Read Along as I Eat

A girlfriend, or two mentioned that they wish they were along on this journey. At least along for the culinary explorations. Since I don’t really wish the rest of this experience on anyone, I thought I would indulge these gals and list out my eats along the way.

I apologize as this might be a little random. Some memories came along in the middle that should have been at the beginning, and well, I’m a lazy editor.

How about my most recent adventure first?

Vancouver.

My last meal there was a waste of $12 that I did not intend on spending. I did want to spend the last 5 Canadian dollars in my pocket and pick up something for the journey back to the states. Throw in a postcard or two.

I walked back to the hostel from Stanley Park and passed the door for Meat & Bread. The smell stopped me. I was now officially hungry. I had to have something to eat if it smelled that fragrant and warm and delicious. I wanted to redeem my other mediocre Canadian eats. Sadly the curried chicken pocket for 1.49 from the Nesters Market had way more flavor than the signature roasted pork and salsa verde sandwich.

I have to start by saying that salsa is not pesto and pesto should not be called salsa. I am all for playing with food combinations, words and titles. I’m ok with basil in a salsa or tomatoes in a pesto. I do not say any of this with any knowledge base, just blatant opinions.

I don’t eat meat often. Those who know me would question my desire to even step foot in a food establishment named Meat and Bread. I rarely cook meat anymore since I cook for one. If I am paying for a meal out, I do feel obligated to get something with some animal in it.  (Unless I’m dining out here, in which case, I order vegetarian 98% of the time.)

Being raised by a butcher does push me towards the snobbish end of meat eaters. I understand that even the cutting of meat poorly before or after cooking it can affect the taste and texture. Sadly, Meat and Bread did not get schooled in this, as the amount of fat left on the roast should have resulted in a melt in your mouth meaty experience.

Instead, with one bite you had a mouth full of fat and the odd and nearly grotesque crunch of some of the mixed in chitlins or cracklins (I apologize for not knowing which or if there is a difference, I draw the line at pig skin.). It was a bit of a food texture nightmare, even though the crunchy bits had more flavor than even the salsa verde.

My completely unsolicited advice:

warm the bread

call it pesto

season your meat

trim before you slice

I should have been tipped off to the quality of the sandwich when, as I walked in, I noticed small ice cream scoop sized piles of mustard offered with each sandwich. (Note to new readers: I prefer a goo free eating environment.)

The Rosemary Lime Sip soda was delightful. But not worth $4. Canadian or otherwise.

The next stop on my explanation for my new pants size, how Vancouver and hot chocolate made my day.

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