Calgary | DAY 3: (Pt. 1) The Bro'Kin Yolk + Signal Hill/Battalion Park

Having awoke minimally throughout the night, it was with glee that I declared having slept significantly better than the previous two nights.

That said, sleeping in still did not come easily. Averaging on about seven hours of intermittent slumber, I resolved to peel myself from the bed and introduce consciousness into the day.

​Sunrise took place between 8 AM - 9 AM, approximately half an hour later than back home. From our grimy southward-facing windows, I gazed into the distance at cascading layers of blue-violet, orange, and pink hovering about the airport terminals.

​For our second full day in Calgary, I had proposed brunch before the main event of the day.

​​The drive estimated twenty-five to thirty minutes, with clear skies and (surprisingly) light weekend traffic. Remarkably saturated was our outlook, as if painted on, CS6-style, by a baby blue paintbrush gradient.
Heading to the southwest edge of the city, we passed by distinctly Alberta-sounding names (Deerfoot Trail, Crowchild Trail) and a CF-owned retail building.

​We also passed a segment along Glenmore Trail that vividly reminded me of the Dufferin Street overpass I had encountered on numerous occasions travelling eastbound on the Gardiner.

Source: Google Maps, Sep 2022

Slowly but surely, we were making our way in the direction of mountains - the very mountains we'd have the luxury to explore on the following day!

Sunlight had receded to an overall greyness with our arrival in Signal Hill. Cloud cover had amassed, casting a bleak, Raincouver-like aura on the commercial district.

It was with slight bewilderment that I regarded the intersection: Despite appearing very much like a tourist stopover spot, the neighbouring establishments were primarily residential in nature. The image could be linked to the calm but critical Stoney Creek, where the Red Hill Valley and Mud Street exit boasted similar sightings of Cineplex, Tim Hortons, and other typically North American franchises. There were, might I add, familiar West Coast names of Save-On-Foods and London Drugs observed en route as well.

Parking was secured in the unploughed asphalt lot before the entrance of The Bro'Kin Yolk just short of 10:20 AM.

​At this point, vacancies were ample, though the interior of the eatery quickly began to fill with dissonance.

"This feels like Pur & Simple." came the unanimous comment. Gestured towards a two-seater with one chair situated in the main corridor of access, I couldn't help but be reminded of the compact space we had been allocated at the last brunch destination.

​I seated myself as far from the open grill as possible, for accumulating greasy fumes in a freshly washed (and freshly tinted!) mane was the last thing I desired. After swapping spots with the sleepy polar bear, an array of post-its flitted into perspective. As opposed to their content speaking of unfulfilled order notes, words of encouragement were spotted instead.

"You can do it!"
"Bee happy"
"You got this!"
"Keep going"

they had read.

From the double-sided menu that I had examined long before our slated visit, I had pinned the Duck Fat Hash as a potential item of interest for the sleepy polar bear. The availability of kale salad, frittatas, and mimosas had also presented favourably to me. Though, given the anticipated intake of alcohol later in the evening, I opted out of bubbly starters.

After much discussion, we took to sharing the Little Farmer and a Salmon Sammy, with no additional drink orders beyond water - one hot, one cold.

The Little Farmer was a condensed take on the Farmers Breakfast, offering one "farmed fresh egg" instead of three and omitting the sausage side. Toast options still spanned multigrain, white, and sourdough, with the last alternative incurring additional charges of fifty cents for the Little Farmer and one dollar for the Farmers Breakfast.

​​Components were plated in a linear fashion on a speckled, rectangular dish. I was quite content with my sunny-side egg, though less certain about the Sourdough and Duck Fat Hash. Our server had informed of the sourdough's origins from a local bakery after I posed the inquiry; the slice was thinner than most toast I've had and radiated vague, if not indiscernible, notes of tanginess.

The signature Duck Fat Hash bore great resemblance to taters: thoroughly seasoned (salted) with crispiness strictly maintained at a supple home fries level. Starchy was the interior, leading me to cease consumption after a few cubes. I presumed rendered duck fat to be utilized in the cookie process, however I wouldn't consider its inclusion impactful in the finished product.

Appearing dismal and burnt at first glance, the extremely charred edges and barely pierceable texture had induced low expectations towards the bacon. However, the strips were astonishingly (pleasantly!) chewy and boasted a maple-like glaze, transforming the coal-coloured ends into sections of indulgent, caramelly savouriness.

Generally, the Salmon Sammy was superior in terms of presentation and complexity. The sleepy polar bear's requested over easy egg had been drizzled with basil-infused puree, which was far less greasy than pesto yet nonetheless brimming with depth.

An abundance of fresh greens lay beneath flavourful strips of smoked salmon, garnering much of my approval. Pink pickled onions contributed a contrasting pop of colour and much-appreciated acidity, while the sprinkle of blistered capers were crunchy, and not excessively salty and plump like the East Coast editions.

​​Seasonal fruit was served on the side. The ramekin, which I had reached for without hesitation, comprised finely chopped pineapple, blackberries, grapes, and a few lone chunks of unripe cantaloupe.

​The meal was consumed while maximizing table space to fit three narrow rectangular dishes, one round speckled dish, both cups of water, two Heinz Megapaks, and the menu sheets that would perpetually reside on the table. It is with disdain that I declare woes over the sleepy polar bear's hastiness in eating, stabbing everything from across the table instead of placing plates directly before one's body.

​Oily fumes clung onto my jacket, but thankfully weren't severe in spite of the open kitchen.

​Extremely amicable had been our server. Attentive, prompt, and providing adequate information to appease my ceaseless curiosity for food and mountain views, he followed up with courteousness and even included a dash of wittiness in his approach.
While the sleepy polar bear griped about an unsatisfied appetite, I encouraged the intake of water and thorough depletion of the plate's contents. Likely was our server to have heard my encouraging of proper mannerisms, for he was deliberate in asking whether our sharing plates could be cleared for the bill, or if we were "Still working on that leaf?". The statement summoned a wide grin and roaring laughter from my end of the table.​

​Washrooms adopted the form of individual stalls behind colourful doors. Visits were made to the chilly facilities prior to our departure, which was met with a bustling queue filling the entryway.

​We would re-enter the car once more, where I happily proclaimed our adherence to the planned schedule.

​The next order of business involved driving to Signal Hill to explore its history-rich grounds. Frankly, I wouldn't have been aware of such a destination had it not been for annual involvement in McDonald's Monopoly. Alas, it is amazing to experience the effects of knowledge via osmosis and sheer exposure.

​The Signal Hill Library parking lot offered direct access to the trail, and was a mere three-minute drive from The Bro'Kin Yolk. Few vehicles occupied the asphalt grounds, though it remains uncertain whether this was due to the library's late opening hour or the city's typically sparse population density.

​Immediately noticeable was the presence of a signage pillar at the start of the trail. For the most part, the grounds were dry; only a few icy patches remained on the path.
Thankfully, the wooden stairs ascending up to Battalion Park had also been cleared. A narrow metal slide was also observed running along the height of the wooden staircase. Its purpose wasn't obvious to me at the time, but I assumed it to be used for easier transport of strollers.

​The view of the mountains was spectacular from the top of the stairwell. It overlooked the tops of trees and snow-covered roofs to reveal a cool, lush greenery (blue-ery?) in the distance. I paused here in an attempt to zoom in on the scene, then quickly regretted not having my zoom len-equipped DSLR in tow.

​Leading to a quad of flags at the centre of the park was a relatively flat walkway. Over the course of my photo-taking path, we saw many runners using the trail, which was admittedly shocking given the obvious patches of dampness and ice formation, as well as their choice of cleat-less footwear.

​Braving the breezy conditions, we continued upwards. A second flight of stairs would lead to yet another lookout point (at a greater elevation, of course) and info boards for reference.

​We came to a sloped access that coated nearly entirely in ice. Cautious attempts were made to trek upwards while gripping onto the railing for dear life. My initial suggestion had been to make our way back down instead of risking ankle mobility prior to a hiking expedition, but the sleepy polar bear had other plans in mind.
"You stay here and I'll take photos of the top for you." was supposedly declared out of consideration.
Naturally, I wouldn't be having that. Why would I, when I was just a few steps away from the attraction myself?

Source: Google Earth, 2023

Slippery section of walkway | Source: Google Earth, 2023

Bending backwards to avoid protruding twigs, I held a death grip onto the railing and carefully shifted from one pocket of ice-lessness to another. Eventually, both of us had climbed to the top - safely, might I emphasize.

​The top of Battalion Park was situated within a residential neighbourhood, complete with bus stop and rest area for those looking to pull over and admire the attraction.

​A splendid view of the mountains could be observed at this point, complete with a scenic backdrop of blue skies and steadily clearing clouds.

View the full album HERE !

The weather was very forgiving, albeit windy. After a series of more photos, we descended both flights of stairs and trekked back to the parking lot.

​Yet to open for operations was the Signal Hill Library, thus, in the absence of nearby bathroom facilities, I proposed a swift detour into Superstore in the adjacent plaza. There, we casually found Nanaimo Bars as well as a Real Canadian Liquorstore, a spinoff of the grocery chain unavailable back home.

​Just before heading back, I reminded the sleepy polar bear of my coffee needs for the next morning. Instead of the ever-convenient McDonald's, we ventured in the direction of a local coffee roaster, straining the schedule of our planned itinerary.

Barrow Coffee Roasters was located within Mount Royal University, though we hadn't realized this until entering university grounds. Fortunately, the private lot was neither locked nor entailed parking fees.

​Entering into the Student Learning Services, our eyes widened with awe at the pristine, modern appearance of the building. In addition to a bright, beautifully maintained study area, standing desks with treadmill bases were spotted by the entrance.

Venturing further into the space, we chanced across the library. Two staff members, likely students, were huddled over one of the computer screens, with one conducting a tutorial for the knowledge of the other. I requested guidance from the more experienced library personnel, who pointed us in the direction of Barrow's coffee counter past a section of lockers and two elevators.

​We marveled at the facility, along with the promising assortment of baked goods within the display case. An Iced Americano and two muffins were acquired for my remaining breakfasts in the province. The sleepy polar bear took to a Spanish Latte and Almandine for immediate consumption.

​While in wait of our order, I couldn't help but peer at the equipment behind the pickup area: a stand mixer, standing cooling track, and commercial oven were detected. Incredible was it to find pastries crafted in house for on-site sales, especially in a high-traffic university building where speed is of the essence.

​The Almandine and Spanish Latte were sampled immediately. Stuffed with a nutty, aromatic almond paste, the Almandine was flaky, sweet, and left me craving more. I had only succeeded in attaining one bite before the remainder was devoured. Also delicious was the Spanish Latte, which, albeit milky, was delectable and thankfully not too sweet.

​My Americano was phenomenal, though I repressed subsequent sips as to reserve the beverage for the following morning.

After briefly stopping by the lavatories, we rushed back to Harvest Hills. Preparation time for the wedding was running low!

Read Part 2 HERE !