So after having scrunched my nose at the egg-offerings of brunch in Steeltown, I now have to convey “ho-hum” to Kalandar’s breakfast.
The morning after a wedding in the city, my Hunk-of-Man (henceforth Mr. HoM) and I needed breakfast before we zoomed off to our respective Mother’s Day events. Our search proved somewhat challenging as I completely forgot that we’d be contending with the Brunch Crowd AND Mother’s Day revelers.
Our destination: College and Bathurst.
The clouds were grey and rain was imminent but we remain undeterred. We had a floppy/ half-broken umbrella to shield us from the elements. We had street parking and plenty of time. We made it to Kalendar just in time to beat the violent (freakish) hail storm!
The restaurant was jam packed with few families celebrating their mothers. Mostly, hipsters in dirty sweats looking like they had had a rough Saturday night. I remain aghast at what is considered kosher Sunday morning attire amongst twenty-somethings. Surely, one can run a comb through their hair?! I was already a little annoyed by how humid it was in the restaurant (probably all those hot unbathed bodies squashed into the tiny premises). And then, we were pushed out of the way by a couple who NEEDED a drink immediately and grabbed the recently vacated seats at the bar. (Of course, this couple was later seated right next to our table. They didn’t know what a mimosa was and the woman had deplorable table manners. She LITERALLY shovelled food into her mouth. It was gross!) So, Kalendar is cramped but it’s one of the things that makes it charming though not everyone knows how to be nice in such intimate settings.
Upon reflection, we ended up ordering variations of our Hamilton-dishes. Me: Eggs Napoleon (poached eggs with smoked salmon, spinach, onions and mushrooms with a honey dill cream sauce served on a croissant with a side of taters) and Mr. HoM: an omlette with italian fennel sausage, feta, onions, mushrooms & tomatoes. Mr. HoM is generally high maintenance and so upgraded his bread option to a croissant from toast. Both of us chose fresh-squeezed OJ as a bevy. Mr. HoM also ordered a coffee which was flavoured with nutmeg or something equally warm.
The dishes arrived beautifully assembled. A bounty of breakfast goodness.
My eggs (which I explicitly ordered medium) were only half prepared correctly. One egg was runny and the other veered towards hard. The dill sauce was a sweet complement to the salmon but made my croissant to0 soggy. Mr. HoM pointed out that it wasn’t really a croissant (which we decided needs to be flakier) but more of brioche shaped like a croissant. His omelette looked more appetizing and was indeed the more tasty option. The eggs were a vibrant yellow and the tomatoes brightened up the sausage et al in flavour and aesthetically.
Why am I being haunted by mediocre eggs?! Are they skipping this at chef school? Are kitchens not consulting their Joy of Cooking/ Julia Child/ Mark Bitmann before they approach their eggs? I don’t want to have to order simple breakfasts out – what’s the point of that?
Bad things come in threes SO who wants to prepare me mediocre eggs next so that I can change my breakfast luck!?