Let's eat!

Hi. My name's Carol, and I love food. No, you don't understand. I love food. If I were on the Titanic, I'd be in the galley (kitchen) eating up the chocolate pudding and the roasted quail. I go to most events, activities and parties just for the food. The company and the conversation are secondary. Here, I'll try to document everything that goes into my mouth. Aren't we excited? Oh, hey, are you gonna eat that?

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Hello, Goodbye, Beet Root Cafe



The two separate times we've been to Whistler, we've had a heck of a time finding a decent place to eat. Decent, meaning, affordable first. Whistler can be expensive, especially now with the devalued U.S. dollar. Used to be, you go to Canada to get everything cheaper. Not anymore. They come down here to get cheap stuff, and the cost of living isn't so cheap up there to begin with.

The same thing happened our third time in Whistler this past Labor Day Weekend. But there were so many more places to eat, so we faced the dilemma of finding an affordable breakfasty cafe that pleased a picky eater of a son, his dad and me--oh, with barely 15 minutes to eat because the next jazz show (there for the first inaugural Jazz on the Mountain festival) was already starting in five.

We found ourselves walking around the Village way too long, going from one place to another, finding them all similarly Urban Grill-ish, meaning, not our style.



Finally, as we were prepared to give up and find something on the way to the Olympic Plaza, where the concert was, my husband noticed a hole-in-the-wall advertising Irish lamb stew on a small handwritten sign. We had to walk around a maze of corner buildings to an inner mini-mall on the other side to find the Beet Root Cafe, run by an Irish-accented husband and wife.

Like a fool, I spotted the sandwich section -- this place reminded me of a cafe in Deep Cove, Vancouver -- and tried the turkey panini. Ed had a breakfast burrito, and our son James had his makeshift breakfast sandwich with scrambled egg, bacon, and a toasted muffin.



My panini was HUGE. More like a gigantic focaccia sandwich, more focaccia than turkey to be truthful. But I ate it dutifully while I eyed this lady at the cafe's outside area primly enjoying her small bowl of stew with multi-grain brain and butter. I kept thinking that would've been perfect before the concert, not too much, not too little.

The next day, we were back, but for dinner, again with only 15 minutes to spare before another jazz concert. I ordered my large Irish lamb stew and wolfed it down. It was so peasanty and basic, more brothy than stewy (the kind of beef stew Americans are familiar with), with the hearty multi-grain really going well with it, sopping up the broth along the way.



I loved this stew so much, we went back our last day, for a leisurely morning breakfast, while my husband went with an interesting turkey sandwich with shredded beets and assorted other vegetables. They must love beets in Canada. I'd had a golden beet salad at a Sunday Brunch the morning before that was to-die for.

It was only when I finished my big, honkin' chunk of potato slap-dab in the middle of the bowl of stew-age that I found out the Beet Root Cafe was leasing out, its owners looking to unload their place.

Hopefully, by the time we come back here, there will be new owners and not a for sale sign.

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