Scarborough’s beloved Real McCoy announced they were closing. They didn’t expect what came next
Scarborough’s beloved Real McCoy announced they were closing. They didn’t expect what came next
by beef-supreme
3 Comments
beef-supreme
> Mihail knew the end was coming — the application to redevelop the plaza was filed in 2016 — but he had hoped for more time. He delights in knowing people’s names, perfecting a from-scratch onion ring and making sure every kid can eat a slice of pizza regardless of the change in their hands. He knew people appreciated the small things, but he didn’t realize how much until his daughter posted a notice on social media of the impending closure. > > Thank you for sponsoring my hockey team in the early 1970s. Thank you for delivering to Scarborough General Hospital when my dad had a craving. Thank you for the burgers, the pizza, the milkshakes. Thanks for the first poutine I had in Canada. Thank you for the free ice cream cones. Thank you for the job. Thank you for my work ethic. Thank you for sponsoring my son for race car driving. Thank you for being so good to us kids. Thank you for staying open a few extra minutes when I called and asked. Every time Megan Mihail opened her phone, there would be 30 new messages. “If you don’t know the Real McCoy then you can’t really be from Scarborough!” one read. The restaurant’s reach was both startling and heartwarming. > > “George was destined to be here,” his wife says as she arranges bacon on a pan. > > “It’s all we know.” > > The front door groans open. “Here we go,” Mihail says as he heads to the counter. “Let the games begin.” > > There is no seating at the Real McCoy, just a small waiting area ensconced in wood panelling. “This is McCoys,” Colin Rose says as he sweeps his arm grandly. Penny, nine months old, smiles at her dad, but doesn’t clock the yellowed photos of minor hockey teams, the business card for a local magician, the giant salmon that was too big for a customer’s wall. Rose lived in Agincourt, but he attended the gifted program at nearby Churchill Heights Public School and later, at Woburn Collegiate. He spent years watching the older kids come back with slices. As soon as he tasted that freedom in seventh grade, he did the same. Now living in Rexdale —“What’s a Scarborough kid doing in Etobicoke?” Mihail razzes him — Rose makes the drive across the city when traffic is light. > > If you were 50 cents short, it didn’t matter, says Chris Kallan, who lived across the street when he was a kid and ate plenty of slices after playing basketball at a nearby court. When you were more established, maybe with a babysitting job or some other source of income, you graduated to burgers, and from there, anything on the menu, says another customer, who now teaches at a nearby elementary school. > > People grew up, moved away, but most came back. Every time you hit Markham Road, you feel the pull, says Rowan Bennett, 31, as he waits for his burger. Mihail asks about his mom, who first brought Bennett here when he was a baby. “She’s good,” says Bennett.
moo422
I read the article twice (or more) based on the headline, but I still didn’t find out “what came next”.
stealinoffdeadpeople
Even with inflation they always kept prices as low as they could. The pizza slices were $3.50 a [literal decade ago](https://www.blogto.com/restaurants/the-real-mccoy-toronto/), and I think they only raised the price to $4.00 during the pandemic. The signature MOJO burger? Only $2 more since 2011.
3 Comments
> Mihail knew the end was coming — the application to redevelop the plaza was filed in 2016 — but he had hoped for more time. He delights in knowing people’s names, perfecting a from-scratch onion ring and making sure every kid can eat a slice of pizza regardless of the change in their hands. He knew people appreciated the small things, but he didn’t realize how much until his daughter posted a notice on social media of the impending closure.
>
> Thank you for sponsoring my hockey team in the early 1970s. Thank you for delivering to Scarborough General Hospital when my dad had a craving. Thank you for the burgers, the pizza, the milkshakes. Thanks for the first poutine I had in Canada. Thank you for the free ice cream cones. Thank you for the job. Thank you for my work ethic. Thank you for sponsoring my son for race car driving. Thank you for being so good to us kids. Thank you for staying open a few extra minutes when I called and asked. Every time Megan Mihail opened her phone, there would be 30 new messages. “If you don’t know the Real McCoy then you can’t really be from Scarborough!” one read. The restaurant’s reach was both startling and heartwarming.
>
> “George was destined to be here,” his wife says as she arranges bacon on a pan.
>
> “It’s all we know.”
>
> The front door groans open. “Here we go,” Mihail says as he heads to the counter. “Let the games begin.”
>
> There is no seating at the Real McCoy, just a small waiting area ensconced in wood panelling. “This is McCoys,” Colin Rose says as he sweeps his arm grandly. Penny, nine months old, smiles at her dad, but doesn’t clock the yellowed photos of minor hockey teams, the business card for a local magician, the giant salmon that was too big for a customer’s wall. Rose lived in Agincourt, but he attended the gifted program at nearby Churchill Heights Public School and later, at Woburn Collegiate. He spent years watching the older kids come back with slices. As soon as he tasted that freedom in seventh grade, he did the same. Now living in Rexdale —“What’s a Scarborough kid doing in Etobicoke?” Mihail razzes him — Rose makes the drive across the city when traffic is light.
>
> If you were 50 cents short, it didn’t matter, says Chris Kallan, who lived across the street when he was a kid and ate plenty of slices after playing basketball at a nearby court. When you were more established, maybe with a babysitting job or some other source of income, you graduated to burgers, and from there, anything on the menu, says another customer, who now teaches at a nearby elementary school.
>
> People grew up, moved away, but most came back. Every time you hit Markham Road, you feel the pull, says Rowan Bennett, 31, as he waits for his burger. Mihail asks about his mom, who first brought Bennett here when he was a baby. “She’s good,” says Bennett.
I read the article twice (or more) based on the headline, but I still didn’t find out “what came next”.
Even with inflation they always kept prices as low as they could. The pizza slices were $3.50 a [literal decade ago](https://www.blogto.com/restaurants/the-real-mccoy-toronto/), and I think they only raised the price to $4.00 during the pandemic. The signature MOJO burger? Only $2 more since 2011.