Of all places, Monrovia is home to a little nook of a restaurant that’s ready and waiting if we ever get homesick.
The Canadian Cafe.
Poutine. Moose. Coffee Crisp. Flags. Mounties.
Heaven.
Oh, but the ‘authentic’ imported Tim Horton’s coffee. Horrible, horrible, horrible. As horrible as the days where it would be the only option first thing in the morning. Blech. How do people get addicted to this stuff?
Our fries were salted and vinegar’d. We tried to add ourselves to their map with pushpins for where your hometown is…but it would seem a lot of Torontonians have made their way through The Canadian Cafe. Go figure.
And can I mention one more time just how awful that coffee was?
