Morning coffee (39 photos)

Um…I was just about to post the exact same thing. I'm so happy I'm not alone out there.

, but we close at 10. Uh, well, is there anywhere in the city where I can dine after 10? I posed, by then fatusrrted that none of the six restaurants I’d called stayed open past the magic hour.I was still used to the ebb flow of French Canadian life where diners dressed to the nines’ would gather after the cinemas were out. There, they’d sip their favourite wines while lounging on patios which lined the bustling streets. All this, at two in the morning. Hmmm, there is a small place I’ve heard of down near Denman Street. It’s run by some French guy. I think his name is Terry’ or something like that. I thanked the young gentleman, took down the number and promptly set about to call. The show started at 7 and we were pushing 6:30 already. My wife, pregnant at the time with our first child, had nearly resigned her palate (and our anniversary) to some form of burger-on-a-bun when I told her about this French guy’s restaurant. I called and in short order the young lady’s voice at the other end assured me that Thierry would take our reservation as late as 10:30 (despite their official closing time of 10). Satisfied that we’d get some kind of palate-tickling experience after the show, we headed out. The show was good but long. Oh God!, I thought to myself. It’s 9:30 and the curtain has just fallen for intermission. There’s no way we’ll make it to dinner. Aw heck, back to the burger idea. But, I thought I’d better call Thierry again just so he wouldn’t wait around for nothing.The young lady answered again. You figure it’ll be over by 11:30? she asked. I said I thought so. Then, pause. After a moment, she came back to say Thierry would wait for us. He’d be delighted to make dinner for us after the show.Well blow me down and call me Bambi. I was stunned. Deer-in-the-headlights stunned. We enjoyed the rest of the show and promptly headed over to Denman and Robson to find out who this Thierry was. We weren’t disappointed.We walked in as the last customers were preparing to leave. Thierry was chatting it up with them all the way to the door. He then came directly over to us at our table and, with the savoir faire’ of a country gentleman, welcomed my wife and me with wine and casual conversation. It was already past midnight and Thierry hadn’t made a single mention of dinner.He sailed. Windsurfed. Cooked. Loved to eat (yet, he was all of a slender 5-feet-2). He had a girlfriend in Hawaii who he visited in the winter. I think he had another somewhere else. He loved to ski and snowboard and visited Whistler whenever he could get away. We told him of our experience in eastern Canada and how we came to be back in Saltwater City’, all three-to-be of us.Then, and only after having shared our respective life stories, did he gesture to the menu. It was nigh on 1 o’clock. My wife picked the Rack Of Lamb I can’t remember what I ate (typical of guys on their anniversary, y’know). I just couldn’t get over the sheer luck of having stumbled onto this gem of a person and his passion for food. He rejoined us after personally cooking and serving the meal. We dined, sipped wine and mused over life’s meaning until nearly 3 o’clock. What an anniversary!P.S. Thierry closed up shop a few years ago. I’d like to know where he went. Whether he’ll open another restaurant again. Then again, he’s probably somewhere warm, windsurfing to his heart’s delight. Bon apetit, mon ami.- Tim Mah