When James suggested a Mexican themed brekkie I had visions of yummy stuffed enchiladas or spicy egg tacos like I had in Mexico while on vacation years ago. Well okay, that didn’t happen. Didn’t even come close. Sigh.
This spot adds some Ole! to a historic corner of Vancouver. During the 20s and early 30s Hogan’s Alley, a slip of space wedged between Main St. and Chinatown, was jumpin’ with speakeasies, brothels and music joints. The population of Chinese, Japanese, Italian and black families was as diverse as any neighbourhood in the city today. The cafe with the same name builds on the area’s cultural mix with Mexican food cooked by expats. I ordered the Divorced Eggs ($8.50), a traditional breakfast dish. Two eggs over easy, one topped with green chile sauce, the other with red chile sauce, layered on two small tortillas and accompanied with black beans and cheese. The food was over-sauced but with just-right spiciness. However, an unfortunate case of thermal dynamics put a damper on things. The breakfast’s temperature – only moderately hot to begin with – quickly cooled off because it arrived on a large, and very cold, plate. This is the second time I’ve had cold food at Hogan’s Alley. Maybe the server wearing earmuffs should have been a hint. But is it really that hard to warm a plate?
This breakfast made me grumpy. Seriously grumpy. It was cool, sunny Vancouver day, yet the restaurant inside was actually colder than it was outside. I can’t remember the name of the dish I had but it was similar to James’ except I got the married version of the dish served with red chile sauce. It was cold. The plate was cold, the food was tepid and the server was wearing earmuffs. Sheesh. I was still hungry after picking through the ice, so I ordered a blueberry scone. It was stale, and the butter, you guessed it, was rock hard. This was James’ second visit to this spot, it will be my last.
James’ rating: 2 eggs out of 5.
Theresa’s rating: yeah, no, no eggs.