A Whirlwind Day

            The missing ‘C’ on the sign that should have read ‘Thai Cuisine’ was the first sign, but longing for this supposedly delicious food clouded any sense. The sole middle-aged waiter was the second sign, but we sat down, pinning skepticism to the fact that it was lunchtime and not a lot of people would frequent this location.

            As we ordered our meal, we played into the wrong assumption, built from previous experiences at Thai restaurants, that the servings would be rather massive. When the soup arrived in a small bowl, no one said a word. No one but my father wanted soup anyways, so we sat and played eye-spy in the warmly lit place.

            Laden with carrots and baby corn and capsicum, the chicken and beef lay buried to the bottom of the red and green curries, respectively. Prior knowledge sought to quash what was in front of us, and imagination enlarged the minute serving size. The four of us dug in.

            On the very first bite it was clear that this place here in Oakville was not the same as the Suko Thai we had fallen in love with a year ago, in Toronto. Flavour struggled to push through, and the only thing we could be grateful for was that the food was not so spicy that we could not eat it. Still living in disbelief, my mother attributed it to the different chefs. Disappointment sat at the bottom of each bowl as the last grains of rice disappeared.

            As my father paid the bill, he inquired whether this was the same branch of Suko Thai as the one downtown. We all knew the answer before the man spoke, and we walked out of the restaurant with no intentions of returning.

            Outside there was silence, until my father noticed the sign reading ‘Demetre’s’. This renowned dessert place filled our stomachs with excitement, and we could all use a pick-me-up after being so enormously let down. Entering cautiously, the very smell of the place was proof enough that this was indeed a different location of the same place. Sugar and chocolate wafted under my nose. Everything about this place was massive, from the nutella bottles to the banana split sitting on the counter, all the way to the menus!

Deciding to share, our hearts were set on one thing: cake and ice cream. I found too much enjoyment in simply reading the names on the menu to actually pick a dessert; therefore this task was delegated to my mother and sister. Clearly catering to the masses, names like ‘Severus Shake’, ‘Chewbaclava’, and my father’s favourite, ‘Baking Bad’ jumped out at me.

Settling on a ‘What the Fudge’, we eyed each dessert that was carried past. And when ours finally arrived, the wait was worth it! The fork slid through the cake like a boiled potato, and a fudgy sauce dripped off the metal prongs. Reaching over for ice cream to go with this delectable delight, the firm solid easily slid onto the utensil. The chocolate elicited a low groan from my lips as it hit my tongue. Our guess for the ice cream was that it was vanilla, but this creamy sweetness was unlike any taste experienced before. Accompanied by a low hum, the treat was devoured.

Not one of us could have predicted this whirling end to what we presumed would be a sweet family Sunday lunch, but as we drove back towards Mississauga, there was not a one person in that car who regretted this trip.