Monday, February 14, 2011

Hipster Sophistication



If you ever find yourself in a bind about where to eat, feel free to ask a stranger. Everyone likes to think they know what they're talking when it comes to eating, simply because everybody eats. But does everybody really EAT? I say this with conviction, dear readers. Does anyone ever really think about what they're tasting, or merely that what they're eating tastes good? More importantly, do people think about why they think a place is worth eating at? Atmosphere, taste, service, price. Aw, yes, the obvious things we think about when it comes to dining out; but what about what the things or places we choose to eat at mean for those who hear about us eating at them?

I’ve been to the Princess Café many a time. However, never to eat, only to drink insurmountable amounts of coffee and what I’ve discovered late in life, and much to my chagrin, to be Italian hot chocolate. Even my poor Calabrese mother never heard of the stuff. So while in a bind about where to eat after having been shooed out from another place because I had no cash on hand, I simply asked the first stranger I saw. They said, “I like Princess Café.” I responded, “I like turtles,” thanked them and went on my way. If I were to have any more fun, I’d have to sternly remind myself not be picky and go. To be honest, my frequency to the place left little to my own imagination, but if my experiences there were merely limited to coffee, hot chocolate, hilarious poetry slams and debates about whether the girl at the counter looked like Miley Cyrus or Kat Dennings, then I should at least give the food a try, even if only once.
I started my venture with a gander to the dessert fridge, ignoring the prices placed in front of the pastries like chocolate truffle cake, strudels and mini cheesecakes, knowing that if I looked at the cost first, I wouldn’t even bother. I did my best to get excited dear readers if only to assure myself that a substantially small piece of chocolate cake or mini cheese cake was worth the five dollars and twenty five cents; and yet, I could do no such thing. All is not lost though, because for those of you with an uncompromising sweet tooth, there are affordable goodies like two dollar cupcakes and strudels, and if you’re lucky, even more affordable sweets the next time around, the desserts having a rotating selection every now and then.
Having come to terms, I approached the counter, asked for a small cappuccino, and chose from what at first glance seemed like a limited menu of Panini sandwiches, pastas, soups and salads. A fair selection, considering that the place’s main identity comes in the guise of a café with specialty coffees, teas, and even rotating house wines and imported beers. A diamond in the rough, in this humble eater’s opinion. But what absolves the Princess Café’s apparently limited menu selection is the number of variations one can get from the Panini sandwiches they serve. The salad selection is acceptable and the soup is always changing.
Having been unsure of what was more filling, soup or salad, the server suggested, seemingly unexcited by my question, to try the vegan soup of the day. I figured hey, I’m somewhat socially responsible. I could go without meat for one meal. Forget that my deodorant probably had animal fat in it, or that the air filters used to clean the dust in my home most likely depended on the fine hairs of a cow’s carcass- at that moment in time, I was going meatless. With that, it was a resounding yes to said vegan soup- though I had no idea what “vegan” tasted like- and “the original vegetarian” Panini. A sandwich snuggly stuffed with roasted eggplant, red pepper, tomato, artichoke caponata (a fancy food buzzword for briny artichoke spread), pesto, basil (I dare not say fresh in the middle of February) and brie cheese (albeit a mild tasting one closer to that of mozzarella).
Thus, I took my cappuccino and found a seat. I’ve had many cappuccinos in this town, the majority from ubiquitous coffee chains, and the same goes for London Fogs, the cappuccino’s English cousin (Earl Grey with frothed milk), and if there is something worth noting about the Princess Café it’s that I’ve come to enjoy their London Fogs to a great degree. Quite frankly, they’re the best in town. The cappuccinos, however, can be hit or miss. The strong foam that stood on its own paired with what I would expect to be a strong, clean roasted espresso was unfortunately acrid and ashy, a symptom of an improperly cleaned machine. Alas, unfortunately for us as customers, some places’ dishes depend on the skill of each individual cook, not the leadership skills of the manager who would otherwise push to make sure that their staff all cooked consistently. So it goes, dear readers, so it goes. And it’s one thing when we depend on the foam, naturally sweetened in the frothing process, to sweeten our cappuccino, but it is certainly another when we depend on it to dilute the bitter flavor of what tastes like over-brewed coffee. Luckily, there was sugar nearby.


'Gotta brush up on them camera skillz
Still waiting, I took in the scenery, an echelon of hipster sophistication: retro-posters placed in frames, stiff, white rococo chairs recycled from what may have been some twelve year old’s garden party, old tables, and paisley kerchiefs used in lieu of disposable napkins. I could appreciate the sentiment because it catered well to a young crowd enjoying a new trend of ironically consuming old and out of fashion things like coffee mugs from the 80s with terrible decals, and to the old who enjoyed coming in for a sense of nostalgia within its warm red and white walls.

It was then when my meal came and snapped me out of it; a humble array of soup and glorified sandwich, accompanied by a thin, quartered pickle. Now, my ancestors tell me a Panini should be hot coming off the press, lest, I suppose, there’s a good reason for it not being so. I can only assume that the Panini, being a hearty bread, needs such heat to soften it up for consumption. However, this was not the case with my sandwich. Conveniently, the local bread used for the dish was soft with a good amount of bite to it. Not too little to become soggy immediately with all the balsamic, briny ingredients in between, but not too hard to be tedious to eat. An overall good pairing with the vegetable ingredients, also being soft. I wonder however, what the bread would have been like with the cured meats that accompany other sandwiches. For 6.46 alone, I would have liked something a little larger. As for the ambiguous vegan soup, I could only guess what gave it its earthen flavor. I say earthen and not earthy here, my soup having the flavour of something edible, yet still in the ground. I did my best to ignore this one dynamic of flavor in lieu of the soup’s curried aroma, combined with its peppery taste, and strong nutmeg like overtones, all supported by that of what I assumed to be a base of either carrot or some kind of squash, giving it its orange colour. As an accompaniment to my Panini, the combo came to a resounding 8.10. Reasonable.
Finished, the café’s host, in a brief moment of time came, saw my empty plate, and conquered, taking it up and cleaning my place immediately. From there, I up and left, paying my dues and paying a good 14.25 (tip included), wondering who I could ask about where to eat next.

The Princess Café
519-886-0227
Mon-Sun 11:00 AM- 10:30 PM
46 King St. N. Waterloo

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Wednesday, January 19, 2011

心揺れる



Watami Sushi & Sake Bar
15 King St N Waterloo
N2J 2W6
519-747-1100 

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Not for All the Tea in China



I didn't even care enough to take a good picture.

Straight and to the point, dear readers: Sweet Dreams Teashop is a terrible place. Granted, the coconut coffee is pretty dope- once in a while. But one out of a lot doesn't count. Not this time. No way. There's too much goin' bad in the joint, and I know because I've been reluctantly going there for years (usually in the company of others). The last straw came today when I found a load of gift certificates for the place my sister gave me that I inadvertently left in a pile of papers because I knew I wouldn't be going back unless I had a good reason- i.e., free money. I.e., free tea. That sad, I'm not too bent out of shape with the quality of bulk tea I bought today - sencha- which as it is, tastes flat, generic and doesn't have that dewy, fresh cut grass flavour a good sencha usually does. As far as I know, and know I usually do, it was the first proper bubble tea place in Kitchener-Waterloo blazing the trails of trendy Taiwanese bubble tea places. Obviously, over the years other places followed. Why this place has lasted so long, I'll never know- though I do have my theories. People just go for the bubble tea, which as it turns out tastes like nothing more than powder shaken and mixed with hot water. accompanied by a chalky gelatin aftertaste and served by supposedly cute teenage girls. No boys. I'll leave any gender assumptions to you, because this is ground one has to tread very very lightly on.

If anyone does order anything edible they'll find it processed and more than generic. There is one thing I've always eyed: a slab of poorly cut bread smeared with a chocolate spread. Looks good, probably tastes stale. I'm balzy enough to say Sweet Dreams depends on absolutely nothing but poor palettes and customer ignorance in order to stay in business and maybe the bubbly girls that serve there- not that they're all bubbly. If bubbly meant socially inept and lacking in food industry experience and it was merely a word to euphemise the poorest kind of workers than sure, bubbly. Definitely bubbly. So much so that I was overcharged for the tea I bought and on top of that, taxed for it (I asked the cashier if she ever learned about the Boston Tea Party. Not fair? I didn't care. I was exploited. Nowhere in the Great White North are people taxed for tea. Ridiculous.) I, of course, came back and humbly asked that they get their heads out of their asses, stop depending on their personalities to overshadow their poor service and give me what was owed.

Yes comrades, nothing here but dirty glass mugs, poorly steeped tea, dilapidated ceilings, processed meals, too many teenagers, extremely loud music (I can only hope whoever runs the place doesn't assume that a bubble tea shop can operate like a bar where music is purposely played loud to eliminate conversation and cause parched mouths to buy more after yelling over each other- tea shops are places to relax, after all) and a character that depends on nothing more than a kind of blanket orientalism supposedly defining that which is Taiwan and its innovative tea. "But Weezee," you ask "Don't you like poor dilapidated places?" Don't get me wrong dear, reader, I do; that is, when I see it is genuine, when I see it is sincere. When it really is an issue of different cultural taste that othering patrons fail to understand and label as beneath them. But for a place like this, born and bred, as far as I'm concerned, in and for the West, that is no excuse. I won't even bother with the prices. Nothing's worth anything there, unless you're foolish enough to pay for it. I hate to say all of this, but it was only a matter of time before I stopped my own passivity, especially when so many people, and perhaps even you my dear readers, inadvertently decide to go. I just couldn't be that socially irresponsible in the world of food. Not for the all tea in China.


Sweet Dreams Tea Shop14-170 University Avenue West
Waterloo, ON N2L 3E9
(519) 747-2442


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