Out & About #353 | Weekend in Barrie Day 3: Flying Monkeys Brewery Tour + Hooligans

​Lax exploration played a major part in our weekend expedition, which is another way of saying that planning was kept a minimum. (Surprise, surpise!)

That being said, a few activities had remained unattained from the previous day, so we set out to accomplish them all with the help of a very compact, strict schedule

​Our third and final day commenced with a short bike ride around the neighbouring turf. A complete 180° from the previous day's climate, a cloudless azure with revitalizing gusts welcomed us, easing our sleepy minds into the tranquil morning cycle.

​Lunch was then had before whisking ourselves to J.B Tudhope (formerly Moose Beach) in Orillia for some brisk rowing. Windy and a bit overcast at the moment, the waves were much stronger than I had been accustomed to on the previous two visits.

​The sun gradually revealed itself after an hour or so of hide-and-seek. It was unfortunate that this coincided with our scheduled time of departure. I had hoped to gain a healthy bronze glow while on the water, yet UV rays were probably only present for the last thirty minutes of our stay. (I mean, my scalp and shoulder suffered burns nonetheless though...)

​Ice cream, especially those served atop vanilla-scented waffle cones, is a quintessential aspect of water activities, so, needless to say, it was impossible to vacate the asphalt lot without stopping by Sweet Dreams for our sugar fix. Peach Yogurt tasted a tad too artificial for my liking, though Coconut was as delicious as ever with its fragrant creaminess and chewy coconut shreds.

​Unaccomplished from the previous day was a tour inside The Flying Monkeys Brewery facilities. It only seemed right to drop by again as tours were frequently held on weekends and we wanted to try our luck at Hooligans' patio once more.

The guide allowed attendees to gather before taking us through the back doors and leading the way between gigantic beer tanks and over colourless puddles of stickiness. He wore steel-toed boots himself, and while most of the participants were casually dressed in polos and sandals, it should have been recommended to wear closed-toe footwear to prevent unforeseen injuries

​Approximately twenty to twenty-five minutes in duration, the tour comprised of equipment introductions, brief notes on brewing procedures, canning and bottling processes, and final delivery to worldwide retailers and specialty alcohol stores.

​Substantial bright beer tanks, as well as smaller tanks, were stored in the first room on the ground floor. Apparently, each tank been lowered via the skyroof at the top of the building as expansion of the brewery took place. Each of the lofty apparatus donned vibrant labels (I presume, for touring purposes) and were used to brew The Flying Monkeys' regular selection of beers; the smaller tanks, as told by our guide, mainly served for experimental brews that were on constant rotation on the menu.

Overheard was that the brewery worked with local farmers so used barley could be fed to livestock, meaning that no matter would be wasted.

​A steep wooden staircase led us down to the canning and bottling room. An assembly of filling, labelling, depalletizing and rinsing machinery equipment were situated orderly about the perimeter, once again with each section bearing a different label. The atmosphere appeared to be one containing high levels of pressure during regular operation.
It was claimed that the original building had been renovated/structured for manufacturing purposes and could withstand up to one million pounds (or roughly 450 tonnes).

​The final part of the tour led us into a dim hallway with a soft red glow; the space housed four bathrooms, a stark white laboratory (where access was denied without a passcode), and a map pinpointing areas of export for the local brewery.

​The brewery tour was a lovely way to engage vacationists and locals alike by learning about the facilities and their operations. However, given that it was an event open to all ages, details were not discussed thoroughly and technical vocabulary was essentially nonexistent. Moreover, the equipment had not been in operation during the visit, leaving the exact path of movements up to the descriptions of the guide and the imagination of the viewer. Added clarity and quantative specifics would have been appreciated, though it is understood that not all visitors possess the scientific background nor the curiosity to inquire further.

​Although dim, and admittedly a bit grim-looking at first, the washroom stalls were worth mentioning. Each of the four individual stalls retained a different theme: one adopted a library setting by lining shelves with books, while another had its walls lined with brews throughout the ages. Even the air dryers were painted differently!
For younger visitors though, the complete enclosure and ornament overload may prove a tad frightful.

​With the conclusion of the brewery tour, it had only hit the early hours of the evening. Although much too soon for the consumption of dinner, we wandered over to Hooligans anyway. It was a quest for a patio spot that could not be left unfulfilled.
The hostess informed us that all tables on their rooftop patio were occupied, but that we could lounge about the bar area until a vacancy appeared. We seated ourselves on the high stools of the sports bar area without much intention to pick drinks before sustenance. Several minutes later, the hostess approached us and directed us up the stairs towards the patio. Her instructions included checking in with the "patio hostess".

​Three flights of stairs were climbed to reach the tropical-looking space. Once perched between the staircase and landing area though, we were informed that guests were in the midst of being moved and tables still required preparation before we could be seated. The patio hostess kindly gestured in the direction of the bar to grab a drink, though once again, we were more keen on proper food items

​An endless buzz of complaints from the less amiable member of our party prompted me to bother the hostess several more times until exasperation hit us both and a corner spot was obtained. I quite enjoyed the diffused lighting from the booth seating; the tables may have been too tight for comfort, but at least it was not situated amongst direct flow of traffic.
Since further words of passive agressiveness flowed in a continuous stream into our eardrums, we later moved to a smaller table in the centre of the floor. Equipped with an umbrella, it allowed patrons a clear view of the wondrous waterfront without the painful glare of the setting sun. The table was sealed in such a way that its synthetic surface gave off the illusion of slate-toned wood, when in reality it was merely plastic.

​< Pictured above and below: Draft beer, Sangria w/ White Wine, and Virgin Sangria >

Three waitresses assumed responsibility for customers seated along the west side (facing Owen), centre column, and east edge respectively. Before our table change, a woman with medium blonde waves and hoop earrings handled the restaurant's introductions. She appeared experienced in her field by ways of responses, but lacked technique in handling lame jokes. There was an absence of passion in her actions and tone of voice, but swift she was in completing the tasks at hand.
We were greeted with the most extreme example of imprudence following the shift: a lean girl with pin-straight hair took drink orders with none of the speediness of the previous waitress, yet all of the half-heartedness. But to make matters worse, she was forgetful and oblivious to her surroundings. On countless occasions, the hostess was spotted assisting with ketchup requests and table-wiping since the waitresses were much too absorbed in their own world.

View the full album HERE !

Drinks were delivered sufficiently quickly, though credit should be owed to the bartenders in that respect. An open bar and kitchen allowed uncamouflaged view of their preparation processes, which, in my humble opinion, were none more fascinating than watching cars traverse on local roads during rush hour.
Most bartenders were quite hasty with their beverages, whipping the soda stream cords around carelessly and tossing in rough measurements of syrups. Occasionally, some of the waitresses would even slip into the bartending and hose fizzy liquid into a questionably clean glass.
A truly shocking difference could be observed in Hooligans' hastiness versus the refined artistry of MeNami.

​About three to four members of the kitchen staff were cramped into grill/counter corner spot to prepare meals for the patio guests. Hooligans' rooftop menu consisted of fewer items than the "restaurant version" underneath, so the chefs were mainly in charge of preparing burgers, chips, salads, and the occasional odd pick of the evening. Nonetheless, space was limited for any sort of movement, which likely contributed hindrance to cooking and delivery.

​We sipped on our beverages for some time before the waitress finally returned to jot down our appetizers. The Sangria comprised of a fitting wine-to-fruit juice ratio that wasn't overpowered by the carbonation of ginger ale. However, its presentation paled in comparison to its alcohol-free counterpart - there was significantly less fruit and even an absence of the standard lime wedge! It was also more costly than other cocktails of similar standard, though I suppose ordering a pitcher would be the more economic choice if members of the party consume it collectively.

By the time these beverages had been received, a solid hour had passed since the moment we sauntered through the doors of the restaurant. Our lack of appetite gradually grew with time, and when Honey Garlic Chicken Wings and Guac & Chips finally announced their arrival, another 30 minutes had likely passed.

​With a raging stomach, one ought to think that the appetizers would have tasted better than normal. This was not the case, as Guac & Chips was a disappointing product of storebought tortilla chips and texture-less guacamole. In spite of the seasoning attempts, the avocado had been pureed to a point beyond salvaging, causing the dip to lose all traces of pulp and adopt a runny consistency.
Neither was I impressed with the Chicken Wings' sticky sauce and meager pieces of celery. Then again, I've never been a fan of chicken wings <Horseshoe> to begin with.

​Entree orders had been placed while on standby for the appetizers. This later proved an informed decision, since the meals arrived soon after appetizer dishes had been removed from the premises. (Shockingly enough, the waitress had not been aware of her duty to clear the plates away in a timely manner, yet displayed eagerness at offering additional alcoholic beverages when the contents of our glasses began to dissipate.)

< Pictured above and below: Grilled Mahi Mahi, 8 oz. Steak Frites, Grilled Portobello & Brie Grilled Sandwich >

The amount of burger orders should have been sufficient in alluding to the quality of Hooligans' Grilled Mahi Mahi. Two pieces of the tiniest tanned white fish rested atop mango salsa at the corner of the plate, away from the Sweet Potato Fries and barely-charred vegetable skewer. The salsa was crafted from relatively fresh ingredients, making it great as a refreshing palate cleanser, while the fries remained crisp for some duration of time before deflating into sogginess.
As shameful as it was, the chunks of Mahi Mahi were the most depressing specimens of seafood I witnessed that evening. Defrosting procedures and pan-tossing behind it, the supposed highlight of the dish coincided with its least appealing element. I was unimpressed to the point where reluctance surfaced at the thought of grabbing a forkful.

​Steak Frites were executed in a similarly disappointing manner: the steak was a light pink Medium instead of pink-red Medium Rare; fries were heavily salted and sodden.

My imagination had clearly gotten the best of me during the ordering process, for I honestly belileved I would be served two Portobello mushrooms as buns when I asked for the Grilled Portobello & Brie Grilled Sandwich. Careless errors aside, my expectations remained utterly shattered when only a few morsels of the velvety cheese could be found sandwiched between a heaping handful of deep-fried onions and bitter arugula.
Lightly toasting the sesame bun redeemed appearance points, but a vegetarian burger with a side of essentially raw veggie skewers catapulted all last hopes into a deep, deep ditch.

​All three meals failed to meet the basic criteria, yet the icing on the cake had yet to come. Neither dessert nor specialty drinks could be ordered from the Rooftop; bills also had to be settled on the same floor, since the downstairs restaurant "operates as an entirely different entity".

Quite frankly, I couldn't wait to bid farewell to our thoughtless nitwit of a waitress. She was slow, inobservant, and, most annoyingly of all, imprudent. It appeared that whatever experience she had gained beforehand never fully transitioned into her brain.
At the same time, however, I was hesistant at leaving the mesmerizing view of Allandale Waterfront. Temperatures were mild, and sunlight was aplenty.

​Residing for a teensy bit longer allowed us to witness the same seating fiascos take place one after another. The hostesses on the ground level assumed that guests could be ushered to the Rooftop as soon as an empty space appeared on their tablet monitor. Confusion commenced with each new party, and the hostess was left directing them to the bar in an attempt to keep the landing deck clutter-free. Miscommunication played a critical factor in the efficiency of the restaurant's (or is it restaurants'?) operations.

​Evening gusts began to settle in by the two-hour mark, and the sun gradually receded beyond the aqua-tinted horizon. At this point, we settled the bill and relocated downstairs in search of warmth and dessert.

​Peanut Butter Pie was the recommendation of the hostess. We requested it along with a piping hot cup of coffee.
The individual pie was bore a strong resemblance to New York Cheesecake merged with an enlarged Reese Piece. In fact, Reese Pieces topped off the rich, silky pie, along with a generous drizzle of peanut butter sauce.
Wonderfully nutty and flavourful, the dessert was a peanut lover's dream. It was undoubtedly creamier than our regular picks (think Uncle Tetsu), but still very much enjoyable on a full stomach.

​Inefficienct and service gripes aside, Hooligans wouldn't have been a poor choice for a leisurely get-together. A relaxed pace enhances conversation, while the breathtaking patio view enlivens moods.
But beware: there is not a single bathroom on the upper two floors. Two single stalls with ridiculously heavy doors are the only apparent spots for relief on the first floor. The ceiling was tall and facilities updated, but maintenance was severely lacking.
A squashed insect on the stall walls remained untouched from the previous day, while paper towels overflowed in the corner. Several specks of dust were also apparent near the sink.

​Restated in simpler terms, customers should approach Hooligans with an open mind and at least three hours to spare. The entrees are pricey, waitresses are counterproductive, and washroom hygeine is minimal. That said, the overhead view is spectacular and parking isn't too difficult to secure either.

It's a tourist neighbourhood after all, so I guess the best way to ameliorate the experience is through deep breathing and taking it easy.

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