Breakfast at the Lakeview

My tummy is full after a Sunday morning excursion to the Lakeview with my buddy Fingers and my son Alexander. You can't go wrong with the fare at the Lakeview....everything from fruit filled pancakes that cover the whole plate to their token breakfast specials. If you've been there long enough, you know that if you ask nicely, they'll swap the pan fries with tomatoes, but who goes to a restaurant to eat healthy?! (The great part is that Grace and Pearl, owners of the Lakeview, are very compromising when it comes to their menu, and highly respect their customers.)

I explained my perspective just recently to my dear friend Harriet, who shares in my love for the ambiance of the Lakeview. I said that when I go and have a meal at the Lakeview I don't go there to have a private conversation. I go there to have a meal with the community. It's very common for conversations to be overheard, and for locals to partake in what may be considered a private discussion. Don't go to the Lakeview with a secret, because it won't remain that way for long. We're all in close quarters in those red vinyl booths. Sometimes I can smell my neighbour's breath, which isn't always necessarily good if they ordered the perogies with onions. But you can easily forgive these shortcomings because your breath probably smells like cabbage. Oh, and never, ever go to the Lakeview with a new date, because the regulars will all razz you and tell your potential partner every single embarrassing thing about you....no mercy.

It would be a weird day at the Lakeview if it wasn't being inhabited by Steve or Stan, Hugh, Martin, Rudy, Bob, Jack, John, Kurt, Larry, JB; you know, "the guys" that are still living and breathing because the Lakeview coffee pulses through their blood. That coffee is a damn good reason to wake up every morning.
The Lakeview coffee is completely the reason for my incessant obsession with coffee; plain ol' Lakeview coffee without any special flavouring or dashes of cinnamon. It's just good. Period. And I waitressed at the Lakeview for four summers, so the smell of java permeated into my clothes (along with the odor of grease and cigarette smoke....it was back in the day when everyone had a cigarette with their coffee, including me) leaving a permanent desire for that joe. It's also what kept me going if I made the mistake of partying my tips away the night before and had to stagger to work for a Saturday morning shift a few hours later. There was many a weekend that I got home at 2:30am, showered and turned around and went back to work for 3:30am. I didn't really like serving corn beef hash on those mornings, and my patience spread thin when the tourists asked for "American" cheese and grits. But the coffee kept me going. I was usually close to being completely sober by the time half my shift was over. Those were some pretty wild days....I can't believe I wasn't fired.

And that coffee has created a bit of controversy lately since the owners of the Lakeview decided to change the coffee cups that have been the same style for probably the last 50 years. The plain white coffee cups with the plain white saucers have been replaced with newer, larger, colourful mugs that don't need a saucer. This is efficient for a number of reasons; less space in the dishwasher due to the missing saucer, less time wasted on refills, and more coffee to drink for a reasonable price. But that's about it. I am of the old school mentality that the old way was the good way. Actually, I think just me and Hugh are probably the only ones that think this.....there's something to be said for tradition. And really, the old cup and saucer were just more aesthetically pleasing. And I could carry six cups of coffee at once because of those saucers. Now they use trays. Phhhst.....trays. And there was a nice place to hold the spoon. And the little bit of spilled coffee was caught in the saucer. Fortunately, I have one of those cups in my home so I can reminisce about them. I never use it.

I guess that it plays with the whole idea of evolution. If they change the mugs, what next? Will they get rid of the mirrored wall? What about the wooden paneling or the big "L" that screens the coffee shop side as you walk in? The horse shoe table is missing it's stools.....is that going the way of the dodo as well? I posted a photo of the Lakeview in a section on my Facebook sight, and a former resident said that nothing had changed. That's exactly right, and as it should be. Some things are just good the way they are.

And another reason I probably am not really into the whole idea of change is because going to the Lakeview constantly reminds me of when I was a kid, especially when I bring my son with me. When my dad is already there at the restaurant, and we walk in, he has such a great smile on his face. Alexander shyly goes over to him and gives him a great big hug, before he joins me again. (Today when Alexander looked at the menu my dad said, "Why are you even bothering looking at the menu when you know you're going to have the blueberry pancakes?" Everyone knows that Alexander always has the blueberry pancakes.) When I was a kid, living in Ignace, my dad would drag me along to the Husky, where he would drink his coffee with the Italian clan and play rounds and rounds of cribbage. I would snuggle in to his side with my apple juice and count his cards for him, 15-2, 15-4....and I was the one that always moved the crib peg for him. I was asked for my opinion on what cards he should keep. I was made to feel important, like I was needed in order for my dad to have a successful crib game. Who would have thought all of that love could happen over a game of crib at a grungy old gas station with a cup of coffee? Well it did. And I can assure you that it happens time and time again, at old restaurants that are just left the way they've always been.

And that's just breakfast. Wait until you have Mrs. Siemaszko's borscht on Fridays. Yet another reason to love the Lakeview, but you'll just have to go there yourself to find out.

I'll leave you with "One More Cup of Coffee" originally done by Bob Dylan, remade by The White Stripes.