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“Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” and they “Do the Evolution” of the Diner

November 12, 2013November 15, 2013 spennyrdLeave a comment

I tend to hit my fair share of diners in my travels. In the past few years there has been a resurgence of the old diner concept with new establishments popping up in even some of the chic metropolitan areas of big cities (places like The Little Goat in Chicago and Rose and Sons in Toronto). Although the “evolution” of new school diners have grasped onto some of the concepts of their ancestors (such as vinyl booths and counter seating), nothing can replace some aspects that make the old school diner what it is.

Here are a few observations I have made about diners:

1. Ninety-percent of old school diners are either named after a person or some kind of geographical entity or location. In Sudbury, I grew up going to Gloria’s restaurant. The Countryview diner in Chatham inspired me to write this blog. There’s the Lakeview in Toronto, the Southside restaurant in London and the Elgin Street diner in Ottawa. The fact that there is there is no view of a river at the Riverview or that Alice’s is owned by some dude named Paul seems a moot point in the diner culture.

2. Much like you can count on any Chinese restaurant to have either a cocktail menu or a horoscope written on their disposable menus (which eventually will be laden with bright red sweet and sour sauce), diners slap down the generic bilingual Welcome/Bienvenue mats which quickly get soaked with egg grease or globs of strawberry jam. The table is also adorned with a carousel of prepackaged peanut butter, strawberry jams and orange marmalade (which in fact may be the same marmalade that has been there since 1984), hard butter packets and creamers which not only lighten the less than stellar coffee but serve as building blocks for bored 6 year olds who eventually shove one or two in their mouths and pop them much to the chagrin of the accompanying family members.

4. As much as the show “Two Broke Girls” annoys the hell out of me, it’s a fair depiction of the old school diner. The blackboard is reserved for the soup of the day plus/minus today’s special which tends to be a classic comfort dish. My personal favorite is the “hot hamburg” (the “er” on the end of hamburger is entirely optional for some reason) in which a hamburger patty in placed between two slices of white bread and laden with rich gravy and served with frozen crinkle cut fries and “homemade” slaw. The special also comes with soup or juice as a side. I’ve always been intrigued by how the provision of a 3 oz shot glass of juice even compares to a steaming bowl of “homemade” soup. The same show also depicts the reality that the minimum age to work behind the cash in a diner is 70 (perhaps this was the inspiration for Pearl Jam’s “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town)”. This person is clearly the quarterback of the organization despite the fact they take ten minutes to enter the price of each of the hand written orders into the Casio cash register and verify with the waitress that I indeed ordered the addition of grilled onions on my homefries for $0.45. The process is interrupted two or three times when the cashier engages in a conversation with the three of four regulars about the size of Mabel’s homegrown pumpkin or the fact that toilet paper is on sale at the local grocery store.

5. Rice pudding and jello are mandatory desserts in any old school diner. Furthermore, the pudding must be topped with an amount of cinnamon equal to a Rob Ford stash and the red or green jello must be cut into squares with architecture I.M. Pei would envy.

6. Small town diners ultimately have a dichotomy of staff. On one side is the surly old woman who could tell you the number of pieces of gum stuck under table twelve, the amount of force you hit to hit the chugging ice machine with to keep it fully functional and the name of every regular who has walked in since the sixties. On the other is the 17 year old “friend of the family” waitress whose angst is evident in the nose piercing (which later becomes the focal point of conversations at the counter when she’s not there). This angst is partially rooted in the slight reality that she, like her coworker, may never leave the tight web of a small town and be forced to marry some guy named Billy and have a stag and doe the whole town will attend.

In the end, I adore diners. They scream Canadiana in the same fashion as snowbanks and poutine. Whether they have stayed the same for 50 years, evolved over time (including replacing old staff with hipsters with an equally surly attitude) or recently opened with adherence to an old school philosophy (like Mae’s in Detroit), they are a fundamental component of the food service structure and deserve respect. I think of the numerous food network shows in which the celebrity chefs cite the perfect fried egg as the pinnacle of culinary expertise yet it’s second nature to many of the seasoned veterans who grace the grills of diners across the country.

Review:Toronto:Coffee:Tampered Press

November 2, 2013 spennyrdLeave a comment

When it comes to coffee houses, there’s a few things I look for:

1. Decent internet. Ample plug-in sockets are an asset.

2. A welcoming decor including enough space to avoid having somebody reading my computer screen or vice-versa (speaking of which I was in a coffee shop and the guy beside me had a glamour shot of himself as his wallpaper…creepy).

3. At least something decent to munch on.

A bonus is always an attempt at a unique interpretation of a coffee concoction.

Tampered press is located at the corner of Crawford and Dundas. It’s a humble exterior complete with a bowl full of dog treats and water on the sidewalk. When you enter, it opens up into a spacious square room containing communal and smaller tables. The high shelves are lined with books (which included what I’m assuming was a get this the hell out of my house donated copy of Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons). There’s art on the wall, they take credit cards, adopt the clean spoon/dirty spoon concept and have a tip cup that says “Tips” as opposed to “College Fund” or “Karma Jar”.

The list of beverages included the standard lattes and americanos but I was interested in the dirty chai. I think I’m drawn to dirty things, so I had to ask. Turns out it’s a chai latte laced with espresso which, according to the barista, balances the normal overbearing sweetness of a normal chai tea latte. Sounded good to me, so I ordered a medium for about four bucks. With a skill which was second nature and while discussing the ridiculousness of vegetable bread, she produced a great drink complete with the signature leaf decoration on top. I quite enjoyed it and went up for seconds. The cheese croissant was pretty good as well.

My Take

There’s a million coffee shops in Toronto (500 000 if you exclude Starbucks). Some look like they were carved out of a garage and others have a cosiness where you can stretch out, people watch and surf the net with decent wi-fi for the next coffee shop you’ll infiltrate. The Tampered Press is the latter. They make a decent latte, serve a good croissant and have lots of characters to gawk at….and you get a leaf on your latte! As for the name, it might be fun to open up either a dog groomer or a hair studio next door called “The Pampered Tress”. That way, people would get even more confused looking for a coffee shop with a Crawford address who’s storefront actually sits on Dundas.

Review:The Annex:Bickford Flexitarian

October 15, 2013 spennyrd2 Comments

When I was looking for a place to grab some breakfast, I came across the Bickford Flexitarian, a relatively new cafe on Harbord St. When I heard the name, it reminded me of a classic novel synonymous with Wuthering Heights by Charlotte Bronte or Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence.

The Bickford Flexitarian
A Fare..Eat..Ale about Flax Seed and Forgiveness

It was a sweltering summer day. Two figures emerged from a vehicle amongst the modest laden cyclists who painted the roads. The contrasting ideologies of the two made choosing a venue difficult. Although both shared an affinity for fine fare, a conflict emerged. He was a portly porkivore; she a gluten intolerant pescatarian. They shared a very similar yet different passion for food. Rumours of the Bickford Flexitarian had filled the air and these pilgrims were on a maiden journey to this haven in which communal eating could occur regardless of where they choose to eat on the food chain.

As they approached the air seemed barren. There was a eerie stillness which bled into the uneven sidewalks. The pit in their stomachs grew as they walked toward the inevitable. The doors were locked, the counters were bare. No warning was provided; both the website and facebook betrayed them. After the tedious journey through traffic and the descent toward their destination, the harvest was nil. He clenched his hands in frustration as they turned in unison and returned alone the same trail they had just carved. He was scorned and promised himself that some retribution would occur. Perhaps an ill-tempered tweet or a cantankerous comment to those who would listen would remedy his angst.

A handful of fortnights later he was on a solo mission in the vicinity of the Bickford. A whisper of distain returned as the memories filled his head. Once again, cyclists were weaving and ringing their bells along the Harbord St paths in efforts to alert irate drivers and unaware squirrels to their presence. With a renewed swagger, he proceeded to the front door to find it ajar. The Bickford was open.

As promised, the list of fare was diverse, ranging from raw and vegan to blackened chicken omelettes. The proprietor was a pleasant lass. Perhaps out of an increased curiosity for the raw food movement or perhaps out of homage to his missing partner, he inquired about the walnut banana “french toast.” Without pretension, she beamed that the toast was the creation of her own hands but subtly questioned his commitment, likely the result of his phenotype which suggested a probable affinity for all things ham. He assured her he was of sound mind and that he wasn’t nuts; he just wanted to eat them, along with an Americano of course.

As he was waiting he confessed his frustration over his previous fruitless endeavour. He was told the Bickford was closed on Tuesdays during the summer months, a practice which was common among many establishments. Her pleasant demeanor filled his heart and he had an instant need to forgive the oversight.

The delivery of the goods was prompt. As promised, it was a bit of an adventure off the beaten path. The “toast” itself was dense and full of earthy flavours. The cashew cream made butter seem like an ex-girlfriend and the date syrup was sultry to the tongue. The walnuts, blueberries and pollyanna fruit cup were perfect accessories. He deemed the Americano delicious as well. It was true, he somewhat longed for some salty swine to complete the dish but there was solace in the fact that he was able to adhere to the philosophy of his missing travel mate and the other tree hugging cyclists he carefully avoided on his way into the Bickford to begin with.

Walnut Banana 'French Toast' $10.50 — Walnut Banana ‘French Toast’ $10.50

As he ate, other patrons ventured inside with many interested in the baked goods which lined the shelves. In particular the gluten free muffins seemed to be a hit. Since he had a work rendezvous with this travel mate the next day, he asked the lass to hold one for him. She gladly complied and wrapped it for the pending trip. Upon his departure he produced his means of payment only to be told to put it away and accept the muffin as an apology for the previous confusion.

He ventured back to his vehicle with a new found admiration for the Bickford Flexitarian. True, all it took was a muffin but it was more than that. It was about respect, acknowledgment and remedy.

By the way, she enjoyed the muffin.

My Take

The Bickford Flexitarian has plunged into the competitive cafe/coffee shop market. Although located a bit off the beaten path, there is plenty of bike traffic as well as those who take Harbord to avoid the clogged arteries of College or Bloor streets. Speaking of clogged arteries, Bickford offers hearty breakfasts that spare the heart and are more creative than the glass enclosed baked goods a lot of the others offer. They also realize that serving healthy food doesn’t need to come with a side of self-righteousness.

The story of Bickford Flexitarian is one of betrayal and forgiveness which, unlike a story such as Jane Eyre, has a happy ending. Ok…that’s a bit much but I often longed to spend my days drinking coffee and writing about my interpretation of the state of society. The irony is it took the consumption of a raw walnut banana flax bread for me to do so.

Review:Toronto:Riverdale/Leslieville:Ruby Watchco

October 14, 2013October 14, 2013 spennyrd2 Comments

Lynn Crawford is arguably one of the most recognizable Canadian chefs on network TV. Not only is she is a local icon, consulting for shows like Marylin Denis and starring in shows like Pitchin’ In and Restaurant Makeover, she has become a household name across the border by tackling Bobby Flay on Iron Chef America and recently competing on Top Chef Masters. I’ll also argue she is a sorceress.

I had the opportunity to meet her and chef Lora Kirk at a food truck fund raiser a while back. At this point I had been to Ruby Eats, her retail outlet featuring pickles, jams, specialty foods and take out lunches. On the other hand, I hadn’t yet ventured to Ruby Watchco, her single menu, set price family style venue a few doors down on Queen East. I’d had intentions and I’m not fussy in general (other than tomatoes, olives, goat cheese and lamb) but the latter seemed to the be main course every time I had the chance to go.

Finally, the stars aligned. I was in town, loved the look of the menu, called and was greeting by a pleasant voice who booked me a “half eight” reservation (I think old school UK accents are so cool…I suddenly had Ruby Tuesday by the Stones in my head..after all it was a Tuesday and I was going to Ruby). After verifying with my translator, I confirmed that this indeed meant 830 and I was good to go.

The decor is a mix of modern and rustic. It’s long and narrow, with a large bar on the left and a semi-open kitchen in the back. Laura was front and centre and Lynn was buzzing around in the background. The waitstaff were dressed with a professionalism Charles the Butler would approve of.

Here’s where the sorcery comes in. Looking at the menu, you think you’re going to get off easy. I mean, $49 for a 4 course meal orchestrated by one of Canada’s most recognizable chefs seems like a steal. What you’re not told is the series of temptations that await once you are seated. Take for example, the Red Derby, Ruby’s spin on the Caesar. I was warned by a friend who was there the week before that the Caesar was addictive. It looked innocent enough, served without the bells and whistles such a side of charcuteire or a lobster tail. It was a straight up Caesar served with Charlie’s pickles (of which I have purchased a few jars in the past and thoroughly enjoyed at home) which hit all the elements of the classic Canadian cocktail. At $14 a pop, I gave in and had a couple over the course of the meal.

The evening’s menu started with “Barrie Hills Farms’ Watermelon Salad”. It was a slew of everything from feta to prosciutto to radish. The watermelon was not as abundant as i predicted but added enough sweet to balance the diversity of salty and bitter flavours which were abundant in the other ingredients. The dressing was delicate and catalyzed instead of drowning the salad’s fresh ingredients.

Temptation two from Lynn’s bag of tricks was Lora’s lobster BLT. $16 gets you half a sandwich served with cocktail sauce. Using my primary math skills means a whole sandwich would equate to $32, but it’s lobster! and worth it. It’s one of the better things I’ve eaten this year. The bread stayed crisp despite housing a concoction of chunky lobster meat and avocado. The debate was the use of the cocktail sauce. In one sense I didn’t want to mask the flavour of the lobster. On the other hand, the tangyness was a great compliment to the sweet sandwich filling.

The cheddar biscuits were a nice addition to the meal. Nothing speaks to family dinners like the smell of freshly baked biscuits and Ruby’s were fluffy and delicious.

With the main course , my head was filled with memories of old family dinners which featured overcooked pot roast, lumpy potatoes, soggy greens and carrots which disintegrate with the touch of the fork. Ruby’s, on the other hand, redefined the meal with an offering of grilled flank steak with sweet hot pepper sauce served with potato salad, charred broccoli and roasted heirloom carrots. Each component was well executed, the sauces were delicious and the portions were a good size. Sure, the broccoli could have used a little more char and the carrots an extra minute cooking, but it was a rewarding meal that didn’t need to be salvaged by a ladle full of trio gravy.

Flank Steak, Potato Salad, Broccoli and Carrots

Damn you goat cheese! I loathe you so! Despite the beautiful presentation, I couldn’t finish it. I could have easily eaten a bowl of the honey and peaches though. I asked my colleague his thoughts; he enjoyed the cheese and would have even liked more of the peach/honey mix.

Ruby's Cheese Course — Ruby’s Cheese Course

Dessert was a maple pot de creme topped with strawberries. My biggest problem was the portion size (it was probably adequate but the dessert was so good it just wasn’t enough). I could have eaten three of them. My colleague suggested a sprinkle of salt (or bacon) may have been a nice touch although I think Lynn would have something to say about that.

Once again, I succumbed to the wizardly of Lynn and ordered an Americano afterwards. It wasn’t very good and I was charged $5 (which is one the highest prices I’ve paid for one). It was a bit of a bitter end to the night (primarily because coffee is bitter I suppose).

My Take

Lynn Crawford’s Ruby Watchco employs a concept few chefs could get away with…one menu at one price (but in the words of Mick Jagger.. “Who could hang a name on you? When you change with every new day.”…damn that song is still in my head). The nightly menu is generally traditional (brick chicken, fish on Fridays etc…) and may not appeal to everybody on a daily basis, especially those looking for pulled pork tacos or a bowl of ramen. I will admit the single menu choice has kept me away a few times. Once there, however, you are thrown into an environment which combines the modernism of Toronto eateries with the tradition of a sit down Sunday dinner (although they are closed on Sundays).

Once again, Lynn Crawford is a sorceress. Her promise of a $49 dinner gets clouded by a spell of choice cocktails and seductive sandwiches. The next thing you know. the bill inflates to triple digits but you can’t help but leave feeling pretty satisfied. In addition, you can avoid the pitfalls of a family dinner: there is no need to pretend like your annoying niece is cute or that you care about the cyst on your Aunt’s cat Fluffy’s paw. Ya, it costs a bit more but maybe I can offer to pitch in and shuck some oysters or pick some peaches for a few bucks off.

Review:Toronto:Downtown:Origin

October 6, 2013October 6, 2013 spennyrdLeave a comment

I was criticized recently for blogging about a restaurant that was open for less than a week. I mean, who am I to make a comment about the fact that if you’re going to charge me $16 for a bowl of soup, it better be damn good, a statement which to me seems unrelated to the length of time a place has been open?

So, as a result, I’ll reflect on my recent visit to origin, a King street joint that been open a lot longer than a week (although origin north is still rather new so I wouldn’t want to step outside my boundaries as a food critic/blogger/whatever). I would argue that origin may have been a bit clairvoyant when choosing its name as it was one of the first restaurants which embraced the small plate, open kitchen concept which has since spread North, East and West across the Toronto landscape (I can’t say south given the geographical limitations due to Lake Ontario and the rather static Esplanade dining scene.) I went to Origin a few years ago which at the time was under the watchful eye of Steve Gonzalez, who has subsequently opened up Valdez which has a strikingly similar philosophy. I was a bit surprised to see that the menu and decor have changed very little during this time.

I started the night with a “Brass Knuckles” cocktail. I normally don’t drink tequila, but the combination of fruity and bitter flavours along with the fact that a few dollars from each sale goes to cancer research was appealing. It did have a medicinal taste which may explain the name as it feels a bit like a punch in the throat. I wouldn’t go as far as to call it Buckley’s… it’s more like that cherry cough syrup your mother gave you as a kid that you secretly didn’t mind taking when you had a chest cold.

The spicy spanish fries with chorizo and manchego seemed a good start. They reminded me of poutine meets patatas bravas . The additional of chorizo was brilliant but I would have liked a runny aioli or spicy tomato sauce to saturate the fries instead of the globs of thick mayo which topped it. The fries were nicely cooked and the manchego added an appropriate saltiness to the $12 snack.

I must confess I have a bad habit. I see deviled eggs on a menu, get giddy, order them, eat them and then sigh with a tad of disappointment. I sighed a little less at origin. Although I found the taste of the filling to be average, these eggs were smart. The souffletine (little cereal balls), the crisp salty and erect bacon plus the leafy herbs tantalized all the taste buds. I must confess I was a little happy my table mate wasn’t a fan of eggs.

Drink two was an old thyme sour, a spin on the classic cocktail. Garnished with fresh thyme, it was bold balance of savory and sweet and laced with sour…a simple yet satisfying drink.

Instead of delving into the small plates, we decided to opt for the big guns and chose the two $33 entrees. The black cod in broth with asian veggies was full of classic flavours, The cod maintained its buttery texture while swimming in a nicely balance broth. The bitterness of the veggies added another dimension. I’m still hung up on the perfectly cooked black cod at George, so I can’t put this at that level but it gets honorable mention. The beef tenderloin sizzling hot plate (with potatoes , kale, mushrooms, roasted onion butter and ponzu) was the other $33 offering. The concept was good but the execution not so much. The onion butter lay cold atop the luke warm and less than abundant tenderloin. The kale/mushroom mix was tasty and maintained a good temperature atop the hot plate. Perhaps I could have romanticized the dish a little more and mixed the butter and beef throughout the dish but hey I’m dumb and always appreciate an explanation of the procedure required to fulfill a chef’s vision.

Beef Tenderloin $33 (some beef was already snagged before I got to ake the picture)

The service was a bit slow, so I can use that fact to blame the poor quality of the dessert pics. When it gets dark, I rely on old faithful…my blackberry 9700 with a resolution comparable to a Fisher-Price camera. The two us have polar preferences when it comes to dessert, I chose the meringue with citrus and coconut…he chose the hot chocolate cake with soft serve ice cream. My dessert looked like Stonehenge….the rocks were alternating pieces of meringue and citrus slices on a plain of custard and sprinkled with coconut. Like the legendary landmark, it was intriguing and yet a bit confusing. The chocolate cake hit the mark. The cake was moist and warm and topped with the right amount of bitter chocolate powder to offset the sweetness of the delicious ice cream.

My Take

Whether a restaurant is brand new or a veteran in the Toronto dining scene, I have argued before that Darwin’s theories are applicable to restaurants. Survival is a process that requires an understanding of the environment including food trends and value. At the same time, new eateries need a seed, a foundation in which any new concept will grow from as opposed to replace. Perhaps this is my justification to “whatever” a place within days or years of opening.

Origin was exactly that: the origin of the evolution of eateries for the cool kids in the GTA. Obviously, its success is evident in the fact that it has offspring in both Liberty Village and Midtown. Although I didn’t delve into the mozzarella bar or the raw bar, the foods I did try were scattered across the spectrum. Although nothing was highly memorable, the Spanish fries, eggs and cod were on the better side and the beef fell a little short. The desserts were a definite talking point. The meringue was light and abstract…the cake was rich and traditional. The mix of trendy cocktails, witty small plates and a few tempting and expensive classics have become a blueprint for a number of other emerging favorites in all directions outward from King and Church. In the end, maybe Claudio Aprile’s gradual evolution from Colborne Lane to origin was sheer luck or maybe it was sheer brilliance, but I’ll give credit where credit is due (and kindly ask him to remember this should I try out for Masterchef Canada again next year).

Review:Toronto:Little Italy:Hudson Kitchen

October 1, 2013October 1, 2013 spennyrd6 Comments

TIFF is annoying. It’s the time of year when A-listers pretend that they are artists and not actors who hold out for big salaries and insist on the right camera angles to minimize acne breakouts or skin blemishes. Actors like Adrian Brody forget the Gillette commercials they did with Andre 3000 and the other guy nobody’s ever heard of and become humble thespians touting the need to preserve the art of flim. So, I didn’t go to Hudson Kitchen because Brad Pitt had a private meal there (although it would be dreamy to put my ass in the same spot he did). I was more impressed at the fact that the chef had a history at Ursa and Woodlot, two restaurants which pride themselves on quality seasonal food and innovative plating techniques.

Hudson kitchen is a good sized restaurant, an expansion of the old Palmerston cafe which sits on the corner of Dundas West. Like Woodlot and Ursa, the decor was a blend of chic and worn. A small bar tended by a large man with quite the dapper mustache greets you as you enter who, based on the pre-opening hype, foreshadows the possibility of a pristine cocktail. The tables are scattered among hardwood floors. In the front, one wall is plain white and the other displays a plethora of picture frames containing quirky pics like the fork running away with the spoon.

I can just imagine what the A-list celebrity turned humble artist would say:

“Hudson kitchen is like Fight Club meets Interview with the Vampire. It’s a worn yet classic venue’s struggle in a predominantly Italian neighborhood. I was drawn by the evolution from the old Palmerston attitude and grasped the metamorphosis into a modern yet classic eatery for middle aged foodies.”

In fact, I was a little surprised by the crowd, True, it was early in the evening but a number of older couples were filling the place. Whitish hair, sport coats with jeans and the occasional sweater draped over the shoulders of a crisp dress shirt.

The cocktail list is short and sweet (well ironically..it’s not that sweet as most of the drinks gravitate more to the savory side of things).

Back to the artist…

“The Earth to Grapefruit seemed simple enough: beefeater, campari, lemon and cointreau. What’s amazing is the fact that it tasted like grapefruit without any grapefruit… a true demonstration of phenomenal cinematography similar to eating a Jelly Belly which tastes like popcorn and wondering how they achieved such trickery. It had a predominant bitterness (much like myself) that encompassed the struggle between the earth and the fruit it produces.”

Earth to Grapefruit $13 — Earth to Grapefruit $14

“The Innocence Lost was exactly that…the innocence of a fat free cocktail is replaced with a cream based, multi-ingredient concoction reminiscent of a latte. It’s a realistic look at the struggle for identity in a crowded metropolitan cocktail market. The use of albumin is an advancement over the peasantry of mere egg white. There was a good balance and despite the fruit infusions and simple sugar, it lacked an overbearing sweetness.”

“The Covert Slim was the best of the choices. It was a modern day Romeo and Juliet…the brilliance was the conflict between the pre-dinner aperol and the post-dinner amaro to co-exist in something that can be enjoyed during the meal. Once again, the albumin played a key role in unifying these protagonists among a cast of bitter characters including lemon and grapefruit juice.”

“The expectation for people to pay for bread is a painful reminder of the evolution of societal norms. Yet at the same time we can demand that it’s brilliant. The schmaltz was supposed to be the star but was replaced by EVOO from Spain at the eleventh hour. This allowed the spectacular performance of the charred eggplant to shine. It was an absolutely delicious performance and elevated the decent bread to a higher level.”

House-Made Bread with EVOO and Charred Eggplant $4

“Hudson’s mushroom broth could be the new Pulp Fiction $5 milkshake. If you charge $16 bucks for mushroom broth it better be f’ing good. Unfortunately, the performance was similar to that of Jennifer Aniston…..not worth the money. It was a good broth but it wasn’t great. A few pieces of rye bread, some watercress and an extra pouring broth table side doesn’t make up for it.”

“Once again, the highlight of the late summer harvest salad was the supporting actor. The walnut brittle was the star. Although the concept of the harvest was lost (other than a few dollops of earthy paste hidden among the forest of greens), it was a nicely dressed salad rustically served atop a cross-section of a tree trunk.”

Late Summer Harvest Salad, Walnut Brittle $14

“The tagliatelle was the only vegetarian dish available. It was an exploration into the unpredictable sourness of society as demonstrated by the preserved lemon within the confines of the traditions of Parmesan cheese and zucchini. The pasta was a solid al dente performance but a slightly salty interpretation but tasty in the end.”

Tagliatelle, Zucchini, Preserved Lemon and Parmesan $22

” The chicken adobo was a disappointing attempt at recreating the underbelly of Filipino cooking. Despite a sinful showing of breasts and thighs, there was a dryness to the performance which hardly created an eroticism among the brussel sprouts, quinoa and eggplant. Her skin was beautiful, however, tanned to a mouth watering crispy perfection. The sultry broth added a bit of sex appeal, it couldn’t cover the prosaic poultry.”

“The pear, gingerbread and caramel dessert was a celebration of all things autumn and symbolic of the growth of a pear…from flower to succulent fruit. The gingerbread and ice cream caressed the fruit, reminding it of the earth from which its tree once grew. Spongy Nougat reminded us that sweetness can come in all shapes and sizes. A truly tasty performance.”

My Take

If this truly were a movie cast, the walnut brittle, charred eggplant and chicken skin would be nominated for best supporting actor roles. Perhaps the art direction warrants an Oscar nod since the chicken and dessert plates were beautiful. The cocktails were a mixed bag and had names which sound like summer movie releases (I can’t wait to see Brad Pitt in Covert Slim next year). Otherwise, the main characters fell short in their attempt to elevate Hudson Kitchen to A-list status. Priced like a concession stand at a Cineplex, the salad ($14), adobo ($26), pasta ($22) and especially the broth ($16) just weren’t worth it. Plus, you have to pay for bread and water (if you want still or sparking) which adds to an already inflated bill of fare. The waitstaff seemed to lack confidence which is somewhat forgivable given the fact the place is in its infancy.

If Ursa and Woodlot are Godfather I and II, Hudson Kitchen is Godfather III. Since it was a little disappointing, I can’t give it two thumbs up and since it cost me an arm and a leg to eat there, I couldn’t use both thumbs anyway.

Review:Toronto:Downtown:Queen and Beaver Public House

September 27, 2013September 28, 2013 spennyrdLeave a comment

When I think of a queen and a beaver, a few things come to mind:

1. A nickel (they new scum of the earth currency since the penny disappeared).

2. Something I saw on late night TV once.

3. A cool English pub on Elm Street in downtown Toronto.

In North America, the word pub has evolved to mean ” a chain that serves stuff that once resembled English fare”. Such establishments have popped up all over Ontario, promising fragrant curries and the best fish and chips in town wrapped in wax paper that looks like newspaper. The decor focuses on bar stools, big wooden bars, half a dozen “Drink Guinness” posters hanging beside the flashing Bud Light sign and your choice of three types of Johnnie Walker scotch. A football is oval instead of round and Leafs nation rules.

So, it’s a bit refreshing to enter a pub with an allegiance to the motherland. The Queen and Beaver has a worn look, nestled among steak houses, Italian restaurants and a Firkin pub along Elm Street. The bottom floor is a humble dining room and a trip up the stairs brings you to a quaint area with a big screen tv, a long, threadbare bar and weary chairs and chesterfields. The choice of menu ranges from traditional bar snacks to larger plates featuring an array of almost every type of protein a limey would crave.

On this night, I climbed the stairs and sat at the bar. An English football game was playing on the tele and I promptly ordered a cask ale, a rare finding in Toronto. Featured was an Arkell best bitter from the Wellington brewery in Guelph. I love a beer you have pull in order to pour.

For a starter, I ordered Wall Fish and marrow on toast for $11. The Wall fish, aka snails, were hidden beneath a sheath of arugula. Once removed, I had a feeling of an 10 year old uncovering an army of gastropods after removing a log or bunch of vegetation. The marrow offered a rich and salty accent similar to the garlic butter which drenches the escargot in the French dish. Delicious!

In the foodie world, you don’t discuss three things: politics, religion and burgers. I’ve heard arguments erupt over which burger reigns supreme. In many cases, Marben vs Harbord Room enters the discussion. A recent Burger Wars episode had a bunch of subway buskers crown Parts and Labour’s P and L burger the champion by beating out the iconic Vatican from Burger’s Priest and the mercurial Dangerous Dan’s Coronary Burger. I humbly offer the Queen and Beaver’s hand chopped burger as a strong contender for the crown. Instead of the finally ground offerings of most burgers, this chunky patty allows for medium rare without contention and was a thrill to eat, especially topped with aged cheddar and some english bacon and nestled in a sesame bun. The side of fries were stellar and served with some homemade ketchup and a few pickled vegetables. It was also cool (yes cool is an acceptable term in England) that they ask about cheese and bacon without an addtional charge. It’s the little things.

The array of puddings were a spectrum of contemporary and classic. Despite my strong affinity for the pineapple and marshmallows offered in the other desserts, I had to stick with the sticky toffee pudding. I must admit, I had high expectations, especially after the burger and few pints. It didn’t let me down. It hit every note of the traditional pudding; spicy moist cake, rich sauce and ice cream to balance it all off. The faint hint of treacle was evident in the sauce (which subsequently made me drive my car to the British store a few days later to buy a can).

Addendum: A couple of weeks after the initial visit I went back for some more pudding and a few bites of cheese (I subsequently bit the rest after taking the picture like Luis Suarez in a Chelsea game). The Lord of Hundreds cheese was amazing and the Sticky Toffee pudding was as good as the first time. I was rather touched to see the pudding served in the same bowl my granny had years ago. Although totally unintentional, it just added to my fondness for this place, despite the framed Ryan Giggs jersey hanging on the wall (this is coming from the mouth of a scouser).

Fully eaten Sticky Toffee Pudding in my Granny's bowl — Fully eaten Sticky Toffee Pudding in my Granny’s bowl

My Take

I wish there was some regulatory body which would regulate the use of the word “pub”. Why not send Jeeves the Butler around with a checklist, ready to reprimand wannabees in a pretentious accent:

Lack of Neon Bud Signs….check

Cask Beer…check

Staff which a beer knowledge base greater than “Guiness is Irish”…check

Damn Good Food….check.

The Queen and Beaver would easily pass. Whether the name pays homage to Canada as a part of the commonwealth or if it’s a name intended to generate snickers from teenage boys and “Naked Gun” fans, it’s a classic pub in a city of replicas and imposters who count down the days to St. Patrick’s day in a feeble attempt to justify their authenticity….even if I have to look at a United jersey the whole time.

Review:Vancouver:Falconetti’s

September 15, 2013September 15, 2013 spennyrdLeave a comment

When I first heard the name Falconetti’s, I had in my head it was spelt “Falcon Eddy’s”. Maybe I was thinking of the 1988 winter Olympics in Calgary, where the appearance of Eddie “The Eagle” Edwards (you live in Philadelphia or Atlanta, eagles and falcons aren’t that different, right?) He was the iconic British ski Jumper who left memories as endearing as the Jamaican bobsled team. I was hoping this place wasn’t quite the same as them..a lot of hype without a lot of talent.

Upon arrival at this DDD located on Commercial Drive in Vancouver, I was lucky to get a seat on the rooftop patio. The mountainous view was spectacular and other reminder of Olympic games of the past (I’d say I could almost see Eddie flying through the air but he wasn’t that good.)

Falconetti's Rooftop View (Free) — Falconetti’s Rooftop View (Free)

So, in homage to the Olympic games, I embarked on an esculent heptathlon in an effort to taste the best of what the joint had to offer.

The 60 m event was an $8 Cucumber Love -Beefeater Gin, Muddled Cucumber, Lime Juice, Brown Sugar & Soda). I finished it in record time and found it quite refreshing, especially amidst the warm Vancouver afternoon. Alternatively, there was a number of local pints on tap, ranging from Storm to Russell to Granville. Not a bad start to the meal.

Falconetti's Gin ($8) — Falconetti’s Gin ($8)

The long jump was the artichoke dip. It’s a standard bar food that can be really good or really bad. This one was somewhere in between and a little steep (yes, more mountain analogies) at $13. After a great start, I fell a bit down the rankings with this effort.

The shotput was the poutine (both involve a heavy ball…one is steel and the other sits in the pit of your stomach for hours after eating). I recently had a discussion with a friend of mine about 5 foods I’d want to be stuck with on a desert island if food preparation and safety weren’t an issue. I thought long and hard and came up with spicy tuna sushi, rice pudding and cheese right away and was a bit stuck on the last ones. I’d like to add Kennebec fries to the list. I’ve professed my love for the Kennebec potato in previous blogs and am quite pleased to see their recent migration to the centre of the universe( aka Toronto). It’s also good to see that the poutine has traveled west. Falconetti’s hits the mark with this modest $8 offering which let the fries shine.

I needed the afterburners for the 60 metre hurdles..the afterburner burger that is, I’m a consistent sucker for a burger topped with jalapeno anything. The burger was a little less than what I expected. The bun was great. The biggest hurdle was an abundance of beef which was a bit more done than I like and not enough burn. The side salad was absolutely delicious, consisting of mixed greens (including kale) oranges, pecans, roasted corn and soy beans with a citrus vinaigrette.

The pole vault has to be the sausage (insert phallic joke here). My indecisive nature lead me to order the sampler which is an opportunity to try 3 different signatures sausages (hot italian, chicken thai and polish) with a few dipping sauces. Seen as the signature dish of Falconetti’s , I was hoping this would be the standout event. The hot Italian was classic and delicious although it didn’t have eye watering heat. The other two were less orthodox (Thai chicken and Polish beef) and less tasty. Although it was moist (which is tough for a chicken sausage), I was seeking more intense thai flavour. The Polish were a bit dry and didn’t have memorable seasoning or taste.

The finishing event, the 1000 metre run, was the key lime pie. Although I did not snap a picture, it was excellent. The tart filling was the star and was balanced nicely by the crust and topping.

My Take

Any joint endorsed by Guy Fieri should be in medal contention. In this heptathlon, Falconetti’s fared well in many events and faltered a bit in others, To start, the drink menu, highlighted by solid cocktails and decent local beer, got me out of the gates quickly. The spinach dip was overpriced with only an average jump. The poutine with Kennebec fries was delicate and well- balanced and didn’t leave me feeling like I just ate a shotput . The afterburner burger fizzled a bit but the side salad got me over the hurdles. Regarding the sausages, touted as the pinnacle event, the bar was raised to world record levels although it was a decent effort. The final event, the key lime pie, put the whole meal into medal contention. Although not a gold medal performance, at the end I’d put this heptathlon of bar food on the podium of decent DDDs. Eddie would be proud.

Verdict– 4 Guyz

Review:Toronto:Midtown:L’Avenue

August 31, 2013August 31, 2013 spennyrdLeave a comment

A business meeting brought me midtown for dinner. Midtown is a place where restaurants are restaurants and not political statements or abstract expressions of social activism. You can get an appetizer, main and dessert for a decent price without the need for an explanation about the difference between a starter, small plate or large plate. The menus tend to be simple and the decor looks like a restaurants and not like Johnny’s auto shop. Plus, you can have a conversation without having Radioactive by the Imagination Dragons blasting or listening to Run DMC remind me about footwear:

Now the Adidas I possess for one man is rare
myself homeboy got 50 pair
got blue and black cause I like to chill
and yellow and green when it’s time to get ill
got a pair that I wear when I’m playin ball
with the heal inside make me 10 feet tall

(This is no crack at Run DMC. I’d just as upset if Locked in the Trunk of a Car by the Tragically Hip were blasting in my ear).

Unlike it’s name, L’Avenue is a smallish bistro on Bayview, not Avenue. It’s easy to miss with its quaint front; a freckle of the mosaic that makes up the Leaside neighbourhood. Like the name suggests, it focuses on french style cooking, although updated with lighter, fresher techniques and local, seasonal ingredients. There is an fairly extensive and reasonably priced list of red and white wines available (many bottles are in the 35-50 dollar range) from a diversity of regions, Krombacher (Pils and Dark) on tap and a spattering of local and world renowned beer included a gluten-free choice as well

This night featured an oyster special which was served on a cloud of salty meringue. They were fresh and meaty and seasoned nicely although I’m always a fan of a little heat on the side.

For my hors d’oeuvres (or appetizers for the anglophone), I opted for sweetbreads in a promise to exchange some of them for the bone marrow at the table. Sometimes sweetbreads run the risk over being overly greasy or gritty. The chef avoided both and offered a simple dish atop fragrant streaks of coulis. The marrow was also served in it’s fundamental form, simple seasoned with some herbs and bread crumbs to add some crunch.

Our table’s family style commitment continued with an array of entrees which included the Fried Chicken “a la Basque”, Catalan Seafood Stew “Zarzuela” and a duck feature (we played rock paper and scissors to actually determine who would order the latter). In summary, the execution of each dish was spot on. The fried chicken was moist, the duck a beautiful medium rare and the scallop had a perfect char which housed a glistening white interior. Instead of relying on traditional french flavours such as ummm…butter, the chicken and seafood stew (as the names suggest) were infused with Spanish flavours including tomato and saffron respectively. The duck was a bit more traditional but the addition of rhubarb was stellar and a testament to their commitment to use seasonal ingredients.

Duck Feature (mmm....Rhubarb) — Duck Feature (mmm….Rhubarb)

Here’s an interesting fact. The pavlova dessert was named after the Russian dancer Anna Pavlova (God, I love wikipedia). You would think that a dish with meringue as its foundation would have European origins, but in fact Pavlova is a creation of culinary juggernaut New Zealand (although Australia also tries to lay claim, possibly fueling the bitter Rugby rivalry which exists to this day). It was presented on a plate and with a style reminiscent of tea at Gramma’s on Sunday. Let’s call it an endearing cheesiness. Like the dishes before, it was well executed with a twist, in this case a tart passion fruit custard.

My Take

Calling L’Avenue a french bistro is a bit of a misnomer. Instead of small rich portions served in the most pretentious manner, the chefs invite Basque and Catalan flavours into many of the dishes and serve hearty portions in the midst of a casual environment.

L’Avenue bistro is like a good nap. It’s not the most exciting thing but it is refreshing and satisfying. You get Egyptian cotton sheets and a small mint on your fluffed pillow iwhile relaxing as soft music senerades you in the background. They adhere to a theme of comfort and tradition instead of throwing down an air mattress and trying to convince you it’s cool to sleep on it while blasting 2 Live Crew and then retweeting it when you do.

Review:Toronto:George

August 28, 2013August 28, 2013 spennyrdLeave a comment

The name George has been able to withstand the test of time. A popular name in the first half of the 20th century, it has still remained popular post world war II and even in the last 5 years, at a time in which names like Apple, Bacon, North and Wisdom reign the headlines. Even William and Kate named the future aire to the British Throne George (although I am convinced Elizabeth will live to 200 and shut out three generations of potentials kings).

There have been a number of influential and important George’s in history:

George Washington was the first president of the United States of America.
George Orwell was one of the most prolific writers of the 20th century.
George Carlin was a visionary in stand-up comedy.
George Harrison was a Beatle.
George was the star of a short lived early 70’s series about a loveable St. Bernard.
George Lucas created Star Wars.

Even in the world of food, the name has been synonymous with success:

George Washington Carver was considered a pioneer in the development of a number of food related products.
George Weston became one of the most successful food entrepreneurs in Canadian history.
George Foreman turned starving students into gourmet chefs.

So, any restaurant that calls itself George has some big boots, or pans to fill. First, it doesn’t hurt that it has a number of awards and accolades from Zagat, open table and numerous Toronto magazines. Second, chef Lorenzo Loseto uses words like “émigré traditions” in his bio on the about page of the website, so it’s gotta be good.

I had two opportunities to eat there in the span of a couple of weeks. The first was a small planning dinner and second was a group dinner with about 30 people. I apologize in advance for the qualities of the pics during the group dinner. The use of flash photography is not recommended when somebody is doing trying to explain the nuances of bone metabolism.

As far as drinks go, George has a fantastic wine list with a heavy focus on France and Italy. In particular, they had a special feature in which 4 unique Beaujolais wines were offered by the glass. In addition, they offer a number of artisanal and traditional cocktails. I opted for the George and Tonic. It was served with a cute side bottle of Fever Tree tonic water (a premium UK brand which beat’s the hell out of Schwepp’s). The main flavours were grapefruit and lemongrass. In fact, it was recommended that I chomp on the lemongrass after each sip to enhance the taste of the gin. Although I felt a bit like a panda bear, it was one of the better gin and tonics I have had.

I would define the waitstaff as modestly pretentious which doesn’t surprise me given the clientele and vibe of the restaurant itself. The waiter we had the first night seemed quite impatient and unimpressed by our speed in ordering and remained stonefaced throughout the evening. Even the bartender and hostess on night one seemed to be trying hard to fit the mold of a George Segal sculpture. The service for the group dinner was much better.

George Segal's The Diner (and some waitstaff) — George Segal’s The Diner (which is eerily to some of the waitstaff at George)

At both dinners I had a starter salad. The first was a spring mix with grilled peaches. I chose this since it was the beginning of season and I don’t think anything beats a fresh Ontario peach. The dressing was abundant (maybe too abundant) and had a distinct acidity. Although the pine nuts were abundant, I was a bit disappointed to only find two small peach slices amongst the jungle of greens on the plate, The boccachini cheese was also scarce but didn’t make much sense in the salad to begin with.

The second salad had the same greens, the same dressing but this time had avocado and quinoa. Although it was a little heavy on the ginger, the taste and texture of each component blended to create a surprisingly hearty starter (no pic).

The first plate courses included the soft shell crab with watermelon and avocado quinoa and black cod with a cashew crust and roasted beets. Each were executed well. The crab maintained it’s moisture but I thought the coating was pretty average. There is a notion right now that watermelon goes with everything but I’m not sure it worked on this plate. It was sweet on sweet, so the dish just didn’t have enough contrast.

The black cod, on the other hand, was divine. The fish itself could not have been cooked better. It had a delicate, buttery taste that was complemented by the nuttiness of the cashews. The roasted beets contained enough earthiness to offset the sweetness so the dish worked well.

Mains included the wild boar with almond potato croquettes and veg plus beef tenderloin with mushrooms and sweet potatoes. The boar was incredible. It was grilled to the perfect doneness and was served on a bed of fantastic vegetables which included pearled carrots and some tender legumes. I was like inhaling and swallowing the savannah winds themselves. If necessary, I would have wrestled a lion over this chop but would have been happy with the vegetables in the event he won.

The tenderloin was pretty standard, complemented with mushroom and sweet potato. The meat was not nearly as succulent as the cod or boar but it was a noble attempt in an effort to feed 30 people at once. It had a subtle anise or fennel flavour in the vegetables which, depending on your taste, could be a good or bad thing.

Beef Tenderloin (really bad pic). Part of group dinner

Desserts were a coconut custard and blueberry cheesecake. Although the custard was beautifully presented, it wasn’t as mind blowing as it looked. It’s sort of like that guy or girl you like to look at until they open their mouth and start talking. I could say the same about the cheesecake. I just didn’t want to lick either one all over when all was said and done.

My Take

One might suggest that George could be a namesake for a number of famous Georges, past or present. The innovative food preparation techniques and drink menu is reminiscent of a modern day George Washington Carver. The lovely appearance of each dish could be synonymous with the face of George Clooney. On that note, even the prettiest stars don’t always make great movies. The black cod and the boar were like the descendants, the Ides of March, Three Kings or even Dusk Till Dawn (yes, I love that movie), while the tenderloin and the desserts are a bit more like Out of Sight, Spy Kids 3: Game Over, Solaris or Return of the Killer Tomatoes. The salads were like Batman and Robin, decent but nowhere near the best in the series.

George is current and innovative and understands the importance of visually appealing food. The dishes look like Georges Seurat paintings. However, some of the waitstaff are as friendly as Georges St. Pierre during a pre-match weigh-in. Like a stunning work of art, an MMA pay per view fight or a good movie, you want to get what you pay for. If you follow their suggestions and go with the tasting menu or the three courses, plus dessert and a cocktail or glass of wine, your George Costanza wallet better be stuffed because it will run you over $100, but you will be treated to at least one or two memorable and stunning dishes, both from a visual and taste perspective. So pony up because after all….

“There is no sincerer love than the love of food”

George Bernard Shaw- Man and Superman (1903)