Kitsilino Neighbourhoods Dirty Johnny 2002-03-15

The Regal Beagle

Ahh, the Regal Beagle, a name that conjures up images of Jack Tripper entertaining some braless floozy while trying to avoid Mr. Furley’s probing questions as sleazy neighbour Larry spikes his date’s drink with Rohypnol. Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Chrissy and Janet are making out in the living room with the leather-clad Ropers video-taping the whole encounter. What, you never saw that particular classic Three’s Company episode? I distinctly remember it aired during “sweeps.” At any rate, the Regal Beagle on Broadway in Vancouver was a far cry from the sordid lair of debauchery made popular in the seventies most double entendre-laden television show. That’s not to say I didn’t like it, it’s just different.

For instance, the walls were plastered with movie posters and old LP covers like Elton John’s Captain Fantastic and Marvin Gaye, Live! At the London Palladium. Somewhat unsettling were the ceramicized heads of Muppet curmudgeons, Stadler and Waldorf scowling down at us from above. The furniture and overall interior was made of that low quality wood stained to give the appearance of high quality wood. Sorry, Beagle, but there’s no fooling the distinguishing eyes and Ikea-friendly wits of the Armada operatives…we know pine when we see it. Musically, there were no complaints as the general theme bordered on alt-rock with a pinch of classic rock for good measure but stopping just short of college rock. My ears perked up when one of my personal favourites, uber-cool Sacramento band Cake, started blaring over the speakers and it was then I knew that Beagle people were my kind of people.

The arrival of our sassy waitress, Krista, further reinforced these thoughts, as she was quick with the orders and quicker with the repartee. Lust began lurking as she playfully indulged my blatant attempts to chat her up to the point where the previously mentioned pine interior was no longer the most prominent wood on display. I made every attempt to maintain my composure and comport myself in a professional manner but all my salacious male brain could do was quietly hum along to my new version of a classic Billy Ocean song, “Get out of my dreams, get into my pants.” Krista, if you’re ever interested in a hot evening of sophomoric lovemaking in my parent’s basement, followed by a solid 3 hours of watching me play video games, I implore you to get in touch.

Now, having gotten the customary self-promoting solicitation of the waitress off of my chest, I turn to the reason we’re all here, that being to read what I think about other people’s food. The $8.99 smoked salmon hash intrigued me with its combination of custom cream cheese, potato and marine life and I heard it beckoning from the get-go. I happily bellied up to this creature from the deep and for the most part sailed away with happy thoughts. The cream cheese really distinguished the meal from so many other salmon-based dishes but it left a salty aftertaste that lead me to suspect this sockeye was caught somewhere in the Dead Sea. There was also so much oil left in the bottom of my dish upon completion that I couldn’t help but postulate that Captain Joseph Hazelwood, having been let go from his lucrative job at Exxon, was now spilling crude on a much smaller scale as the short order cook at the Regal Beagle.

Noting his propensity for ordering anything on the menu with the word “Mexican” in front of it, I’m starting to believe Agent M spent a good chunk of his life smoking peyote south of the border. Having said that, it won’t come as a shock to many that his choice this morning was the $7.99 Mexican omelette, which, like so many other Latino meals in this city, was named so due to its containing salsa and sour cream. Despite the lack of originality, Agent M couldn’t have been more ecstatic with his liberal portion of “a perfectly blended mix of Mexican stuff and eggs.” These are actually the kind of descriptions I have to embellish on a weekly basis and I swear, if he didn’t still have my cherished Olsen Twins’ “When in Rome” DVD at his house, I would have fired him on the spot. Mexican stuff? Christ, almighty.

Duck-boy surprised absolutely no one and chose the eggs benedict for $8.49 despite his ceaseless griping that the hollandaise had lost its punch about 6 months ago. I guess in his heart, he was secretly hoping that the magic would return but, as I’m sure any Arsenio Hall fan will tell you, once it’s gone, it’s gone for good (Star Search?! C’mon, Arsenio, time to close up shop). I almost felt a twinge of pity for the the Duck as he bit in, longing for the benny of yore but could scarcely muster a shaking of the head to confirm what he already knew to be true. “There’s nothing happening. This benny used to sing to me but now, like Ace of Bass, it’s lost its tune.” We bowed our heads for a moment of silence to mourn the loss of The Beagle’s original eggs benny and then continued the remorseless decimation of our meals.

The Video Store Girl, in keeping with her inability to order anything without cripplingly altering it from its description in the menu did the expected and requested the vegetarian benedict… with extra hollandaise and scrambled eggs instead of poached. Topped with tomato, spinach and avocado, all for $8.29, the veggie benny succeeded in satisfying but not overwhelming our resident fastidious herbivore. She too, expressed a longing for the benny of old, chalking up the discrepancy to an ill-advised change in the hollandaise sauce about half a year back. Knowing her affinity for the special De Dutch blend, I suspect that she wouldn’t have been content unless The Beagle had piped it in, direct from Holland, but hey, she’s entitled to her opinion, even if it happens to be exceedingly anal.

So, will Vancouver’s Regal Beagle ever attain the status of “old standby” with the Armada that the Three’s Company’s Regal Beagle achieved with Jack Tripper and his gang of assorted sex-obsessed swingers? At this point I’d have to say it’s unlikely as a good two-thirds of my crew left feeling there was just something missing. I’d come back just to flirt with Krista some more but save her charming presence, The Beagle didn’t turn my crank in any way that hundreds of other sitcom-based breakfast joints hadn’t turned before. On the other hand, the atmosphere was friendly and inviting and if the folks at The Beagle can ever find that long-lost hollandaise recipe, you can bet your Don Knotts-approved leisure suit we’ll be back for another episode. See you in prime-time, baby.