The Perils of Pub Desserts

While in Ottawa this week, Sheena met her blogmother for dinner at the always favoured Manx Pub, a cozy little downstairs place on Elgin & Frank. Just one block from perennial apres-bar close favourites the Elgin Street Diner (home of the world's most comfortable pillow sized plate of fries and gravy). Just a couple doors down from late-night skank hangout Marroush the Shawarma Nutsi, purveyor of fine lesbian and other mediterranean cuisine.

The place was pretty full when we got there just after 7pm, and the only sit down place with a table was in the corneriest corner of the place. Food is very good, some call it Ottawa's best gastropub. Sheena hates the word "gastropub". It sounds like something a gall bladder surgeon would read on the bus.

My two squinting companions had the Cornish Hen, which looked quite delish. Sheena had the burger with eggplant and cheddar. It was very very yummy, though the fries were too thickly cut, thus not very crispy and too potatoey. If fries aren't crisp, what the fuck good are they. If they could sell Manx Pub burgers with Elgin Street Diner fries Sheena would be all thumbs up.

The blogmother indulged in dessert. Some kind of Bananas Flambe with ice cream. Being somewhat lactose intolerant, Sheena did not expect to indulge in much sharing but we had extra spoons just in case.

When the dish arrived, it was difficult not to exclaim, "Holy shit, that looks like Fish and Chips on top of icecream". The dining companions reluctantly agreed. Instead of being flambed, it was deep fried. I wondered aloud if perhaps the bananas were fried in the same vat of oil that they used for fries and chicken fingers. That made it hard to take a test nibble on the bananas because I kept expecting it to taste like cod.

She ate it though. Figures.