DRAWN AND DEVOURED: restaurant

Showing posts with label restaurant. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The Ace

The moral of my experience at The Ace is probably: learn to make a damn reservation. It is this frequent oversight which has led me (and my unfortunate accomplices) to many a long wait. Though I showed up to the shiny new restaurant/diner at 231A Roncesvalles at 7:15pm, for an 8:00 get together, we didn't wind up with a table until close to 9pm. Oh boy. In the future, when visiting a such a new place I will be sure to call first. A lesson long overdue in being learned, which is not the fault of The Ace at all. These long waits simply offer a chance to wander an unfamiliar neighborhood and explore what fine bars abound, and to reconnect with dear friends who I don't see often enough.

The place itself is long, dark and narrow, like a corridor out of a Twin Peaks lodge, but without the unsettling metaphysical implications. The ceiling is black, the wallpaper old fashioned and intricate, faded. Candlelight almost exclusively serves as our lighting. Even with the kitchen cooking at full speed, there's something woodchippy and natural in the air. Compared to the outdoors on this cold night, The Ace is as cozy as blankets, its big and inviting window dripping with steam condensation.

Celery Root Soup ($4)-
A lightly creamy concoction simply from the luxuriant texture of the roots. this was delightfully fresh and comforting, a titch of cumin accenting the mellow celery root taste. The root is quite mellow compared to the stalk, and I think this is an idea soup to start a meal with.

Ontario Pork Chop w/ Russet Mash & Gravy ($21)-

Ryan has this, and the chop was big and juicy, the bone taking up a big chunk of the bulk. It had an appealing strip of fatty marbling and pips of herb. I didn't try this one, but from sight, the beans looked firm, the potatoes creamy. It disappeared with a speed that implies deliciousness!

Lake Erie Perch w/ Cauliflower Puree, Buttered Spinach & Roasted Red Pepper Compote ($22)-

Like the chop, the fillets of perch formed a little towed over their mash, a big red bullseye of pickled roast red pepper begging for a fork to land. The fish was evenly cooking, the skin indistinguishable from the body. Slightly smoky, very mild. The red pepper juice really permeated the flesh, oozing into each crevasse. Love the cauliflowed mash, almost as robust as a potato mash but with a much more playful taste, rooty and teasing.

Spaghetti w/ Smoked Trout, Spinach & Garlic Lemon Butter Sauce ($14)-

These round and robust noodles were soft, edging to overcooked (which I like but doesn't sit with many), and were evry plain. The garlic butter was a gentle touch, the lemon drizzle only perking it up a spot. The trout was very strong and good, mixing the smoke and water that makes me love this fish most. The spinach stood out more than the rest, making a coup on the spaghetti fortress. The trout and that mild garlic didn't know what hit them. If there was a hint of romano? It was trampled.

Zucchini Cake w/ Oatmeal Ice Cream ($6)-

The dinner portions are just right, leaving well enough room for a touch of dessert. There were some decadent and strange things chalked up on the board, like nutella stuffed pierogies, but a traditionalist mood had overtaken our table. Zucchini cake was ordered, arrived cool, moist, more like a true cake than any zucchini loaf I've taste before. Truly spongy. The squash was only a hint, as were the spices. The oatmeal ice cream was a show stopper, hints of a gummy oat texture that put cookie dough ice cream to shame, very clean and rich, hints of nutmeg, cinnamon,

Rosemary Belgian Chocolate Ice Cream ($4)-

My penchant for amusing combinations paid off in spades. What an excellent and uplifting mix. The flavour was like a trickle that swelled into a river, the rosemary smooth and hard to place even when expecting it, which then billowed and surged into a full mouth chocolate deluge, the ice cream fudge and mind blowing. bittersweet and constantly cut by the herb. What a combination!

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Acadia

The restaurant Acadia (50 C Clinton St.) takes its name from the coastal region of North America, from the Canadian maritime down past Maine. Before we had these countries and all! The food of the region is traditional with French roots, and laden with seafood, corn, and flavour- that is about as much of a sub par history lesson as you'll get from me.

Even though Acadia talks about doing southern inspired food, there's a feel of uncomplicated maritime fare on their menu, and a downplayed sense of spice (read: heat) in what we order. You won't find big meaty wedges of fried chicken, either- at least not on this weeks menu. Buttermilk, corn and sea creatures are what bring it home.

The space is modern and very minimal. Off white walls, soothing sea grey accents, and deep mood lighting save it from the hyper-modernism of the all white, an uncomfortable look I cannot enjoy. It's intimate here even with the wide open eating area, no dividers keeping tables secluded from one another. It's loud, almost entirely from conversation bouncing along the painted paneled walls, little coming from the open kitchen. The usual clatter and clank of utensils and grill don't reach us, and the spot Jason and I have by the door is surprisingly comfortable.

I have been fantasizing about this menu for a while. It changes regularly, with the seasons or the whim of the chef, but the menu I've been perusing the last couple days and preparing for sounds terribly enticing. Sometimes I'll come to a new place with a strong preconception of what I want, and what will be best- and I hope that my dinner guest will cater to my wants! By some stroke of serendipity all the same things struck us. I've never had grits, Jason suggested them. He wanted to try the chow chow and mirliton, I thought halibut cheeks sound amazing (I am all for a greater use of the under appreciated bits of a beast). Ordering was simple, our overattentive waiter often at our elbow to take orders for food or drink, and easily convincing us to start with some hot house cornbread.

While waiting for the mains, a pickled selection of vegetables was delivered to us to snack on, and whet appetites that were already roaring from waiting for our 9pm reservation. I've said in the past that a simple litmus test of the quality of a restaurant is if they provide complimentary bread as an amuse bouche. This is like that, but so much more inventive! I'm becoming very fond of pickles in forms sweet, sour or salty. This was a selection of crunchy vegetables brined in an acidic soup, with yellow carrot, okra, scapes, celery, fennel, green beans and I think sea asparagus. A wonderful bouquet of texture and taste! They all maintained a strong sense of the flavour of fresh veg, which was remarkable, while having been infused with a new tang.

Dreamy, the Acadia Cornbread (7$) arrived steamy and succulent to our table, shallow loaves incredibly moist and airy. Every table has their bread baked to order, and it still arrived quickly. Incredibly hot! My father used to make johnny cake from scratch that had this Aunt Jemima quality, but better. The texture was just like that, without the over sweetness of johnny cake, which to my palate was perfection. The whip-cream textured pumpkin butter it came with tasted more simple than was implied, the gourd far from overpowering. Jason suggested pumpkin is too often used as a gimmick (think Starbucks revolting pumpkin spice latte). I think that pumpkin should be celebrated for its uses outside of pie! However in this the butter was butter, but better. There were flakes of sea salt that added pops to the whole delicious platter.

Cheeks are round, or so I thought. Looking at a fish head in the market, I would have thought that they would be shallow dollars of feathery flesh, tender but firm altogether. The chunks were actually big! The Halibut Cheeks (12$) came with blue cornmeal crust, pickled prawn, sugarcane chow chow (I had to look this up, it's a relish from the maritimes with cabbage as a main ingredient), mirlitons and buttermilk. I thought the buttermilk sauce tasted lightly cheesy, and hardly noticed the chow chow. It hid under the mantle of the fish and pickled prawn, as a solid and not-saucy base. The fish meat itself was delightful, and I don't understand why cheeks aren't served more regularly. The cornmeal was very salty, maybe over salty. What really caught my attention was the pickled prawn, which was served like a cake of crustacean, pressed into a mold and cut into triangular shapes. It was spongy, light in flavor, a bit like a jelly. The mirlitons were like a sweeter radish, circular flakes.

It wasn't an express intention to choose a meal made mainly of appetizers, but seafood calls and can't be denied. Here arrived the Shrimp Grits (13$), an experimental dish for me. I have heard grits described as horrendous, and as salty oatmeal. I expected a texture of mushy polenta. Not so! The oatmeal association is probably the closest to it's mark. They are smooth, and like everything we've had, piping hot. There is so much texture here I could not have been prepared for. They are creamy and hearty and not at all gritty. Who named this dish? What a misleading nomenclature! These grits are flown in from the Carolinas, and are the best of the best. They are skulking under a thick and heady lagoon of ham hock consomme, and the flavor nearly floors me. We're agreed: these grits are a taste of heaven. Everyone should experience a beautiful flavour like this! A sweet corn taste teases the meaty shrimps from their hiding places in the grits. It all goes together well, the mushroom and cheese taking back seats to the bolder fleshy flavours.

For a hungry start we slow down quick. The dishes aren't large, but they aren't light- I am very impressed and happy with these apps. One last thing hearkens from the menu before we fold our napkins and call it a night, foregoing dessert: the Vidalia Onion Tart (16$). I am always happy to see the token vegetarian item on a menu attempting to do something new. I get so bored of seeing the snore inducing trinity of eggplant-zucchini-red pepper most menus supply. You wouldn't find that on an Acadian menu, anyhow. Instead, you can have this tart, the crust rolled thinner than any I've had in Toronto, floury and delicate as lattice. I'm amazed it holds the onion in. The onions are cooked to a noodly consistency, mild, pungent, moist. One of the appeals that had us order the tart are the caramelized hops and julienne green apple. While the apply mixes in with the greens and Gruyere to top the tart, adding a needed awakening between mouthfuls, the hops are hard to notice. It's a nice little tart, but between light crust, soft onion, and feathery greens, is not very substantial. My one wish is that it had something to weigh it down and suggest more body. Please understand: this criticism is no more than me picking nits, and this meal was wholly divine.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

SWAN restaurant

There was a time when Queen West was like a second home to me. Every day would find me biking up the strip in hot weather for one reason or another, and every day I passed the SWAN restaurant (892 Queen West). It's got such a good reputation it's a shock it's taken me until now, the icky cold beginnings of winter, to go and try it out. SWAN is one of those Toronto classics that survives on solid food whose goodness is passed along by word of mouth- it's come up in conversation a couple times.

I adore the old fashioned decor. This is real vintage, and though it's called SWAN restaurant, there's something of the diner feel going on here. It's that retro beveled edge on everything look, the teak wood wall detailing along one wall. It's also the small intimate booths, brought to a greater romantic height by nothing but candlelight, with the overheads so far dimmed they're nearly off. It does set this good mood. But how good is the well known food?

Even though this is only my second time properly sitting down and trying some oysters, I wound up acting like an authority on them. Amanda and Stine hadn't ever tried them. There was some nervousness! When served with a plate of slippery shells, their pink grey contents look hard to tackle. There's only one piece of advice I could impart: just suck. As anyone whose eaten oysters knows, there's no particularly classy or clean way to enjoy the fruit of the sea. I was happy with the condiment selection, which had everything from lemons, horseradish and hot sauce to more innovative dressings like plum vinegar, smoked tomato chili paste, and one other thing which was never identified. The oysters were what I would hope for: fresh, watery, tasting like the sea, a delicate vessel for light seasoning, with a hint of natural musk.

There was a feeling of camaraderie and sharing at our table, and not one of us ordered a dish that wasn't to share. Decisions were made by troika! After the oysters we consented to a collation of salad with smoked arctic char and avocado. We then consented to the knowledge that no salad with so much avocado should be drenced in heavy, cloying mayo dressing. What thought spurred this action? It ruined the salad- like a coat of butter. I am not exagerating the heavy handedness of the sauce, which coated every lettuce leaf in entirety. The fish was good, though so full of natural salt it didn't taste fishy at all. The dill advertised as a main flavor was also very mild, and the potato nibbled involved were bacony. This should have been like a much improved version of a nicoise, but fell far from the mark.

For a heartier dish betwixt courses we chose a two cheese risotto, with asiago and chevre. The fat arborio rice was studded with half moon zicchini slices. It was piping hot! Using asiago made the risotto drier than the many creamy varieties I've had in the past, and there was quite the tug of war between the two cheese for a dominant flavour. Chevre wanted to be creamy, asiago wanted to bite, and in the end I was left with a flavour impression regretably reminiscent of mac'n'cheese. From a box.

Our entree was actually very good overall, and that was a nice turn on a meal that had quickly turned bad. A plump and generous pork chop sat above sundry sides. There was a fluffy cornmeal biscuit, whose grains rolled along my tongue with an ethereal fluffiness, piqued with jalapeno nibs for spice. There was the fine puree of sweet potato, like applesauce in texture and very sweet, surely mixed with brown sugar. I was reminded of thick molasses, as well as earthy root. Veggies came in the form of buttery green beans and the fattest brussel sprout I ever ate. They were still very crunchy and fresh, only lightly steamed. The meat itself had a definite grain, and was not so succulent as to fall apart. It was firm, with a thick rind of fat, and lots of flavor. I did like the presentation, with a roast apple ring laid on top.

The best thing we had at SWAN was the oysters- from Oyster Boy, which is just next door, and probably a better place to go if you're looking for dinner near Trinity Bellwoods.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Picnic at the Brickworks

This entry is not the usual fare. If you follow me on twitter, you know I've been volunteering for the Evergreen Brickworks on my weekends. Gives me a lovely fuzzy feeling inside!

With the added perk of working and thus attending the yearly Picnic, which was this past Sunday. What is the Picnic? It's a terrific event that pairs Toronto chefs, food artisans and beverage makers with local producers to create local and season nibbles for a mass of guests. The ticket price goes towards Evergreens children's programming, towards Slow Food Toronto (one of the organizers!), and of course towards paying the vendors.

There's dozens of them, and 1500 of us eaters to take advantage of all the talent under one roof!

Since this is so different from my usual reviews, I'm taking a different approach. First, it would have been impossible to take notes with one hand holding a laden plate, one clutching a wine glass and fork, and one sneaking out the camera for some ref shots.

Second, I don't want to review/critique food that doesn't exist outside this amazing event, nor do I want to nitpick the hard work and big-hearted dishes the chefs made! So enjoy some drawings, and let me tell you how the event went for me.

I started out with my volunteer shift, and I was at Broadview station for a few hours directing people to the shuttle buses that would bring them to the tough-to-access Brickworks. It doesn't sound hard, but standing around with a sign as the station flipped from warm to freezing each time the doors opened somehow drained me! I felt sore all over by the end.

I was also very antsy to get to tasting! I won't deny that affected my patience with the work, as did my clever decision to only have one apple for breakfast and save my appetite for the Picnic.

By the time I got to the Brickworks it was 2:30pm, I was shuddering cold, and famished. So the first few things I had to eat were wolfed down with less attention than they deserved.

These drawings are chronological by the way! That's why the first few have such partial, blurry information. I was in a hunger daze and took horrible notes, if they were taken at all.

Heat lamps provided momentary relief from the damp. Foggy breath gave everyone a sense of solidarity, and I think we all envied the women and men working hard behind hot flames.

For me there was an added sense of satisfaction because quite a few of the chefs were from restaurants I started this blog with. I was especially tickled to eat the pickled goodies from the Parts & Labour team - they were my first review ever!

It's surprising how few of those places I've managed to get back to. It's always somewhere new every week! Which is a lot of fun, but especially for restaurants whose menus change fast, I'm missing out a bit.

The cold did more than just bring everyone together. It had an effect on the food. Everything was great, but most of these dishes would be ideal at room temperature. You could tell the chill had a dampening effect on aroma.

It also meant that every beer I had was the best I'd ever tasted. Naturally frosty. The white wine was also shining that night! Mmm, Tawse. Mmm, Henry of Pelham! But the reds were suffering.

After my initial rampage I slowed down and set a more appropriate grazing pace. I don't think I realized how full I was going to get after that first burst.

When I left my volunteer post, I was worried I had left too early, since no one had come to relieve me. It's good I left when I did, because some tables started closing at 3:30! Just an hour after I was back.

I missed out on some tables who were very popular, whose food didn't last long. Even though I saw some chefs from FRANK at the AGO wandering around, their table was long closed! They had had something wrapped in a husk that looked great.

Other than some crusty bread loaves which were more for display, Woodlot had also caved under the demand, and were empty.

The feeling as the food began to dwindle was of a soporific party, people swaying to the live music, some red cheeks more from the wine samples than the frosty breeze.

People smiled and danced with each other, bonding over a love of Toronto, of food. We shared in our appreciation of the hard work of chefs and producers alike to bring us an event like the Picnic.

I ran around trying to find tables that maybe I had missed in the dine and bustle, tossed around in the sea of people. I ran into Becky who organizes the volunteers and claimed I was only about 2/3 full, but the truth was much grimmer.

For the next picnic, or maybe the Underground Market if I go to the upcoming one, I have learned a valuable lesson.

Keep a count. If you're like me, with legs as hollow as your head, you might find that an appetite driven my community love and appreciation knows no reason or moderation. You can count how many things I sampled, and everything was about 3 ounces or so.

What is the maximum size of the human stomach? I had called it quits when I saw Caplansky's truck, hidden in plain sight. I had wanted to find his table so badly, no wonder I couldn't! Against my better judgement, I asked for a hamburger. I had two small bites. I creaked. I stared at this lovely food, and threw 25 years of unwasteful education out the window, and the burger in the bin. I'm sorry Zane!