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Review: Hooters, Toronto


So, after well deserved libations at the Gap Adventures Christmas Hump Night celebration at The Raq on Queen Street West Timothy Chan and I were two hungry boys. I was overly eager at 10:30pm to leave and get some grub. I stared across the street at the glow of Hero Burger. Once at the door we let out a huge sigh…all of the chairs had now been overturned and the burger joint was closing down. We walked all over town the next hour in the freezing cold looking for food that would satisfy and satiate. We walked into Pizzaville and Tim rambled on demanding a”walk in special.” The owner shook his head and said that his oven was off and he too was closing for the night. Desperately hungry we arrived in the Entertainment District to find the Hooters on the corner of John Street glowing under the full moon.

So have you heard this joke? You know, “two gay men walk into a Hooters…” We stepped right into this cheesy misogynistic restaurant around 11pm at night. The place was empty except for a few gruff loners who looked like they could be axe murders. We were seated at a booth by a buxom blond with a lot of junk in her trunk. I commented on how “tight” her leotards were. I complimented her on her “tasteful low cut hot orange shorts.”

We asked for water and lemon and told her, “we have come to eat and hydrate.” Whilst looking over the menu a group of five Asian business walked into the restaurant and ordered two jugs of beer, (the number of customers had now nearly doubled!) I looked around the room and noticed a little Hooters shop selling everything from beer glasses to tank tops and t’s. The walls were covered in haunting pin ups: plastic princesses. A picture of a drunk Vince Vaughn hung beside our booth. I thought of telling my waitress, “order me whatever Vince Vaughn had,” but then realized I’d rather just make my own failed decisions.

Rifting through the menu we decided on deep fried pickles and a plate of honey garlic boneless chicken wings and poutine. The highlight of the menu reads:

Gourment Chicken Wing Dinner- 20 wings and a bottle of Dom Perignon Champagne $299.99.

I even thought to order this with the utmost seriousness. I assumed it was just a joke and they didn’t actually keep Dom in storage. I could have had a huge fit and demanded some sort of gift certificate, or perhaps they would have given us two Hooters tumblers and matching tube tops.

While we waited for our meal to arrive we sipped our water through crazy straws and watched two plasma screen televisions. One was airing WWF and the other featured a manic televangelist. “What are we doing here?!” I hope I don’t run into anyone I know here. Good grief.

The food arrived. The deep fried pickles were interesting. They could have been crunchier and less oily. The poutine was God-awful. The cheese had not been given a chance to melt, the curly fries tasted of cardboard and the gravy was clearly made from some add water packet. Don’t even get me started on the wings! We didn’t realize they were boneless chicken wings (I had never even heard of these before). Isn’t a boneless chicken wing just called a chicken finger? If the boneless chicken wing meat does not actually come from the wing of a chicken isn’t that false advertising? The meat was dry and I had to chew on it like Double Bubble gum to swallow. I wouldn’t even serve this food to a Nazi.

After paying the bill I grabbed our takeout box which was covered in the Hooters logo. I hopped on the King Streetcar and zoomed across the city back to my humble abode. A 20-something year old Vietnamese kid looked over at me. I grabbed my takeout box and hid it under my jacket. Public Transit Shame. Hooters Fail.

#127 restaurant reviewed in Ontario since moving to Toronto in 2010. 


Hooters on Urbanspoon

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