Out & About #573 | Pray Tell, The Night Baker + Pilot Ossington

​Repeat after me: Do NOT contemplate venturing downtown on Caribana weekend.

The GO train WILL be loud and rambunctious.
The passenger car WILL reek of the newly-decriminalized plant, to an extensive degree.
The streetcars WILL be delayed from Exhibition Station.
The countless road closures WILL result in needless traffic chaos and an excruciating return commute.

Now, with that said and done, let's proceed with our regular gustatory programming

Pray Tell has assumed a spot on my downtown radar since December of last year, around the same time I discovered the fabulous Café Cancan. Alas, their unavailability of weekday brunch and late opening hours automatically ruled out the Dufferin Grove establishment for an early afternoon get-together.
The opportunity for analysis finally rolled around with much warmer weather and an ambitious brunch buddy; it worked out well, since their "secret" backyard patio was now in operation as well.

​A day prior, we - or rather, I - secured a reservation via Bookenda, the eatery's alternative to OpenTable. My arrival was delayed, naturally, due to extenuating circumstances, but the restaurant was more than happy to accommodate our last-minute decision to switch to the patio from our window seat in the street-facing dining room. Three amiable members of staff serviced the interior and exterior dining areas, with occasional support from the bartender and kitchen staff.

​Our migration to the great outdoors was greeted with a jug of ice water, along with new sets of napkin-wrapped utensils. Menus were also shifted for our perusing needs. Revealed within a hardcover bi-fold booklet were entrées, cocktails, and coffee/tea choices; an extension of the alcohol section was found in a smaller paper menu.

​After some contemplation, we settled on the Very Nice Mimosa and Justice Beaver to start. A shareable sweet-and-savoury combo of Mr. & Mrs. Benny Hopes and Bad & Boujee French Toast ensued. Bottomless Mimosas at $33 per person were also available for a duration of two hours. Considering that each individual order was priced at nine dollars, it would have easily evened out should we been able to exhaust two glasses each over the course of consumption. Doing the math, we arrived at the conclusion that our tummies were unlikely to feature such a capacity.

View the full album HERE !

​The Very Nice Mimiso was, indeed, nice, albeit a bit odd served lukewarm. Orange juice took a prominent part in the drink, while bubbliness was shoved into the back seat. Justice Beaver, which came in a glass with ice cubes, stayed icy over the duration of the meal. Its contents, however, were observed to separate into layers of differing densities over time. The bottom-most section of vodka was sharp and minty, while the surface proved a watery version of a green juice. Personally speaking, the beverage bore too great a resemblance to a health beverage to be savoured as a cocktail.

​Mr. & Mrs. Benny Hopes was the brunch classic of Eggs Benedict, with the added option of customizing the choice of protein. Amongst the choices were: smoked duck, wild boar, smoked salmon, crab cake, and mushroom. During this visit, wild boar had been replaced with a house sausage crafted of ground pork belly, lemongrass, dill, and other seasonings. We bent our heads in agreement of the local specialty, as we hadn't ventured this entire way for plain ol' ham and English muffins.
Served on the side was a lightly-dressed arugula leaves, with emphasis on "lightly" since greens drowned in oil defeat the sheer purpose of salad, and crispy home fries (accompanied by ketchup). Charred slices of fresh peaches and pickled radish were vital elements in enhancing tartness and cutting grease. The Hollandaise and home fries were on the standard side, though undeniably possessed less sodium than other breakfast eateries. I appreciated the sporadic dark spots on the underside of the English muffin, for it contributed a texture dissimilar to that of your run-of-the-mill recipe (read: damp and soggy). The house sausage was thinner than anticipated and admittedly a bit scraggly in terms of presentation; that said, it did not fail to deliver in terms of taste.

​Bad & Boujee was a sight to behold: honouring its reputation as an extravagant brunch dish with maximum gaudiness, it arrived warm, adorned with magnficently crisp bacon strips, sweet cherry tomatoes, and ungodly dusting of cinnamon sugar. A pompous display of foie gras and black caviar had been included upon agreement of eight-dollar upcharge, which, may I add, was quite a worthwhile addition. The arrant arrival of the specimen had attracted the eyes of many patio onlookers, though the eventual destruction of the decadent toast cube was the scene that left many mouths agape, including that of our own.

​Vanilla ice cream had been skillfully contained within the toast box, and remained so until our photo-taking session had concluded. Piercing the edges and tearing at the nodes gave way to an implosion of sticky creamy goodness. Bits of coated bacon, caviar, cinnamon specks, and red vein sorrel rode the landslide.

The task was performed with little grace - at least, as much grace as manageable at low table heights and lounge seating. Nonetheless, we enjoyed the creation. It was equal parts innovative and indulgent, with its greatest impacts originating from the silkiness of the foie gras, earthiness of the red vein sorrel (a puny yet powerful player), and familiar aroma of cinnamon. Syrupiness was the not the sole facet of this geometric figure.

​As suggested earlier, quality of service was great - attentive, prompt, and friendly. Dining areas were largely clean (there was a single sticky patch on the patio table) and free from the crumbs of previous diners.
Bathrooms were located at the foot of a rickety wooden staircase, adopting the same blueprint situation as Good Neighbour. The gateway to the facilities did not smell particularly pleasant, nor did the two-stall enclosure provide enough illumination for its users. Occasional flecks of dust were spotted glazing the toilet, but fine details were harder to discern given the dim circumstances. Toiletries were well-stocked though, so I have no complaints in that regard.

​We sipped and soliloquized under the comfort of the patio umbrella for a little over an hour before exiting back onto College.

​Greeting us at the opposite diagonal of the intersection was The Night Baker, a name introduced to me by orangecane on the basis of my perceived status as a cookie fanatic. When her feedback was initially met with little enthusiasm, she expressed blatant stupefaction. I later discovered the hype behind the name, along with my true identity, consequently making a mental note to swing by whenever possible.

From the information that I've accumulated on the World Wide Web, The Night Baker began as an online business. As fully-functional members of society, the engagement in full-time positions shifted leisure activities to the evening hours - "night" time.

​Proudly Torontonian, a Raptors appliqué adorned one of its walls, and the CN tower another. It was made known to me that, around the time of the championship crowning, the cookie boutique also retailed a black-and-red maple-themed creation called the Klaw. Pure patriotism is always wonderful to see, but patriotism done tastefully deserves another level of respect. (Sorry, but I'm not about to don star-speckled denim shorts like our southern neighbours adore so profoundly.)

​The day's assortment selection comprised of nine gourmet varieties, including a cookie cup lined with chocolate for milk shots. I took to a Box of 8 without a shred of hesitation, then proceeded to join their rewards program. New members earned themselves a free cookie of choice on the spot, which I also claimed immediately. The total came to $17.49, of which $15 was for a half dozen; each additional cookie was $2.50.

• The Classic: Thicker than your average Chocolate Chip and arguably a tad coarser, this was satisfying but not particularly memorable given the incredulous profile of the surrounding cookie contestants.
• Mistachio: Pistachios are an outlandish choice for insertion in matcha cookies, as the norm abides by macadamia nuts (or my go-to roasted, salted peanuts). That said, the trio paired exceptionally well, with the green-tinged nut providing a floral aroma to the otherwise grassy formula.
• Beggo's: Heavier than I would have liked, the prominent presence of butter in conjunction with the naturally-existing sugary properties of Nutella affirm its status as a "cheat day" treat.
• Campfire Smores: Essentially a brownie with greater substantiation (and an inkling of rigidity; the frequent sticky marshmallow bits were devilishly heavenly.
• Ooh Bae: The purple-toned trend in the food industry has yet to fade - so it seems - and has even made its way into cookies! Striking violet Filipino treats,  are no newcomers to the scene, however employing plush bits of ube to form a thick mount of chewiness is undoubtedly a bakery milestone.
• Key Lime Pie: A blessing disguised with a seemingly mundane exterior, this crazy contraption oozed a citrusy key lime cream filling upon severing. The "shell" was constructed of a delectable graham base - reminiscent of the crunchy graham cracker crust found in the original pie rendition. I could have easily polished it off with a side of Iced Americano.
• Mocha Chip: Absolutely aromatic with lingering notes of coffee, this one took a few slow chews to trigger its robustness.
• Milk-n-Oreos: Despite solidifying the tried-and-true combination of Oreos dunked in milk in a portable form, the result was less intriguing than expected. Tasty nonetheless, it did not possess the same presence as the bake shoppe's other creations.
• The Inside Scoop: Not included in my own box of takeaways, the cupkie is made available for those looking for a cookie shot with cold milk, or taking things to the next level with an extravagant scoop of vanilla ice cream.

​Other unexplored menu items included vanilla and ube ice cream, drip coffee, and freshly-baked cookies with a glass of cold milk, all of which customers could enjoy at the stool-less bar area facing College.

The coordinates for this grab-and-go shop aren't exactly convenient, but its impressive inventions were, without a doubt, worth the travel time. Pairing that with speedy, gushingly sweet service certifies it a(n underrated) noteworthy bakery.

​With our remaining time, I suggested talking a stroll along the Ossington strip. Fashion-centric, we spent a good half hour browsing the gravitypope sale before retracing our path northbound to Pilot.

By all means, popping into the café had been my desire. Having been deprived of the roaster's unique blend of beans for too long, I opted to mix a shot of espresso into my Beet Latte. The cup's coppery red contents were made sweet with oat milk, then earthy with the inclusion of the root vegetable. Skillfully executed, it was a hot, caffeinated beverage I didn't mind downing amidst the dreadful humidity.

My partner-in-crime's obnoxious-tasting kombucha was distinctly less to my liking. "It's healthy." had been her meek comeback.

​Stackt Market was offering free temporary and permanent tattoos on this day, however we never ended up making our way. We had popped into durumi for a brief moment - the pearl snap clip was now sold out - then proceeded to entangle ourselves in the mess known as Caribana road closures.

​An excruciating ninety minutes later passed before we finally stepped through the doors of our humble homes.

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