Ah, Easy! Almost ten years ago Poorkdale began to grab the city’s attention for its trendy breakfast eateries. Awesome, we thought. The Mockingbird was our own favourite, but alas, the good die young and Easy remains front and centre and has even expanded onto the tail of King Street where we caught this freshly completed mural. Now, their homefries are usually blacker than the side of an airport limousine at night and about as tasty. Service is somewhere between poor and psychotically indifferent. ...a perfect recipe for growth in Toryonto!!! The first problem is preventable and the latter is likely a product of the fact the employees are as underpaid as the rest of their generation. The rise of breakfast as a time for dating, seeing friends, relaxing, enjoying the fruits of urban life is related to the economics of underwagedness through more than the presence of bored, unmotivated (though hip and young) wait staff.
Our decade and a half of undercover work examining the lives of what is left of our working classes and our pseudo middle class office working population indicates that breakfast is one of the few indulgences left. Maxxed out, indentured to the student loan system into middle age, over-worked, insecure, unpensioned, younger working people still in the grip of the illusion that they will someday become middle class have only a small window on weekend mornings to reinforce this belief through leisure activity. Hence, the enormous presence of breakfast eaters in world class cities like Toryonto.
Don’t get us wrong. We love breakfast, we will eat it and eat it right until we die and then we will dig our way out of our grave and order up bacon and eggs. That’s if we hadn’t already sold our soul for a toasted western on brown, that is. When the sun shines on a greasy, buttery breakfast, well, who needs heaven?
editor’s note: Is she enjoying a cuppa Joe or panhandling? We think she’s drinking coffee - if every panhandler looked that good there wouldn’t be any.
Our decade and a half of undercover work examining the lives of what is left of our working classes and our pseudo middle class office working population indicates that breakfast is one of the few indulgences left. Maxxed out, indentured to the student loan system into middle age, over-worked, insecure, unpensioned, younger working people still in the grip of the illusion that they will someday become middle class have only a small window on weekend mornings to reinforce this belief through leisure activity. Hence, the enormous presence of breakfast eaters in world class cities like Toryonto.
Don’t get us wrong. We love breakfast, we will eat it and eat it right until we die and then we will dig our way out of our grave and order up bacon and eggs. That’s if we hadn’t already sold our soul for a toasted western on brown, that is. When the sun shines on a greasy, buttery breakfast, well, who needs heaven?
editor’s note: Is she enjoying a cuppa Joe or panhandling? We think she’s drinking coffee - if every panhandler looked that good there wouldn’t be any.
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