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.
Monday, February 26, 2007
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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