Generally I am not a fan of breakfast out, as I am usually ravenous upon waking and by the time I have been served my breakfast at a restaurant I am eating out of the sugar bowl and entering a hypoglycaemic coma. So I go for the midway option – brunch. It allows for a small breakfast at home, and then the whole hog out, minus the abovementioned coma.
So Sunday brunch this week was at Borsch Vodka and Tears, a restaurant/bar serving contemporary polish food. It is located on the often far too cool-for-school Chapel St, and I am sorry to say that you will have to dodge a few rayban adorned gentlemen squeezed into a black skinny jean/checked shirt combo to get in the door. Despite my aversion to hipster fools and inappropriately dressed women (it’s a Sunday morning ladies, no need to put the good china on display), I must admit that Borsch has long been on my list of haunts, but for the sake of the review, will attempt to review it with fresh eyes.
The restaurant is predominantly an evening restaurant/bar and it’s décor if along those lines – half melted candles running along the bar, more vodka bottles than a Russian wedding and heavy velvet curtains. So, really, the place is at its best on a dark cold night where you feel like nursing a cocktail and eating the kind of food your polish grandmother would make you … if you had one (sadly, I do not).
I order the potato blintzes with smoked salmon and sour cream ($13) and a English breakfast tea. The tea come served in a cute little set, complete with its own tray. The tea tastes fantastic but it is probably because I love the tea set so much that I am biased. The blintzes are a little rubbery and I suspect they were made some time ago and then reheated, which is unfortunate as they are usually incredible here. But the smoked salmon is good quality and fashioned into a rose – a nice touch (clearly I am not hard to please!). Husband shuns caffeine in favour of a Bloody Mary to counter the effects of a particularly lethal punch at the preceding evenings festivities. It looks tasty, and apparently is. It comes with a large celery stalk, two olives and a large slither of cucumber. Husbands mood begins to noticeably improve with each sip. He also orders the big breakfast, which comes with everything you would expect in a traditional big breakfast, with a little polish flair by way of pickles and a potato blintz. Husband says it is delicious, and at the rate he clears the massive plate of food I believe him, although I don’t get a chance to taste any of it (unless I was willing to loose a finger).
My biggest criticisms is really that the place feels a little stark in the day time. Add to this a strange soundtrack – mostly the greatest hits of Queen – played at such a loud volume that you need to shout a little to hear your companion, and it doesn’t have the nicest lazy Sunday vibe. I think I much prefer dinner here – the pierogi and the polish gnocchi are fabulous and make me a little weepy (in a good way).
So full, merry and slightly deaf from Bohemian Rhapsody, we head back out onto Chapel St to once again dodge the increasing traffic flow of previously mentioned hipster fools and enjoy the rest of our Sunday.
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