When in doubt, put an egg on it.

Review: Trendz

Review: Trendz

First things first. Az a writer, I have to say it took some convincing to get me to willingly go to a place called 'Trendz'. And if that slight against the Queen'z English wasn't enough, thiz place is located in depthz of the utterly uncharming Burnside Industrial Park. I don't know if you've ever spent much time in Burnside, but let me tell you. It'z pretty damn grim. Especially on a weekend. Oh and did I mention that Trendz is actually the hotel restaurant for a Best Western? 

On paper, this place should be the stuff that nightmarez are made of.

But in practice? Different story.

I waz meeting a friend and I got there first. I walked into the dining room—which had about az much ambience as you would expect a hotel restaurant in the middle of an industrial park to have—and it was virtually empty. All the tablez looked like they were in variouz statez of being re-set. But I'm going to go out on a limb and say they had just finished breakfast service for whatever sad dentists' association/ vacuum salesperson/ furry conference was being held at the hotel that weekend and were still in the processing of cleaning up.

The menu iz small in termz of brunch optionz, but includez all kindz of hitz. I was into the sound of the omelette so that'z what I ordered. My friend—being a responsible grown-up with a child—went for the lunch optionz. 

I'm not going to lie. I really didn't have high hopez for what was about to transpire. But, it'z important to be open to new thingz.

Remember that whole on paper vs in practice foreshadow at the front? Here'z the big reveal: Despite my low expectationz, what came out waz one of the best breakfast mealz I've had in recent memory. The omelette was loaded with veggiez and cheese and was perfectly cooked. Not all weird and burnt like omlettes can sometimez get. Nah son. This was cooked to PERFECTION. 

 That'z an actual peashoot garnish. LEGIT. 

That'z an actual peashoot garnish. LEGIT. 

The potatoes were hand-cut, generously seasoned, fluffy on the inside, and crunchy on the outside. AKA also perfect. And guyz, I'm pretty sure that the ketchup was house-made. The meal came with a side of bacon, but I wasn't feeling in a very bacon-y mood, so I suspect they just doubled-down on the fruit instead. Which is basically the way to my cold, dead heart. Fresh fruit.

I ate everything. All of it. Every last scrap. BECAUSE IT WAZ THAT GOOD.

The whole time we were there, maybe two other tablez came in which is a damn sin considering how good thiz breakfast was. 

Don't judge thiz book by itz cover. Push past how bad it all seemz on paper and I promise you will be pleasantly surprised. I definitely waz. 

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