I’m No Spring Chicken

06 May

Turns out I’m no spring chicken. Remember back in the day in your early 20s when four cocktails wouldn’t even faze you? Those days (along with my metabolism) are gone. Oh how I miss them. Patio season is upon us, and what’s a patio without a drink? We tried to start the evening out right. The plan was to go to Fahrenheit for the best americano to start us off. Alas, we got there just after 6 and they had just closed. On to our next destination! There were clouds looming but thankfully no rain called for as we headed to the Ritz Carlton. The patio at DEQ was voted best patio for tourists, and who are we to argue? The patio afforded an interesting view of the CN Tower. However we had been expecting a rooftop patio with a skyline view. Ah well. It was mostly good, save for the annoying bagpiper a few blocks away.

We were the only ones on the patio, so we chose the best seats: comfy couches. We opted for a cheese plate and to have dinner at our next stop, the best hotel bar. The cheese plate was a risk and only one of the three cheeses was good. I have learned my lesson: unless you know what types of cheeses served or if there is meat alongside it, avoid it. The first drink I had was made with tequila (in honour of Cinco de Mayo of course). And it had a giant frozen ball in the centre. While I waited for it to melt (after I had stabbed it apart into little pieces), I ordered a coffee-based drink. As I said before, I am no spring chicken. Coffee was needed.

I felt rather out of place at the Library Bar at the Royal York Hotel. It was super fancy and very ritzy-ditzy. Luckily we totally looked like tourists, so it turned out fine. Continuing my pseudo-Cinco de Mayo celebrations, I ordered a Margaret Atwood margarita. I have no idea what the connection is, but I do know it was an oddly pink drink and very delicious. The menu was limited and so I stuck to basics and got a bison burger. It was a hefty burger, almost as big as my head. Needless to say it bested me. I wound up forgetting it on the stairs when we got home, having placed it down while I took my shoes off. And there it sat all night, as I had completely forgotten about it. Blame the four cocktails.


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