Crazy Eggs Restaurant — Restaurant in Saskatoon

JUST went for supper and was extremely disappointed! This place is night and day in a very literal sense. Had breakfast there for the first time just a few days earlier (Sunday). The place was so packed, they seated us (as well as others) in the lounge, just so they didn't have to turn away customers. Food came quick and was delicious (aside from some over-fried potatoes). Pretty cheap too. Fast forward to tonight. Arrived just after 6 PM. There was 5 of us. We ordered and then waited....and waited...and waited. 20 minutes after our arrival, a group of 4 came and sat beside us. We waited. As well, a man came and sat a ways down to our left. We waited. The man and the group ordered. We waited. The pop I ordered was apparently under the "no refill" policy and I was well done it by the time we had waited for a 1/2 an hour. Over 1 hour since we ordered, our food comes.....well, most of it at least. 3 of the 5 meals showed up. Me and my girlfriend still waited. 10 minutes later, my burger FINALLY comes - BUT - my girlfriend still has to wait for her steak sandwich. While waiting (and now finally eating), I bite into my burger and lift my head to see the group of 4 starting to get their meals. I laughed out loud in disbelief and yelled "Ha, ha! Oh my god, are you kidding me!? Really? REALLY!" I would have started yelling at the staff as they walked away but I could tell they knew I had the right to react how I did as they looked at me shamefully, hurrying back to the kitchen. That combined with the fact that we were there to celebrate someone's birthday, I didn't want to make it worse than the staff was already making it. (Yes, I know this is not a fancy place for a birthday, but that's why we went. Something low-key and easy.) When we got our bills, nothing was comped or discounted. So we paid $85 for a waffle (with long-dead strawberries in it's syrup), a chicken ranch wrap (which had onions in it, but weren't supposed to...according to one of the two different menus you may get), a burger with fries, a steak sandwich which was not medium-rare but medium on one end and well done on the other, a burger that was all patty and bun (THAT'S IT), and unlimited chocolate milk/coffee/tea (but not pop). They apologized for it taking so long to get out the food, but either didn't care or were in such a hurry (or too ashamed) to even stop for a moment and ask after giving us our food if it was good or if we needed anything. Which is one of the sad parts. The food was mostly good, but it took so long to get out that when we finally had it, we were bitter towards the untimely service and staff and eating out of raw hunger, rather than being able to relax and enjoy the meal. The only way I'm going back here is if someone else is paying AND I have 2 hours to waste. In all likelihood, I'll need both...

I stumbled into Crazy Eggs after another night of drywall and dream-hauling. I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since a gas station pickled egg I found behind a Snowmobile God in Stony Rapids. My stomach was screaming. My eyes were twitching. My soul was whispering, “Just one hot breakfast before the unraveling.”

Crazy Eggs answered.

They didn’t ask why I smelled like sheetrock and fear. They didn’t flinch when I brought in my emotional support bucket. The hostess looked into my eyes—deep into my eyes—and said, “Table for one?” I nodded. But she already knew. She led me to the booth in the corner. The one that breathes.

I ordered the Big Country Breakfast, because I figured if I was going to lose my grip on linear time, I should at least have bacon in both hands. The waitress smiled like she’d seen it all before. She had eyes like fried onions and a name tag that simply read, “Don’t.”

The food arrived steaming, humming, alive.

The eggs? Scrambled into golden glyphs, each bite unlocking a memory I never lived. One tasted like my first kiss. One tasted like vengeance. The sausage? Tube-shaped truths, sizzling with the fury of a thousand Canadian winters. The toast? Burnt slightly—just enough to whisper. I didn’t respond, but it knew I heard. And the hash browns. Oh God. The hash browns. Shredded like time, crispy like absolution. I dipped them in ketchup and for three full minutes I was completely, utterly at peace.

A man at the next table was crying into his pancake stack. I offered him a strip of bacon. He screamed, “I FORGIVE YOU” and vanished. The waitress winked. I continued eating.

They refilled my coffee before I asked. They brought me jam I didn’t order. The check simply read: “You’ve done enough.”

5 stars. Because this isn’t a restaurant. It’s a culinary asylum for the cosmically displaced. If you’ve ever rowed a mattress through frostbitten courtrooms and found salvation in drywall, Crazy Eggs is your chapel.

I left full. I left shaking. I left… changed.

And...

April 4, 2024 my family and I went to eat here. 3 adults and 4 kids, table of 7 required automatic gratuity of 18%, bill came out to be approx $140 although we were served food and ate on a drug contaminated table. The kids found a black drug baggie next to the syrup and sugar on the table. Crazy eggs hands out small clear bags like these with mini candy eggs inside. The bag the kids found was black with a pattern, such as the one attached to the post. I mentioned it to our server and she said “oh we shouldn’t be touching that” and took it away. About 10 minutes later, I called and asked for the manager to report the issue as I didn’t seem it was acceptable. Served said she can’t control what other people drop from their pockets, I said they’re completely in control of proper sanitation of tables between each guests. I left my name and number and have not heard back. Each time I’ve called I’ve been told it’s very hard to predict when “he” the manager will be around. Our family has been here multiple times and service is usually good but we will not be back. Do not recommend, very lucky that the kids did not open the baggie and that there wasn’t residue leftover on the table to get one...