The Press Gang Restaurant, Halifax, Nova Scotia

583

06 October 2012

R. Linda:

I was told not to miss dinner at the Press Gang Restaurant on Prince Street, located in one of the city's oldest historic stone buildings dating as far back as 1759. If there are celebs in town this is where they hang out I was told. We didn't see any.

A little history, the establishment has been around for a long time, and it was named after the roving gangs that prowled the city recruiting unsuspecting young men for the British Navy. They would drop a coin in the bottom of the drinker's beer when they weren't looking and would witness the coin of the crown touch the lips of the drinker. This action was just enough to get the drinker enlisted. A note here, this is also why many pewter beer steins have clear bottoms.

The Press Gang Restaurant

The only inconvenient thing was the fact there were no parking spaces available. On the next street up is Restaurant Row, so parking nearby was not an option. So what to do? I dropped Tonya off and went looking for a parking garage.

I ended up six long blocks away down by the waterfront. Me only big problem was, I was on the seedy side of town dressed in a suit and tie. I encountered not one, not two, but three homeless men who were rather aggressive. I made it passed all of them without harm, but I will tell ya, two of them were really sketchy characters.

As I was making me way up (literally uphill) Tonya had been seated in the private dining room which was in the back of the restaurant. It's a panelled room with fireplace and brick-walled niche and surprise to her there was a party of six also seated back there. I told her we had the room to ourselves, but surprise for me, uh uh. Anyway, the waiter was very nice and asked if he could bring her a drink while she waited for me. She ordered an Irish drink which turned out they no longer serve, so she decided to wait and order wine. Meanwhile, at the table behind her, the volume was turned way up. A rowdy bunch made up of three older couples were having a grand old time.

That would have been fine with Tonya until they decided to include her in their chat. One of the ladies made mention of Tonya probably being annoyed at their rowdiness, and Tonya tried the polite thing to do, ignore them, until one woman said, "She must be deaf, and for us, that's probably a good thing." Not very nice.

Surprisingly, the put-out Tonya turned around and told them she was not deaf but if they were enjoying themselves more the better, she didn't mind. But she did mind the remark, only she didn't say that. I was surprised she didn't come out with some Angela Davis rebuttal, but she was mellowed from our day and I suppose not in the mood for combative dialogue.

Finally, I got to the place and was escorted to our table. I ordered us wine and we began with the oysters of which we had a combination of two types from St. Edwards Isle.

Malpeque and Rocky Bay Oysters, YUM these were to die for

When we finished our appetiser we were sitting talking quietly, and as there be a lull in the conversation, we couldn't help overhearing this from the other table:

"She had newly decorated the entire downstairs, so we were invited over to have a look. Well, we were standing in the living room and I noticed the entire back wall seemed to have a mural on it, but I couldn't quite make out what it was because it was so large. I walked to the opposite wall so I could take it all in and realised she had a mural of a giant cow painted across it."

Okay, I immediately wanted to call over and ask if she had been to Weasil's house, but I behaved. It was kind of hard not to laugh. But this conversation went on until they got to the "spiritual" experience two of them had by visiting an African country for a charity they worked with. Then the chat got very philosophical, and we tried our best not to listen, but they were loud enough that you couldn't ignore them. Meanwhile, our next course came.

                                                                                 

Salmon for me

                                                                                     

Lamb for her

We were impressed with the food. Both dishes were superb even Tonya's. She had ordered medium well lamb. I told her the chef was probably having cats when he saw the order. In the UK the rarer the better, but not me Tonya. If it looks raw or bloody it's still alive and she will poke her fork into the meat and bleat at me her discontent if there is even a hint of red. Then for some unknown reason, I am always the one to have it sent back. Sigh.

Of course, my ordering salmon had her slightly nauseated since it was salmon that had caused her indigestion on the airplane. After a few remarks about the inconsideration of "some people" she was too busy enjoying her dinner to give me any grief about mine.

Meanwhile, at the other table, they were on desserts and the conversation had turned the volume down to a low church-like tone. Yes, we were being "spiritual" but the conversation was not about the people or land, but the elephants and giraffes. I swear they were ageing hippies who couldn't shake their hippiness for yuppiness, or for ageing gracefully oldsters. How one can get "spiritual" over a giraffe walking by I can't fathom.

"The limpid eyes of the tall creature just captivated us. It looked at us like it knew who we were, it was so very profound!"

I bet it was.

Finally, as we ordered coffee and dessert they left.

I must say this would be a favourite dining place for me. The wait staff were attentive and friendly, the atmosphere was old world especially if you like stoned walls, fireplaces, polished wood, candlelight, and excellent food. I can't think of a more romantic setting though it is on the pricey side. I found it worth it, Tonya not so much, but I think the six diners spoiled it for her when they included her in their conversation by calling her a deaf-mute in a not-so-nice manner.

Once we had the peace and quiet and the entire small room to ourselves, we were getting into a romantic after-dinner glow when the owner (I am assuming owner) came in with a complimentary glass of Glen Breton whiskey (it was Whiskey Tuesday) and well, I forgot meself and got into a discussion (much to the wife's disgust) on single malt whiskeys, Irish vs. Scottish blends, and while he and I found this all very stimulating, the wife was bored. Yes, she was. She sat there first sipping her wine and ignoring the whiskey, then it was face in hand looking around, then it was shifting in chair several times as if suddenly uncomfortable, and she ended it with a swift kick to me shins to end it NOW. Which I did.

Glenora Whiskey - Yes, I drank it but there was a bit left

Tonya had the grilled pineapple and found it sadly lacking, but my apple cake was delicious.

Grilled Pineapple Marinated in Peach Schnapps

Spiced Apple Cake in Spiced Rum Brown Sugar Caramel Sauce

As we lingered over our drinks, I told Tonya of me little adventures down on the waterfront. I was going to give her me money and wallet as I told her if she did not hear from me within twenty minutes to call the authorities. She was all for coming with me to beat the crap out of anyone who would accost her husband and we got into a bit of a heated discussion as to why she was to stay put. I left her in the bar and took meself down the hill.

I saw not one of the three men, so I lucked out. I got the motor and drove up to the restaurant to pick up a relieved wife. I never did give her me money or wallet as we got into a discussion on me safety and well . . . forgot. So much for that, but I did hear I had left the wife alone with no money, no nothing and if something had happened, just what was she to do? Yup. Are we a married couple or what?

Here are a few more shots of the inside of the place, Tonya took them with her mobile, so the clarity isn't great. The blurry first shot is me chair where I sat for dinner, the second is the back wall niche and the last is a portion of the upfront dining area.

 

                                                                                         

Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved