There are some positive reviews that are easier written than others. Take for example last weeks review of the Bach Café: I wrote it in the full knowledge that any praise would not cause me any inconvenience, since Korean food has only a niche appeal. Hence, there was little danger that the next time I would decide to pop by, the amassed crowds would keep me from claiming my usual table next to the window.

Years ago, the space that now forms the heart of the bright and sunny dining room, was populated by a herd of pool tables . Back then, sailors would mingle with local hustlers and their escorts over a pint and a game. Smoke, thick enough to slice, would team up with the stench of 10 year old beer to form a natural barrier against churchgoing types.

Not anymore. The old bar was divided into two establishments and the North End Diner was born. At first, the place was a bit of a trade secret, populated mostly by the bohemian brigade that had taken up residency in the neighbourhood. Today, the clientele has expanded to include rich and poor, shaved and hairy legged, kidless and kided.

No, the North End Diner does not discriminate: anyone with an extra $7 (plus tip)  in their pocket can pop by for the weekend brunch. In case you lost a twoony on your way, there is the option of ordering the regular breakfast fair, weighing in around the five dollar mark.

If your idea of a decent morning meal includes a  Tian de Courgettes aux fruits de mer flanked by a piece of ficelle , followed by a profiteroles avec une petite tasse de café au lait, you might want to put aside you pretensions for an hour or so, and try eating with the rest of us plebs. I can assure you, it’s worth the debasement.

For brunch, I can highly recommend the “Big Breakfast” ($5), a perfect blend of bacon, sausages, ham and eggs a la carte. Home fries and toast are also include, but juice and coffee are extra.  In the last few years, I have tried it a few dozen times and can, therefore, attest to its consistent quality.

My regular breakfast companion, on the other hand, strongly favours the peameal bacon option ($5.75). Basically identical to the Big Breakfast, the chef simply swaps the meats involved. Oddly though, her dish always comes with a sprig of parsley, while mine steadfastly remains bereft of anything green.

There are a few more options on the menu : fishcakes, steak and eggs, and the ever present eggs Benedict.  Somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, I seem to remember something about fruit and yogurt also haunting the menu.  However, unless it comes dowsed it in bacon grease, it should be banished. By definition, a good-old fashioned Canadian diner should only serve food that would make Cardiologists groan with despair. Anything else is tantamount to treason against culinary history.  

About the service: simply put, it is excellent. With an efficiency that would make Albert Speer nod approvingly, the waitresses - hardened veterans to the last – will wade through the waiting throngs, dodging gesticulating artists and feral kids, all the while dispensing coffee left and right . Cups are seldom allowed to flirt with emptiness before a refill is offered, and the food is always delivered assuredly and promptly.

As I am concluding this review, I can only hope that its readers all have cholesterol levels higher than a Rastafarian snowboarder. Those of you who do have a permission slip from your doctor, please make sure to get there after eleven, for as we Krauts say:  “ once I’m gone, let the great flood commence”

Frank Streicher wanted to become a food critic, but being a smoker, his taste buds were not up to the job. Nowadays, he claims to be a food praiser, ignoring restaurants that don’t meet his lax standard.