuffin is the real draw here. Perfectly toasted English muffin, melted cheese, what appears to be an egg, and that glorious solidified grease called a sausage patty. It truly is delicious, and for only 440 calories, it's a dieter's dream! A Sausage n' Egg McMuffin has 26g of fat, which is 40% of the recommended daily value! So by eating it, you're actually eating the equivalent of two meals, saving you valuable eating time! This breakfast is so handy!

The only drawback to this delicious meal was the crippling lethargy that sank in shortly after eating it. The day-long headache was also a minor con, but still not enough to keep me from going back again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

Elements, Schmelements

Hello again, and welcome to a new year that's sure to be packed full of breakfast-based debauchery. Most of my breakfasts over the Christmas holidays consisted of half-eaten Lindor Chocolates and boxed wine, but that's all going to change in 2014. It has to. My doctor says so.

We'll start off the year with a breakfast I had last year at Elements Restaurant on Portage Avenue.

Elements was referred to me by a friend. His exact words were: "Go to Elements. They have all-day breakfast."

"Is it good?" I asked.

"They have all-day breakfast," he replied.

This conversation both intrigued and worried me, and was enough to get my ass off the couch and into the restaurant.

Looks nice, right? The walk to the bathroom is a lot
more scenic then a lot of restaurants, true, but the fun
stops there. 

Elements looks great. It's a nice little place that's attached to some building that has something to do with the University of Winnipeg. The atmosphere was nice and inviting, and it was a welcome change from the hole-in-the-wall dives where I usually eat my breakfast.

The meal started off with coffees and waters. We got the coffees. It took several more requests and a lot of patience to get the waters. This really set the tone for the whole meal.

I ordered the eggs over-easy, but received the most over-medium eggs I've ever had. The yolk was about as solid as Osmium and had the flavour and texture of Rhodium. The eggs looked nice enough on arrival, but by the time I received them, they were lukewarm, bordering on lukecool.

The bacon itself glistened with grease and fat and looked to be fresh off the grill. Looked to be. As it turns out, they were fresh off the heating lamp, where they had rested comfortably for what I can only assume was the better part of 2013. Since we're talking elements n' shit, let me drop a little science on all y'all: bacon curls. This is natural. I don't trust a slice of bacon that sits rigid, flat as a plywood sheet. If your bacon doesn't curl, it's either because the bacon isn't real bacon, or you've got a new type of bacon that transcends all physical law. Either way, I didn't feel easy eating it. Of course, it did taste like bacon, so I guess I'd have to give it a passing grade. Still, it was dried out, boring, and eating it did cause some chipping of the teeth and lacerations to the larynx and colon.

Pictured: purple potato, well-poised bacon, and burnt toast. I thought I was
having brain surgery until I realized the toast really was that burnt.

The highlight of this meal, by far, was the refried beans. I'm not a big fan of the musical fruit, but these were done right. They were a little sweet, the texture was great, and I found myself curious about becoming a full-time bean... guy.

The "breakfast potatoes" were just baby potatoes. I was ready to complain to the manager about receiving a disgusting rotten tomato, until a friend pointed out that it was actually just a purple potato. I'm not sure what kind of hippie invented the purple potato, but I wasn't buying this "far-out" version of my favourite vegetable. I like my crew cuts sharp, my guns loud, and my potatoes potato-y coloured.

The toast was rye and burnt. Fail. Even the bathtub of imperial margarine that they soaked it in couldn't save it.

The service at Elements was also suspect. I got vibes from the staff that I was the asshole of the day for ordering breakfast at 4pm on a Friday. Coffee refills were way too few and far between, and while the the server always smiled at us while we ordered, time and time again I would catch a glimpse of her desires to charge through the plate glass windows and make a break for freedom. I sympathize with her, I do, but it did put a damper on the meal.

I wouldn't recommend going here unless you want to try something new. If you haven't been here before, sure, go ahead and try it. If you have, well, chances are you won't go here again. I know I won't. At least, not for breakfast.