So, we had just gotten off the King streetcar at Niagara, ready to walk north to Citron for a quiet birthday dinner, when some hand of fate twisted us around and we ended up walking south. About one block down, next door to the Old York, we veered into the relatively new Niagara Street Café.

Settling in to the vague 70s rec-room feel, K got a red from the impressive wine list and I, not noticing any draft taps, got a big can of some British beer. There is also a nice selection of liquors and cocktails. I got some greens as an appetizer (I think it was some sort of spinach salad, but it’s hazy now), which were nice and crisp with a delicious dressing. K had a creamy roasted parsnip and leek soup, which she described as “more parsnipy than leeky” and enjoyed quite a bit.

You’d think all this would be the highlight of our pre-entree experience, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. But, oh, how wrong you’d be! For along with all this we got a plate of cornbread, which I personally could have eaten all night. It was light, slightly sweet, and just the right bit of crunchy.

For entrees, I had a plate of pork chops with roasted root vegetables that came in a fantastic jus. Thinking back, I should have asked for more cornbread to lap this up with, but was content to just spoon it up when I was done with the crunchy veg and the perfectly cooked chops. K had a farfalle dish with pecan pesto and goat cheese. I didn’t eat any of this, but it seemed to satisfy K’s taste for garlic.

We went back on the weekend with a bunch of people for brunch, and, as is typical of going out for brunch in this town, it was considerably busier than it was on the weekday evening we were there before, but we were cotent so sit for a while. Just ordering a “coffee” gets you a small latte thing, and the grapefruit juice I had was great. I think it was fresh-squeezed.

As the small staff became increasingly outnumbered by the patrons, a woman who had been eating breakfast beside us got up to help out. I take it she worked there and was just eating something before she started. Or maybe she was just feeling helpful. At any rate, she was soon over to take our order. While we waited for our food, one of our friends read to us from a children’s book someone had brought called “Walter the Farting Dog.” I forget exactly why this book was there, but I’m sure there was a good reason. This little story caused much merriment at our table and earned us some concerned looks from those nearby. To their relief, I’m sure, our food soon arrived and there was no more reading.

Many people at the table opted for the scramble with lox and potato pancake, which was nicely crispy and came with something that was either an apple chutney or some kind of chunky applesauce. It was good, though. Personally I had a special potato hash, which our waitress had been eating earlier, and correctly promised was good.

Thus filled up and wired on caffeine, we set out into the sunny city.