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Cardinal Rule has mastered French-fries, a benchmark of civilization. I’d eat them more often if they didn’t have that annoying habit of sticking to my thighs.

For a lot of you, one of the many brands of on-tap beer at Cardinal Rule  will go with the fries, burgers and other wildly delicious sins on the menu. For me and some others it’s a couple of glasses of that bad ass Ontario, big bottle, screw cap wine. It’s been selected wisely, and cuts the heavily saturated oil quite nicely.

Cardinal Rule: A diner to dine for!

Cardinal Rule, the diner, stands as a bastion for comfort food on the east side of Roncesvalles. It’s the second building north from Queen’s end.

The “Cardinal Rule” is also a long known term. When I think about it, the implications of breaking it are nerve-wracking.

Thunder roars and lightening cracks, as Resa breaks the “Cardinal Rule”.

Who knows what the hell that rule is because it’s secret, but I’ve broken it and therefore I could be banished from Queen’s end, forever. Brutal! All I did was eat French-fries, drink Ontario wine and support a local business.

“What about the corporate food venues you have within crawling distance?” demands the inquisition.

Oh, oh, I’ve broken the “Corporate Cardinal Rule”. I envision Cardinals, Bishops and Deacons leading a procession of religious controversy through my mind’s-eye and into Cardinal Rule, the diner. They try to take over, but fall into the deep fryer with the MAKI N’ CHEESE.

Why are religious figures intimidating? I rail against its convention, yet I just happen to have a Cardinal’s outfit in my closet. I take it out and put it on my Judy. A faux pas, I know.

I took this awesome shot in my apartment. When N came home and saw this in the living room, his heart skipped. Why? he asked. Maybe for a blog on Cardinal Rule, I replied. He seemed perchance amused.

Completely opposite from the above image; unpretentious, inexpensive and satisfying are words that came to mind, as I settled on my stool at the bar one night, chowed down and read. Every so often I looked up to watch the pulling of Draft. It’s definitely a performance art as far as I can tell.

I envision the Cardinals, Bishops and Deacons coming out of the deep fryer. They don’t look very good, pale in comparison to the MAKI N”CHEESE. In my mind’s-eye’s hindsight, I realize a light batter would have made all the difference.

Green grass underlines the barren spring, as Toronto swallows the lake.