I remember going into Frannie’s at the end of February, for my semi-usual early-morning breakfast fix, along with two or three other regulars, plus a steady stream of construction workers (yes, they were still around, building the new buildings in the neighbourhood) coming and going. When I went up to order, Helen said in a quiet tone and with tears in her eyes, “We’re closing.” They were going to leaving within a month, maybe sooner but definitely not later.

And for the next four weeks, as often as I could, I went down there to the little space above where Scratch Records used to be, to order breakfast, or lunch, or cookies and banana bread. I wanted to make sure the gustatory memory was firmly embedded — and I was also kind of guilty because for a period of time, six to eighth months perhaps, I had not visited Frannie’s because I was concerned with so many hearty breakfasts and what it might mean to my innards. But that feeling disappeared soon enough, and I truly missed going there.

One morning, during the final weeks, I asked Helen what that amazing smell was. “It’s Japchae, want some?” She was cooking it at work to take home for dinner. “Come by at 1:00 and I will have it here ready for you.” And she did, and it was amazing. At one point, Frannie’s had served Japchae, a Korean dish of stirfried cellophane noodles, veggies, meat, and soy sauce, but no longer had; it was one of the only things I remember disappearing from the menu.

Anyways, throughout those final weeks, Helen and Kee were greeted over and over again by old customers, some folks who had made special long treks to return. And on the final day — yes, I went there for breakfast — they warned everyone that they will only last as long as there was bread. I even ordered Bill his regular sandwich to go, and had it taken straight to where he was that day, kilometres away from the corner of Cambie and Hastings.

Right around 2:00 or so, after the big rushes — and there was a steady stream of wellwishers ordering turkey or chicken clubhouses, toasted veggie and cheese sandwiches, chicken noodle soup, roast beef sandwiches, and on and on — Kee announced, “We’re out of bread! We are done.” And with that, food creation stopped, and the remaining folks slowly made their good-byes and left.

I frequently saw Kee sweeping and vacuuming the floor of Frannie’s around 3:00 or so when the rush had long since passed, and I thought of Helen and Kee on that final afternoon in early spring, when they put the broom away and locked the door for the very last time.

A small and tangential story about Shmelly, the amazingly friendly tabby who had a collar with a bell, if I remember correctly. Legend has it that unlike almost every other cat we have ever seen, Shmelly liked water, bathtub water in particular, bathtub water with someone sitting the bathtub even more particular. He was fond of swimming around a full bathtub, every so often having bubbles appear in his wake, and once, I think, leaving a yellow stream in the water.

Anyways, back to the “office” — it consisted of a briefcase that had belonged to my father, as well as two or three filing storage boxes, filled with our corporate and legal documents, and other paperwork. Yes, we had gotten our legal back end covered right from the beginning, courtesy of Bill’s family; his uncle was/is a lawyer, and his firm handled our corporate birth and legal start. Even to this day, we do our banking in the same building where Bill’s uncle’s office was — and it was perhaps kind of telling that once when we went up to meet with Bill’s uncle, when we left his office to go to the washroom on the way out, big security guards came up to us and escorted us out of the building.

Within a year, though, thanks to the philanthropy of family members (yes, a continuing theme), we moved our “office” to the back room of my father’s downtown travel agency, in the Manhattan Building at the corner of Robson and Thurlow (yes, the site of the 1994 Stanley Cup Riots). We picked up a simple work table at Ikea, and my father brought in a state of the art Mac IIsi, a heavy 13” monitor, a whopping 40 megabyte external hard-drive, and a big Apple LaserWriter. Both Bill and I had dayjobs — either out at UBC working in the Desktop Publishing Department (Bill, then me) around the corner from CiTR 101.9 fM in the Student Union Building, or on West 4th at Zulu Records (me) — but we would hightail it to “Mint on Robson” at night to get to work, taking advantage of the available fax machine, phone lines, and desks.

One (dis)advantage of being downtown: the proximity to sustenance and vice. McDonald’s was right across the street, as was the liquor store. So most nights we would get one or two of those infamous McDonald’s pizzas (whose logo involved the McDonald’s M rotated to look, unsuccessfully, like Z — hence we always called it “Pimmas”) and more than a few tall boy cans of beer. There, until late at night, we created posters for various promoters in town — Jaime Nicholson and Paul Moes’ Good Boy Productions and the Cruel Elephant, and Keith Buckingham’s Starfish Room were two of them — and fired our first salvos of Mint Records promotional collateral.

We also started thinking about what would become our first release: the split-7” with Tankhog and Windwalker, entitled The Mint Is A Terrible Thing To Taste.

You can read elsewhere about the reincarnation of this Dominion Building basement spot, from the total redo of the interior to reflect its Middle Eastern vibe, to the saving of the (I believe) Davide Pan-created security bars on the windows put up for a previous tenant, to the little garden out on the sidewalk tended to by Nuba staff, but the thing for me is the food.

There was a time when two or three times a week we would order lunch from Nuba, and it was usually the same thing: Najib’s Special and the lentil soup. Najib’s special is something that I have not seen anywhere else: it is deep-fried cauliflower. Sometimes a bit crunchy, but by the time we got it, it was a bit steamed, the deep-fried cauliflower is a little bit greasy (olive oil!) mouthful of that white vegetable that I remember eating raw as a child with French onion dip. It  comes with a unique (for me) green hot sauce, and starch and veggie and salad, and lots of olive oil. It is crazy good.

Other things that are memorable include the roasted potatoes (yup, and with the hot sauce added — I see them making the huge trays of roasted potatoes when I come into work every now and again), the wonderfully crispy falafel balls, the Mjadra (mmm, the crispy onions on top), and the chicken and hummus. Basically, really, the whole menu is amazing.

They tried to serve breakfast for a month, but that didn’t last long. And they have since expanded to three locations now — the most recent opening being closeish to Casa Del Artista and the Narrow — but the spot in the basement of the Dominion Building is the one for me. Oh, and there is also a bit of a “cushion room” too.

- I’m in my final year of the Arts & Entertainment MGMT diploma program @ Cap U

- I love all sorts of music (of course, I hate all sorts of music as well, but I don’t keep my taste locked to one genre)

- I like cats (a lot)

- My doctor said I had to cleanse my liver so my diet basically consists of rice & seasonal fruit/veggies + a whackload of supplements…arrrgghhh

- On a lighter note, it’s my birthday on Friday! Wooooooooo

I’m here till the end of April and I’m really looking forward to the hustle and bustle of springtime @ Mint Records!

Since I’m on a liver cleanse, it’s hard for me to find food that’s equally good for me as it is delicious. This Curried Carrot Soup recipe from Carolyn Mark definitely fits the bill!

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 yellow onion, sliced
1 tablespoon fresh ginger root, grated (optional…although I would definitely recommend it!)
8-10 carrots, sliced
2 vegetable bouillon cubes (the Knorr brand is recommended)
4 cups water
curry powder & salt to taste

In a large saucepan, saute onion in olive oil until transparent. Add grated ginger root, if you desire, as well as the roughly sliced carrots. Saute for another minute or two. Add water & bouillon and simmer on medium heat for 40 minutes. Allow that to cool for a bit, say 10 minutes, before transporting the ingredients to your blender. If everything is too hot, it may explode when blended! Perhaps it is time for a cocktail, tea or cigarette break? After your break, blend ingredients until smooth & transport concoction back to your original saucepan. Add curry powder & salt to taste and simmer for another minute or two. Fill bowls and top with creme fraiche & parsley or cilantro.

*Note: if you want to make the soup creamier and heartier without using dairy, use cashew cream! Google a recipe to make it - it’s different from cashew milk. ALSO - when blending hot soup in a blender, don’t use the original blender cover. Cover the top with a thick towel instead - it allows steam to escape and less chance of an explosion!

Next door to the Dominion Building, on the ground floor, facing Cambie Street, upstairs from where an early version of Scratch Records lived — where, according to legend, Nardwuar worked way back when — is Frannie’s, a venerable old sandwich spot that has not changed, we think, since forever almost. Run by a friendly duo, Frannie’s opens at the seemingly ungodly time of 6:30 every weekday morning, and closes at 4:30 in the afternoon.

The regulars are all there on their menu — the various customary sandwich concoctions and baked goods and soups and all that — and they also have curried beef and teriyaki chicken with rice. But the big thing for me is their breakfast.

When you order their bacon or sausage with eggs, hashbrowns, toast, and sliced tomatoes, Helen hauls out a hot plate and proceeds to cook your breakfast to order on a small skillet which, I don’t know about you, but to me is fascinating. Is it good? Yup. Everything is good at Frannie’s. No, really, and I’ve eaten almost everything there.

During all the big Woodwards construction, which is still going on but to a lesser degree, Frannie’s was overflowing with hardhat-wearing construction workers who would appear for breakfast, morning break time, lunch, and afternoon break time. And when the Ms. T’s building was burning down up on Pender by Homer, Frannie’s was overwhelmed with sandwich orders for the firefighters. With the neighbourhood “changing” and with more eating places popping up and around Frannie’s, I’d like to think that there is a healthy future for a small sandwich shop that is built on simplicity and sincerity, and has been around forever.