Treating myself!

Hello stranger!

Oh, wait, that's me, I'm the stranger.  I've been MIA since August of last year according to Blogger and I know why.   It's because my new favourite restaurant is just down the street from us and I've no need to review it.   You've been there, you've seen it, you've ordered it... Boston Pizza.  Where kids rum amok and parents drown themselves in shitty wine and cold beer.   While I'm on the topic I'll just get this off my chest.   I hate this restaurant.  The food is mediocre at best, and that's being generous.  The servers are mostly air-heads (sorry to industry staff that I know used to work there :) ) and it's almost always packed so the wait from the kitchen can be long.   That being said I'm fairly confident most food is microwaved (I'm only being slightly facetious) so when they are ready to bring out your food its steaming hot, but your fries are limp dick.  For us it has a few redeeming qualities: it's close to home, the kids meals are cheap (and being a Kids club member in the summer means they're free) and there is always a beer special.    Now, enough about BP's, on to grown up food!


Just running some quick numbers here, I've lived in Calgary for 14 years; there's about 5000 restaurants according to google.  I've been to 3492 of them give or take.   Odds are that I've been to almost every pub in town (or so it seems) but I've never been to Tipperary's.    It surprises me even, because when I first moved here I only lived a few blocks east which would have been totally walkable on a nice summer night. But alas, here I am on a random Tuesday over a decade later.  I left an allergist appointment down the street and after getting poked and pricked 48 times, and blowing up like a balloon, I decided I was going to treat myself.

Tipperary's is a Calgary icon, a massive building on 16th Ave NW, across from North Hill Mall and probably the only bar in town with its own private, 'underground' parking.  I use that term loosely as the parking is probably only half underground, but it still warrants a low clearance and a sketchy run to the doorway.   Even closing the door and going up the 6 stairs to ground level gave me that "run-so-fast-up-the-basement-stairs-cuz-theres-a-bad-guy-chasing-you" feeling.  I was relieved to see that the ground level opens to a large, sunny interior.   Dark wood and massive booths line the front wall and the pub goes back as far as the eye can see.   On this Tuesday at lunch I did expect it to be a bit busier, as I was only the 3rd table at 1145am, but I was quite okay with relative silence.   The feeling of the neighbourhood pub is not lost, even taking into account its size.   There are a few sections that are closed at this time of day, understandably, so my server is quick to make it over to me.  After going through the specials, domestic bottles and a sweet 'n sour pork over rice, she takes my drink order.   The usual Keith's for myself, and it arrives quickly.  The "Everyday Lunch Special" is the 13 dollar steak sandwich.  How perfect.  Medium Rare with a side of mayo please!  I skipped the gravy, but in hindsight I should have gotten it.  The ketchup and mayo combo I was going for just wasn't doing it for me.   The thick onion ring on top was cooked perfectly, and I ate the whole thing!  That's a big deal for me, the one who calls onions a "yucky" at 36 years of age.   Although if you deep fry things, they usually taste better.  The exception I believe is the deep fried butter from the Stampede, that was just wrong.  And pickles.  No need to eat a hot pickle, they're bad enough cold, and heating them makes them soggy... ohhh.   I know people are gonna be mad at that one!  LOL.  I know a handful of people who love them some deep fried pickles.

My lunch comes out and looks delicious!  I knew I was going to love this place :).

As my food arrives I'm on the phone with someone I know who has gotten herself lost in an alley nearby and I give her step by step directions to unfuck her confusion as I snack on hot, crispy french fries.  *😉 love you*.  The dip that accompanies the dish looks like a chipotle mayo type so I assume it's for the fries and chow down, only to learn at the end of the meal that it actually is supposed to be a sauce for the steak.  I asked my server what was in it, if she knew, and she didn't.  Just said "it's something they created in the back for the steaks and the steak appetizer."   Well.... What?Why?No.  It didn't need any kind of sauce, including the HP that was dropped off.  The steak itself was excellently seasoned, and although it was under done (much closer to a rare...so much so that at one point I cut through the middle and it had the look of a seared tuna, if you understand that image) it still was very good.  I'm almost always okay with eating a steak under done than over, so all is forgiven.    Even more so when I learn that kids are allowed until 8pm, every day of the week.    I literally stumbled upon this coming out of the ladies room where tucked in one lone corner is a single highchair and booster seat.    Not wanting to assume, because there have been times where I've needed to be strapped into a highchair in a pub, I confirmed with staff that the munchkins are definitely allowed.   I immediately text M and say "we must come here; kids allowed".  He says okay to me and I start planning the next dinner out we have.  And, I say a little prayer for finding Tipperary's.   The menu and drinks are just right, the layout is toddler friendly for the 'roaming style' kid who won't sit the fuck down and the location is pretty central.  That's it, we're moving to the NW!