earl's

Even though we're puzzled by the whole club-like door policy (at five in the afternoon), we'll admit there's something about earl's on 150 King Street West that keeps calling us back.

Titus says it's because of the proximity to the parents' office. Terry just likes the sense of entitlement he feels whenever he walks past the velvet ropes.

Yes, it's a fancy pants type of place, split into a perpetually-crammed bar area on the left and a less-congested restaurant to the right. We squeezed past the scary bouncer and waited as the hostess scanned her computer for our reservation.

Hostess:          What name is it under?
Terry & Titus:   W****
Hostess:          Hmm, is that the first name or the last? I don't see it.
Terry & Titus:   First name. 
Hostess:          No, I still don't see a reservation.
Terry & Titus:  You definitely have it. Our friend is at the table. Last name *****. W***** *****??
Hostess:          Nooo, I don't see it. Oh no, wait. Here it is.

Points deducted for stupidity.

The food was enjoyable, but nothing to write home about. And if you're hoping to have a conversation on a busy evening...fuggedaboutit.

But if you want to people watch and make flirty eyes with the working denizens of Toronto's Financial District, then look no further, you naughty thing.

As we left, we noticed a flock of well-dressed, young professionals waiting in the sidelines hoping to gain entry into the exclusive kingdom of earl's. And we walked away, still puzzled.

Terry & Titus like Mojitos.

The Santa Fe Chicken Salad tasted much better than it looked.

Spot the pterodactyl in the Cajun Chicken Cheddar Sandwich

Terry likes anything covered in white wine sauce. Anything.

T2 battle over the Sticky Toffee Pudding.
Unnecessary, given that it was the size of a brick.