Cheeses Murphy

The culinary underbelly of Kitchener-Waterloo has been whispering a sibilant buzz these past two months during the dark hours of Friday and Saturday nights; and though the streets are usually humming with the most ritualistic of drinkers, there are circumscribed spaces that attempt to cater to good food and good eating for the mass of hungry, maybe even lovelorn, individuals that saunter out of any club after the doors have closed.

I always hear things. We always hear things. And I had it on good authority that the obscure, cleverly titled Cheeses Murphy, an ambitious attempt by the folks at the Princess Café (unless I’ve otherwise been misinformed) to elevate grilled cheese sandwiches, was something I had to try. And, aside from my dictatorial culinary underpinnings always looking for places that focus on small menus which attempt to master a kind of fare, I was baited by its short hours of operation: Friday and Saturday nights, from midnight until the wee hours of the morning. I won’t bother to wonder why not longer, if the grill cheese is as good as people say it is.


The operation happens behind the ticket booth of the Princess Cinema twin, whereby customers are herded into the lobby while each one lines up to take his or her order from an appreciated and focused menu dealing in grill cheese and nothing else. You pay an even six dollars per sandwich, unless you get the simple classic which is four, and watch as the counter attendant does the run around to tell the two grillers in the locked down Princess Café what you ordered, but not before handing you a small card of kitsch so they can call you out when your order is ready. Did you order ‘The Sticky Frenchman?’ Well, if your card is that of NBC’s poster child for teenage sweethearts, Kelly Kapowski, your order’s up. An entertaining way to amuse the hot messy masses that come in and have a hankering for a sandwich which’s title is as sexually charged, I assume, as the sticky Frenchmen they plan on going home with. Did I mention they sell dipping sauces? No ketchup though.

Yes, cherished readers, novelty seems to be the backbone of Cheeses Murphy. An unfortunate dilemma I played out in my mind as I read a menu full of rhetorical flash therein. I wouldn’t otherwise seem so harsh if I didn’t have the perspective of knowing the food, that statement in itself being a dooming epitaph. Cheeses Murphy has great potential. A funny menu with funny titles, even clever item altercations alluding to even more popular culture, like the “inception”: a grilled cheese sandwich put in any other grilled cheese sandwich, making it, hypothetically, that much more delicious, metaphysical, and expensive.

Unfortunately, each sandwich is made with plain white bread; perhaps an adulation to that cherished cheese dream of the Great Depression, but I think a lazy copout for potentially better fare that could be paired with more finesse and character in our culinary age. Because in my mind, brie cheese and caramelized apple deserve more than the processed mushy bread that lacks any artisanship, texture, or body. I’m civil when it comes to paying an arm and a leg for something as trivial as a grilled cheese sandwich, so long as its ingredients play the part. But I’ll be brutally honest: searing a sandwich and skimping on ingredients does a faux food stand no good. And I’ll be even bolder by saying that pandering to an alleged inebriated, starved, late night crowd is no excuse for subpar food of Americana. My only fault may have been coming sober, thereby maintaining my scrutiny. The bread could have been crisp, but was saturated by too much butter, which, oddly enough, did nothing to prevent the crusty edges from being dry, stale tasting appendages. Were these symptoms of old bread? You be the judge. Combine that with skimped stuffings, other than the cheddar cheese, and you get a sandwich that has the potential to choke down your throat, and become nothing more than a salty afterthought.

	Bizarre, right? Don't be alarmed, nothing more than propaganda to convince you what you're getting is worthwhile.

When I ordered the namesake of the place I expected my sandwich to be a grandiose spectacle of balance, satisfaction, and sandwich progress. Imagine, a grilled cheese with bacon and jam? Sounds odd; strangely adventurous, even. Unfortunately, the nameless jam and spattered bits of bacon did a poor job of fostering a good reputation for the sandwich aptly named Cheeses Murphy.
And its South American inspired companion, which I looked forward to eating (when I was recommended it), may have reminded me of the familiar flavours of a taco, but still fell short, the choice of white bread for a canopy giving it an unfamiliar and bizarre mouth feel. And the butter that greased its sides did no right by something filled with ground beef and chipotle sauce, a smokey, earthy cream that did a moderately good job of balancing saltiness, but still fell short. The coriander could have quelled all the guttural brawny flavor of spice and meat, but unfortunately it was haphazardly sprinkled to one size. Although, I have the strange feeling that even if not, it still would have fell short.
If I’ve anything left to say, it might be that at 3 am, Cheeses Murphy may have a monopoly on its hands, so long as its customers are in the right frame of mind. Take from that whatever meaning you will. But with fare of ill-matched ingredients and poor textural qualities, I’m willing to bet it’s not too hard to put together.

Cheeses Murphy
46 King St. N. Waterloo
FRI & SAT 12-330AM

CASH ONLY- tax included.

Tweet