BarVolo got me thinking about what I was doing in 1985, the year it was established. I was a 12 year old elementary school student whose diet consisted of cooked ham on white, apples and a thermos full of fruit drink. The highlight of my school day was sniffing copies of handouts from the ditto machine like a drug addict.
Here’s a few other food things that happened in 1985
- James Beard died at the age of 81.
- New coke was released only to be scrapped later the same year, spawning the old but new Coca-Cola classic.
- James Dewer, inventor of the twinkie in 1930, died.
- Raspberry Beret by Prince hit #1 on the charts.
Source: http://www.foodreference.com/ (a good reference site for food geeks).
BarVolo is a small brewpub located near Yonge and Wellesley. There are a handful of tables and a bar area that stands 15 comfortably. It has a vibe of a old schoolhouse, the centrepiece a large blackboard boasting over 30 types of beer (and a couple of wines and ciders) ranging from house brew to hearty stouts and porters. Otherwise, you can order well over a hundred bottles including some rare and expensive choices from the cellar. They don’t take reservations, so you leave your name, slink up the bar and hope for the best. A look around at the crowd suggested that I was among the 5 or 10 people in the entire bar that was probably alive in 1985.
One of my highlights is the fact that they serve 6 different cask ales including their own black ESB. It was a good punch in the mouth although the aftertaste was a little acrid. Next, in homage to my daughter, I ordered the house ale swag out (imperial stout with swag). As an uncool parent, I have been instructed that I cannot use the words YOLO or swag in any context at any time. She never said I couldn’t drink it though. It turned out to be a killer version of a great winter beer. The 8.5 percent alcohol was subdued by the intense malt and hop flavour. Great balance.
When you ask for food, you are handed a laminated menu and a pen to check off any of the many menu offerings. It consists mainly of snacks and nibbles including cheeses, pates, terrines and charcuteries. Condiments are also available for a price. You can also grab one of a half dozen sandwiches if you want. I opted for a taste of each of the major categories, which they arranged on a platter. Included were smoked duck sausage ($5), clothbound cheddar ($5.50), venison terrine ($5), a brooklyn’s finest pickle ($3) and peanut bacon fudge ($5). I also ordered some hot trap mustard on the side ($1.50). It was a delightful mix of taste and textures. The duck sausage was melt in your mouth delicious. The pickle was spicy with a distinct crunch. The cheddar was firm and salty; a true reflection of an artisan cheese which deviates a bit from the original. The terrine was decent but didn’t burst with the cherry and nut flavours I was promised. The sourdough bread (from nearby Woodlot) and mustard were wonderful compliments, nicely adhering the diversity of tastes on the plate.
I ordered the fudge because it was the only thing that slightly resembled a dessert on the entire menu. Whether it was the contrast of the sweet against the salty and sour flavours of the rest of the plate or the fact it was just delicious fudge, I thoroughly enjoyed it. The specks of bacon scattered among the sweet yet savory peanut flavour just worked.
The fish board was equally delicious. Smoked salmon, trout and pickled herring were served with a FANTASTIC horseradish sauce and a unique but delicious slaw that I’m still trying to figure out. The pickled egg and beans added some nice acid to the board.
My Take
BarVolo is a great venue for those who want a little food with their beer (which includes 6 casks and a number of house brews). That said, the grub is far from substandard although some may be reluctant to pay $3 for a pickle and a buck and a half for a ramekin of mustard (sounds like a lyric from the Tragically Hip’s Little Bones in a time where Gord Downie still had hair and most patrons were still in diapers). There’s a spectrum of menu items packaged in bite size and sharable morsels which can appease a solo diner or a table of 6. The biggest issue is whether a table of 6 is even possible. The place is small and doesn’t take reservations, leaving those waiting to frolic in a holding tank the size of new coke’s popularity. It’s more crammed than cozy. Plus, I get a tad annoyed when establishments boast about how big their lines are on facebook and twitter, especially when they don’t have the greatest means of dealing with them.
Although 1985 produced some nasty and forgettable things, barVolo wasn’t one of them. Despite the fact that it’s inundated with clientele who weren’t exposed to Reaganomics or the Flames’ only Stanley cup win, there was some solace when a trio of 60 something hipsters walked in, looked at me and likely wondered if I was alive the last time the Leafs won the cup. Regardless of whether one can relate to Pierre or Justin Trudeau or anybody in between, those who appreciate good beer with salty snacks (I didn’t try the sandwiches) will enjoy barVolo. After all, the small confines physically don’t allow for a generation gap anyway. YOLO, right?
Fare..Eat..Ales 