Well the first place I went to had recently closed down their kitchen, with the bartender telling me that “the kitchen never made money for us anyhow, so we just shut it”. After dropping 12 bucks for a Crown Royal & Ginger, I can see why! (I asked what Canadian beer he had on tap and he offered me a Becks in a bottle, saying that was about as exotic as they got). Pfah!
So I hopped in a cab and jetted across town from the West Village to the East – over to “Pomme Frites” on 2nd Ave. I picked up myself a big ol’ can of Export Grade Molson (paper bag and everything!) from the deli next door, and soon after that had ordered myself a big heaping bowl of Canadiana.