Whiteshell Brewpub
21 Park Road
Falcon Lake, MB
204-349-8993
Facebook: whiteshell brewpub
August, 2020
Disaster.
That's better. Honestly, I've been dining out for forty years and this is the worst meal experience I've ever had.
The debacle starts at 8 pm when we arrive. The inside of the restaurant looks smoky so we plant on the patio. To space adequately, they have ten tables outside, with a further four tables indoors. With four emtpy tables outside and half occupancy inside, they warned us that they're swamped. We find out later they only have two people working, one serve and one cook. There aren't so many people here so we take our chances.
When you call yourself a "brewpub," diners have an expectation. I want to see craft beers and micro products. Oh, and the fact that you're a brewpub usually means that you brew on site. When I ask her what they offer, she lists off the usual mass-produced garbage, starting with Bud, followed by the other familiars. I ask about craft beers and she said that they don't carry those anymore--"but you're a brewpub?!"
Looking at the menu board, I guess it isn't an omission that they list no beer at their brewpup. I settle for a glass of white wine with little hope of anything good. When it came in a disposable, plastic wine cup with an ice cube, I didn't think that my low expectations could have been too lofty. Is there any scenario in the world where someone wants an ice cube in their wine?! What the hell.
Sitting in the middle of the patio, a dominating barbecue/smoker quietly broods, speaking silently that a serious Pit Master works here. There are only two reasons why you would have this smoker so visible:
- You are an accomplished, award-winning Pit Master that wants to show off your wares;
- You are completely useless with smoke and you hope the machine lulls diners into a false sense of belief.
Pit Masters use mesquite, hickory, maple, oak and other fragrant hardwoods for nice-smelling smoke. Use garbage wood and you get garbage-smelling smoke, resulting in bitter foods. The piles of birch shows that the cook here (no Pit Master would use birch) cheaped out on buying wood and settled with what's felled in the area. My hopes for dinner fall.
A greasy-looking, loud-mouth slides into his chair, two tables over. Before two minutes pass, he drops loud f-bombs. His buddies tell him to calm his volume and he starts mouthing that no one would kick him out. He turns around, stares right at me and spouts,
"Are you going to kick me out?!"
This dining experience gets progressively better. I'll save you the vulgarity that we had to endure but you know how much fun it is to enjoy a meal when a slobbering drunk, schmuck sits nearby and brags about being "a man" and goes on about how tough he is.
The server comes out with food and we're hopeful it's ours. No, sadly it's the vulgar oaf's food, who showed up a full half-hour later than us. Now I'm angry. Should I sit here and talk about genitals at the top of my lungs to get faster food?
The sun sets and the mosquitoes start their feasts. We and the one remaining table duck inside and ask for our food to go instead. The server promises it to come soon but soon turns into another half-hour. For that time, we wander inside the dining room, saturating our lungs with the sustaining waft of smoke.
Since the moment we stepped into the Brewpub, 150 minutes elapsed. I really hope this food tastes good enough to warrant the wait.
I offer you a peek at what the pulled pork sandwich looks like:
This is how it looks coming straight out of the camera with no editing or adjustments. Not only does the bun have a greyish tinge to it, it also looks like some just sat on it.
When I make pulled pork, I smoke the pork butt for over 10 hours. When I make smoked ribs, I smoke them for six hours. With both of these meals, they just need to reheat and bring to the customers. It should not take more than five minutes to prepare.
Especially with ribs, you do not need to do anything more than heat and serve--there's absolutely nothing to add. This slab of rib misses one critical ingredient, adequate heat.
People seem to think that fall-off-the-bone is good ribs. It is not; it is overcooked. Anyone call make fall-off-the-bone ribs--just cook them to death. They'll taste so tender, you can gum them without dentures. As any Pit Master or go to any barbecue competition and they'll tell you that the ribs need to be firm, and a bit will leave the perfect imprint of your teeth (or denture) template.
How are these ribs? No, not fall-off-the-bone. No, not Pit Master perfectly firm. These taste tough as nails, with a similar texture to the jerkey pulled pork. There is no way I can bite through this and my steak knife has a hard time slicing through the leather-like slab.
Whiteshell Brewput: it f__ckin' sucks.
I have never written a worse review in my life; I don't think I can write a worse review if I try. This is simply one of the worst dining experiences in my life.
Only come here if you have a couple of hours to waste, you want to eat some shit.
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