I go away for a few short weeks and a new restaurant opens. That's what I love about Toronto. A new place on Queen East near Logan is going to give Terroni a run for its money. It's called Lil' Baci and it's run by the folks of Kubo Radio.
Since I've mentioned Kubo, I must tell you that we ate there recently and no kidding - the food is better! I mentioned this to one of the owners, Leslie, and he did admit that their aim this year was to improve the kitchen. They've succeeded. And it looks like they will succeed with their new Italian-themed restaurant.
The atmosphere is casual chic. Mismatched chandeliers line the narrow room. A table for six with very comfortable looking chairs takes up the front space by the large window with original stained glass detailing. One of the owners family photographs dot the walls.
On the night we show up, all sorts of neighbors come in, including other chefs and restaurant owners. The menu is basic: antipasti that get changed up regularly; pizza; pasta; daily specials of fish, fowl and meat. We have spicy chickpeas with anchovies, marinated mushrooms and a fantastic caprese salad. The buffalo bocconcini is imported from Italy and it literally melts in your mouth. The Reluctant Chef's quattro formaggi pizza is equally good as Terroni's and my gnocchi are scrumptious. Light and airy from the ricotta, they are bathed in a slightly creamy but still tangy tomato sauce. Lots of Italian wines to choose from. The wait staff is knowledgeable and friendly, and the whole experience feels like going to a good friend's for dinner.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Saturday, June 23, 2007
In the Dark at (& About) O.Noir
Let’s be perfectly honest: many of us choose a restaurant to see and be seen. We work out our attire in advance, based on what we’ve heard of the atmosphere and our suspicions of the type of folks who will be dining amongst us. So what happens when one is invited to eat in pitch darkness?
The first thought that comes to mind when we accept an invitation to Montreal’s O.Noir restaurant is to wear machine washable black clothing. At O.Noir blind waiters staff a dining room so dark no one can see the table, the cutlery, wine or water glasses, or one’s dinner companions. We are dining with a very large group that has been divided into several tables of about eight. After having a drink at the bar, where the light is flatteringly dim and seeing bar staff expertly mix drinks, we are lined up at a door marked Entrée and told the name of our server. I am very bad with remembering names – I am much better with faces but of course, this skill is rendered useless -- and my deficiency plagues me later on. All in a line, we each put our left hand on the left shoulder of the person in front of us and follow the conga line into the dining room. We walk through the door and then through a set of heavy black curtains. After that, we see nothing.
At the table, we are told to feel for a chair somewhere in front of us, and sure enough I find one but I also find that the Reluctant Chef is trying to get into same. It’s like musical chairs and I’m the odd one out. I push him aside (hey, no one can see!) and tell him to move one over. We sit. We feel for our place setting: a place mat, a napkin, a knife and ….no fork! I panic. I cannot see the waiter. I cannot call him because of course, I can’t remember his name, but also I feel like an idiot yelling at the top of my feeble little lungs in front of all our dinner companions. Thankfully, he arrives and I am able to tell him that I don’t have the requisite cutlery. No problem. He brings it over to me. The waiter gently taps my shoulder and tells me he has a fork. He passes it very close to me – I can feel the movement of his arm – and I blindly (yes, literally) take it from him. It’s odd to take an object from someone when you cannot see it but the method becomes a familiar and comfortable routine. What remains disconcerting is the inability to call a waiter over to our table. One must wait patiently until he arrives at regular intervals.
The noise level is not just amplified by our senses; it truly is much louder than at a properly lit restaurant. I notice that people are practically yelling at each other. The darkness fools them into feeling invisible; they must raise their voices to be present. In fact, Reluctant Chef tells me later that he carried on a conversation with his right-hand dinner companion with their faces literally inches away from each other. He only realized this when someone at another table took a photo and the flash lit up the entire room. In fact, throughout dinner, the diner to my left is leaning in closer and closer to talk to me. He has moved so far from the center of his place setting that he is now drinking my wine. Oops! He gesticulates and there goes my water glass. It seems like a hassle to call the waiter and get a replacement.
It is not impossible to eat without seeing one’s plate, however we end up spearing our plates with complete abandon and coming up empty half the time. I recognize a full fork when the weight changes and each time, think “Aha! Success!”
Now for the food: in one word, unremarkable. I’m truly sorry to write this. The menu is simple enough: Portobello mushrooms, avocado salad, grilled vegetables with chèvre as appetizers; listed mains are filet, chicken breast, marinated shrimp with risotto, haloumi with roasted peppers. In my opinion, these dishes are not esoteric or tantalizing. The one interesting appetizer is octopus, which is very nicely prepared. One of our dinner companions reports the grilled veg is as expected. I order the “surprise” appetizer and surprise main. I hope that this will be some culinary tour de force, but it turns out to be smoked salmon that is a bit past its prime and lamb chops (overcooked) with very tasty green beans and potatoes diced in neat cubes but that are overcooked and fall apart and through my fork tines. Everyone, it seems, has the same sides. I am surprised because the filet, which is apparently grilled just fine according to my dinner companions, and served with a nice peppercorn sauce, is supposed to be served with asparagus. Chicken is to be served with zucchini. Did they run out? No explanations are forthcoming. I admit that serving a large group is difficult, but either everyone chooses à la carte or we get a ‘group menu’. (I would like to state here that some may think I am being unusually cruel about a restaurants ability to cater to large groups; in fact, I have had good meals with equally large groups, including the fabulous George in Toronto.)
Dessert is also unremarkable: the chocolate cake is disappointingly dry, the mousse with raspberry sauce is just passable and the lemon sorbet with pineapple chunks is as advertised but not exceptional. I once read a comment by the restaurant’s general manager that when the senses are heightened, simple food tastes divine. Perhaps this should be true; alas, neither I, nor any of my dinner companions feel any sort of zing or pop with the flavours of our meal.
Overall, we enjoy our time at O.Noir, mostly due to the company and the friendly wait staff. I am left ‘in the dark’ as to why anyone would return a second time, except perhaps to humble oneself when the character demands it. But the experience is unique. We learn what it must be like to be blind, and we learn how insidious prejudices develop against the blind. I hope that each of us walked out of O Noir with the understanding that yes, it truly is awful to be blind, but blind people are highly functioning. Sure, they do things a bit differently, but because of their heightened senses, they may perceive our foibles and character flaws much more effectively than others, who see the masks we all wear.
The first thought that comes to mind when we accept an invitation to Montreal’s O.Noir restaurant is to wear machine washable black clothing. At O.Noir blind waiters staff a dining room so dark no one can see the table, the cutlery, wine or water glasses, or one’s dinner companions. We are dining with a very large group that has been divided into several tables of about eight. After having a drink at the bar, where the light is flatteringly dim and seeing bar staff expertly mix drinks, we are lined up at a door marked Entrée and told the name of our server. I am very bad with remembering names – I am much better with faces but of course, this skill is rendered useless -- and my deficiency plagues me later on. All in a line, we each put our left hand on the left shoulder of the person in front of us and follow the conga line into the dining room. We walk through the door and then through a set of heavy black curtains. After that, we see nothing.
At the table, we are told to feel for a chair somewhere in front of us, and sure enough I find one but I also find that the Reluctant Chef is trying to get into same. It’s like musical chairs and I’m the odd one out. I push him aside (hey, no one can see!) and tell him to move one over. We sit. We feel for our place setting: a place mat, a napkin, a knife and ….no fork! I panic. I cannot see the waiter. I cannot call him because of course, I can’t remember his name, but also I feel like an idiot yelling at the top of my feeble little lungs in front of all our dinner companions. Thankfully, he arrives and I am able to tell him that I don’t have the requisite cutlery. No problem. He brings it over to me. The waiter gently taps my shoulder and tells me he has a fork. He passes it very close to me – I can feel the movement of his arm – and I blindly (yes, literally) take it from him. It’s odd to take an object from someone when you cannot see it but the method becomes a familiar and comfortable routine. What remains disconcerting is the inability to call a waiter over to our table. One must wait patiently until he arrives at regular intervals.
The noise level is not just amplified by our senses; it truly is much louder than at a properly lit restaurant. I notice that people are practically yelling at each other. The darkness fools them into feeling invisible; they must raise their voices to be present. In fact, Reluctant Chef tells me later that he carried on a conversation with his right-hand dinner companion with their faces literally inches away from each other. He only realized this when someone at another table took a photo and the flash lit up the entire room. In fact, throughout dinner, the diner to my left is leaning in closer and closer to talk to me. He has moved so far from the center of his place setting that he is now drinking my wine. Oops! He gesticulates and there goes my water glass. It seems like a hassle to call the waiter and get a replacement.
It is not impossible to eat without seeing one’s plate, however we end up spearing our plates with complete abandon and coming up empty half the time. I recognize a full fork when the weight changes and each time, think “Aha! Success!”
Now for the food: in one word, unremarkable. I’m truly sorry to write this. The menu is simple enough: Portobello mushrooms, avocado salad, grilled vegetables with chèvre as appetizers; listed mains are filet, chicken breast, marinated shrimp with risotto, haloumi with roasted peppers. In my opinion, these dishes are not esoteric or tantalizing. The one interesting appetizer is octopus, which is very nicely prepared. One of our dinner companions reports the grilled veg is as expected. I order the “surprise” appetizer and surprise main. I hope that this will be some culinary tour de force, but it turns out to be smoked salmon that is a bit past its prime and lamb chops (overcooked) with very tasty green beans and potatoes diced in neat cubes but that are overcooked and fall apart and through my fork tines. Everyone, it seems, has the same sides. I am surprised because the filet, which is apparently grilled just fine according to my dinner companions, and served with a nice peppercorn sauce, is supposed to be served with asparagus. Chicken is to be served with zucchini. Did they run out? No explanations are forthcoming. I admit that serving a large group is difficult, but either everyone chooses à la carte or we get a ‘group menu’. (I would like to state here that some may think I am being unusually cruel about a restaurants ability to cater to large groups; in fact, I have had good meals with equally large groups, including the fabulous George in Toronto.)
Dessert is also unremarkable: the chocolate cake is disappointingly dry, the mousse with raspberry sauce is just passable and the lemon sorbet with pineapple chunks is as advertised but not exceptional. I once read a comment by the restaurant’s general manager that when the senses are heightened, simple food tastes divine. Perhaps this should be true; alas, neither I, nor any of my dinner companions feel any sort of zing or pop with the flavours of our meal.
Overall, we enjoy our time at O.Noir, mostly due to the company and the friendly wait staff. I am left ‘in the dark’ as to why anyone would return a second time, except perhaps to humble oneself when the character demands it. But the experience is unique. We learn what it must be like to be blind, and we learn how insidious prejudices develop against the blind. I hope that each of us walked out of O Noir with the understanding that yes, it truly is awful to be blind, but blind people are highly functioning. Sure, they do things a bit differently, but because of their heightened senses, they may perceive our foibles and character flaws much more effectively than others, who see the masks we all wear.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Mistura
Our quandary one night is: where can we seat 6 people at 9pm at the last minute? In the Bloor-Avenue Road vicinity? Mistura is very forthcoming, accomodating and right from the get-go I feel that my reservation is not an imposition but a pleasure. However, it's always been a prejudice of mine to not eat at Ave & Dav locations. Now the question is, will Mistura prove me prejudiced without cause?
We arrive a trifle early and our gregarious group, including the Reluctant Chef, La Lawyer and Sir Fussy, gather around the small bar area and order martinis (perfect) and champagne. Gosset seems to be a a favorite label in Toronto these days. True to its reputation, Mistura keeps the bar stocked with its "famous" cheese sticks, which are more bread-like than the crackers I was expecting, as well as a variety of olives. Our table is ready promptly and we're whisked to a really wonderful area that seems almost set apart from other tables but not quite. Mistura sensitively uses screens and the geography of its space to create small havens for diners.
The menu is interesting and we all have some difficulty choosing. It's a good thing there are six of us... all the courses go around the table at least once. I start with fried artichokes -- it's one of those dishes that I never make at home so I doubly appreciate their succulence. Everyone agrees that this is one of the best appetizers. For the main, I order the rabbit. When it arrives I am overwhelmed; let's call it a healthy portion, one that can be generously sampled by the five other diners. The meat is tender and sweet and perfectly balanced with a side of rapini and olives. The Reluctant Chef has the grilled calamari to start; it is perfectly delicious and he can't stop talking about it. I can tell it will be the standard bearer from now on. Other dishes on this night include veal scallopini, lamb, sea bass, and beet risotto and all of them are executed very well. Despite our great love of beets, we feel the beet risotto is best as an appetizer and perhaps not as a main. We are all impressed, until one of our companion's squash ravioli turns into beet ravioli. No squash is left tonight; the waiter informs her, while serving everyone's mains, that the chef has made a substitution. She accepts this with a slightly disconcerted countenance. Of course, she has to accept the change otherwise she would have been eating her main long after we'd had coffee and dessert. This is not acceptable and we hope that kitchen staff don't normally embark on a substitution before advising wait staff and the customer. The waiter is perceptive enough to realize that beet ravioli is not going to make her happy so he suggests she choose something else. She decides on beet risotto, but surprisingly, it is not at all consistent with Sir Fussy's risotto. His is the epitome of perfectly balanced flavours; hers is too sweet.
The waiter helps us make a wine selection that satisfies all our palates. Overall, service is attentive and friendly. To their credit, wait staff do not hurry us out even as it becomes obvious that all the other patrons have cleared out. Perhaps our one friend won't come back, but we're game to try Mistura again.
We arrive a trifle early and our gregarious group, including the Reluctant Chef, La Lawyer and Sir Fussy, gather around the small bar area and order martinis (perfect) and champagne. Gosset seems to be a a favorite label in Toronto these days. True to its reputation, Mistura keeps the bar stocked with its "famous" cheese sticks, which are more bread-like than the crackers I was expecting, as well as a variety of olives. Our table is ready promptly and we're whisked to a really wonderful area that seems almost set apart from other tables but not quite. Mistura sensitively uses screens and the geography of its space to create small havens for diners.
The menu is interesting and we all have some difficulty choosing. It's a good thing there are six of us... all the courses go around the table at least once. I start with fried artichokes -- it's one of those dishes that I never make at home so I doubly appreciate their succulence. Everyone agrees that this is one of the best appetizers. For the main, I order the rabbit. When it arrives I am overwhelmed; let's call it a healthy portion, one that can be generously sampled by the five other diners. The meat is tender and sweet and perfectly balanced with a side of rapini and olives. The Reluctant Chef has the grilled calamari to start; it is perfectly delicious and he can't stop talking about it. I can tell it will be the standard bearer from now on. Other dishes on this night include veal scallopini, lamb, sea bass, and beet risotto and all of them are executed very well. Despite our great love of beets, we feel the beet risotto is best as an appetizer and perhaps not as a main. We are all impressed, until one of our companion's squash ravioli turns into beet ravioli. No squash is left tonight; the waiter informs her, while serving everyone's mains, that the chef has made a substitution. She accepts this with a slightly disconcerted countenance. Of course, she has to accept the change otherwise she would have been eating her main long after we'd had coffee and dessert. This is not acceptable and we hope that kitchen staff don't normally embark on a substitution before advising wait staff and the customer. The waiter is perceptive enough to realize that beet ravioli is not going to make her happy so he suggests she choose something else. She decides on beet risotto, but surprisingly, it is not at all consistent with Sir Fussy's risotto. His is the epitome of perfectly balanced flavours; hers is too sweet.
The waiter helps us make a wine selection that satisfies all our palates. Overall, service is attentive and friendly. To their credit, wait staff do not hurry us out even as it becomes obvious that all the other patrons have cleared out. Perhaps our one friend won't come back, but we're game to try Mistura again.
Julie's Cuban
It's Saturday night and we just want to get away from the club crowds. Cold beer, a nice cocktail, in an al fresco setting sounds right. Some Caribbbean-style food to go with the hot, humid night would be perfect. I ferret around a few of the Toronto sites and then I find it -- Julie's Cuban. It's on a narrow stretch of Dovercourt, a cozy eatery amidst a neighborhood that lives its life on the street. Grandmothers clad in the southern-European black uniform gossip on porches, children play in the immaculately kept fenced-in front yards, and a Portuguese festival amuses families in the local park. In fact, this feels a little bit like the Bronx. Julie's Cuban advertises its presence with strings of lights, hoards of flowering potted plants, and a steady stream of low laughter and conversation emanating from its sidewalk patio. It's a testament to the cuisine that all the tables inside the hot little restaurant are full. We only manage to snag an outdoor table because another couple is very, very late for their reservation. (Thank you to them!)
We start with the quintessential Cuban beer Cristal and a mojito. I intend to switch to wine later, but in fact, the mint is so fresh and fragrant that I stick with the cocktail. We take two tacks with the food: Reluctant Chef orders black bean soup to start, followed by Ropa Vieja. The soup is apparently meat-based - we have several pieces of pork in ours - and thick with beans and onions and just tangy enough. The beans don't overwhelm the palate, so I sneak a few more spoonfuls. Ropa Vieja is shredded beef cooked in a tomato sauce; it's served with peppers, plantains and rice and beans. Often I find rice and beans somewhat bland, but this version is saporous. The beef is tender and tangy. I am overly zealous with a variety of tapas. Avocado and mango salad is the thing to order this time of year: large juicy chunks of both fruits served with leafy greens, red peppers and cucumber. A lively ceviche follows, as well as shrimp richly cooked in butter and garlic. Two standout tapas are Frituras de Mais -- deep fried peppery corn fritters (crispy outside, soft inside) with sour cream, and Tostones Rellenos -- plantains stuffed with picadillo, a ground beef mixture sauteed with a sweet-spicy tomato sauce. I also order some chorizo cooked in red wine, which is pleasantly piquant but there just isn't enough room in my overstuffed belly so I opt to take it home. As we linger over our drinks, we observe many patrons leaving with little styrofoam containers. Julie, we'll be back!
We start with the quintessential Cuban beer Cristal and a mojito. I intend to switch to wine later, but in fact, the mint is so fresh and fragrant that I stick with the cocktail. We take two tacks with the food: Reluctant Chef orders black bean soup to start, followed by Ropa Vieja. The soup is apparently meat-based - we have several pieces of pork in ours - and thick with beans and onions and just tangy enough. The beans don't overwhelm the palate, so I sneak a few more spoonfuls. Ropa Vieja is shredded beef cooked in a tomato sauce; it's served with peppers, plantains and rice and beans. Often I find rice and beans somewhat bland, but this version is saporous. The beef is tender and tangy. I am overly zealous with a variety of tapas. Avocado and mango salad is the thing to order this time of year: large juicy chunks of both fruits served with leafy greens, red peppers and cucumber. A lively ceviche follows, as well as shrimp richly cooked in butter and garlic. Two standout tapas are Frituras de Mais -- deep fried peppery corn fritters (crispy outside, soft inside) with sour cream, and Tostones Rellenos -- plantains stuffed with picadillo, a ground beef mixture sauteed with a sweet-spicy tomato sauce. I also order some chorizo cooked in red wine, which is pleasantly piquant but there just isn't enough room in my overstuffed belly so I opt to take it home. As we linger over our drinks, we observe many patrons leaving with little styrofoam containers. Julie, we'll be back!
Monday, June 4, 2007
Splendido: Living up to the Name
If one is going to name one's restaurant Spendido, then it had better be darn splendid. Turns out that in its third incarnation, Splendido (Harbord at Spadina) is certainly living up to its name. The very first version of the resto was considered on par with other fine dining in Toronto, but the second saw the lovely dining room crowded with tables, serving pizza and pasta.
Upon entering the restaurant the first thing I notice is that the tables are very f-a-r a-p-a-r-t. Fabulous. Private conversations can be had. Second, the maitre d' doesn't wait a beat before greeting us and showing us to our table. A champagne cart is wheeled to my side, and it's evident this is going to be a wonderful -and expensive- evening.
Chef David Lee serves what I would term a modern French cuisine; not too rich. Fresh ingredients are at the core, whose source is clearly stated on the menu, and there is obviously a partnership with the Cumbrae brand. Our server expounds delightedly about Chef's philosphy (by the way, when did we start addressing chefs like doctors, without 'the'?), which is not to obscure ingredients with additions such as cream. This is why I'm saying that his technique is classical but his approach is modern.
We choose the table d'hote, although the tasting menu appears equally appealing (especially at $130pp; $98 for wines, but more on that later). In fact, I have a difficult time choosing. A triad of amuses bouches appears; the shot of gazpacho making an instant impression. My first course is Chesapeake Bay soft-shell crab, delicate and perfectly crisped, served on a puree of cauliflower. Any doubters as to cauliflower would be shushed. Reluctant Chef starts with the foie gras (Quebec of course), cooked sous-vide so it actually appears like a terrine. It is served on top of a brioche with duck proscuitto that I find just salty enough. I must admit, the poached white asparagus truly tempts me; I suppose I'll just have to return another time. Seconds are chilled organic pea soup with chervil and Parmesan croutons. The flavour is summer-sweet and the colour is so intensely green, the RC jokes it could be food colouring. (Thank goodness the tables are far enough apart that no one can hear.) RC has the seared Hokkaido sea scallop with boudin noir and pork belly. I have no idea why the latter is the ingredient du jour in Toronto but the RC loves it. The sausage is peppery enough to counterpoint the other ingredients. For mains, we have beef tenderloin (supplied by Cumbrae) that is truly succulent. We also have the lamb two ways: saddle and shoulder. This is a fantastically turned out dish, with both parts of the lamb prepared correctly and served with pancetta, truffles and rosemary garlic jus. RC orders sea salt and rosemary french fries, another mainstay on Toronto menus. Yes, they were yummy.
I wish we can have more than one dessert. Cheese would be nice, but I am too full. The RC orders the chocolate soufflé with butter and pecan ice cream. It's perfect: he eats the soufflé while I devour the ice cream! As I sit here writing this, I realize that I have never particularly liked butter-pecan ice cream; does this mean I'm a little bit of a gourmand, or was that ice cream remarkably delicious? Peanut butter truffles are brought out as well.
I should mention that equally delicious is the people gazing: bald lawyer with a Lamborghini and an Asian fetish; young man wooing potential wife material; business men toasting a deal; doctors and professors talking cutting-edge research (okay, I overheard one table!). I'm sure they come as much for the food as the service, which is formal, but friendly, professional and attentive. Apparently owners and staff discuss what it means to be the best restaurant in Toronto on a regular basis. Certainly the staff strive at every turn to make one's visit memorable and absolutely perfect.
One can't be the best restaurant without having the best price tag, I suppose. Our heavenly meal is $110 per person (4 courses; 3 courses is $98). This is perfectly reasonable, except remember to factor in the wines. On this visit, we choose to have various wines by the glass and they are kind enough to offer half-glasses, which is much appreciated by someone my size; I simply cannot have the same amount of liquor as my fellow diners! Our wines are upwards of $30 a glass and so our meal turns out to be the most expensive one in Toronto to date. Mmmmmm. But well worth it.
Upon entering the restaurant the first thing I notice is that the tables are very f-a-r a-p-a-r-t. Fabulous. Private conversations can be had. Second, the maitre d' doesn't wait a beat before greeting us and showing us to our table. A champagne cart is wheeled to my side, and it's evident this is going to be a wonderful -and expensive- evening.
Chef David Lee serves what I would term a modern French cuisine; not too rich. Fresh ingredients are at the core, whose source is clearly stated on the menu, and there is obviously a partnership with the Cumbrae brand. Our server expounds delightedly about Chef's philosphy (by the way, when did we start addressing chefs like doctors, without 'the'?), which is not to obscure ingredients with additions such as cream. This is why I'm saying that his technique is classical but his approach is modern.
We choose the table d'hote, although the tasting menu appears equally appealing (especially at $130pp; $98 for wines, but more on that later). In fact, I have a difficult time choosing. A triad of amuses bouches appears; the shot of gazpacho making an instant impression. My first course is Chesapeake Bay soft-shell crab, delicate and perfectly crisped, served on a puree of cauliflower. Any doubters as to cauliflower would be shushed. Reluctant Chef starts with the foie gras (Quebec of course), cooked sous-vide so it actually appears like a terrine. It is served on top of a brioche with duck proscuitto that I find just salty enough. I must admit, the poached white asparagus truly tempts me; I suppose I'll just have to return another time. Seconds are chilled organic pea soup with chervil and Parmesan croutons. The flavour is summer-sweet and the colour is so intensely green, the RC jokes it could be food colouring. (Thank goodness the tables are far enough apart that no one can hear.) RC has the seared Hokkaido sea scallop with boudin noir and pork belly. I have no idea why the latter is the ingredient du jour in Toronto but the RC loves it. The sausage is peppery enough to counterpoint the other ingredients. For mains, we have beef tenderloin (supplied by Cumbrae) that is truly succulent. We also have the lamb two ways: saddle and shoulder. This is a fantastically turned out dish, with both parts of the lamb prepared correctly and served with pancetta, truffles and rosemary garlic jus. RC orders sea salt and rosemary french fries, another mainstay on Toronto menus. Yes, they were yummy.
I wish we can have more than one dessert. Cheese would be nice, but I am too full. The RC orders the chocolate soufflé with butter and pecan ice cream. It's perfect: he eats the soufflé while I devour the ice cream! As I sit here writing this, I realize that I have never particularly liked butter-pecan ice cream; does this mean I'm a little bit of a gourmand, or was that ice cream remarkably delicious? Peanut butter truffles are brought out as well.
I should mention that equally delicious is the people gazing: bald lawyer with a Lamborghini and an Asian fetish; young man wooing potential wife material; business men toasting a deal; doctors and professors talking cutting-edge research (okay, I overheard one table!). I'm sure they come as much for the food as the service, which is formal, but friendly, professional and attentive. Apparently owners and staff discuss what it means to be the best restaurant in Toronto on a regular basis. Certainly the staff strive at every turn to make one's visit memorable and absolutely perfect.
One can't be the best restaurant without having the best price tag, I suppose. Our heavenly meal is $110 per person (4 courses; 3 courses is $98). This is perfectly reasonable, except remember to factor in the wines. On this visit, we choose to have various wines by the glass and they are kind enough to offer half-glasses, which is much appreciated by someone my size; I simply cannot have the same amount of liquor as my fellow diners! Our wines are upwards of $30 a glass and so our meal turns out to be the most expensive one in Toronto to date. Mmmmmm. But well worth it.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Requiem for Lalot?
I could not believe my eyes when I drove by Lalot (n/e corner of Bathurst & Queen) and saw its windows papered over. I called their number but it's disconnected, so I am afraid it appears that one of the best - if not the best - Vietnamese restaurant has closed. It's a sad day for Toronto. The Reluctant Chef and I are in mourning. We always sent our friends and out-of-town guests there, and tried to eat there whenever we could. But despite their fantastic cuisine and the friendly service, the place never seemed full. Perhaps it's the location. Regardless, we will miss it and hope we'll see a reincarnation soon.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Weezie's
It’s come to my attention that I’ve dined at our local resto several times without writing about it! I think this is the epitome of what happens when one has a lovely local spot… it’s so perfectly blended into the community no one gives it a second thought. We think it was always there (not true; it’s new since last year) and that it always will be (possibly not true due to the low prices).
I’ve been there several times. The cottage pie – oxtail ragù served over garlicky potato mash – is the best comfort food in this neck of the woods. Fries are perfectly salted and despite my best intentions, I cannot stop eating them. Cornish hen and the burger are great, especially when you don’t have to spend much more than if you actually went to the butcher and prepped it yourself. Potato leek soup was light even though it had a bit of cream in it.
The chef often serves some of the dishes herself; service is slow because there is only one other employee. But it’s a cozy atmosphere and some wine and crusty bread helps with the wait. The best thing about this place is that it is simply a neighborhood place – inexpensive, serving comfort food – the kind of place to which one can stroll leisurely and have a nice, satisfying meal. Apparently Weezie’s will try to stick it out in the tough restaurant biz with its low prices as a foil to the Distillery District and the higher-end places further west on King. I hope the neighbours keep it in business.
I’ve been there several times. The cottage pie – oxtail ragù served over garlicky potato mash – is the best comfort food in this neck of the woods. Fries are perfectly salted and despite my best intentions, I cannot stop eating them. Cornish hen and the burger are great, especially when you don’t have to spend much more than if you actually went to the butcher and prepped it yourself. Potato leek soup was light even though it had a bit of cream in it.
The chef often serves some of the dishes herself; service is slow because there is only one other employee. But it’s a cozy atmosphere and some wine and crusty bread helps with the wait. The best thing about this place is that it is simply a neighborhood place – inexpensive, serving comfort food – the kind of place to which one can stroll leisurely and have a nice, satisfying meal. Apparently Weezie’s will try to stick it out in the tough restaurant biz with its low prices as a foil to the Distillery District and the higher-end places further west on King. I hope the neighbours keep it in business.
Death in the Afternoon at The Drake
Where can one have a late - and I mean late - brunch? At The Drake, of course! They serve theirs until 4pm. Now that's what I call an accommodating kitchen.
I've always loved The Drake. The RC and I find it to be consistently reliable. And The Drake always manages to surprise just a little bit. Case in point: the best thing on the brunch menu is actually a cocktail called Death in the Afternoon. How about that name to jolt you out of sleepiness (without a cuppa java)? It's champagne and Absinthe. It's effectively a dare, so we try it. A slight herbal, cough candy aftertaste but honestly, it's quite appealing. Go ahead and try it -- apparently today's Absinthe won't kill you.
The breakfast burrito is a huge favorite, judging from the orders all around us. The RC chooses the sausage filling, which is delectable. The day's fritatta is delish - who would know that mushroom and arugula could be so flavourful? Our next-couch companions have a Cobb salad, which they are very pleased with. Another stand-out item is banana pancakes, and there are the usual egg dishes as well as fruit and yoghurt. However, the menu is not just brunch-y things; there are burgers and sandwiches to tempt you, in case you are the type that cannot eat eggs or pancakes after noon.
The really great thing about The Drake is that you can eat anywhere: the cafe, the streetside patio, the lounge while listening to live music, and the upstairs patio (Sky Yard open after 1:30pm on weekends). After brunch, a nice walk along Queen to visit the galleries is a nice way to spend the afternoon. Or book yourself a room and...
I've always loved The Drake. The RC and I find it to be consistently reliable. And The Drake always manages to surprise just a little bit. Case in point: the best thing on the brunch menu is actually a cocktail called Death in the Afternoon. How about that name to jolt you out of sleepiness (without a cuppa java)? It's champagne and Absinthe. It's effectively a dare, so we try it. A slight herbal, cough candy aftertaste but honestly, it's quite appealing. Go ahead and try it -- apparently today's Absinthe won't kill you.
The breakfast burrito is a huge favorite, judging from the orders all around us. The RC chooses the sausage filling, which is delectable. The day's fritatta is delish - who would know that mushroom and arugula could be so flavourful? Our next-couch companions have a Cobb salad, which they are very pleased with. Another stand-out item is banana pancakes, and there are the usual egg dishes as well as fruit and yoghurt. However, the menu is not just brunch-y things; there are burgers and sandwiches to tempt you, in case you are the type that cannot eat eggs or pancakes after noon.
The really great thing about The Drake is that you can eat anywhere: the cafe, the streetside patio, the lounge while listening to live music, and the upstairs patio (Sky Yard open after 1:30pm on weekends). After brunch, a nice walk along Queen to visit the galleries is a nice way to spend the afternoon. Or book yourself a room and...
Live @ Courthouse
It was a sad day when the Toronto veteran jazz institution, Montreal Bistro, closed last year, so it’s especially heartening that Liberty Group took over the Courthouse on Adelaide Street East and has turned it into a jazz club.
At this time, Liberty Group’s plans are coming along but not yet fulfilled. Right now, the club space is open. Their kitchen serves a few small plates but the focus is certainly on the entertainment. The Reluctant Chef and I decide to stop in on the weekend. Of course, we are starving as we always are! We order several of the dishes: lamb kebabs, bruschetta, panini, and mushroom quesadilla. My main comment is: Is there a chef in the house? The lamb kebabs are best, if I can even use that word; but served on over-salted arugula and certainly not homemade chutney. The mushroom quesadillas, which could use salt, are bland. The panini is tasty but only because it is so salty! The fries are passable. The wine list is pedestrian. But the talent on stage is pretty good.
Apparently Terroni is moving into the space downstairs and is rumoured to be trying something more than pizza and pasta with this new outpost. Our waiter tells us that the idea is to send people upstairs for the jazz, but that the Courthouse will only be taking reservations at that time as they expect demand will soar. We certainly hope they are right. At midnight the last set was done; the house did not fill up for the last (11:30pm) set, which surprises us. In other jazz towns, like Chicago or New York, midnight is the last official set and lineups are around the block. Toronto is a sleepy town, so best of luck to Liberty Group!
At this time, Liberty Group’s plans are coming along but not yet fulfilled. Right now, the club space is open. Their kitchen serves a few small plates but the focus is certainly on the entertainment. The Reluctant Chef and I decide to stop in on the weekend. Of course, we are starving as we always are! We order several of the dishes: lamb kebabs, bruschetta, panini, and mushroom quesadilla. My main comment is: Is there a chef in the house? The lamb kebabs are best, if I can even use that word; but served on over-salted arugula and certainly not homemade chutney. The mushroom quesadillas, which could use salt, are bland. The panini is tasty but only because it is so salty! The fries are passable. The wine list is pedestrian. But the talent on stage is pretty good.
Apparently Terroni is moving into the space downstairs and is rumoured to be trying something more than pizza and pasta with this new outpost. Our waiter tells us that the idea is to send people upstairs for the jazz, but that the Courthouse will only be taking reservations at that time as they expect demand will soar. We certainly hope they are right. At midnight the last set was done; the house did not fill up for the last (11:30pm) set, which surprises us. In other jazz towns, like Chicago or New York, midnight is the last official set and lineups are around the block. Toronto is a sleepy town, so best of luck to Liberty Group!
The Burger Shoppe
Yup. I’ve been delinquent with this blog. Apologies. April was a month where we just wanted to eat at our fav’s. I cannot count how many times I crossed the threshold of Kultura or Terroni. I am all fav-ed out, so here are a few new – and not so new – places I’ve been to lately.
One of the places that jolted me out of my routine is a tiny little storefront take-out/eat-in on Queen East called the Burger Shoppe. It’s run by two brothers, Mustapha and Said; the former is a Drake alumnus.
Think burger = fast food? Not at this joint. The burgers never make me feel like I’m some econo-model car that’s miraculously bloated into a mid-sized sedan after being in the shop for a lube job. The burgers here are lean, all-beef patties that melt in your mouth. I think the ultimate is the Shoppe burger, topped with caramelized onions and horseradish mayo. They also have a veggie burger and an all-organic one. Super fresh and super fast. It’s usually possible to nab one of the dozen seats too; customers tend to wolf down the delectable treat and no one lingers. This is a little piece of burger heaven…. Never thought those words would cross my lips, but there you have it!
One of the places that jolted me out of my routine is a tiny little storefront take-out/eat-in on Queen East called the Burger Shoppe. It’s run by two brothers, Mustapha and Said; the former is a Drake alumnus.
Think burger = fast food? Not at this joint. The burgers never make me feel like I’m some econo-model car that’s miraculously bloated into a mid-sized sedan after being in the shop for a lube job. The burgers here are lean, all-beef patties that melt in your mouth. I think the ultimate is the Shoppe burger, topped with caramelized onions and horseradish mayo. They also have a veggie burger and an all-organic one. Super fresh and super fast. It’s usually possible to nab one of the dozen seats too; customers tend to wolf down the delectable treat and no one lingers. This is a little piece of burger heaven…. Never thought those words would cross my lips, but there you have it!
Monday, April 16, 2007
Colborne Lane: Are We in Toronto?
I feel like we've been stalking restauranter Hanif Harji for the past few years. We swooned over Blowfish and Kultura, and when we heard from some downtown furniture designers that they'd been involved with Harji's new venture, we just had to hightail it over to Colborne St.
The new Colborne Lane has cool sophistication down pat. Once past the front doors I feel like we are not in Toronto anymore. The space is expansive yet feels cosier upon walking further into the dining area. Exposed wood beams and ducts give it rawness, and the modern and witty lighting adds playfulness without being too sleek. This design sense seems to flow hand in hand with Harji's sense of customer service. Staff here, just like at Kultura, are ultra professional and nice. Nice? In Toronto!?
Tonight the Reluctant Chef and I are dining with the Sybarite and the Connoisseur. We're excited to get together again and to see if we'll be allowed to laugh and talk during our meal! (see Opal, below) Everyone but the Connoisseur has read something about this place and Joanne Kates's review was the most effusive. We are always a little skeptical of Kates; looking around, the Connoisseur notes it's the "post-review" crowd.
Plates are small and the waiter recommends 3 per person. Prices range from about $10 to $26, reflecting the ingredients, not the portion size. The Reluctant Chef pounces on the lobster bisque; after all, this is one of his signature dishes (he is the reluctant chef after all, and has maybe 3 total dishes in his repertoire....oh, he's going to hate me for this!). As noted by Kates, the very interesting bowl (the dishware is impressive) is brought with the solids, then the waiter pours the bisque tableside. This is nothing new, but perhaps for Toronto it is. Yes, the bisque is aromatic and intensely flavoured, but not purely lobster-flavoured. There are tons of tastes at play: the coconut-scented tofu, curried mussels, and oxalis leaves. We have no idea what they are, but apparently they are also known as wood sorrel and have a sour-lemony taste. They certainly spiked the bisque. But right from the start, the Reluctant Chef proclaims that there are almost too many flavours fighting for his attention. This is an interesting counterpoint to our experience at Cava, where the flavours are fewer but more pointed, and never fail to add to the overall experience.
The Connoisseur proclaims the lobster seviche as too mellow. He follows this with the flash-fried squid, which is served with some tropical fruits (pomelo and mango), carmelized peanut, chinese sausage, asian pear and peppercorns. Unfortunately, the peanut overwhelms the entire dish. Lentil soup is also poured at table and according to the Sybarite, it's delicious. The two of us also have the lobster seviche, which is really quite a beautiful dish and we are not so quick to write it off. Saffron potato beds are just right; they don't overwhelm the lobster. Overall, I think the presentation is fantastic and the flavours are interesting, but feel it's hard to coax too much flavour from the lobster itself. The Sybarite feels it's flavourful enough for her, which just goes to show that we are each slaves to our own taste buds and have to trust Joanne Kates with some things (except of course, when she talks up her favorite chef friends).
The Connoisseur orders the pork loin but gets the triple-seared beef tenderloin instead. Oh well! It's a mistake, but when food is this good, no dish is really a mistake and he eats it good naturedly. Reluctant Chef also has the pork loin. His main complaint is that there is so much going on in this dish, yet it's such a small portion that he can't fairly get a good grip on the taste. To be honest, it does appear quite small, even for someone with as tiny an appetite as myself: two coin-sized pieces of pork. But again, the presentation is marvellous. I have the lamb ribeye with olives and mint chutney. The carmelized eggplant is amazing; I've never tasted such a powerfully smooth eggplant. The cumin rosti, though very good, pales in comparison. The Sybarite has nothing but praise for the rock hen breast and the chorizo-fig stuffed thigh, with lovely little gnocchi served with harissa and salsa verde.
The must-have dessert is the cheese plate. Not only is the presentation great - yet again - but the choices are plenty and interesting. The spice loaf is certainly spicy, served with thai chili ice cream, a nod to molecular gastronomy. There is a bit of interesting science going on in the kitchen, but it is not front-and-centre and you may notice that I have not talked about it at all. That's because it's done with elegance and style; it enhances the dishes and does not overtake them.
The wine list is short and to the point. Many are available by the glass and it's fun to have several different glasses. It's pleasant to veer away from the 20-page wine list - isn't that a bit excessive? I'm not a wine snob; I just want something that goes well with my food.
Now here's the best for last: there is no apparent closing time. At about 11pm a huge group of Raptors walk in and sit down to dinner. It might be a special accommodation, and maybe it is, but then again, on Colborne Lane's web site the kitchen is open from "5pm - close." We walk out of Colborne Lane impressed with the service, the space, the food and its presentation.... and the Reluctant Chef feels he has just missed walking out hungry by a microscopic-thin hair.
The new Colborne Lane has cool sophistication down pat. Once past the front doors I feel like we are not in Toronto anymore. The space is expansive yet feels cosier upon walking further into the dining area. Exposed wood beams and ducts give it rawness, and the modern and witty lighting adds playfulness without being too sleek. This design sense seems to flow hand in hand with Harji's sense of customer service. Staff here, just like at Kultura, are ultra professional and nice. Nice? In Toronto!?
Tonight the Reluctant Chef and I are dining with the Sybarite and the Connoisseur. We're excited to get together again and to see if we'll be allowed to laugh and talk during our meal! (see Opal, below) Everyone but the Connoisseur has read something about this place and Joanne Kates's review was the most effusive. We are always a little skeptical of Kates; looking around, the Connoisseur notes it's the "post-review" crowd.
Plates are small and the waiter recommends 3 per person. Prices range from about $10 to $26, reflecting the ingredients, not the portion size. The Reluctant Chef pounces on the lobster bisque; after all, this is one of his signature dishes (he is the reluctant chef after all, and has maybe 3 total dishes in his repertoire....oh, he's going to hate me for this!). As noted by Kates, the very interesting bowl (the dishware is impressive) is brought with the solids, then the waiter pours the bisque tableside. This is nothing new, but perhaps for Toronto it is. Yes, the bisque is aromatic and intensely flavoured, but not purely lobster-flavoured. There are tons of tastes at play: the coconut-scented tofu, curried mussels, and oxalis leaves. We have no idea what they are, but apparently they are also known as wood sorrel and have a sour-lemony taste. They certainly spiked the bisque. But right from the start, the Reluctant Chef proclaims that there are almost too many flavours fighting for his attention. This is an interesting counterpoint to our experience at Cava, where the flavours are fewer but more pointed, and never fail to add to the overall experience.
The Connoisseur proclaims the lobster seviche as too mellow. He follows this with the flash-fried squid, which is served with some tropical fruits (pomelo and mango), carmelized peanut, chinese sausage, asian pear and peppercorns. Unfortunately, the peanut overwhelms the entire dish. Lentil soup is also poured at table and according to the Sybarite, it's delicious. The two of us also have the lobster seviche, which is really quite a beautiful dish and we are not so quick to write it off. Saffron potato beds are just right; they don't overwhelm the lobster. Overall, I think the presentation is fantastic and the flavours are interesting, but feel it's hard to coax too much flavour from the lobster itself. The Sybarite feels it's flavourful enough for her, which just goes to show that we are each slaves to our own taste buds and have to trust Joanne Kates with some things (except of course, when she talks up her favorite chef friends).
The Connoisseur orders the pork loin but gets the triple-seared beef tenderloin instead. Oh well! It's a mistake, but when food is this good, no dish is really a mistake and he eats it good naturedly. Reluctant Chef also has the pork loin. His main complaint is that there is so much going on in this dish, yet it's such a small portion that he can't fairly get a good grip on the taste. To be honest, it does appear quite small, even for someone with as tiny an appetite as myself: two coin-sized pieces of pork. But again, the presentation is marvellous. I have the lamb ribeye with olives and mint chutney. The carmelized eggplant is amazing; I've never tasted such a powerfully smooth eggplant. The cumin rosti, though very good, pales in comparison. The Sybarite has nothing but praise for the rock hen breast and the chorizo-fig stuffed thigh, with lovely little gnocchi served with harissa and salsa verde.
The must-have dessert is the cheese plate. Not only is the presentation great - yet again - but the choices are plenty and interesting. The spice loaf is certainly spicy, served with thai chili ice cream, a nod to molecular gastronomy. There is a bit of interesting science going on in the kitchen, but it is not front-and-centre and you may notice that I have not talked about it at all. That's because it's done with elegance and style; it enhances the dishes and does not overtake them.
The wine list is short and to the point. Many are available by the glass and it's fun to have several different glasses. It's pleasant to veer away from the 20-page wine list - isn't that a bit excessive? I'm not a wine snob; I just want something that goes well with my food.
Now here's the best for last: there is no apparent closing time. At about 11pm a huge group of Raptors walk in and sit down to dinner. It might be a special accommodation, and maybe it is, but then again, on Colborne Lane's web site the kitchen is open from "5pm - close." We walk out of Colborne Lane impressed with the service, the space, the food and its presentation.... and the Reluctant Chef feels he has just missed walking out hungry by a microscopic-thin hair.
Waiting for La Lawyer's Refutation on Herbs
Just read Joanne Kates' review of Herbs. This is one of la Lawyer's favorite neighborhood haunts, but who knows how it's been doing over the years. I am waiting to see if she will accept a guest review plea.... everyone cheer her on! We want to know what the regulars think.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Cava
When James Chatto came out with his list of best restaurants to open in 2006, Cava made the top of the list. Now, we'd been to Cava a few times so Chatto's choice jumped out at me. I hadn't given much thought to the 'best of 2006' and decided there was only one thing to do: go back to Cava.
The Reluctant Chef and I were there last week and I'll just say it right upfront: yup, it deserves Chatto's unequivocal approval. The space is spare, simple, with a nod to a traditional Spanish bar with charcuterie hanging about. The attention is all on the food, deservedly so. I think that by now, we've had everything on the menu. Following are some dishes that stand out. (Oops! After reading this entire post, I realize that I've probably listed most of the dishes on the menu! I suppose that speaks for itself.)
The sablefish (black cod) is probably the most outstanding dish on the menu; it simply melts on your tongue and the black rice and escarole is a magnificent pairing. Although this is a restaurant for sharing, this is the one dish everyone should order for him or herself. Clams with chorizo may be a typical dish, but this one is perfect. How can you eat Spanish without having salt cod? Fantastic. A plate of charcuterie is essential. We also have the pinchos of avruga and avocado; these are basically little bruschetta. Avruga sounds sexy but it's simply herring roe. A lovely "common" touch, and what an unusual and fantastic pairing with avocado. The fennel and apple salad is refreshing, spiked by little green picholine olives.
In previous visits, we've tasted the watercress and beet salad, which was also nice and served with almonds - something I wouldn't have thought of. We have had the octopus - really tender; and the swiss chard with pine nuts and currants. Yes, the chef certainly knows how to pair ingredients that perfectly complement each other and bring balance, yet still surprise the palate. I loved the quail because it was so unusual: filled with chicken. Tamals are filled with corn and wild mushrooms. What a way to take up this very common dish a huge, huge notch.
This visit, we order the albondigas (meat balls) with saffron-almond sauce and they turn out to be my favorite meat dish. The sweetbreads are the Reluctant Chef's fav, of course! Lest you think the RC is easy on sweetmeats because he loves them so - it's not true. He does order them everywhere he goes, but his opinion is that Cava's are one of, if not, the best he's had. Venison anticuchos are an Andean skewered meat dish - very tender and we're surprised with the "Spanish" spices (what are they all?) By this time, I can't possibly eat any more, but the RC also manages to devour the entire pork belly with buckwheat noodle and potato and cabbage gratin. Phew! Good thing we didn't order the soup: caldo gallego, which is a thick, heavy lamb stew. Next time.
The wine list is really, really affordable, but follow the namesake and have the Cava! As for dessert I want the dessert tapas, but we order the Ybarra chocolate cake and with just one taste, I mysteriously forget all about being full and self-control flies out the window.
Aside from the food, the best thing about Cava is the service. I remember Avalon and the expert, efficient and haute service. At Cava, things are much more relaxed but no less professional. I can't state enough how absolutely great the wait staff is at Cava.
Many have tried, and many have failed to get the right balance of casual yet high end, inventive yet restrained, exuberant yet polished -- with the menu, the service and the experience -- consistently. That's why Cava was Chatto's choice and why it's going to have a long life on the Toronto restaurant scene. That is, until Chris McDonald decides to re-invent himself again.
The Reluctant Chef and I were there last week and I'll just say it right upfront: yup, it deserves Chatto's unequivocal approval. The space is spare, simple, with a nod to a traditional Spanish bar with charcuterie hanging about. The attention is all on the food, deservedly so. I think that by now, we've had everything on the menu. Following are some dishes that stand out. (Oops! After reading this entire post, I realize that I've probably listed most of the dishes on the menu! I suppose that speaks for itself.)
The sablefish (black cod) is probably the most outstanding dish on the menu; it simply melts on your tongue and the black rice and escarole is a magnificent pairing. Although this is a restaurant for sharing, this is the one dish everyone should order for him or herself. Clams with chorizo may be a typical dish, but this one is perfect. How can you eat Spanish without having salt cod? Fantastic. A plate of charcuterie is essential. We also have the pinchos of avruga and avocado; these are basically little bruschetta. Avruga sounds sexy but it's simply herring roe. A lovely "common" touch, and what an unusual and fantastic pairing with avocado. The fennel and apple salad is refreshing, spiked by little green picholine olives.
In previous visits, we've tasted the watercress and beet salad, which was also nice and served with almonds - something I wouldn't have thought of. We have had the octopus - really tender; and the swiss chard with pine nuts and currants. Yes, the chef certainly knows how to pair ingredients that perfectly complement each other and bring balance, yet still surprise the palate. I loved the quail because it was so unusual: filled with chicken. Tamals are filled with corn and wild mushrooms. What a way to take up this very common dish a huge, huge notch.
This visit, we order the albondigas (meat balls) with saffron-almond sauce and they turn out to be my favorite meat dish. The sweetbreads are the Reluctant Chef's fav, of course! Lest you think the RC is easy on sweetmeats because he loves them so - it's not true. He does order them everywhere he goes, but his opinion is that Cava's are one of, if not, the best he's had. Venison anticuchos are an Andean skewered meat dish - very tender and we're surprised with the "Spanish" spices (what are they all?) By this time, I can't possibly eat any more, but the RC also manages to devour the entire pork belly with buckwheat noodle and potato and cabbage gratin. Phew! Good thing we didn't order the soup: caldo gallego, which is a thick, heavy lamb stew. Next time.
The wine list is really, really affordable, but follow the namesake and have the Cava! As for dessert I want the dessert tapas, but we order the Ybarra chocolate cake and with just one taste, I mysteriously forget all about being full and self-control flies out the window.
Aside from the food, the best thing about Cava is the service. I remember Avalon and the expert, efficient and haute service. At Cava, things are much more relaxed but no less professional. I can't state enough how absolutely great the wait staff is at Cava.
Many have tried, and many have failed to get the right balance of casual yet high end, inventive yet restrained, exuberant yet polished -- with the menu, the service and the experience -- consistently. That's why Cava was Chatto's choice and why it's going to have a long life on the Toronto restaurant scene. That is, until Chris McDonald decides to re-invent himself again.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The Japanese get Imperialistic about their Food
In this weekend's Globe & Mail, I read that the Japanese government's Food Service Industry Office is planning to promote a "seal of approval" for Japanese restaurants outside of Japan. According to the article ("Don't tell us what to do with our SkyDome roll", by Christopher Maughan), the rules don't appear to be completely worked out yet, but the idea is to offer an authenticity recommendation (a sticker) if a restaurant passes tests on the quality and origin of its ingredients, the presentation of its dishes, even decor and service. If the establishment passes, it will be recognized as "authentically Japanese".
Okay, everyone knows that if you're not in Japan, it's not authentic. Just like dining on Italian, Armenian, Greek, French, Spanish - you name it - outside of those countries, it's NOT AUTHENTIC! When have you ever had an "ethnic" meal, even in touted celebrity chef restaurants, that tastes just like the meal you had on a misty-topped mountain somehere in Japan, or in a medieval village in Tuscany? If I want authentic, I book a flight.
Okay, everyone knows that if you're not in Japan, it's not authentic. Just like dining on Italian, Armenian, Greek, French, Spanish - you name it - outside of those countries, it's NOT AUTHENTIC! When have you ever had an "ethnic" meal, even in touted celebrity chef restaurants, that tastes just like the meal you had on a misty-topped mountain somehere in Japan, or in a medieval village in Tuscany? If I want authentic, I book a flight.
Tappo: A Distillery Hot Spot
In Italian, tappo means cork, a charming name for the stylish new wine bar in the Distillery. But it's also a restaurant and owner Armando Russo has done a great job in combining the two concepts.
Architecturally it's an amazing space. Spacious yet intimate, the rough stone walls reach several stories and old pieces of machinery lend a feeling of history. The bar stretches across the entire north wall, with a mirror that reflects the scene across from it. Speaking of scene, it feels genial and it becomes obvious that many patrons know each other. We too ran into a few people from our building. There is ample space between the bar and the tables for people to gather, mingle and sip wine, whether they are waiting to be seated or not. There is never a feeling that the bar or restaurant are encroaching on each other. Armando and his staff handle the patrons like pros, with warmth and friendliness. It is their effort - the way they set the tone - that makes the atmosphere so intoxicating.
There is a lot of focus on daily specials. Some of the choices that jump out at us are lobster tails with linguine; wild boar with spaetzle; and monkfish saltimboca. The Reluctant Chef is never reluctant when it comes to foie gras; that being the appetizer special, he orders it without hesitation. It is a very generous portion of goose liver on a bed of strawberry risotto. Crispy outside, melted inside - orgasmic. [Or so he says;) I couldn't see beneath the tablecloth!] I have the tricolore salad, which frankly, is a bit lame. First, the portion is ridiculously generous. Second, the presentation is beyond rustic. I am not expecting high falutin' or contrived presentation, but this is actually so disappointing it's funny. I break out in peels of laughter when the waiter comes to take our plates away and asks with a knowing wink, if I've had enough salad. This night we skip the pasta, but there are several on the menu that I'll return for. The rest of the menu is comprised of piatti tipici: all manner of veal, from scalloppini to chop; lamb; steak; seafood. I order the linguine with lobster tails. For $35 I get three tails. The value cannot be beat. But I am not the type to trade value for quality. I would prefer two tails expertly done, rather than one done perfectly and the other two a bit tough. Now, I understand that this may vary according to one's personal palate. The Reluctant Chef enjoys the tougher lobster tail whereas I like mine to melt in my mouth. Other than that, the dish is very good - not exotic, not stunning, not unusual - just well-done typical Italian fare. Reluctant Chef has the wild boar; it is truly delicious and spaetzle just the way I like them. Wine choices abound - a very Italian list, as to be expected.
It's time for dessert and we are almost too full to indulge. Ignoring our stomachs, we capitulate to our watering taste buds and split an almond and ice cream cake. This is a must-have. Decaf coffee is a disappointment; it is thin and tastes a bit like tea, of all things! The waitress shows me the individually-wrapped coffee package so that I know it is not their brewing technique but the head waiter tells her immediately to take it off our bill. By this time, I am ready to leave because my eyes are stinging from some smoke coming from either the kitchen or the fire 'pits' outside the front doors. I have a feeling it is from the kitchen and the doors are propped open to let it out, but it's hard to tell what's happening. No one else seems bothered!
All in all, Tappo has uncorked the secret to a happening place in the up-and-coming Distillery District. Now, if only they can solve the problem of billowing smoke...
Architecturally it's an amazing space. Spacious yet intimate, the rough stone walls reach several stories and old pieces of machinery lend a feeling of history. The bar stretches across the entire north wall, with a mirror that reflects the scene across from it. Speaking of scene, it feels genial and it becomes obvious that many patrons know each other. We too ran into a few people from our building. There is ample space between the bar and the tables for people to gather, mingle and sip wine, whether they are waiting to be seated or not. There is never a feeling that the bar or restaurant are encroaching on each other. Armando and his staff handle the patrons like pros, with warmth and friendliness. It is their effort - the way they set the tone - that makes the atmosphere so intoxicating.
There is a lot of focus on daily specials. Some of the choices that jump out at us are lobster tails with linguine; wild boar with spaetzle; and monkfish saltimboca. The Reluctant Chef is never reluctant when it comes to foie gras; that being the appetizer special, he orders it without hesitation. It is a very generous portion of goose liver on a bed of strawberry risotto. Crispy outside, melted inside - orgasmic. [Or so he says;) I couldn't see beneath the tablecloth!] I have the tricolore salad, which frankly, is a bit lame. First, the portion is ridiculously generous. Second, the presentation is beyond rustic. I am not expecting high falutin' or contrived presentation, but this is actually so disappointing it's funny. I break out in peels of laughter when the waiter comes to take our plates away and asks with a knowing wink, if I've had enough salad. This night we skip the pasta, but there are several on the menu that I'll return for. The rest of the menu is comprised of piatti tipici: all manner of veal, from scalloppini to chop; lamb; steak; seafood. I order the linguine with lobster tails. For $35 I get three tails. The value cannot be beat. But I am not the type to trade value for quality. I would prefer two tails expertly done, rather than one done perfectly and the other two a bit tough. Now, I understand that this may vary according to one's personal palate. The Reluctant Chef enjoys the tougher lobster tail whereas I like mine to melt in my mouth. Other than that, the dish is very good - not exotic, not stunning, not unusual - just well-done typical Italian fare. Reluctant Chef has the wild boar; it is truly delicious and spaetzle just the way I like them. Wine choices abound - a very Italian list, as to be expected.
It's time for dessert and we are almost too full to indulge. Ignoring our stomachs, we capitulate to our watering taste buds and split an almond and ice cream cake. This is a must-have. Decaf coffee is a disappointment; it is thin and tastes a bit like tea, of all things! The waitress shows me the individually-wrapped coffee package so that I know it is not their brewing technique but the head waiter tells her immediately to take it off our bill. By this time, I am ready to leave because my eyes are stinging from some smoke coming from either the kitchen or the fire 'pits' outside the front doors. I have a feeling it is from the kitchen and the doors are propped open to let it out, but it's hard to tell what's happening. No one else seems bothered!
All in all, Tappo has uncorked the secret to a happening place in the up-and-coming Distillery District. Now, if only they can solve the problem of billowing smoke...
Cajun Corner: Gumbalicious!
The Reluctant Chef's secret addiction is Creole food. He would happily exist on shrimp po'boys, gumbo and fried chicken - hold the side of okra, please. So it was with the utmost pleasure that he announced one day last week, that he had found a little piece of heaven north of the 49th parallel. That place is Cajun Corner on Queen Street East, between Logan and Carlaw.
Now, I've walked by this little heavenly outpost many a time, but its storefront didn't pull me in. It looked like a somewhat disorganized pile of packaged products decorated by reams of Mardi Gras beads. Of course, had I known they sold Cafe du Monde coffee, I would not have had to make convoluted arrangements to have it shipped in bulk to a friend in Manhattan, who would then sneak it across the border once or twice a year! So now I've got a piece of heaven and a silver lining.
As soon as we walk into Cajun Corner, we are bowled over by the smell of blackened catfish. Never mind that it actually smells carcinogenic, we're hooked by the shelves of products on our left: Scorned Woman BBQ sauce and floor-to-shelf-top hot sauces. In fact, I have a good story about the hot sauce, which reminds me that I had heard of this place before the Reluctant Chef discovered it. A friend of mine - let's just call her Bohemian Babe - liked to grab a snack or an occasional lunch at the take-out counter. One day, she decided to be bold and tried a particular hot sauce. The label said: Use at your own risk. We cannot take responsibility. She disregarded the label and hasn't been able to stomach creole food since. Lesson learned.
The catfish po'boy is delicious. It's crisply fried in a cornmeal batter and completely tender on the inside. Rice and beans are reliable, but the sweet potato frites are a bit on the oily, soggy side. What's more amazing is that this dinner costs about $6. We take our meals to go, but there are a few small tables if your gullet can't wait.
Items are made on a daily specials basis: gumbos, both chicken and seafood; crab cakes; crawfish pistoles; peppered or blackened catfish; pecan-roasted pork, and more. Let's put it this way: from our humble little meal last week, I am pretty confident that these guys are creole pros. So I'm going to keep eating their food and if I don't like something, I'll let y'all know.
Culinary treat: Every weekend they serve chicory coffee (Cafe du Monde) and fresh beignets. A little piece of heaven indeed.
Now, I've walked by this little heavenly outpost many a time, but its storefront didn't pull me in. It looked like a somewhat disorganized pile of packaged products decorated by reams of Mardi Gras beads. Of course, had I known they sold Cafe du Monde coffee, I would not have had to make convoluted arrangements to have it shipped in bulk to a friend in Manhattan, who would then sneak it across the border once or twice a year! So now I've got a piece of heaven and a silver lining.
As soon as we walk into Cajun Corner, we are bowled over by the smell of blackened catfish. Never mind that it actually smells carcinogenic, we're hooked by the shelves of products on our left: Scorned Woman BBQ sauce and floor-to-shelf-top hot sauces. In fact, I have a good story about the hot sauce, which reminds me that I had heard of this place before the Reluctant Chef discovered it. A friend of mine - let's just call her Bohemian Babe - liked to grab a snack or an occasional lunch at the take-out counter. One day, she decided to be bold and tried a particular hot sauce. The label said: Use at your own risk. We cannot take responsibility. She disregarded the label and hasn't been able to stomach creole food since. Lesson learned.
The catfish po'boy is delicious. It's crisply fried in a cornmeal batter and completely tender on the inside. Rice and beans are reliable, but the sweet potato frites are a bit on the oily, soggy side. What's more amazing is that this dinner costs about $6. We take our meals to go, but there are a few small tables if your gullet can't wait.
Items are made on a daily specials basis: gumbos, both chicken and seafood; crab cakes; crawfish pistoles; peppered or blackened catfish; pecan-roasted pork, and more. Let's put it this way: from our humble little meal last week, I am pretty confident that these guys are creole pros. So I'm going to keep eating their food and if I don't like something, I'll let y'all know.
Culinary treat: Every weekend they serve chicory coffee (Cafe du Monde) and fresh beignets. A little piece of heaven indeed.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Mindless TV actually Opened my Mind
Yesterday was a long day. I was practically passed out on the couch in front of the boob tube with nothing to watch... except Restaurant Makeover. They were renovating a fish and chips place in my 'hood: Reliable Fish & Chips on Queen St. East, between Logan and Carlaw. I've walked by it a dozen times but never wandered in. Something about it seemed old and not particularly exciting. So I perked right up and stayed glued to the show for the full (and seemingly endless) hour.
Chef Lynn Crawford helped Reliable's chef Martin add some pizzazz to his menu. She did not change a thing about the staple menu items, that is the fish and the chips; although she highly advocated seasoning the chips, a concept Martin found strange and disturbing. On second thought, that was probably just the editor adding 'drama'. Crawford added a lobster roll, which I am dying to taste. It's one of the ultimate sandwiches and I'm curious to see if it's really, really good, with huge, sweet hunks of lobster bursting out of a fresh top-loading bun (very important to get the bun right!) or whether it's just fast food. She also changed the coleslaw. What is so special about coleslaw anyway? Frankly, it's the most unimaginative salad ever: mayo and shredded cabbage and carrots. There is nothing redeeming about cabbage -- said by someone who has an Eastern European heritage. Maybe I'm just jaded from all the mayo-doused salads during recent travels to Eastern Europe, so we'll have to see about Crawford's version. Another new dish on the menu is a Manhattan Clam Chowder.
Tonight is the test. Apparently the Reluctant Chef and I shall have to starve ourselves all day because Crawford also raved about the batter, so it looks like we will have to order almost every item on the menu. Oh, it's a tough job, but I'm volunteering for it!
~~~
I'm back from Reliable and here's my verdict: it's going to be one of my reliable local joints from now on! Sadly, the lobster rolls and clam chowder are nowhere to be found. Owner George says they are too expensive to keep on the menu. But his fried fish more than make up for the absence of these dishes. The batter is unbelievably good. It's very light, like tempura, fried to a perfect golden crispness. They use only the very best ingredients; salmon is wild pacific salmon; shrimp is fresh, delicate and sweet. Also on offer are haddock, halibut, cod, clam strips and calamari. Fries are made from (usually) PEI potatoes -- pure home-made goodness -- and yes, we did have to season them ourselves! Coleslaw... well, what can I say about coleslaw? George's coleslaw was tangy but could have used more carrot and the cabbage was slightly bitter. I'm not sure if it's Crawford's recipe or George's, but it does not change my opinion of this side dish. I'd never come back for slaw anyway. But I'll be back for those sweet, tender shrimp gently fried in the best batter in the city.
Oh, and yes, the new décor is charming.
Chef Lynn Crawford helped Reliable's chef Martin add some pizzazz to his menu. She did not change a thing about the staple menu items, that is the fish and the chips; although she highly advocated seasoning the chips, a concept Martin found strange and disturbing. On second thought, that was probably just the editor adding 'drama'. Crawford added a lobster roll, which I am dying to taste. It's one of the ultimate sandwiches and I'm curious to see if it's really, really good, with huge, sweet hunks of lobster bursting out of a fresh top-loading bun (very important to get the bun right!) or whether it's just fast food. She also changed the coleslaw. What is so special about coleslaw anyway? Frankly, it's the most unimaginative salad ever: mayo and shredded cabbage and carrots. There is nothing redeeming about cabbage -- said by someone who has an Eastern European heritage. Maybe I'm just jaded from all the mayo-doused salads during recent travels to Eastern Europe, so we'll have to see about Crawford's version. Another new dish on the menu is a Manhattan Clam Chowder.
Tonight is the test. Apparently the Reluctant Chef and I shall have to starve ourselves all day because Crawford also raved about the batter, so it looks like we will have to order almost every item on the menu. Oh, it's a tough job, but I'm volunteering for it!
~~~
I'm back from Reliable and here's my verdict: it's going to be one of my reliable local joints from now on! Sadly, the lobster rolls and clam chowder are nowhere to be found. Owner George says they are too expensive to keep on the menu. But his fried fish more than make up for the absence of these dishes. The batter is unbelievably good. It's very light, like tempura, fried to a perfect golden crispness. They use only the very best ingredients; salmon is wild pacific salmon; shrimp is fresh, delicate and sweet. Also on offer are haddock, halibut, cod, clam strips and calamari. Fries are made from (usually) PEI potatoes -- pure home-made goodness -- and yes, we did have to season them ourselves! Coleslaw... well, what can I say about coleslaw? George's coleslaw was tangy but could have used more carrot and the cabbage was slightly bitter. I'm not sure if it's Crawford's recipe or George's, but it does not change my opinion of this side dish. I'd never come back for slaw anyway. But I'll be back for those sweet, tender shrimp gently fried in the best batter in the city.
Oh, and yes, the new décor is charming.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Fast Food that's Decidedly Not
I have a perennial tussle with the Reluctant Chef about fast food. He loves it; I hate it. The problem is, every city needs fast-ish food for those occassions when you just don't have time for a full sit-down dinner. Like trying to make it to the movies on time. Or you have 8 o'clock theatre tickets on a work night. You get the picture.
"Why can't you just eat Subway?" Argh! Do I need to list the reasons? In my perfect cityscape there would be nary a Subway, McDonald's, Taco Bell, Pizza Pizza or Burger King.
Starting today, I am on a hunt to uncover every establishment open later than 6 o'clock, serving prepared food that is not just edible, but delectable. So far, I've discovered a few good ones.
DOWNTOWN EAST
The Brick Street Bakery
Their braised lamb sandwich served with chutney on thick slices of fresh, squishy whole wheat bread is out-of-this-world finger-licking-good. There are plenty of other sandwiches (citrus tuna, curry chicken, etc) but this is the ultimate. Daily soups and chilis, and something for your sweet tooth, including a yummy Bakewell tart, lemon tart, chocolate-pecan tart, eccles cake, cookies, and more. Perfect for the Soulpepper crowd, unless you have tickets on a Monday. Winter hours are shorter, unfortunately, closing around 6:30 or 7pm, but it's open later in the summertime. 55 Mill St.
BLOOR/YORKVILLE
MBCo.
I love this little boîte in the lane behind Bloor off Bellair; an import from Montreal. I love that I get a sandwich served with a salad. Where else can you get a lobster & shrimp quesadilla or a sushi tuna "club" sandwich - to go? Their salads are great, especially because they've caught onto the protein trend. They also stock Mighty Tea Leaf Co. teas. It's healthy, it's gorgeous food, and it's so-not-North-American. Another location in the TD Centre and a new one is apparently set to open at Yonge & Summerhill soon. Open until 7pm. 100 Bloor St. W. (in laneway)
Pusateri's
The first part of the store is dedicated to prepared foods: salads, wraps, sandwiches, sushi, mini pizzas, pasta. They make the best ham and cheese on croissant this side of the Atlantic. Grab a (very expensive) cappuccino on your way out. Open until 8pm Mon-Sat except Thursdays and Fridays when the doors stay open until 9pm. Corner of Bay & Yorkville.
LEASIDE / DAVISVILLE
Bread & Butter
Walking through the doors of Bread & Butter is like leaving Toronto and stepping into your grandmother's kitchen in Vienna or Bratislava. They make the city's best veal sandwiches and the strudel is unbelievable. Another favorite dessert is the Rum Baba. Everything is homemade. Kind of like Prague Deli (on Queen W.) but open until 9pm every night except Sunday, when they close at 5pm. 507 Mount Pleasant at Millwood.
I am going to try to keep growing this list with options. Please share your discoveries, and one day, we'll have go-to places all over the city.
"Why can't you just eat Subway?" Argh! Do I need to list the reasons? In my perfect cityscape there would be nary a Subway, McDonald's, Taco Bell, Pizza Pizza or Burger King.
Starting today, I am on a hunt to uncover every establishment open later than 6 o'clock, serving prepared food that is not just edible, but delectable. So far, I've discovered a few good ones.
DOWNTOWN EAST
The Brick Street Bakery
Their braised lamb sandwich served with chutney on thick slices of fresh, squishy whole wheat bread is out-of-this-world finger-licking-good. There are plenty of other sandwiches (citrus tuna, curry chicken, etc) but this is the ultimate. Daily soups and chilis, and something for your sweet tooth, including a yummy Bakewell tart, lemon tart, chocolate-pecan tart, eccles cake, cookies, and more. Perfect for the Soulpepper crowd, unless you have tickets on a Monday. Winter hours are shorter, unfortunately, closing around 6:30 or 7pm, but it's open later in the summertime. 55 Mill St.
BLOOR/YORKVILLE
MBCo.
I love this little boîte in the lane behind Bloor off Bellair; an import from Montreal. I love that I get a sandwich served with a salad. Where else can you get a lobster & shrimp quesadilla or a sushi tuna "club" sandwich - to go? Their salads are great, especially because they've caught onto the protein trend. They also stock Mighty Tea Leaf Co. teas. It's healthy, it's gorgeous food, and it's so-not-North-American. Another location in the TD Centre and a new one is apparently set to open at Yonge & Summerhill soon. Open until 7pm. 100 Bloor St. W. (in laneway)
Pusateri's
The first part of the store is dedicated to prepared foods: salads, wraps, sandwiches, sushi, mini pizzas, pasta. They make the best ham and cheese on croissant this side of the Atlantic. Grab a (very expensive) cappuccino on your way out. Open until 8pm Mon-Sat except Thursdays and Fridays when the doors stay open until 9pm. Corner of Bay & Yorkville.
LEASIDE / DAVISVILLE
Bread & Butter
Walking through the doors of Bread & Butter is like leaving Toronto and stepping into your grandmother's kitchen in Vienna or Bratislava. They make the city's best veal sandwiches and the strudel is unbelievable. Another favorite dessert is the Rum Baba. Everything is homemade. Kind of like Prague Deli (on Queen W.) but open until 9pm every night except Sunday, when they close at 5pm. 507 Mount Pleasant at Millwood.
I am going to try to keep growing this list with options. Please share your discoveries, and one day, we'll have go-to places all over the city.
Friday, March 9, 2007
b: bewitched
We've been bewitched by b since it dropped into the neighborhood (Queen East and Jarvis). In fact, I can't even remember when it opened because it's become a fact of life around here.
b is a charming, unpretentious, little Italian bar run by the affable Alessandro. This is his dream; when he moved from Italy he worked at a factory but he always wanted to open a bar. His kid's fridge art hangs on the exposed wood pillars, and the whole place is a dedication to Illy. That aside, it's got a very warm yet forward design, with red tile providing a focal point along the entire back wall. Long pebble-topped tables provide most of the seating, with one large booth over which hangs a trendy chandelier.
The food is fantastico! In the morning, you can get a slice of fritatta, yogurt with fruit, or various pastries. The coffee is awesome; solely due to b I've converted from organic Costa Rican to a devotee of Illy. At lunch there is a choice of various wraps, from turkey with artichoke, to salumi and provolone, to baked chicken with couscous and much, much more. There are traditional panini - again it runs the gamut - plus individual pizzas and daily pastas. There is usually a tomato bread salad, mixed greens, bean salad, or other veg available. I can't decide on the best biscotti: lemon, double chocolate or Nutella. Might as well have all three. Hey, that's what the gym is for.
b also stands for Campari! Due to Alessandro alone, I am a Campari-maniac. Technically, I think Campari is best consumed in the hot, salty south of Italy or Croatia. But having it in the middle of winter in 10 below brings back fond memories. Thursdays b stays open until midnight, serving bar snacks (traditional Italian antipasti such as pizzete, marinated veg, etc) with the best Italian cocktails this side of the Atlantic. A few nights ago the Reluctant Chef and I had many libations... ergo the blog post today and not the night of indulgence. The Americano is Campari with soda: simple yet delicious. Another great one is Prosecco with a dash of Campari. And the Camparina is sugar with mashed mint and soda. After about four drinks, the Reluctant Chef practically had to fling me over his shoulder and carry me home. But, there are plenty more interesting cocktails to sample and we intend to visit again... and again.
I was going to end this blog post right here, but alright, I'm giving in to the Reluctant Chef who says I should let you in on the neighborhood secret: brunch is served on Saturdays from 10 to 3. Every meal comes with a small drink; usually it's prosecco with orange juice but sometimes it's a Bloody Mary. There are all manner of delicious cocktails; I always have the prosecco with mixed mashed berries (blueberries, strawberries, blackberries) but am intrigued to try the one with almond milk and Campari. French toast is stuffed with ricotta and served with fresh berries. Pleasantly (but not too) sweet. The ultimate is the 'signore', which is two eggs, prosciutto, tomatoes, topped with basil and baked all together in one dish. Another favorite is coddled eggs with cremini mushrooms, parmesan and toasted Italian bread. I'm sure others have their favorites but somehow I can't move from these items on the menu! They are just too good. As I write this on Friday night, my taste buds are already salivating for breakfast tomorrow. Buon Appetito!
b is a charming, unpretentious, little Italian bar run by the affable Alessandro. This is his dream; when he moved from Italy he worked at a factory but he always wanted to open a bar. His kid's fridge art hangs on the exposed wood pillars, and the whole place is a dedication to Illy. That aside, it's got a very warm yet forward design, with red tile providing a focal point along the entire back wall. Long pebble-topped tables provide most of the seating, with one large booth over which hangs a trendy chandelier.
The food is fantastico! In the morning, you can get a slice of fritatta, yogurt with fruit, or various pastries. The coffee is awesome; solely due to b I've converted from organic Costa Rican to a devotee of Illy. At lunch there is a choice of various wraps, from turkey with artichoke, to salumi and provolone, to baked chicken with couscous and much, much more. There are traditional panini - again it runs the gamut - plus individual pizzas and daily pastas. There is usually a tomato bread salad, mixed greens, bean salad, or other veg available. I can't decide on the best biscotti: lemon, double chocolate or Nutella. Might as well have all three. Hey, that's what the gym is for.
b also stands for Campari! Due to Alessandro alone, I am a Campari-maniac. Technically, I think Campari is best consumed in the hot, salty south of Italy or Croatia. But having it in the middle of winter in 10 below brings back fond memories. Thursdays b stays open until midnight, serving bar snacks (traditional Italian antipasti such as pizzete, marinated veg, etc) with the best Italian cocktails this side of the Atlantic. A few nights ago the Reluctant Chef and I had many libations... ergo the blog post today and not the night of indulgence. The Americano is Campari with soda: simple yet delicious. Another great one is Prosecco with a dash of Campari. And the Camparina is sugar with mashed mint and soda. After about four drinks, the Reluctant Chef practically had to fling me over his shoulder and carry me home. But, there are plenty more interesting cocktails to sample and we intend to visit again... and again.
I was going to end this blog post right here, but alright, I'm giving in to the Reluctant Chef who says I should let you in on the neighborhood secret: brunch is served on Saturdays from 10 to 3. Every meal comes with a small drink; usually it's prosecco with orange juice but sometimes it's a Bloody Mary. There are all manner of delicious cocktails; I always have the prosecco with mixed mashed berries (blueberries, strawberries, blackberries) but am intrigued to try the one with almond milk and Campari. French toast is stuffed with ricotta and served with fresh berries. Pleasantly (but not too) sweet. The ultimate is the 'signore', which is two eggs, prosciutto, tomatoes, topped with basil and baked all together in one dish. Another favorite is coddled eggs with cremini mushrooms, parmesan and toasted Italian bread. I'm sure others have their favorites but somehow I can't move from these items on the menu! They are just too good. As I write this on Friday night, my taste buds are already salivating for breakfast tomorrow. Buon Appetito!
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Life's a Slice at Terroni
Hankering for an authentic, lip-smacking, memory-inducing slice of southern Italy? You're in a little piece of heaven when you walk through the doors of Terroni.
There are three locations: Queen West, Victoria & Queen, and Yonge at Balmoral. I love how each location has a real family feel, furniture and accoutrements so artfully mismatched it matches. The atmosphere is homey and the aromas keep you rooted on line when the place is hopping (don't worry, it moves fast). Whenever I want pizza, it's not pizza I want, it's Terroni.
Our favorite pizzas are Smendozzata (spicy homemade Italian sausauge and gorgonzola: need I say more?), Polentona (with fontina, smoked prosciutto and pine nuts) and the classic Quattro Stagioni that I first tasted at 4am after a night of revelry in Rimini (ok, so it's northern Italy, but so what?). It doesn't matter which pizza you order because they are all fantastic. The dough is always perfectly thin and crisp and topped with excellent fresh ingredients. There is a reason you will see a little sign saying 'no substitutions'. Obey it.
The thing is, it's always an anguishing toss up at Terroni: pizza or pasta? We love the bucatini crazily writhing on our fork with pancetta and pecorino; the homemade parpardelle and tagliatelle are unbelievable, whether you choose to have it with the sausage and oyster mushrooms or bolognese sause, among others; a true penne all'arrabbiata (bless you, Terroni); and a drool-inducing garganelli with gorgonzola, radicchio and walnuts.
Terroni also serves all manner of appetizers, daily mains, and desserts. Try their flourless chocolate torta; yes, I know, everyone's done it, but trust me on this one. I have left the best 'til last in hopes you'll remember to ask for it the minute you walk in: pasta fagiole. It's made only once a week, and believe me, there are weeks when I call every day to see if today's the day. You can call me crazy as you read this, but those of you who've dug your spoon into this delicious beany broth know what I'm talking about.
Every time I walk out Terroni's door, I opine that they don't deliver. Of course, I realize that the quality would be compromised and The Dish in me would never settle for that. How awful would it to have a cooled, soggy pizza arrive at the door? I keep dreaming of ways of cooking en route: portable pizza stones lightweight enough for delivery? I guess Terroni will never be delivery but one can always dream.
There are three locations: Queen West, Victoria & Queen, and Yonge at Balmoral. I love how each location has a real family feel, furniture and accoutrements so artfully mismatched it matches. The atmosphere is homey and the aromas keep you rooted on line when the place is hopping (don't worry, it moves fast). Whenever I want pizza, it's not pizza I want, it's Terroni.
Our favorite pizzas are Smendozzata (spicy homemade Italian sausauge and gorgonzola: need I say more?), Polentona (with fontina, smoked prosciutto and pine nuts) and the classic Quattro Stagioni that I first tasted at 4am after a night of revelry in Rimini (ok, so it's northern Italy, but so what?). It doesn't matter which pizza you order because they are all fantastic. The dough is always perfectly thin and crisp and topped with excellent fresh ingredients. There is a reason you will see a little sign saying 'no substitutions'. Obey it.
The thing is, it's always an anguishing toss up at Terroni: pizza or pasta? We love the bucatini crazily writhing on our fork with pancetta and pecorino; the homemade parpardelle and tagliatelle are unbelievable, whether you choose to have it with the sausage and oyster mushrooms or bolognese sause, among others; a true penne all'arrabbiata (bless you, Terroni); and a drool-inducing garganelli with gorgonzola, radicchio and walnuts.
Terroni also serves all manner of appetizers, daily mains, and desserts. Try their flourless chocolate torta; yes, I know, everyone's done it, but trust me on this one. I have left the best 'til last in hopes you'll remember to ask for it the minute you walk in: pasta fagiole. It's made only once a week, and believe me, there are weeks when I call every day to see if today's the day. You can call me crazy as you read this, but those of you who've dug your spoon into this delicious beany broth know what I'm talking about.
Every time I walk out Terroni's door, I opine that they don't deliver. Of course, I realize that the quality would be compromised and The Dish in me would never settle for that. How awful would it to have a cooled, soggy pizza arrive at the door? I keep dreaming of ways of cooking en route: portable pizza stones lightweight enough for delivery? I guess Terroni will never be delivery but one can always dream.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Trevor Kitchen & Bar: Can Other Diners Spoil an Appetite?
Here’s a question for you: why are some restaurants able to attract the type of crowd any young, sophisticated, mannered person would want to dine with and others don’t? Or is it just plain unfair to judge a restaurant clientèle on a Saturday night?
This question is a lead-up to my mixed experience at Trevor Kitchen & Bar. It’s my first time here and perhaps others, who have dined at Trevor’s more than once, can add their opinion. In brief, the food is very good but overshadowed by somewhat perfunctory service and the patrons’ bad manners (not to mention fashion crimes – gentlemen who wear sweatshirts, please start reading Russell Smith). I have no idea why these diners are obnoxious and doing strange things to their dinner companions. Who are they? In general, people who have forgotten how to dress and act in public. I was wondering whether we, the Tycoon and Banker Babe were the only civilized ones in our dining section.
The space is best described as cozy: exposed stone foundation walls, low ceilings, lots of candlelight. There are two dining areas – one next to the bar and one in a separate room. The bar area is open and lively. Overall, it's charming, but due to the number of people, the ceiling height and the candles, it gets unbearably warm and stuffy towards the end of the night.
The menu is interesting and although it’s not a long one, there is something for everyone. Tycoon and Reluctant Chef both choose the beef and greens in applewood smoked bacon and sambuca dressing. This is actually beef carpaccio. The dish is excellent; tasty thin slices of beef under a small mound of arugula, and the dressing doesn’t taste too much of sambuca. I had ahi tuna tartare with rice cake and grapefruit salad. The tuna by itself is delicious but is completely overwhelmed by the rice cake. They could easily halve the cakes, and the grapefuit is a nice touch, but hardly a ‘salad’. Banker Babe immediately chooses tempura curry shrimp with apple and jicama salad. She loves the salad, but the shrimp are too bready – not quite tempura-ish.
For mains, Tycoon is true to type and has the dry-aged Alberta beef with bacon and horseradish crust. He also orders the frites from the day’s special, steak frites. I breathe an audible sigh of relief when he does not order the steak frites special. I’d like to know since when steak frites had to become a necessary item on every menu in the city? The frites are mediocre, but according to the Tycoon, the steak is fantastic. Banker Babe chooses her favorite – duck. It is prepared two ways: a breast, which is not rare enough, and a confit, which she likes well enough. She loves the combination of preserved blueberries with the duck – a classic preparation. The Reluctant Chef has venison with foie gras, dates, squash and gnocchi with sage jus. He pronounces his dish excellent. I have a hard time choosing a main, because I’m in the mood for the pasta dish but it seems crazy not to order the lamb and lobster with trumpet mushrooms, because it seems like a dish right up my alley. It turns out my choice is vindicated. The lobster and prawn spagettini in cognac and chive sauce is one of the best mains we sample. Spagettini is the right choice of pasta and it’s cooked perfectly al dente. The seafood is flavourful and the sauce is magnificent.
We are nicely sated but decide there’s a little bit of room yet for dessert. The cheese plate is tempting but we opt to share a dark chocolate espresso cake with marshmallow sauce and a quince turnover with a spiced caramel sauce. Both are excellent. A nice selection of teas is available. I am noticing that tea is the new after-dinner drink in Toronto.
Overall, I would give Trevor’s another try but if I experience the same type of crowd I may have to change my mind. And that would be a shame, because the food is delicious, interesting, usually pretty well executed, and well priced. It’s not as if a restaurant can control who shows up and they can do a lot of things right, but in the end it’s not just the food that impresses a diner and keeps her coming back.
PostScript: A friend of mine called [mind you, called, not commented(!)] about the service, which is s-l-o-w. Oops, an oversight on my part to not mention that I managed to become stark-raving-lunatically-stomach-growlingly-starving between the appetizer and main.
This question is a lead-up to my mixed experience at Trevor Kitchen & Bar. It’s my first time here and perhaps others, who have dined at Trevor’s more than once, can add their opinion. In brief, the food is very good but overshadowed by somewhat perfunctory service and the patrons’ bad manners (not to mention fashion crimes – gentlemen who wear sweatshirts, please start reading Russell Smith). I have no idea why these diners are obnoxious and doing strange things to their dinner companions. Who are they? In general, people who have forgotten how to dress and act in public. I was wondering whether we, the Tycoon and Banker Babe were the only civilized ones in our dining section.
The space is best described as cozy: exposed stone foundation walls, low ceilings, lots of candlelight. There are two dining areas – one next to the bar and one in a separate room. The bar area is open and lively. Overall, it's charming, but due to the number of people, the ceiling height and the candles, it gets unbearably warm and stuffy towards the end of the night.
The menu is interesting and although it’s not a long one, there is something for everyone. Tycoon and Reluctant Chef both choose the beef and greens in applewood smoked bacon and sambuca dressing. This is actually beef carpaccio. The dish is excellent; tasty thin slices of beef under a small mound of arugula, and the dressing doesn’t taste too much of sambuca. I had ahi tuna tartare with rice cake and grapefruit salad. The tuna by itself is delicious but is completely overwhelmed by the rice cake. They could easily halve the cakes, and the grapefuit is a nice touch, but hardly a ‘salad’. Banker Babe immediately chooses tempura curry shrimp with apple and jicama salad. She loves the salad, but the shrimp are too bready – not quite tempura-ish.
For mains, Tycoon is true to type and has the dry-aged Alberta beef with bacon and horseradish crust. He also orders the frites from the day’s special, steak frites. I breathe an audible sigh of relief when he does not order the steak frites special. I’d like to know since when steak frites had to become a necessary item on every menu in the city? The frites are mediocre, but according to the Tycoon, the steak is fantastic. Banker Babe chooses her favorite – duck. It is prepared two ways: a breast, which is not rare enough, and a confit, which she likes well enough. She loves the combination of preserved blueberries with the duck – a classic preparation. The Reluctant Chef has venison with foie gras, dates, squash and gnocchi with sage jus. He pronounces his dish excellent. I have a hard time choosing a main, because I’m in the mood for the pasta dish but it seems crazy not to order the lamb and lobster with trumpet mushrooms, because it seems like a dish right up my alley. It turns out my choice is vindicated. The lobster and prawn spagettini in cognac and chive sauce is one of the best mains we sample. Spagettini is the right choice of pasta and it’s cooked perfectly al dente. The seafood is flavourful and the sauce is magnificent.
We are nicely sated but decide there’s a little bit of room yet for dessert. The cheese plate is tempting but we opt to share a dark chocolate espresso cake with marshmallow sauce and a quince turnover with a spiced caramel sauce. Both are excellent. A nice selection of teas is available. I am noticing that tea is the new after-dinner drink in Toronto.
Overall, I would give Trevor’s another try but if I experience the same type of crowd I may have to change my mind. And that would be a shame, because the food is delicious, interesting, usually pretty well executed, and well priced. It’s not as if a restaurant can control who shows up and they can do a lot of things right, but in the end it’s not just the food that impresses a diner and keeps her coming back.
PostScript: A friend of mine called [mind you, called, not commented(!)] about the service, which is s-l-o-w. Oops, an oversight on my part to not mention that I managed to become stark-raving-lunatically-stomach-growlingly-starving between the appetizer and main.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Kultura Social Dining: An Artful Orchestration by Chef & Management
There’s something deliciously alluring in finding yourself in a sexy resto-lounge peopled with young, beautiful patrons; where the ambience wraps you in its seductive glow and makes you feel ever so lucky to exist at this very spot in this very moment. At Kultura Social Dining the enchantment is never, ever popped …. at least, not until you finish your incredible meal served by gorgeous and attentive wait staff and walk out the door into the cold, wintry Toronto streets.
Late on Friday night, it’s the Reluctant Chef, the Sybarite and myself. We manage to get a table after 10 o’clock and feel lucky to do so, as the dining room is full. We are thrilled that the kitchen is open until 11:30pm. It is nigh impossible to get a decent dinner in Toronto after 10pm, which means that for years, we’ve gone home hungry after the theatre or have had to gulp something down before 8pm – how uncivilized.
It’s pretty gutsy to open a three-floor space on King East, but it’s hard to get a reservation during prime dinner hour so we know they’re doing well. This is clearly a marriage of the right concept at the right time in the right place. The space is striking yet welcoming. The sculptural pieces that I recognize from local design store Commute Home (lighting, tables and light boxes) give the space a trendy feel. The chairs are of the comfy leather club variety, which means everyone gets an armrest. I love that my chair has a silk pillow, which makes it even more comfortable.
A charming and attentive waiter tends to us as if we’re his only table that night. The Sybarite’s taste buds are not quite sure what they want in a cocktail -- no, she's not fussy -- I think her palate has been assaulted by the syrupy drinks we had at the theatre. At Kultura they aim to please, so our waiter has a drink made up for her. This kind of service is the type the Sybarite can get used to! She pronounces her made-to-order cocktail fabulous and everyone is happy.
We’re even happier when we survey the menu. The tapas approach has not gone over well in Toronto; we are some of the many diners who have paid too much money to go home hungry. However, it’s the perfect thing for us tonight. We order about seven dishes plus desserts. First, the hot and sour broth; I would say it’s the one dish really not meant to be shared. It’s quite small and no extra spoons are brought. It’s very good, although not noteworthy. The orrechiette with mushrooms and Malivoire pear chutney is fabulous. It’s creamy, the mushrooms are meaty, the chutney is sweet but does not overwhelm and the aged cheddar goes superbly with it. A crowd-pleaser are the Caribbean shrimp, which are tender and sweet and served with “banana sambol”. It’s unusual and highly interesting to say the least. The chef has made his own version of sambol; it tastes fresh, not salty, and has more of a salsa consistency than a traditional sambol paste. We also have the lamb medallions; they are seared with a curry crust, garnished with little rounds of slivered grapes and served with a yoghurt verjus. Again, the chef’s inventiveness turns traditional food on its head. Who’s ever heard of a yoghurt verjus? But that’s just what it is and it is superb. Lemon risotto with jerk chicken is super-lemony and studded with coconut. All three of us love this combination. Lobster ravioli is nice, thin dough stuffed with lobster and peas and bathed in a lightly creamed tomato sauce. The Sybarite says she’s “not sure what’s going on” with the flavours and I admit that it’s a bit hard to taste the lobster, but I still think this dish is quite good. Our last tapas is black cod in a tomato and ginger broth topped with nori. It’s tender and amazing, and the fennel curry is an interesting “side”.
For dessert my chocoholic companions order the ganache squares with raspberry coulis and yogurt foam. They practically drool over it. I order the vanilla doughnut holes, served with two sauces: mango and chocolate-caramel. I can’t decide which sauce is better, but the doughnut holes are divine. The wine menu is short but well thought out and the waiter is good with making recommendations.
~
Brunch is served on Sundays. The flavours are not complex like the dinner menu, but strong and delectable. Apparently the French toast is excellent, but we do not order it this time. I have truffled scrambled eggs with arugula, and a side of sliced tomatoes served with little spheres of goat cheese, some rolled in pepper and some in fresh herbs. The Reluctant Chef has his ultimate fave – the Monte Cristo sandwich. He pronounces it excellent. The presentation is so much more “professional” than the usual egg-dipped sandwich… crusts cut off and made with challah not French bread. The presentation extends to the sides and the drinks. The service is just as genial and attentive as the other night. We are suitably impressed and walk out of Kultura knowing we’ve found a new favourite.
Late on Friday night, it’s the Reluctant Chef, the Sybarite and myself. We manage to get a table after 10 o’clock and feel lucky to do so, as the dining room is full. We are thrilled that the kitchen is open until 11:30pm. It is nigh impossible to get a decent dinner in Toronto after 10pm, which means that for years, we’ve gone home hungry after the theatre or have had to gulp something down before 8pm – how uncivilized.
It’s pretty gutsy to open a three-floor space on King East, but it’s hard to get a reservation during prime dinner hour so we know they’re doing well. This is clearly a marriage of the right concept at the right time in the right place. The space is striking yet welcoming. The sculptural pieces that I recognize from local design store Commute Home (lighting, tables and light boxes) give the space a trendy feel. The chairs are of the comfy leather club variety, which means everyone gets an armrest. I love that my chair has a silk pillow, which makes it even more comfortable.
A charming and attentive waiter tends to us as if we’re his only table that night. The Sybarite’s taste buds are not quite sure what they want in a cocktail -- no, she's not fussy -- I think her palate has been assaulted by the syrupy drinks we had at the theatre. At Kultura they aim to please, so our waiter has a drink made up for her. This kind of service is the type the Sybarite can get used to! She pronounces her made-to-order cocktail fabulous and everyone is happy.
We’re even happier when we survey the menu. The tapas approach has not gone over well in Toronto; we are some of the many diners who have paid too much money to go home hungry. However, it’s the perfect thing for us tonight. We order about seven dishes plus desserts. First, the hot and sour broth; I would say it’s the one dish really not meant to be shared. It’s quite small and no extra spoons are brought. It’s very good, although not noteworthy. The orrechiette with mushrooms and Malivoire pear chutney is fabulous. It’s creamy, the mushrooms are meaty, the chutney is sweet but does not overwhelm and the aged cheddar goes superbly with it. A crowd-pleaser are the Caribbean shrimp, which are tender and sweet and served with “banana sambol”. It’s unusual and highly interesting to say the least. The chef has made his own version of sambol; it tastes fresh, not salty, and has more of a salsa consistency than a traditional sambol paste. We also have the lamb medallions; they are seared with a curry crust, garnished with little rounds of slivered grapes and served with a yoghurt verjus. Again, the chef’s inventiveness turns traditional food on its head. Who’s ever heard of a yoghurt verjus? But that’s just what it is and it is superb. Lemon risotto with jerk chicken is super-lemony and studded with coconut. All three of us love this combination. Lobster ravioli is nice, thin dough stuffed with lobster and peas and bathed in a lightly creamed tomato sauce. The Sybarite says she’s “not sure what’s going on” with the flavours and I admit that it’s a bit hard to taste the lobster, but I still think this dish is quite good. Our last tapas is black cod in a tomato and ginger broth topped with nori. It’s tender and amazing, and the fennel curry is an interesting “side”.
For dessert my chocoholic companions order the ganache squares with raspberry coulis and yogurt foam. They practically drool over it. I order the vanilla doughnut holes, served with two sauces: mango and chocolate-caramel. I can’t decide which sauce is better, but the doughnut holes are divine. The wine menu is short but well thought out and the waiter is good with making recommendations.
~
Brunch is served on Sundays. The flavours are not complex like the dinner menu, but strong and delectable. Apparently the French toast is excellent, but we do not order it this time. I have truffled scrambled eggs with arugula, and a side of sliced tomatoes served with little spheres of goat cheese, some rolled in pepper and some in fresh herbs. The Reluctant Chef has his ultimate fave – the Monte Cristo sandwich. He pronounces it excellent. The presentation is so much more “professional” than the usual egg-dipped sandwich… crusts cut off and made with challah not French bread. The presentation extends to the sides and the drinks. The service is just as genial and attentive as the other night. We are suitably impressed and walk out of Kultura knowing we’ve found a new favourite.
Friday, February 23, 2007
La Lawyer Lusts for le Porc at The Spoke Club
If you’re invited to dine at The Spoke Club, la Lawyer and I have two words for you: definitely go. The Spoke Club is a cozy, modern space on King West and yes, it is a private members’ club, so either you must be a member or a guest of one.
The antithesis to the traditional, original men’s clubs in downtown Toronto, the Spoke is a testament to how quickly the restaurant scene – and interior design – has grown and matured in this city. The dining room seats about fifty people and the tables are not so close to one another that a private conversation is impossible. I love the few intimate banquettes (some for 2, some for 6-8) scattered about the room. It’s romantic (but not too romantic!), unpretentious and comfortable. Unpretentious also is the best term to describe the service, from maitre d’ to the servers. They are friendly, professional and very attentive without being in your face.
The menu is very Canadian, so I suppose it’s all about terroir just like Globe but without all the fussiness about it. It simply ….is. We start with some Canadian caviar from New Brunswick, served on potatoes and shredded white beets, set on a potato reduction. The caviar has a delicate flavour. It tastes faintly like the sea, but it’s lost on the potato base, which is a surprise. All that starch overwhelms the pearly grey beads. The reduction is tasty and has a nice hint of spice. Perhaps the caviar would be better on bland toast points or by itself on ice?
The Reluctant Chef has a personal mission to make the best-ever shellfish bisques, from shrimp to lobster, so it is no surprise when he chooses the soup of the day, which is shrimp bisque with tamarind. This is an excellent choice as the consistency is perfect and the flavours are failsafe together. The heat of the tamarind builds through to the last spoonful – divine. Our last appetizer is a phyllo pastry shell stuffed with spicy southwest flavours of red peppers, onions, tomatoes and some blue cheese, served with the cooling counterpoint of avocado tempura. La Lawyer loves the avocado, whereas I love the spiciness of the filling.
It’s hard to choose a main; they all look worthy, but since we can only choose one each, we’ll have to return for the others. At first, la Lawyer is committed to the rib-eye, but at the last moment changes her mind and orders roast pork. This stymies the Reluctant Chef, who wants the pork as well. (A clear winner with our crowd tonight!) He quickly switches to the rib-eye. I choose the sablefish.
The pork is unbelievably tender and moist throughout. La Lawyer positively loves the pork and does not stop lamenting that Sir Fussy is not present since he would really love it too. When Fussy arrives, he samples the dish and rightly comments that if we’d tried to make the pork at home, it would be burnt on the outside and still bloody on the inside. We don’t want to know the chef’s method – we just want to come back for more! In fact, I don’t know if lawyers are acceptable members of The Spoke Club but if so, she would join for the pork entrée alone. By the way, it’s served with apples (lovely) and spätzle, which are delicious but a little bit crunchy… although it’s perfectly okay to serve crunchy spätzle. They are sort-of like German macaroni and cheese. Some people like it baked and crunchy on top and some like it creamy; I’m of the latter persuasion but have nothing against the former.
The rib-eye steak is a perfect medium-rare; juicy and tender. It’s served with broccolini and, I think, (I deeply apologize for this oversight and lack of memory) little Yorkshire puddings. Unfortunately, a small dab of caviar on the pudding is sticky and warm. Ugh!
My wild sablefish is served on phyllo pastry baked with scallions. It is very tasty and provides just a bit of a kick to the firm, fleshy sablefish that comes apart in large, luscious flakes. I have no idea what to expect of the flavour since I’ve only ever had it smoked, but here it is slightly sweet and butter-flavoured, so the scallions are a perfect complement. Sablefish is also known as black cod or butterfish; it’s fished – and I understand, now farmed – in the Pacific. As an aside, the aquaculture of sablefish is a huge issue in British Columbia where an industry group is opposing it.
The portions are huge and I am not exaggerating. We are not a crowd known for restraint, but sadly we did not have room for dessert. This will have to be the topic of another column. In the meantime, my taste buds will fondly savour the Canadian-themed menu, the attentive service and the warm, comfy dining room at The Spoke Club.
The antithesis to the traditional, original men’s clubs in downtown Toronto, the Spoke is a testament to how quickly the restaurant scene – and interior design – has grown and matured in this city. The dining room seats about fifty people and the tables are not so close to one another that a private conversation is impossible. I love the few intimate banquettes (some for 2, some for 6-8) scattered about the room. It’s romantic (but not too romantic!), unpretentious and comfortable. Unpretentious also is the best term to describe the service, from maitre d’ to the servers. They are friendly, professional and very attentive without being in your face.
The menu is very Canadian, so I suppose it’s all about terroir just like Globe but without all the fussiness about it. It simply ….is. We start with some Canadian caviar from New Brunswick, served on potatoes and shredded white beets, set on a potato reduction. The caviar has a delicate flavour. It tastes faintly like the sea, but it’s lost on the potato base, which is a surprise. All that starch overwhelms the pearly grey beads. The reduction is tasty and has a nice hint of spice. Perhaps the caviar would be better on bland toast points or by itself on ice?
The Reluctant Chef has a personal mission to make the best-ever shellfish bisques, from shrimp to lobster, so it is no surprise when he chooses the soup of the day, which is shrimp bisque with tamarind. This is an excellent choice as the consistency is perfect and the flavours are failsafe together. The heat of the tamarind builds through to the last spoonful – divine. Our last appetizer is a phyllo pastry shell stuffed with spicy southwest flavours of red peppers, onions, tomatoes and some blue cheese, served with the cooling counterpoint of avocado tempura. La Lawyer loves the avocado, whereas I love the spiciness of the filling.
It’s hard to choose a main; they all look worthy, but since we can only choose one each, we’ll have to return for the others. At first, la Lawyer is committed to the rib-eye, but at the last moment changes her mind and orders roast pork. This stymies the Reluctant Chef, who wants the pork as well. (A clear winner with our crowd tonight!) He quickly switches to the rib-eye. I choose the sablefish.
The pork is unbelievably tender and moist throughout. La Lawyer positively loves the pork and does not stop lamenting that Sir Fussy is not present since he would really love it too. When Fussy arrives, he samples the dish and rightly comments that if we’d tried to make the pork at home, it would be burnt on the outside and still bloody on the inside. We don’t want to know the chef’s method – we just want to come back for more! In fact, I don’t know if lawyers are acceptable members of The Spoke Club but if so, she would join for the pork entrée alone. By the way, it’s served with apples (lovely) and spätzle, which are delicious but a little bit crunchy… although it’s perfectly okay to serve crunchy spätzle. They are sort-of like German macaroni and cheese. Some people like it baked and crunchy on top and some like it creamy; I’m of the latter persuasion but have nothing against the former.
The rib-eye steak is a perfect medium-rare; juicy and tender. It’s served with broccolini and, I think, (I deeply apologize for this oversight and lack of memory) little Yorkshire puddings. Unfortunately, a small dab of caviar on the pudding is sticky and warm. Ugh!
My wild sablefish is served on phyllo pastry baked with scallions. It is very tasty and provides just a bit of a kick to the firm, fleshy sablefish that comes apart in large, luscious flakes. I have no idea what to expect of the flavour since I’ve only ever had it smoked, but here it is slightly sweet and butter-flavoured, so the scallions are a perfect complement. Sablefish is also known as black cod or butterfish; it’s fished – and I understand, now farmed – in the Pacific. As an aside, the aquaculture of sablefish is a huge issue in British Columbia where an industry group is opposing it.
The portions are huge and I am not exaggerating. We are not a crowd known for restraint, but sadly we did not have room for dessert. This will have to be the topic of another column. In the meantime, my taste buds will fondly savour the Canadian-themed menu, the attentive service and the warm, comfy dining room at The Spoke Club.
Monday, February 19, 2007
What's in a Bean?
Yesterday we went cross-country skiing in, yes, the country! On our way back to the city, we stopped at a farm stand and picked up all sorts of home-made goodies: fresh tomato sauce, salsa, pickled beets, fruit pies, meat pies.. you name it! But I digress... this post is not about food, but about coffee.
All that fresh country air must have addled my brain. As I looked over at the coffee, I saw a sign: "Regular Coffee". I realized that I did not know the meaning of "regular coffee". Before I could stop myself, out of my mouth came: "What kind of coffee is it?" Meaning, of course, what kind of bean. The answer: Maxwell House.
Maxwell House? I was confused. What kind of coffee is that, I thought? My mind has become so bamboozled by the exigencies of buying coffee in the city, what with organic, fair trade, light, medium, dark roast, Guatemalan, Colombian, Costa Rican, vanilla-infused, cinnamon, and so on and so on. Our choices are forever expanding in this globalized, market-driven culture. Getting a simple cup of coffee is no longer simple. It's become An Event. I am used to dealing with so many choices that I did not know what to make of this one-choice situation. For a shocked moment, I stood in the store, unsure of what to think. And then, thank goodness, common sense took over and I poured myself a cup. It was a refreshing change. The coffee was medium-bodied and smooth, and most importantly, hot. Maxwell House, you're good to the last drop!
~ Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and fat. -Alex Levine ~
All that fresh country air must have addled my brain. As I looked over at the coffee, I saw a sign: "Regular Coffee". I realized that I did not know the meaning of "regular coffee". Before I could stop myself, out of my mouth came: "What kind of coffee is it?" Meaning, of course, what kind of bean. The answer: Maxwell House.
Maxwell House? I was confused. What kind of coffee is that, I thought? My mind has become so bamboozled by the exigencies of buying coffee in the city, what with organic, fair trade, light, medium, dark roast, Guatemalan, Colombian, Costa Rican, vanilla-infused, cinnamon, and so on and so on. Our choices are forever expanding in this globalized, market-driven culture. Getting a simple cup of coffee is no longer simple. It's become An Event. I am used to dealing with so many choices that I did not know what to make of this one-choice situation. For a shocked moment, I stood in the store, unsure of what to think. And then, thank goodness, common sense took over and I poured myself a cup. It was a refreshing change. The coffee was medium-bodied and smooth, and most importantly, hot. Maxwell House, you're good to the last drop!
~ Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and fat. -Alex Levine ~
Friday, February 16, 2007
Chiado: Where the Worst Seat is Truly the Best
Ooh-la-la! It’s lovely Valentine’s Day. Another reason to skip cooking and head out. The Reluctant Chef and I used to have a tradition of just stopping into any restaurant that we fancied and seeing if we could get a table… our small way of defying this Hallmark holiday. But our approach can only be taken in a much larger city, as we discovered upon moving to Toronto. This town has many restaurants, but too many subscribe to the “special holiday menu” theory and serve only a prix-fixe. How sad.
In the back of my mind I had filed away Chiado. Somehow this venerable restaurant had escaped my radar. It’s simply incomprehensible to know how this is possible! In order to correct this oversight, I call them up on Monday and get a reservation for V-Day at prime dinner hour. I cannot believe my luck!
My luck also is in play when we are seated at the best table in the house. Let me assure you – this never, ever happens. But luck deserts us as we realize that, seated next to us are a group of shrieking, screeching youngsters. My ears hurt. I can't talk to my Reluctant Chef, who is now re-considering the cooking option and you can imagine how desperate he must be. We ask to be moved. I don’t know who Silvio is – the manager? the maitre d’? the owner? – but he is having a diva night. I understand that V-Day is stressful and the place is packed, but really! The Reluctant Chef overhears: “She has the best seat in the house! What’s wrong with her?” Well, dear Silvio, the best seat is only the best seat if surrounded by good company. So we are switched to a table near the stairs to the washroom, and you know what? Only two people walk past our table and down the stairs the entire night. We have great service and enough peace and quiet to enjoy the great food and intimate conversation.
The chef serves an amuse of fresh cow’s milk cheese with a small dollop of honey with rosemary and reduced balsamic. It bursts with fresh flavour and right away I know we are going to be well fed. The restaurant concentrates a great deal on fish, reflecting Portugal’s traditional sea-faring culture. We start with a tuna tartare and fluke seviche, as well as grouper carpaccio. The tuna is paired with chopped melon that gives it a lovely sweetness, followed with a hit of pepper: divine. The fluke is delicate, velvety. The grouper carpaccio has to be one of the best I’ve eaten, including Esca in New York. It is served with white asparagus, toasted pine nuts, mint and preserved lemon. I would return for this dish alone.
Mains are hard to choose. There is grouper again, and surprise, a pheasant as well. But we decide that one must have fish when at Chiado and there are plenty to choose from the daily catch. I have a fillet of espada, pan-fried, super flaky, moist and tender, served with beetroot risotto. The espada (pronounced esh’ pa da) is caught off the coast of Madeira and is also known as black scabbardfish. It is actually overfished in Ireland and Scotland, but Portugal has set up sustainable fishing so it’s okay to eat it. It is a terrifying-looking fish, and very long, presumably the reason it’s not served whole! The Reluctant Cook insists on having a whole grilled fish, and orders the John Dory, served with mixed roasted vegetables. He is hard to please when it comes to fish, but declares this delectable.
We are so full from dinner that we must share a dessert. We settle on a divine chocolate mousse served with alcohol-marinated raspberries. Wine is all-Portuguese, and since it’s not possible to learn anything about Portuguese wine by buying from the LCBO, the assured advice from our waiter is welcome.
In the end, Chiado is a fantastic experience. The team at this restaurant knows how to please and after so many years, they’ve got it down to a fine art. There is a reason it’s always ranked as one of Toronto’s best.
In the back of my mind I had filed away Chiado. Somehow this venerable restaurant had escaped my radar. It’s simply incomprehensible to know how this is possible! In order to correct this oversight, I call them up on Monday and get a reservation for V-Day at prime dinner hour. I cannot believe my luck!
My luck also is in play when we are seated at the best table in the house. Let me assure you – this never, ever happens. But luck deserts us as we realize that, seated next to us are a group of shrieking, screeching youngsters. My ears hurt. I can't talk to my Reluctant Chef, who is now re-considering the cooking option and you can imagine how desperate he must be. We ask to be moved. I don’t know who Silvio is – the manager? the maitre d’? the owner? – but he is having a diva night. I understand that V-Day is stressful and the place is packed, but really! The Reluctant Chef overhears: “She has the best seat in the house! What’s wrong with her?” Well, dear Silvio, the best seat is only the best seat if surrounded by good company. So we are switched to a table near the stairs to the washroom, and you know what? Only two people walk past our table and down the stairs the entire night. We have great service and enough peace and quiet to enjoy the great food and intimate conversation.
The chef serves an amuse of fresh cow’s milk cheese with a small dollop of honey with rosemary and reduced balsamic. It bursts with fresh flavour and right away I know we are going to be well fed. The restaurant concentrates a great deal on fish, reflecting Portugal’s traditional sea-faring culture. We start with a tuna tartare and fluke seviche, as well as grouper carpaccio. The tuna is paired with chopped melon that gives it a lovely sweetness, followed with a hit of pepper: divine. The fluke is delicate, velvety. The grouper carpaccio has to be one of the best I’ve eaten, including Esca in New York. It is served with white asparagus, toasted pine nuts, mint and preserved lemon. I would return for this dish alone.
Mains are hard to choose. There is grouper again, and surprise, a pheasant as well. But we decide that one must have fish when at Chiado and there are plenty to choose from the daily catch. I have a fillet of espada, pan-fried, super flaky, moist and tender, served with beetroot risotto. The espada (pronounced esh’ pa da) is caught off the coast of Madeira and is also known as black scabbardfish. It is actually overfished in Ireland and Scotland, but Portugal has set up sustainable fishing so it’s okay to eat it. It is a terrifying-looking fish, and very long, presumably the reason it’s not served whole! The Reluctant Cook insists on having a whole grilled fish, and orders the John Dory, served with mixed roasted vegetables. He is hard to please when it comes to fish, but declares this delectable.
We are so full from dinner that we must share a dessert. We settle on a divine chocolate mousse served with alcohol-marinated raspberries. Wine is all-Portuguese, and since it’s not possible to learn anything about Portuguese wine by buying from the LCBO, the assured advice from our waiter is welcome.
In the end, Chiado is a fantastic experience. The team at this restaurant knows how to please and after so many years, they’ve got it down to a fine art. There is a reason it’s always ranked as one of Toronto’s best.
Nami
The Reluctant Cook has been fussing quite a bit lately when I mention going out for sushi... he is getting tired of all the hyped-up, mediocre sushi out there. I consulted with my friend the Sybarite and she informed me that we have forgotten a most important sushi house.
But of course! It's Nami, quietly tucked away on Adelaide at Church. It is an Establishment in Toronto and has been around for eons (well, in restaurant life). We remember when it opened – it was considered extravagant, lush, heady and daring, because after all, we’re in staid old blancmange Hog Town! It’s still going strong.
With all the recent lavish sushi joint openings, we thought it would be wise to return to the old fave. So we joined the Sybarite and the Connoisseur for a dinner focusing exclusively on sushi – nothing from the robato bar – so if you’re not inclined to raw fish, stop reading here.
The best spot in the house is the sushi bar. Even four can eat and chat comfortably all in a line, because there is ample room to pull back one’s chair without the wait staff banging into you. Nami is a place with no gimmicks. It doesn’t pretend to good food for the ‘right’ crowd. It is supremely fresh raw fish for an epicurean crowd. Some might be slightly taken aback at being served their sushi on the wood paneling of the raw bar, but it is cleaned right in front of you and our companions have never been ill after a visit. So don’t fret! Just relax and enjoy.
Some of the stellar sushi includes the umami – sea urchin to you neophytes. The texture is silky and soft and out of this world. Another succulent sushi is roe with raw quail egg. After trying this, the Reluctant Cook wants the chef to crack raw quail eggs on every sushi coming up! Truly decadent. The mackerel is delicately salty. We also have butterfish, a favorite of the Sybarite's, but I think it had nothing on the mackerel or umami. The yellowfin is lovely; barbecued eel is delish and we all order seconds. Salmon, and BBQ'd salmon skin are as expected. The Reluctant Cook says saltwater eel is one of the best tonight. Giant clam is a bit rubbery but excellent taste – can’t get around the texture. Octopus is yummy and I profusely thank the Sybarite for turning me onto the spicy scallop handroll.
The dots of wasabi nestled under the fish are just right, and the spicy sauce for the tuna and scallop is also perfect. I like a slow-building heat that doesn’t destroy the delicate flavour of raw fish, but some places entirely disguise the fish and wallop you with spice. We won't name any names here, because after all, we'd be dissing one of our fave sushi joints, but the Connoisseur and the Reluctant Chef were comparing notes about a certain sushi chef who has dosed them with extra-hot wasabi on a regular basis. Their taste buds didn't appreciate it!
At Nami the sushi is a taste above the rest. Unless you’re going for a specific crowd, stop trying out various sushi joints and make Nami your regular. That’s our plan.
But of course! It's Nami, quietly tucked away on Adelaide at Church. It is an Establishment in Toronto and has been around for eons (well, in restaurant life). We remember when it opened – it was considered extravagant, lush, heady and daring, because after all, we’re in staid old blancmange Hog Town! It’s still going strong.
With all the recent lavish sushi joint openings, we thought it would be wise to return to the old fave. So we joined the Sybarite and the Connoisseur for a dinner focusing exclusively on sushi – nothing from the robato bar – so if you’re not inclined to raw fish, stop reading here.
The best spot in the house is the sushi bar. Even four can eat and chat comfortably all in a line, because there is ample room to pull back one’s chair without the wait staff banging into you. Nami is a place with no gimmicks. It doesn’t pretend to good food for the ‘right’ crowd. It is supremely fresh raw fish for an epicurean crowd. Some might be slightly taken aback at being served their sushi on the wood paneling of the raw bar, but it is cleaned right in front of you and our companions have never been ill after a visit. So don’t fret! Just relax and enjoy.
Some of the stellar sushi includes the umami – sea urchin to you neophytes. The texture is silky and soft and out of this world. Another succulent sushi is roe with raw quail egg. After trying this, the Reluctant Cook wants the chef to crack raw quail eggs on every sushi coming up! Truly decadent. The mackerel is delicately salty. We also have butterfish, a favorite of the Sybarite's, but I think it had nothing on the mackerel or umami. The yellowfin is lovely; barbecued eel is delish and we all order seconds. Salmon, and BBQ'd salmon skin are as expected. The Reluctant Cook says saltwater eel is one of the best tonight. Giant clam is a bit rubbery but excellent taste – can’t get around the texture. Octopus is yummy and I profusely thank the Sybarite for turning me onto the spicy scallop handroll.
The dots of wasabi nestled under the fish are just right, and the spicy sauce for the tuna and scallop is also perfect. I like a slow-building heat that doesn’t destroy the delicate flavour of raw fish, but some places entirely disguise the fish and wallop you with spice. We won't name any names here, because after all, we'd be dissing one of our fave sushi joints, but the Connoisseur and the Reluctant Chef were comparing notes about a certain sushi chef who has dosed them with extra-hot wasabi on a regular basis. Their taste buds didn't appreciate it!
At Nami the sushi is a taste above the rest. Unless you’re going for a specific crowd, stop trying out various sushi joints and make Nami your regular. That’s our plan.
Globe Bistro
La Lawyer and her husband, whom I'll call Sir Fussy, decide to join us at Globe Bistro one chilly winter evening. I am keen to try it as I had known the original chef, Marc Cutrera many moons ago – right before he decamped for Stratford Chef School – and I’m eager to find out how he’s done. But to my chagrin, I find out that he has left Globe just a month after opening – why? Lips are zipped. But no matter.
The décor is supremely elegant. The only negative is the persistent cold draft at our table. We are seated – being the hoi polloi – at the first banquette table upon entering the dining room. This is just past the bar and the kitchen. Oddly enough, the kitchen door does not bother us at all; mainly we froze to death from the draft.
Now the food: in short, very good. The new chef has retained the nascent menu, which focuses on local ingredients as much as possible. You’ve heard of terroir in wine; Globe is about terroir in food. It’s a fine concept, though there is always the danger of it being perceived as a gimmick. Luckily for Globe, strong and steady execution proves they’re for real.
To start, we have pork belly with scallops; the portion was generous. The pork is perfectly done, although Sir Fussy – a veritable pork expert – doesn’t fawn over it. He would like to see it just a teeny, tiny tad more tender, but the Reluctant Cook didn't know if this would be possible. The gnocchi appetizer with wild mushrooms is cooked just right, bit it’s hard to lend strong flavour to mushroom broth and this is nice but doesn’t hold our interest too long. The quail is excellent. Again, the portion is generous. For mains, we have caribou from Nunavut. The consensus is that it is just “good” but we particularly enjoy having something so interesting for dinner. The rib-eye steak is enormous, served with frites and blue cheese foam. The carnivore in our party declares it is the best rib-eye he’s ever had and that is no small compliment from Sir F.! The frites are merely good, but the blue cheese foam is fantastic. It has tons of flavour. The special on our night is lamb and we try that too. It is very well executed. The last main we try is the lobster – it is excellent and second only to the lobster we had at the Blue Ribbon in New York City. It’s served with potato foam. Globe clearly has a fascination with molecular gastronomy and it pays off handsomely because it’s so well done. First, they’ve increased the consistency of what we’re used to in foam, and they’ve managed to make every forkful burst with the intended flavour. Desserts take a back seat to the rest of the menu. The wine list is well-rounded and well-priced. Although the wine we order is not available the maitre d’ offers to open another bottle and match the price. We end up not opting for this but it is an appreciated gesture.
Dinner at Globe is made more enjoyable for the excellent service. This is a thing that Toronto has forgotten. Or perhaps never knew how to do well. Globe wait staff know service; and they know their stuff. They are prepared for the evening; our server doesn’t hesitate once nor does he forget anything. He explains the menu and wine list exceptionally well and while some people don’t appreciate a lot of chatting from the waiters, we would say that Globe staff give more information than usual but do not talk ad nauseum. We’re sure they can expound on gastronomy if you’ll let them!
In summary, la Lawyer, Sir F., the Reluctant Cook and I would scurry back to Globe in a heartbeat. We hope we don’t have to beat all you plebian gatronomes to the door!
The décor is supremely elegant. The only negative is the persistent cold draft at our table. We are seated – being the hoi polloi – at the first banquette table upon entering the dining room. This is just past the bar and the kitchen. Oddly enough, the kitchen door does not bother us at all; mainly we froze to death from the draft.
Now the food: in short, very good. The new chef has retained the nascent menu, which focuses on local ingredients as much as possible. You’ve heard of terroir in wine; Globe is about terroir in food. It’s a fine concept, though there is always the danger of it being perceived as a gimmick. Luckily for Globe, strong and steady execution proves they’re for real.
To start, we have pork belly with scallops; the portion was generous. The pork is perfectly done, although Sir Fussy – a veritable pork expert – doesn’t fawn over it. He would like to see it just a teeny, tiny tad more tender, but the Reluctant Cook didn't know if this would be possible. The gnocchi appetizer with wild mushrooms is cooked just right, bit it’s hard to lend strong flavour to mushroom broth and this is nice but doesn’t hold our interest too long. The quail is excellent. Again, the portion is generous. For mains, we have caribou from Nunavut. The consensus is that it is just “good” but we particularly enjoy having something so interesting for dinner. The rib-eye steak is enormous, served with frites and blue cheese foam. The carnivore in our party declares it is the best rib-eye he’s ever had and that is no small compliment from Sir F.! The frites are merely good, but the blue cheese foam is fantastic. It has tons of flavour. The special on our night is lamb and we try that too. It is very well executed. The last main we try is the lobster – it is excellent and second only to the lobster we had at the Blue Ribbon in New York City. It’s served with potato foam. Globe clearly has a fascination with molecular gastronomy and it pays off handsomely because it’s so well done. First, they’ve increased the consistency of what we’re used to in foam, and they’ve managed to make every forkful burst with the intended flavour. Desserts take a back seat to the rest of the menu. The wine list is well-rounded and well-priced. Although the wine we order is not available the maitre d’ offers to open another bottle and match the price. We end up not opting for this but it is an appreciated gesture.
Dinner at Globe is made more enjoyable for the excellent service. This is a thing that Toronto has forgotten. Or perhaps never knew how to do well. Globe wait staff know service; and they know their stuff. They are prepared for the evening; our server doesn’t hesitate once nor does he forget anything. He explains the menu and wine list exceptionally well and while some people don’t appreciate a lot of chatting from the waiters, we would say that Globe staff give more information than usual but do not talk ad nauseum. We’re sure they can expound on gastronomy if you’ll let them!
In summary, la Lawyer, Sir F., the Reluctant Cook and I would scurry back to Globe in a heartbeat. We hope we don’t have to beat all you plebian gatronomes to the door!
Diner, Know Thy Place at Opal Jazz Lounge
It's Friday night. Everyone has had a long week but we want to catch up with our friends the Sybarite and the Connoisseur. (You may well ask a connoisseur of what, and the answer to that is: wine and meat, as far as restaurants go!) We decide on Opal Jazz Lounge on Queen and Bathurst. In fact, I am really looking forward to it, because it's received glowing reviews. Tonight, I discover that there are a few caveats to having a nice dining experience at Opal.
First, one is stunned by the prices. None of us object to pricey menus, but the prices elevate our expectations. And expectations have everything to do with how we end up feeling about this new resto-lounge.
Overall the food at Opal Jazz Lounge is very good. I start with the potage, which this evening, is roasted red pepper. It is fine, but not exciting. I am disappointed - I live for soup. The Connoisseur has the beef carpaccio, which he declares excellent. The Sybarite casts longing glances at the Tête de Moines that comes with the carpaccio. The shredded Indonesian crab appetizer is flavourful and has a perfect consistency, and we definitely recommend it. The snow goat app is a bit disappointing. It consists of a slab of Quebec snow goat cheese too large to balance accompanying beet carpaccio and rhubarb coulis, which everyone admits is an inspired pairing.
The mains we sample this evening includes the fish of the day, which is salmon. We also try the ostrich; at $47 we are expecting sublime flavour but it disappoints. It's served with kohlrabi that I did not find to be a particularly good pairing, but the one tiny piece of roasted peach was fantastic and I found myself wanting more of that flavour with the ostrich. The Sybarite - who has very strong feelings about meat - has the lamb rack. It is perfectly done and overall one of the best dishes. The Alberta AAA strip loin is also very much appreciated by the Reluctant Cook, who could never be bothered to actually source the meat to make this at home.
All in all, we aren’t “wowed” by the meal and feel the restaurant has a way to go to justify a $500 meal for four. This is affected by the sad baked Alaska we have for dessert, drowned in sambucca. As far as wine goes, our waiter took an interesting approach. Some waiters recommend wine to match one's main. Our waiter started by asking us what kind of wine we like before making a suggestion. I don't mind this approach at all, but I think it's still good to ask, if there is one wine that would be truly fantastic with the main, what is it? The diner can either take the plunge or tread safely on comfy terroir.
We probably would not have walked away feeling disappointed, if it had not been for the atmosphere. Although stunningly decorated, the physical set-up battles with management’s intention. The lounge area up-front is small and tight. Past that is the bar, and across from the bar a small stage, that on our night fit a piano, a bassist and a singer. Past this little area is the main dining room, which if you can’t tell by the description above, feels separated from the stage. So, is Opal a serious dining destination or a serious jazz joint? Currently, management can’t get the balance right.
Clearly, the diners are subsidizing the jazz and the loungers. Yet the service is focused on anything but the diners. The front-of-house manager lectures the patrons about being quiet at all times during the performance. The performer on our night is mediocre at best. She does not appear to have sets booked at a specific hour, say at 8pm and 10pm, between which dining could be scheduled. During our dinner, the singer sings sets of 4-6 songs with barely a 20-minute break in between. She sings so often, and the manager scolds everyone before each “set”, that we feel we cannot enjoy any conversation with our dinner companions.
Opal is trying to have its diners – who have no chance to fully enjoy the chef’s creations – pay for its overly serious approach to jazz. Opal cannot be a restaraunt and jazz lounge with their current formula. Food is meant to be enjoyed and shared with good friends after a long hard week. We should not be lectured or shushed like kindergartners. We love jazz and would appreciate a spectacular dinner plus a performance to remember, but not a tepid performance during an overpriced dinner. After all, we’re the ones keeping them in business.
First, one is stunned by the prices. None of us object to pricey menus, but the prices elevate our expectations. And expectations have everything to do with how we end up feeling about this new resto-lounge.
Overall the food at Opal Jazz Lounge is very good. I start with the potage, which this evening, is roasted red pepper. It is fine, but not exciting. I am disappointed - I live for soup. The Connoisseur has the beef carpaccio, which he declares excellent. The Sybarite casts longing glances at the Tête de Moines that comes with the carpaccio. The shredded Indonesian crab appetizer is flavourful and has a perfect consistency, and we definitely recommend it. The snow goat app is a bit disappointing. It consists of a slab of Quebec snow goat cheese too large to balance accompanying beet carpaccio and rhubarb coulis, which everyone admits is an inspired pairing.
The mains we sample this evening includes the fish of the day, which is salmon. We also try the ostrich; at $47 we are expecting sublime flavour but it disappoints. It's served with kohlrabi that I did not find to be a particularly good pairing, but the one tiny piece of roasted peach was fantastic and I found myself wanting more of that flavour with the ostrich. The Sybarite - who has very strong feelings about meat - has the lamb rack. It is perfectly done and overall one of the best dishes. The Alberta AAA strip loin is also very much appreciated by the Reluctant Cook, who could never be bothered to actually source the meat to make this at home.
All in all, we aren’t “wowed” by the meal and feel the restaurant has a way to go to justify a $500 meal for four. This is affected by the sad baked Alaska we have for dessert, drowned in sambucca. As far as wine goes, our waiter took an interesting approach. Some waiters recommend wine to match one's main. Our waiter started by asking us what kind of wine we like before making a suggestion. I don't mind this approach at all, but I think it's still good to ask, if there is one wine that would be truly fantastic with the main, what is it? The diner can either take the plunge or tread safely on comfy terroir.
We probably would not have walked away feeling disappointed, if it had not been for the atmosphere. Although stunningly decorated, the physical set-up battles with management’s intention. The lounge area up-front is small and tight. Past that is the bar, and across from the bar a small stage, that on our night fit a piano, a bassist and a singer. Past this little area is the main dining room, which if you can’t tell by the description above, feels separated from the stage. So, is Opal a serious dining destination or a serious jazz joint? Currently, management can’t get the balance right.
Clearly, the diners are subsidizing the jazz and the loungers. Yet the service is focused on anything but the diners. The front-of-house manager lectures the patrons about being quiet at all times during the performance. The performer on our night is mediocre at best. She does not appear to have sets booked at a specific hour, say at 8pm and 10pm, between which dining could be scheduled. During our dinner, the singer sings sets of 4-6 songs with barely a 20-minute break in between. She sings so often, and the manager scolds everyone before each “set”, that we feel we cannot enjoy any conversation with our dinner companions.
Opal is trying to have its diners – who have no chance to fully enjoy the chef’s creations – pay for its overly serious approach to jazz. Opal cannot be a restaraunt and jazz lounge with their current formula. Food is meant to be enjoyed and shared with good friends after a long hard week. We should not be lectured or shushed like kindergartners. We love jazz and would appreciate a spectacular dinner plus a performance to remember, but not a tepid performance during an overpriced dinner. After all, we’re the ones keeping them in business.
Hello Fellow Gourmets ....and Gourmands!
The idea for this blog came about last week, after I'd had a disappointing experience at a hyped-up restaurant. I wanted to post a review but found, to my chagrin, that it's impossible to do so on the main sites. I enjoy reading 'professional' reviews by the likes of Joanne Kates and James Chatto. But if I can recognize them when they're seated next to me (or most often, I'm at the least favoured table in the house and they're across the room at the best), then so can restauranteurs, chefs, maitre d's and everyone else who works in this industry. I want to provide a place where regular folks can find reviews by other regular folks. So read on, dine out, and write in.
PS: The first few posts will be posted today, as I've been dining out quite a bit in the last week and have a lot to dish.
PS: The first few posts will be posted today, as I've been dining out quite a bit in the last week and have a lot to dish.
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