Stuck in Mississauga

Yesterday evening, after accompanying my gentleman friend (let’s call him Number 2) to the car dealership to pick up his new wheels, we were faced with a predicament: Where to eat on this Thursday evening in Mississauga (the most culturally vacant municipality in the GTA – only my opinion). Both of us felt a strong urge to escape to some sort of cookhouse, so naturally, when we saw the Montana’s Cookhouse beaming from the corner of yet another strip mall, it seemed like kismet. Okay, it was either Montana’s or Boston Pizza, and we ate there last week. I have yet to see a restaurant in this town that is not a franchise or chain of some variety.

We shuffled through the heavy wooden doors, just beating a family of three to the hostess stand where we were asked to wait while they made up our table. I can see why this takes a few minutes – they set the table with a full condiment caddie and lay down a sheet of brown paper that you can write on with provided crayons. This adds an element of class to your fine-dining experience, and also allows you to write a to-do list for later. Also, the server scrawled her name on it (up-side down, so we could read it).
We settled in and ordered our drinks (39 ounce mugs of beer) and an appetizer (Ancho-somethings; tortillas filed with cheese and other southwestern-type stuff and rolled up, then cut on the diagonal into bite-sized pieces, served with a pesto/sour cream dip. We both thought that a guacamole would have been more appropriate for a dip).
At this point we had a chance to look around. The decor was…falsely rustic, with the standard deer heads and moose antlers hanging from the walls; red and white-checkered tablecloths and other various paraphenelia depicting cabins, camping, lanterns, and um, canoes. Some guests a few tables over were celebrating a birthday, and a staff team did some kind of chant/song in their honour – an activity which was repeated three more times at other tables throughout the night. I threatened #2 in jest that I was going to tell them it was his birthday in order to get his own musical homage.
Then onto our dinners. For some reason both of us had lost the will to eat huge slabs of grilled beef and decided against steaks. I had a quarter-chicken dinner with mashed potatoes and steamed veggies, and a scrumptious little mini corn bread loaf. I honestly forget what #2 got – some kind of chicken sandwich I think. I don’t recall him complaining at all, so it must have been okay. My meal was decent. The chicken was a little greasy, but flavourful. The potatoes were mashed with the skins on, which I like. The vegetables were a little underdone, and I suspect that they were previously frozen. But the cornbread was really delicious. I will make it my mission in the upcoming months to bake a cornbread that good. They must have baked it in an authentic dutch oven over an open fire in the back.
Before our dinners, we had been eyeing the dessert menu in anticipation of the mile-high mud pie monstrosity – but after finishing, we were too full to consider any more food.
Altogether, it was a not-unpleasant experience. I don’t think I will return to Montana’s anytime soon…it’s just not my style. But if someone with kids asked me where to go when hungry in Mississauga, and it’s their birthday, and they like really really large beers, I wouldn’t advise against it.

On the agenda for tonight: Thai Beef Noodle Salad. I will post tomorrow with the results!

Categories: Food, Ramblings

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