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29-08-2022, 07:10
Visit the Shut up about Barclay Perkins site (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2022/08/vancouver-central-part-1.html)
“What about Tim Horton’s?” That’s Lexxie’s breakfast suggestion. Not that it’s really breakfast time.
I arranged to come to the kids’ room at 9:30. Lexxie was up and dressed. Andrew barely awake. It’s a while before they’re ready to rock and roll.
It’s overcast outside and not very warm. Perfect Andrew weather.
“We could go to that retro diner in the centre. It’s licensed, remember.” That should swing it with Andrew.
Lexxie manages to find it pretty quickly on the internet. Before you know it, we’re off in an Uber and over the bridge into town. It’s easy to spot the Templeton (http://thetempleton.ca/). That’s where the queue is.
It takes a while to get inside. Pretty sure it’s going to be worth it. Lots of others clearly do.
I remember it pretty well from four years ago. That classic retro diner look. Checkerboard floor, chrome stools and long counter. Just like in films.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI2rUm63Z9khsreKEbdM1PZEWnuJlQZ9zhVZ4R3zkoK 2_ytTo1JlvA5S1cJhF4BEPNsrBSJxQmYG5juTWofRgTw553ZvU NVcLIbUm6vgBH--79_2GnP6k2ozBet5Ndgw4XxMyyEYwB-4fXnhhurQJGE8pleH2-OuZAMm2XO6NZdbgq9qWtpnOU_Lh/w640-h480/Templeton.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI2rUm63Z9khsreKEbdM1PZEWnuJlQZ9zhVZ4R3zkoK 2_ytTo1JlvA5S1cJhF4BEPNsrBSJxQmYG5juTWofRgTw553ZvU NVcLIbUm6vgBH--79_2GnP6k2ozBet5Ndgw4XxMyyEYwB-4fXnhhurQJGE8pleH2-OuZAMm2XO6NZdbgq9qWtpnOU_Lh/s2000/Templeton.jpg)
“Is this the same table we sat at last time? I seem to remember all this Elvis stuff.”
“I think you’re right.”
We start by ordering some beer. Andrew goes for a Lager. While Lexxie takes a double boozy chocolate milkshake.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuqqOSM-QUp4BnD42YBiFTtNxDzGzvUXlmJW0aaGugmiSjQjBcA0744pOb Rz3Ugv2_N66Pnp49T4Z1tqPqviYBVgCaiUB2YSVryU94ZHNkUg n2iiXGeDxVd7KQ_jJYPB9jO49ASuaOnpak2nSrep-MlGtsF63DP9tZC2FbuyG4vfq__JvTy6XTgy_/w374-h640/boozy_milkshake.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuqqOSM-QUp4BnD42YBiFTtNxDzGzvUXlmJW0aaGugmiSjQjBcA0744pOb Rz3Ugv2_N66Pnp49T4Z1tqPqviYBVgCaiUB2YSVryU94ZHNkUg n2iiXGeDxVd7KQ_jJYPB9jO49ASuaOnpak2nSrep-MlGtsF63DP9tZC2FbuyG4vfq__JvTy6XTgy_/s7181/boozy_milkshake.jpg)
“That’s in keeping with the diner theme.” I quip.
“Shut up, Dad.”
I do. And try my
R & B Brewing Dude Chilling Pale Ale
A bit grapefruity, fairly bitter, almost clear. Not bad for a diner.
Time to think about ordering food. I go for a farmer’s breakfast with a side of bacon. Lexxie’s choice is a Big Ass Breakfast. He must be hungry. While Andrew isn’t at all. He’s just sticking to beer.
“How’s the milkshake?”
“Good.”
“Full of boozy goodness?”
“Yes.”
“How’s your ass?”
“Don’t be annoying, Dad. Just shut up.”
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50WZBFrP9zA53w7G_kHUn7-CnJP-LEuYnoxSoHBV0ydFp4V41ID46By_Y2qcSWO8CLOQ_KNWh36kpx A5tlzNnq6GlyphDe6xEINFlATqO-6AyCW3HZBoGiLPcQxa6tLLe5g3-ltbpmjsOC3B1-9nBZqg1lAid4QJqYtFjHVKhPTDLIAfLNXI1YvT4/w640-h480/Templeton_brekkie.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50WZBFrP9zA53w7G_kHUn7-CnJP-LEuYnoxSoHBV0ydFp4V41ID46By_Y2qcSWO8CLOQ_KNWh36kpx A5tlzNnq6GlyphDe6xEINFlATqO-6AyCW3HZBoGiLPcQxa6tLLe5g3-ltbpmjsOC3B1-9nBZqg1lAid4QJqYtFjHVKhPTDLIAfLNXI1YvT4/s2000/Templeton_brekkie.jpg)
I feel stuffed. So stuffed, I let Andrew have half a slice of my toast. With some butter, that’s his breakfast. That’s saved me some money. Though all the beer he’s knocking back sort of negates that.
“What’s next, kids?”
“There’s a brewery not far away.” Says Lexxie, the one with a map on his phone.
“Lead the way.”
Lexxie leads us across the road.
“Look at that, Dad.”
“What?”
“Those workmen over there. They’re washing the pavement.”
“LA council should offer them jobs.”
We wander a few blocks in no particular direction. I’m not totally convinced Lexie knows where he’s going. But he’s the one with the map.
“It’s just down here.” He says, taking us down a very unpromising street.
I can’t see anything that looks vaguely like a brewery. “What’s the brewery name?”
“Labatt.”
“That’s one of the big Canadian breweries. That doesn’t sound right.”
We do find an entrance marked “Labatt Brewery”. It’s an office. We can’t be the first to have made this mistake as there’s a sign saying “this isn’t a brewpub”.
There is a brewpub down the hill: Yaletown (http://www.mjg.ca/yaletown/). Another spot we visited last time. We sit outside on the terrace.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBVDXIhklIf2RkWonoF3eTOZcgBMwlGX1UYJEKQgx95 KVgw5hBItYQgW9FqUdiES3xyhbBG5BNZxsowCexpDYtCm3zbev JF1pE9M8NKGrVOUXIOf6t-DUhj5o9RtkE7xZIGodwS2voxTgu_TWfRWH2qIq3C6T44ACPcsE 1US5Uh-9FBHOECFYdS6H/w640-h480/Yaletown.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBVDXIhklIf2RkWonoF3eTOZcgBMwlGX1UYJEKQgx95 KVgw5hBItYQgW9FqUdiES3xyhbBG5BNZxsowCexpDYtCm3zbev JF1pE9M8NKGrVOUXIOf6t-DUhj5o9RtkE7xZIGodwS2voxTgu_TWfRWH2qIq3C6T44ACPcsE 1US5Uh-9FBHOECFYdS6H/s2000/Yaletown.jpg)
It’s 13:55. And happy hour starts at 14:00. That’s lucky. Pints are just $5. Canadian. That‘s around 4 euros. Win.
Any guesses what I order? An IPA, of course.
Loading Bay IPA, 6.5% ABV, 66 IBU
Quite dark compared to most I’ve had recently. Weirdly sweet and harshly bitter at the same time. Not a great combination.
The kids go Lagery, again. They seem to really like that pale, fizzy piss.
It’s also happy hour on some food items. We order two pretzels. They’re almost, but not totally, unlike German pretzels. Only the shape is just about right. And that’s not 100% there.
“They probably can’t get Natronlauge.”
“What’s that, Andrew?”
“The stuff that they soak pretzels in. It probably isn’t allowed here.”
That could be it. They are quite nice. Like bread rolls curled into a weird shape. Just nothing like a pretzel.
I get a second IPA Despite not really enjoying the first. Mmm. This one looks a bit murky. Doesn’t seem to taste much different, mind. Not any better, mind.
Although he had that monster late breakfast, Lexxie is a bit peckish. Andrew is finally showing signs of hunger, after fasting all day. We order poutine.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1TWgqxwUBUKsbsk8YwCg2MyphaY7P3f9LOznJEVnNX sz-dXK09eKj5Do6nYgghtFDYn9vIc_04JoG8dP-XW8tbD7VxvBMk8csogpLnVLPRLmmm1SRJehec_x9QownLGRTzy 7i4Rat7x55v0jYaraw4F_pMpAvtQfzWGWSHccjhJ9fifbcQxHc gfc/w640-h540/poutine.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1TWgqxwUBUKsbsk8YwCg2MyphaY7P3f9LOznJEVnNX sz-dXK09eKj5Do6nYgghtFDYn9vIc_04JoG8dP-XW8tbD7VxvBMk8csogpLnVLPRLmmm1SRJehec_x9QownLGRTzy 7i4Rat7x55v0jYaraw4F_pMpAvtQfzWGWSHccjhJ9fifbcQxHc gfc/s2057/poutine.jpg)
“Have you had poutine before?”
“Yes, Dad. I told you that a couple of days ago.”
“I can’t remember eating it before.”
“That’s because you’re old. You did.”
“Thanks, Lexxie.”
After a few beers, we pay up and leave.
“Do you want to go to that liquor store around the corner?”
“Sure.”
It’s tiny. And is part of Yaletown. You can see right through to the bar. It’s pretty claustrophobic in the beer fridge, with only just enough room for me to squeeze between the six packs. Andrew gets some Molson.
I’d like to look at the craft cans. But some twat with a yuppie 3-wheel monster pushchair and a wolf of a dog is filling up most of the floor space. When he eventually bothers to move, I grab a couple of cans. Then get a bottle of Canadian Club.
The Templeton (http://thetempleton.ca/)
1087 Granville St,
Vancouver,
BC V6Z 1L4.
http://thetempleton.ca/
Yaletown Brewing Company (http://www.mjg.ca/yaletown/)
1111 Mainland St,
Vancouver,
BC V6B 2T9.
http://www.mjg.ca/yaletown/
More... (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2022/08/vancouver-central-part-1.html)
“What about Tim Horton’s?” That’s Lexxie’s breakfast suggestion. Not that it’s really breakfast time.
I arranged to come to the kids’ room at 9:30. Lexxie was up and dressed. Andrew barely awake. It’s a while before they’re ready to rock and roll.
It’s overcast outside and not very warm. Perfect Andrew weather.
“We could go to that retro diner in the centre. It’s licensed, remember.” That should swing it with Andrew.
Lexxie manages to find it pretty quickly on the internet. Before you know it, we’re off in an Uber and over the bridge into town. It’s easy to spot the Templeton (http://thetempleton.ca/). That’s where the queue is.
It takes a while to get inside. Pretty sure it’s going to be worth it. Lots of others clearly do.
I remember it pretty well from four years ago. That classic retro diner look. Checkerboard floor, chrome stools and long counter. Just like in films.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI2rUm63Z9khsreKEbdM1PZEWnuJlQZ9zhVZ4R3zkoK 2_ytTo1JlvA5S1cJhF4BEPNsrBSJxQmYG5juTWofRgTw553ZvU NVcLIbUm6vgBH--79_2GnP6k2ozBet5Ndgw4XxMyyEYwB-4fXnhhurQJGE8pleH2-OuZAMm2XO6NZdbgq9qWtpnOU_Lh/w640-h480/Templeton.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHI2rUm63Z9khsreKEbdM1PZEWnuJlQZ9zhVZ4R3zkoK 2_ytTo1JlvA5S1cJhF4BEPNsrBSJxQmYG5juTWofRgTw553ZvU NVcLIbUm6vgBH--79_2GnP6k2ozBet5Ndgw4XxMyyEYwB-4fXnhhurQJGE8pleH2-OuZAMm2XO6NZdbgq9qWtpnOU_Lh/s2000/Templeton.jpg)
“Is this the same table we sat at last time? I seem to remember all this Elvis stuff.”
“I think you’re right.”
We start by ordering some beer. Andrew goes for a Lager. While Lexxie takes a double boozy chocolate milkshake.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuqqOSM-QUp4BnD42YBiFTtNxDzGzvUXlmJW0aaGugmiSjQjBcA0744pOb Rz3Ugv2_N66Pnp49T4Z1tqPqviYBVgCaiUB2YSVryU94ZHNkUg n2iiXGeDxVd7KQ_jJYPB9jO49ASuaOnpak2nSrep-MlGtsF63DP9tZC2FbuyG4vfq__JvTy6XTgy_/w374-h640/boozy_milkshake.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSuqqOSM-QUp4BnD42YBiFTtNxDzGzvUXlmJW0aaGugmiSjQjBcA0744pOb Rz3Ugv2_N66Pnp49T4Z1tqPqviYBVgCaiUB2YSVryU94ZHNkUg n2iiXGeDxVd7KQ_jJYPB9jO49ASuaOnpak2nSrep-MlGtsF63DP9tZC2FbuyG4vfq__JvTy6XTgy_/s7181/boozy_milkshake.jpg)
“That’s in keeping with the diner theme.” I quip.
“Shut up, Dad.”
I do. And try my
R & B Brewing Dude Chilling Pale Ale
A bit grapefruity, fairly bitter, almost clear. Not bad for a diner.
Time to think about ordering food. I go for a farmer’s breakfast with a side of bacon. Lexxie’s choice is a Big Ass Breakfast. He must be hungry. While Andrew isn’t at all. He’s just sticking to beer.
“How’s the milkshake?”
“Good.”
“Full of boozy goodness?”
“Yes.”
“How’s your ass?”
“Don’t be annoying, Dad. Just shut up.”
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50WZBFrP9zA53w7G_kHUn7-CnJP-LEuYnoxSoHBV0ydFp4V41ID46By_Y2qcSWO8CLOQ_KNWh36kpx A5tlzNnq6GlyphDe6xEINFlATqO-6AyCW3HZBoGiLPcQxa6tLLe5g3-ltbpmjsOC3B1-9nBZqg1lAid4QJqYtFjHVKhPTDLIAfLNXI1YvT4/w640-h480/Templeton_brekkie.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50WZBFrP9zA53w7G_kHUn7-CnJP-LEuYnoxSoHBV0ydFp4V41ID46By_Y2qcSWO8CLOQ_KNWh36kpx A5tlzNnq6GlyphDe6xEINFlATqO-6AyCW3HZBoGiLPcQxa6tLLe5g3-ltbpmjsOC3B1-9nBZqg1lAid4QJqYtFjHVKhPTDLIAfLNXI1YvT4/s2000/Templeton_brekkie.jpg)
I feel stuffed. So stuffed, I let Andrew have half a slice of my toast. With some butter, that’s his breakfast. That’s saved me some money. Though all the beer he’s knocking back sort of negates that.
“What’s next, kids?”
“There’s a brewery not far away.” Says Lexxie, the one with a map on his phone.
“Lead the way.”
Lexxie leads us across the road.
“Look at that, Dad.”
“What?”
“Those workmen over there. They’re washing the pavement.”
“LA council should offer them jobs.”
We wander a few blocks in no particular direction. I’m not totally convinced Lexie knows where he’s going. But he’s the one with the map.
“It’s just down here.” He says, taking us down a very unpromising street.
I can’t see anything that looks vaguely like a brewery. “What’s the brewery name?”
“Labatt.”
“That’s one of the big Canadian breweries. That doesn’t sound right.”
We do find an entrance marked “Labatt Brewery”. It’s an office. We can’t be the first to have made this mistake as there’s a sign saying “this isn’t a brewpub”.
There is a brewpub down the hill: Yaletown (http://www.mjg.ca/yaletown/). Another spot we visited last time. We sit outside on the terrace.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBVDXIhklIf2RkWonoF3eTOZcgBMwlGX1UYJEKQgx95 KVgw5hBItYQgW9FqUdiES3xyhbBG5BNZxsowCexpDYtCm3zbev JF1pE9M8NKGrVOUXIOf6t-DUhj5o9RtkE7xZIGodwS2voxTgu_TWfRWH2qIq3C6T44ACPcsE 1US5Uh-9FBHOECFYdS6H/w640-h480/Yaletown.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimBVDXIhklIf2RkWonoF3eTOZcgBMwlGX1UYJEKQgx95 KVgw5hBItYQgW9FqUdiES3xyhbBG5BNZxsowCexpDYtCm3zbev JF1pE9M8NKGrVOUXIOf6t-DUhj5o9RtkE7xZIGodwS2voxTgu_TWfRWH2qIq3C6T44ACPcsE 1US5Uh-9FBHOECFYdS6H/s2000/Yaletown.jpg)
It’s 13:55. And happy hour starts at 14:00. That’s lucky. Pints are just $5. Canadian. That‘s around 4 euros. Win.
Any guesses what I order? An IPA, of course.
Loading Bay IPA, 6.5% ABV, 66 IBU
Quite dark compared to most I’ve had recently. Weirdly sweet and harshly bitter at the same time. Not a great combination.
The kids go Lagery, again. They seem to really like that pale, fizzy piss.
It’s also happy hour on some food items. We order two pretzels. They’re almost, but not totally, unlike German pretzels. Only the shape is just about right. And that’s not 100% there.
“They probably can’t get Natronlauge.”
“What’s that, Andrew?”
“The stuff that they soak pretzels in. It probably isn’t allowed here.”
That could be it. They are quite nice. Like bread rolls curled into a weird shape. Just nothing like a pretzel.
I get a second IPA Despite not really enjoying the first. Mmm. This one looks a bit murky. Doesn’t seem to taste much different, mind. Not any better, mind.
Although he had that monster late breakfast, Lexxie is a bit peckish. Andrew is finally showing signs of hunger, after fasting all day. We order poutine.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1TWgqxwUBUKsbsk8YwCg2MyphaY7P3f9LOznJEVnNX sz-dXK09eKj5Do6nYgghtFDYn9vIc_04JoG8dP-XW8tbD7VxvBMk8csogpLnVLPRLmmm1SRJehec_x9QownLGRTzy 7i4Rat7x55v0jYaraw4F_pMpAvtQfzWGWSHccjhJ9fifbcQxHc gfc/w640-h540/poutine.jpg (https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1TWgqxwUBUKsbsk8YwCg2MyphaY7P3f9LOznJEVnNX sz-dXK09eKj5Do6nYgghtFDYn9vIc_04JoG8dP-XW8tbD7VxvBMk8csogpLnVLPRLmmm1SRJehec_x9QownLGRTzy 7i4Rat7x55v0jYaraw4F_pMpAvtQfzWGWSHccjhJ9fifbcQxHc gfc/s2057/poutine.jpg)
“Have you had poutine before?”
“Yes, Dad. I told you that a couple of days ago.”
“I can’t remember eating it before.”
“That’s because you’re old. You did.”
“Thanks, Lexxie.”
After a few beers, we pay up and leave.
“Do you want to go to that liquor store around the corner?”
“Sure.”
It’s tiny. And is part of Yaletown. You can see right through to the bar. It’s pretty claustrophobic in the beer fridge, with only just enough room for me to squeeze between the six packs. Andrew gets some Molson.
I’d like to look at the craft cans. But some twat with a yuppie 3-wheel monster pushchair and a wolf of a dog is filling up most of the floor space. When he eventually bothers to move, I grab a couple of cans. Then get a bottle of Canadian Club.
The Templeton (http://thetempleton.ca/)
1087 Granville St,
Vancouver,
BC V6Z 1L4.
http://thetempleton.ca/
Yaletown Brewing Company (http://www.mjg.ca/yaletown/)
1111 Mainland St,
Vancouver,
BC V6B 2T9.
http://www.mjg.ca/yaletown/
More... (http://barclayperkins.blogspot.com/2022/08/vancouver-central-part-1.html)