Porchetta & Co

Since Porchetta & Co offers one perfect main dish, I'm serving up a different twist on my usual illustration approach. Everything that goes into preparing the meat for a porchetta sandwich is broken down into a few simple steps, which I'll draw up for you. It's care and an ideal method that have made this little hole in the wall at 825 Dundas West a destination for food lovers, earning Porchetta & Co a spot on the Globe and Mail top 10 restaurants of 2011 (even though it only has four stools and a skinny bar to eat at!).

The sandwich runs a fair $6.45, with plenty of side options. Gillian and I get variations, both steering clear of the overwhelming porchetta plate option (way too much food!). She gets her sandwich with fried mushrooms (+0.75), and I get mine with truffle sauce (+0.75). We both dive for Kozlik's mustard. I have so many jars in my fridge! I love this stuff. Gillian and I share a few sides; rapinis ($3.95), roast fingerling potatoes ($2.95) and a small soup which is still big enough ($4.95). Soup du jour is cream of mushroom & truffle.

The sandwiches come on big, fluffy sourdough buns from the the Caldense bakery across the street. The sandwich can only be described as luxurious pig fat madness. It is hewn off the communal porchetta roast in thick slabs, cooked pork belly clinging to the outside, with the middle layer of prosciutto creating a crisp and fatty rind full of flavor. It is terrifically abundant. I'm glad for the size of the bun whose chewy, floury walls are working hard to keep everything contained. These aren't skimpy portions, and the meat is firm and filling. The truffle sauce has a hard time competing with such prominent meat flavours, which are working in great harmony and don't need any help

The crust formed by the first heat of cooking the porchetta roast is amazing, and my favourite part of this sandwich. It becomes a hard layer of cracklins. They're such a texture shift from the soft bun and the firm but tender meat!

It's the same truffle sauce, an extra creamy mayo infused with the prized fungus, which is drizzled over the hearty mushroom soup as it's only source of truffle. The soup was blended into a heavy coagulation of peppery and earthy flavours, dominated by soy, and a browning like gravy.

Our sides were simple and unassuming. The roast fingerling potatoes were golden through and through, the skin tended and fine. A light coat of oil with just enough salt made them go down smoothly, very like a coating of butter. They're moist and fluffy, not floury.

The rapini are also very simple, served roasted (I think) with a light toss of butter and chilis. The chilis get pretty hot after a few mouthfuls. I always enjoy rapini as a side to pork dishes, the bitter kick of these broco-relatives makes a good balance for the naturally sweet brawn of the pig. 

Banh-Mi Boys

My experience at Banh Mi Boys plays a bit like a Goldilocks story, so bear with me.

And hello again! I've missed you guys! I've missed using you all as a reason to eat amazing food, all the time. Or most of the time. At least once a week anyhow, but in this case, it was several times in one week and WOW am I still not tired of Banh-Mi.

My day sees me winding down with a walk from Richmond to Queen and Spadina to catch a streetcar to bring me home. I don't usually want to cook for myself at this time of night, especially since cooking for one is pretty boring (I will spoil my roommate with a dinner extravaganza as regularly as possible, but it is never enough). Yes, my nights tend to end in the horror of canned lentil soup. It's been on sale after all, and I'd rather pinch those pennies to splurge on a better meal at a nice restaurant...Banh Mi Boys is almost on the corner, at 392 Queen!

I will start with the bad news, which is that Banh Mi Boys is not that nice restaurant. While I know that they are first-time restaurateurs, that's no excuse for the divey feel of the place. It's painfully fluorescent and blue, the walls bare and painted a glaring and unfriendly white. The layout leaves a lot to be desired, the gauntlet between wall and prep counter squeezing any customer who wants to sit at the few cheap tables in the back. Because they've got some nice graphics, and the buzz has been good, I had expected something that felt less like a Chinatown dive. In that sense, Banh Mi Boys struck out.

We're not here for ambiance, though. We are here to eat.

Day one saw me trying the traditional banh mi sub. I really wanted the five spice pork, but it was sold out. My next choice was the regular pork, but I was told it wasn't the best cut. That is a kinda strange thing to tell a customer, I think, but I appreciated the tip. This one guy was there every day I went, and he was always the most energetic, helpful, and enthusiastic. I gather that it's a partnership, but I deeply suspect he's the motor of the boys. Pork was thus removed from my sub options for the night, and I went for the next thing, the Spicy Beef Banh Mi (5.95). My spice tolerance is above average, but not by so much. For a few minutes I felt like a hotshot as I asked for kimchi and hot sauce on the sandwich, and was given stares of appreciation and fear. Was I mad? Actually I found it very mild. If you like things spicy, ask for extra hot sauce, or jalapenos, they overstate the heat.

The bun is home made by the owner, who moonlights at his fathers bakery to make the perfect bread he pictured for Banh Mi Boys eponymous food, and it is airy as spun clouds with a light and crackling crust. Perfect, not too filling. It's long, so that airiness is an advantage, and it suits banh mi much better than a baguette. The pickled carrots are wobbly and tangy, sweet but natural. Though I don't think the beef was very spicy, it was tender, succulent and fall apart in texture like ragu. It was chopped up in a way that reminded me of a shawarma. After finishing I was surprised that something so visually large could feel so insubstantial after eating.

Day two brought me around again, with a considerable appetite. These steamed buns were a big draw for me, seeming like the most inventive and fun thing on the menu. I was excited to order them and got two, knowing they would be smaller. I am not that familiar with steamed buns, you may guess. They're heavy, doughy and fat to the point that very little can fit in them as far as toppings go. I had a Pork Belly and a Tofu Bao (3.49$ ea). The only way I knew that tofu could be had was because the family ordering ahead of me asked about it. For all appearances, the menu is totally carnivorous. Maybe they should stick to meat, given that the tofu had a very careless treatment. A brick of it was panko-crusted and fried. Panko will always taste good, so that was nice. But the soggy tofu hadn't had the love of a marinade, or any spice treatment. It was sadly bland. It may have been better if instead of one large piece, a few smaller pieces were fried and piled on the bao- more chance for flavor, and easier to handle. The salt in the fried crust was good, but there wasn't any action happening. It was the same vegetables, mild sauce (mayo and bbq), and the kimchi was salty but flavourless.
The pork bao was an improvement. The bbq sauce was tangy and sensitively applied. The meat was honest and robust. I just don't think I like the bao in the end, because their bland and doughy taste envelops any filling that's put inside, no matter how gleaming the flavor.
Whereas the banh mi had left me not feeling full enough, eating these left me feeling loaded and heavy.

Here is where my Goldilocks story comes into play. Day three. Previously the banh mi was too light, the bao too heavy, but these Tacos (3.99$) were totally amazing, and just the right weight. I hadn't known what to expect, but pictured a hard shell. The 'taco' is actually a roti of some kind. Light, buttery, elastic, flaky. They are steamed and then sink into little containers before being heaped with our now familiar vegetable trio of cucumber, cilantro and carrot. It gave me a kick that this Vietnamese inspired place is serving a Mexican named dish with an Indian style bread. Oh Toronto I love you so. I had a kalbi (Korean!) beef taco and though I'm no poultry lover, had the grilled chicken as well. The chicken had shawarma taste again (Vietnam meets Mexico meets India meets Turkey?), but with a potent dash of paprika. The cutlets were quite tangy with celery salt.

My absolute favourite thing was the kalbi taco, which was juicy and knockout flavourful. The meat was rife with onion and the taste of flat top grilling. The tacos are fun to eat, the taco/roti absorbent and malleable, perfect for sopping up juice or ferrying a load of veggies and beef to ones mouth. I had extra kimchi and sriracha on, and that makes these things.

The easy comparison to make here is to the Chinatown vietnamese subs found a five minute walk North on Spadina. They're different beasts, to be sure. Banh Mi Boys are dealing with a higher price point, because they clearly use fresher produce, bread, and higher quality meats.  Every sandwich is made to order. In Chinatown you can get a sub the same size for 2$, and that can be a big draw by itself. They are packaged and ready to go, the bread is not as fresh, and the meat is dubious (but delicious) cold cuts. It's good in a different way. So if you're thinking of arguing about the price difference, think about the difference between the 1.69$ hamburger at Burger King, and the 10$ plate you'll get at any decent pub first. Same deal. Banh Mi Boys is going to be a draw because of their fresh take on a beloved takout food, and I hope a few more weeks will give them time to make the location more welcoming, to kick up the flavour, and hopefully work on their vegetarian option.

Given the proximity to my work, I know I'll be eating more of those tacos.

The Gabardine

Service announcement: I'm going to be visiting family for the next week, and wont be able to paint! Drawn and Devoured will return in the new year..to celebrate its first anniversary! Yay! Happy New Year everyone!

I like that I work downtown now. Everything is so much closer when you're right on the subway and tram lines. Just walking anywhere is so easy. Compared to my commute of a month ago, walking anywhere is FAST, too! In a way I feel like I've rejoined civilization, with all the luxuries that that entails- like having a restaurant as lovely as The Gabardine (372 Bay St) in spitting distance. I could go there for every lunch if only I wasn't the kind of workaholic who doesn't break for lunch! Over their polished glass window is a glowing emblem of a pigeon who has stared at me with a playful mockery for the last few weeks, as I've adjusted to the new pace of this new life, knowing that a good dinner must be right around the corner.

Could I get used to the Bay Street life of cocktails at 5, after a hard days work? Could I become used to pickles and devilled eggs and hot olives as a matter of course? Dangerously, yes. My friends, a new chapter may be starting here.

But I digress.

On a  Friday a reservation is a must- while I know that, I usually neglect to take care of the basic practice. So we sat at the bar, which is deep and white and marble. Raw tungsten zigzags under odd shapes bulbs illuminated the white walled room dimly. I thought maybe I would run into Nucky Thompson or one of his cronies. Was it the wide bar or the beach white that made me feel like a sneak on a 20's set? I like it here. They have good cocktails (though I opted for beer), and the servers are friendly, jovial. I don't know if the dress code is plaid, but all but two of the staff wore it. Molly, Pietro (also wearing plaid) and I shared the bar with a few ladies who were clearly friends of staff, ladies who were slyly served dishes not offered on the menu. I would have ordered a tamale if it had been an option! The menu items we are given to choose from are super enticing, fortunately.

I twisted Molly's arm into sharing some devilled eggs with me, and she twisted back so that we also got warm olives (you can imagine just how hard we had to wring, ie: not at all). I love bar snacks. They're the perfect size, and excellent for sharing. Devilled eggs are by far turning into a small obsession, a late-night craving which is now easily met at a couple places in Toronto. These devilled eggs ($4) are briny soft, very creamy without tasting heavily of mayo, a touch of dry mustard, four halves to a serving. They're classic, nothing ventured, and they please even if they don't astound. The warm olives ($5) are in the same boat. Warm, succulent, perfectly salted. No fancy tricks, just enjoyable fruit...for the most part. There were two stand out olives in the bowl of assorted sizes and colours. Two green buttons stuffed with lemon rind. An amazing kick in the teeth! It's so good it makes me wish I had a martini in my hand, even now.

In tandem with beginning a new job, with the upcoming new year, I am attempting to turn over some sort of new leaf. It's tough when you love food like I do, but I'm trying to be...well...healthier. Knowing that I would have a salad as an entree, I revisited my cruel arm-twisting-technique I connived to share some rabbit rillettes ($9) with M&P. I'm not sure which blogger I'm reading who keeps raving about rillettes, but someone is out there tainting my mind with desires. These were a first for me, so for those of you for whom it will also be a first, let me explain: rillette is a pate made without liver, to put it crudely. It's a fat-cooked tenderized meat paste, and it is delicious. The rabbit keeps a bit of game to it, but is mostly tamed by smooth fat. The paste is served with fresh, flaky crostini, which are salted with clear and sharp flakes of sea salt, or rock salt. There is something noticeably potent about the salting in all the dishes. It isn't heavy, I mean - it's just that the salt has a palpably high quality. The crostini are airy, and the rabbit rillette happily stuffs the pockets of air. Add puckering sweet-sour cherry preserve, and we have a winning dish.

So, a salad. The Gabardine has a pleasingly imaginative approach to their herbivorous selections, which is great to see. Garden, Greek and Ceasar salads just don't turn me on. I love sweet peas like a kid loves cake, so I let out an internal cheer for the salad of crushed sweet peas on bread with bufala mozzarella ($12), which combines some of my favourite things- bufala mozzarella is a big love of mine. They're all different though, aren't they? This mozzarella had a way stronger personality than what I'm used to. Even with a strong minty lemon garnish, with fresh baby pea shoots, this mozzarella was running wild. I think it mated with a blue cheese somewhere down the line. Oh, on the outside it looked like a cloud of sweetness, like a proper mozzarella, but that FLAVOUR! Yes, a little musky. A little unexpected. The rest of the salad was also surprising. The bread was not very big, and I think this should be moved into the appetizer section of the menu. The crushed peas were piled high, and were freshly cooked, not from can, freezer or dehydrator. Delicious- but light. Lightly oiled, sparked with the same perfect salt. There was not much greens under the bread display, so it was less of a salad than an open face sandwich on a baguette spear, which itself was artfully charred, char which penetrated each mouthful.

I did not try the club house sandwich ($12) which Molly had, but it looked inviting. Two slabs of pancake-fluffy Texas toasts were lightly golden, kissed by a frying pan, holding everything together. The chicken was generous, the bacon visible in fine strips. I'm told it was rather lemony. With fingerling potatoes and a heap of juicy greens, it made a lovely sight, and all was eaten but the crusts.

Pietro was also going to have the club, but these two are wonderful and obliging friends who have come on enough blog dates to know I thrive on variety. He opted instead for a big ol' skirt steak ($23), grilled medium. There's a twist on this steak which is something I appreciate seeing, especially since I spent a good deal of time at backyard barbecue's eating grilled peppers with chimichurri sauce this past summer. A chimichurri thick as chutney was lumpen atop the fat and proud steak. It was grainy and grassy, full of herbs. I love chimichurri and think it goes great with fresh red meat. The steak was robust, with loose marbling. I don't know if it was parsley of cilantro in this home variation of chimichurri, but Pietro doesn't like cilantro (one of those soap tasters) and pushed the sauce aside. A tragic waste! I like the zing and lime of it seeping into the meat. Their fries are good, too! Shoestring with the skin on (need I again mention that yummy salt? Well, once more won't hurt).

We'll see if the Gabardine keeps me coming back for dinner or lunch. I think they're likely catch me for breakfast (seriously they open at 8am, right before I start!) and after work drinks. The area holds many unexplored gems, and city, I'm ready.

The County General

One of my favourite things to do in Toronto pre-blog was go to Oddfellows taco night. I was sad to hear that they closed. I was and am very happy with who's moved in to replace them (though I will miss that tangy black bean paste!).

The County General is right at the corner of Shaw and Queen, where the street is quiet enough that you aren't being pushed along, but still pulses with the anticipatory feeling Queen West embodies. It's lively. It's a long ass wait to get in. That's what you get late on a Friday at a place that doesn't take reservations- they know they don't need to.

It's a fun shape for a restaurant, long and narrow. There uses to be a skinny, all-encompassing communal table in the spots previous incarnation, but the General has move things in a more traditional direction, somehow squeezing many small square tables into the dining hall. There isn't much wiggle room. Ever yet en vogue wood is on everything, wood lining the ceiling, a wall of wood ends jutting out in a way that is both artistic and disconcerting. We sit at the bar, which somehow stretches nearly the full length while leaving room for tables. It's spacious enough to eat at, and it's nice to get to watch Steven make drinks (he's a familiar face from my days working at the Drake, but I did feel like we should have been ordering with a server and not him! He had his hands full making some really ballin' cocktails. They have house pickled cherries for the Manhattan's yes).

More and more often lately I've been feeling less meaty, and the menu, despite it's barbecue bent, is very accommodating. The deviled eggs ($1.50) were fiery little devils, served in a bowl so deep I wondered if they needed to be kept from escaping. There was some hot mustard in the yolk, and thank goodness they went easy on the mayo. It's too easy to get heavy handed with devilled eggs. The mustard tasted like Kozlicks to me, and I approve. There were shards of red onion and chive to add crunch and juice, and just a dash of paprika for effect. Nicely done!

There was a bit of a wait before all our party got together, so I also got some kimchi ($3.00) to nibble on. It was a plentiful bowl! The cabbage was strong, crisp just at the thickest part of the leaf. The rest was lightly cooked, spicy and tangy, but very salty. It was overpowering in that respect, and needed to be eaten slowly, in between bite of other things. There was too much salt, which is a shame. I usually adore kimchi.

Over salty kimchi is the only thing that didn't stand out in a meal of well-crafted and enjoyable country sandwiches. The menu was made up of southern inspired nosh, with distinctly Toronto twists. Take our strong vegetarian and vegan eaters, here represented with a very well put together 'meatball'. The white bean meatball sandwich ($10) was more decadent and authentic than I really expected. It resides somewhere between the taste profiles of an Italian fried sandwich, luscious and virgin tomato sauce adding the strongest flavour, with a hint of the old South, with a crisp and oil deep fried shell, and a thick slab of soft bread. Also, there were FOUR sizable nonmeatballs, the beans just firm enough in the centers to hold this bad boy together, and make for a hefty little meal. Served with a leafy salad of Boston lettuce.

Trevor has become a lover of the steamed bun, it would seem. When last we dined, he tried his first banh-mi, and I think it has made him a kind of convert. Again, here the General takes a southern dish - smoked pork belly ($10), and gives it a Toronto twist, incorporating our love of Asian food, maybe in homage to our big and bustling Chinatown. The barbecue rich pulled pork, dry smoked and grainy, is sandwiched in steamed bun sliders, chewy and floury, with the gummy skin steamed bread gets. Three kinds to enjoy, avocado, apply slaw, or spicy Korean kimchi.

Such height and grandeur! Are you catching my horrible puns today? Has anyone else here seen King of the Hill? Once upon a time, my sister was obsessed (many years ago, please friends, do not judge!). Here is a fried chicken thigh sandwich ($12). This little guy made up for his diameter in height, even taller than the tumbler of greasy, crunchy fries he came with. I like a fluffy and absorbent bun with greasy chicken! Made all the prettier with black and white sesame sparkles. I can't describe it more, because Jenn devoured it quickly, in a hard work induced famine.

This is a way I've never seen an apple pie ($5 + $3 a la mode), served wide and thin, the apples sliced thickly, stuck into the pastry with glutinous love. It seemed on the surface like a stuffed dessert pita bread, but seemed more robust in consumption. I was assured that is was incredibly delicious!

My darling, let's get married. I was gone with the wind when this sticky dark lover arrived on my plate, oozing salted caramel. What forbidden indulgences! What buttery topping! Oh love! I am very glad the cupcake ($3) was slightly larger than a thimble, because such richness and decadence can only be enjoyed in about two bites. Butter cream added height and was spiced in a way I am hard pressed to describe.

And addendum to this incredible meal: if you find a small yellow notebook detailing in ecstasies the delights of the county general, please call me. It's brand new, and I've lost it, alas.

 

The Hogtown Vegan

A while ago I got to check out Hot Beans, which is a burrito place down in Kensington Market. I was really impressed with the food and the painfully huge proportions. Those floury and dense burritos scored major points for their originality as well as their size. They are also a vegan joint, just like the recently opened Hogtown Vegan which has the same owners but lives in a completely different neighborhood (you can find it at 834 Bloor West). With fond memories of the good nosh at Hot Beans, I spent some time in the west end to try out the new restaurant, and see what the daring vegan chefs are up to. I will confess I was relieved that the portions were more manageable!

For once I took made the extra effort to sample this restaurant in two trips, really wanting to get a good feel for what they have to offer. The first time I went with the lovely Sabrina Scott, a fellow illustrator and entrepreneur- and a vegan, so I could get a proper perspective of how The Hogtown Vegan measures for someone who lives on the diet. It was pretty good to talk shop over cold ice tea, and hot lunch!

In case you've been sleeping in a cave this last year, Toronto is experiencing a comfort food revival. Since many of the vegetarian and vegan restaurants in the city follow a stance that puts healthy food hand-in-hand with their elected restriction on ingredients, so the movement hasn't been reflected by card holders of the Toronto Vegetarian Association. While every cafe and restaurant with an ear to trends started boiling up batches of macaroni sauced in bechamel, baked in cheddar, drenched in Mornay, vegetarian restaurants have kept to their soba noodles (a stereotype as unfortunate as it is true). And along came The Hogtown Vegan.... their slogan even boasts 'Vegan Comfort Food in the Heart of Downtown!'. For Sabrina, it was a treat... Mac 'n' cheese? Oh yes. I've never given faux-cheese much of a chance. When I make vegan dishes at home, I just make food that doesn't need those ingredients, so I'm not making substitutions. I found the sauce on this mac and cheese a little on the wet side, but it still clung to the noodles valiantly. The taste was salty and a bit floury. Even though it did taste like cheese, it was a very mild taste, and the noodles reigned supreme in the dish. I know there was no butter used to make the pasta, but wow, the flavour reminded me of butter! What's nice about this mac is that even though it hits that lovely comfort food carb craving, it isn't as bloating as real-cheese mac. Pretty good!

On this first visit, I saw one thing on the menu and HAD to order it. It was after reading a recipe from le sauce that I became a bit obsessed with trying the wonder of pulled jackfruit. I haven't had time to try the recipe at home...and Hogtown Vegan has a version of jackfruit pulled pork! And...they were sold out, two hours after opening! Sadness filled me! Fortunately so did this chick pea salad sandwich, once I chose it to plug my saddened stomach. Sad no longer! There was so much from texture to taste that reminded me of a creamy summer potato salad, I momentarily wondered what I was eating. With tiny flecks of dill pickle, and fresh dashes of the same herb, the naturally creamy-when-creamed texture of the chick peas went a long way to completely what I'm sure was an unintentional illusion. Under a bed of a sprouts was a hint of mustard. The sunflower bread was very intriguing! It was like two robust, orange coloured pancakes instead of sliced bread, and I really enjoyed the novelty of the texture.
All sandwiches come with a choice of fries, collard greens or salad, but I really wanted to split. That costs an extra 2$, but for once I found the surcharge worth it. There was so much good food. Both the oily squigle fries with their crispy ends and the smooth, garlicky collards were super satisfying.

Drink selection leaves something to be desired! There's no liquor license in effect at The HTV, and what was available was a mix of homemade (like this tea, which was like mildly tea-flavoured, tart sugar water- good, if you don't like strong tea), and some bottled stuff, like lemonade. It would be great if they expand to include some alcoholic beverages, or fresh squeezed juice.

Visit number two debuted with something familiar to anyone whose ever made that first dip into non-meat waters: a veggie patty. These mini patties were of the common soy blend variety, brown and spongy in texture, with a flavour all their own. It is the kind of soy patty you can get at the local supermarket, with nothing to make it stand out as particularly noteworthy. The presentation made this more exciting, though! The biscuits, ordered by my guest Bentley, were fluffy and fell square between sweet scone and savoury biscuit. They also sparked a debate about the benefits and downfalls of Bisquick. I'm am a huge proponent of biscuits made from scratch, and I like them to be super fluffy and dry, with a light taste of soda- no sweetness at all! Like I said, the ones at Hogtown have a little sweetness. That is my bias, though, since my mother would bake amazing biscuits for us weekly.

The ceasar salad tasted exactly how you would want it to, the sauce tasting like nothing out of the ordinary. It was a delicious treat for a vegan, avoiding both dairy and anchovy! I was most impressed by the 'gravy', though. Not only was it studded with tiny peas, but it tasted like wholesome meat gravy made from the drippings at the bottom of a roast. And yet, vegan! So inventive and well crafted.

Guess what I tried to order a second time! The pulled jackfruit sandwich. Guess what they were out of! A! Second! Time! I was pretty disappointed. Here is an item that is clearly a major hit- it's probably time to start making bigger batches, guys. Maybe enough to last at least an hour or two after opening? Sigh. I turned my eyes instead to a most intriguing item: Reuben a-la seitan. I'm not the biggest proponent of seitan, not just because of the name (I find it impossible to say with a straight face). I like tofu and tempeh, and am happy with most fake-beefs. The seitan nugg's I've had in the past are just...squidgy. It's a textural issue. An issue which was cleverly avoided here. Large pieces of seitan were sliced deli style into medium-thick strips. It's a tall order to recreate the fatty and marbled texture of good deli, but this was an effort. The result was perhaps more like pepperoni, the 'meat' having fine pores and sweating with light oil. It was piled up, the taste not as briny and sweet as the real deal, but not unsatisfying. I was actually quite in love with the sauerkraut which is what made this actually taste like a Reuben! There was a generous amount under the straining rye. As a side I went for those garlicky collards again. Try them! You'll love them.

 

All this classic omni dish impersonation raised an interesting conversation about the nature of vegan restaurants. Bentley's observation was that so much of the menu was an attempt to reproduce familiar meat and dairy meals- Reuben, pulled 'pork', unchicken and waffles- and that with vegan restaurants in general the food doesn't embrace its own vegan-ness enough, or try to create something unapologetically vegan. I see things differently. Most of the veg places I've dined at fit the narrow view of health-food lettuce leafy fare. There's nothing wrong with that, but I think there could be much more interesting things done at veg/vegan restaurants. I don't necessarily mean veg/vegan foods which seek to imitate an omni equivalent. I mean dishes which don't just try to fill the niche, but try to compete with fine dining restaurants and offer a really unique food experience. I feel that maybe more than any other place, the food at The Hogtown Vegan is on to something (it's just too bad about the horrible interior decorating!).

What do you think?

Nadege

If asked about the best croissant in Toronto, you're going to get a lot of replies. Every pastry chef I've worked with will always claim that their croissant is the best, the most authentic. I've heard that boasted about of the gargantuan sugar monstrosities from the last (ever!) café I worked at, as well as the crisp, intricately folded butter viennoiseries from the AGO. Everyone has an opinion, but I hear most people say that Nadège is the place to go this side of the pond. Don't be surprised. The pastry chef behind, and carrying the name of the café was born in France, and her work has earned her creations the highest awards. All this, located in a beautiful and brightly lit little shop at the southeast corner of Trinity Bellwoods park, perfect for taking treats to a picnic.

It's Saturday, and this is breakfast. My idea was 'to hell with a savoury meal', and what better way to have an indulgent breakfast without losing all my teeth to cavities than with these pastries that are crafted with greater sensitivity to flavour than the average sweet. My sister and I ordered a tart each. For the longest time I haven't been a fan of lemon meringue pie. It's sticky, the lemon is as strong as dish detergent, the meringue is usually false tasting. I've been eating cheap lemon meringue pie, and it has left an unshakable aftertaste- until Nadège. It wasn't me who ordered this either, for lo! my prejudice could not be shaken. And then I tried some. This is not a gelatin stuffed pie, rather it is laden with a lemony custard, which was creamy and sweet. The meringue was a breath of whipped air, the foam from a childhood bubble bath. For all its volume, it was barely there. 

To entertain a recent and unfortunately unseasonal obsession of mine, I selected a tart which was elegantly draped in dark pink grapefruit fillets. So juicy there was no avoiding a constant chin dribble, the fresh fruit did a lot to overpower the earl grey infused in the pasty filling underneath. It was more solid than the custard, a filling with the texture of marzipan. The crust of the pies were hard in a solid way, staunchly supporting the weights piles in their shells. They refused sogginess outright. I found my tart wonderfully refreshing for a hot summers morning, but was wanting more of that earl grey taste. The home-candied orange peel made a nice sharp splash.

Even though it was my vow not to order anything bordering on lunchlike or savoury, I couldn't dissuade my party from seeking more substantial sustenance (keep reading, I myself fell into this trap later). Nadège offers an array of freshly prepared sandwiches on French boule to choose from, the selection seasonal and rotating. Here we have a sandwich with turkey, cranberry sauce, Gruyere and tomato, and one with salami, arugula, brie and tomato. I only had a couple nibbles of each. What was most amazing were these hugely circular buns, their chewy and dark crust, their fluffy white bodies that defied gravity mockingly. The meat was piled high in them both, and the cheeses were not shy, melting and offering up their flavors to complement. I am so happy these weren't ruined with a panini press, too. I love the body of an unsquashed sandwich, it is so much more filling. Give me bread, or leave me, life!

A real French cafe is nothing without an arsenal of these sugar puff bullets. Much more quiet than the cupcake and whoopie pie revolutions is the macaron coup. These kisses land on your lips like delicate butterflies, their sugar shells only putting up a sweet resistance to breaking, crackling over a gummy recess, which bears down on clever ganache. I say clever because these flavours are more ambitious than others I've seen. Our selection today was very vanilla in the literal and figurative, but with flavours ranging from rose to cassis to savoury plays, the colourful display of the macarons at Nadège leaves nothing to the imagination. She's thought of it all. From our selection the chocolate orange won for the dollop of pasted orange rind waiting in ambush at the core of the mild, bitter-sweet cocoa ganache.

they look like a row of fez! More cake than caramel, these thimble-sized buttons went well with my coffee. They were very glutinous with tacky, dense shells. The flavour was aiming for the salty sweetness most caramel treats want, but I personally like less subtlety than these offered, for once. Maybe I have a salt tooth across the ridge from my sweet tooth. The taste was like a creme brulé, with the texture of an English bread pudding. A bite and a half each.

A spin on the classic almond spongecake, these madeleines are laced with cocoa. Just what the sweets junkie in me craves with coffee! Unlike everything else we ordered, these came from the boutique part of the shop, where pre-packed treats ask to go home with you. There they sat taunting me, winking and half-hidden in a shiny plastic cylinder, not waiting long to be taken in hand. The americano I ordered along with them was watery, not strong and much too small, unfortunately. These little cakes were very nice! I don't think they were fresh from that day, they weren't as moist as other madeleines I've tried. These were puffy and proud, the chocolate delicate. Their more dry texture and depth was ideal for nibbling at between sips. Still, I think I prefer fresh- what was I thinking ordering these with a display case of still-warm croissants to taunt me?

And here is the breadwinner of Nadège's family of cakes, candies and delights. There were many varieties of croissant to try. The seasonal apricot croissant made a big splash at our table, and really blew me away. Nadège makes croissants like small dreams. Forget what you've experienced before, butter-drenched and heavy. These croissants are French bread, and they lift you up. The glaze was modest and stood back to let the fruit and its vehicle dance on the taste buds. The apricot was so strong and summery, almost cloying in its intensity. The pastry flaked away and took in the egg wash and natural sugars to become this sweet treat. The best thing we had, I think.

To end on another savoury note and with a beloved croissant, the breakfast sandwich. It was so good that after a bite from someone else, I got up and ordered my own! Even after the tart, the madeleines, the caramels, the macarons...oh my. This butter croissant layered as lightly as a philo pastry, the thin sheaves staying together despite by vigorous bites. The crust was so airy and delicate that the sandwich was hardly there. Were these friendly eggs, this papery bacon holding themselves together with the help of gluey cheese? The bacon was crisp without being well done, able to hold that texture by virtue of its slimness. The tomato hiding under it all was fresh and firm. I think I would have liked it a little more if it weren't heated to order, but I confess, I'm besotted.