A New Calling: West End Watering Hole Dresses Down

I know that for long-term West End residents this may border on heresy, but when Benny's Bagels disappeared from the beach at English Bay I was not particularly upset. Sure, at one point BB's was as much a staple in my neighbourhood routine as Tanpopo's all-you-can-eat and bitching about the fireworks, but one moldy herb bagel with rancid dill cream cheese combo ended our relationship cold. Benny was dead to me.

So, when that cherry space at the bottom of Davie turned over into the Denman St. Free House, I was smitten, and it instantly became my new sweetheart.

I thought I'd finally found exactly what I was looking for in a local, I had, after all, moved downtown to get away from the Dover Arms-style pubs that lurk throughout the suburbs from whence I came. I found the metrosexual vibe of the Free House alluring now that I had switched from coffee cups with rims that roll up to triple tall lattes, and the not-too-haute menu and tall, dark, leather banquettes did me in. However, in keeping with my personal history, our affair soon developed issues. The service rarely lived up to the promise of the room's concept (with some notable exceptions, English has single-handedly been responsible for some of my more memorable nights out. That's right, his name's English.), and it eventually became a giant wedge between us. The straw that broke the camel's back came a few months ago, when the wife and I were on the receiving end of some of the worst service I've ever suffered through. We got stuck with one of those servers that, when they eventually find the time for you, openly disdain your expectation for the bare minimum of attention, with that "you have no idea how hard my job is" aura. The thing is, I've been doing it for 18 years, and I really do. So, after the wrong entrees that we were eventually given and the bad attitude had been consumed, I officially broke up with the Free House, and vowed never, ever to return.

Well, the Free House is no more. Owners the Donnelly Group have seen fit to give the space a face-lift, or perhaps a face-drop might be more apropos. Re-christened with the Japanese horror flick handle The Calling, my old fling has been retooled into a more casual beach-side pub, much more simple and airy than its previous incarnation. They've opened the place up by losing the wall that separated the interior from the wonderful view patio and yanked out the illy espresso machine in favour of a brewer that dispenses the quality of coffee you deserve if you order coffee in a tap room. In place of the confit duck and panko-crusted scallops the menu now sports poutine and two-cheese nachos, yet still manages to retain a sheen of its former elegance. There's evidence of a bit of a staff turnover as well, judging from the new faces hoisting trays, English thankfully remains. I just had to dare to compare, and requested reservations for the new secluded corner section for a birthday party last Wednesday, to which they happily obliged. Heather, our waitress for the night, handled our separate cheque and extra seating demands smoothly, and oversaw a good time had by all. Now free from pretence and lofty expectation, The Calling kinda works. It may not be the dolled-up princess that first struck my small-town fancy, but there's something to be said for simple and comfortable. This just might be the beginning of a beautiful relationship, if the current staff can make the effort.