Tag: restaurant

Oooh-LaLa

On July 27, 2010

I always enjoy sharing my special dining experiences online -I find the response, both here and in the real world, to be both inspiring and heartening. So I want to share the wonders of a recent visit to Restaurant Didier in Toronto. But a few caveats before we begin.

First, I am not the most dedicated fan of French food; in the past, I’ve found it too heavy, too rich, and just too filling for me. Also, it’s really hard to reproduce at home. There’s something satisfying about being able to whip up basic approximations of yummy past meals in the comfort of my own kitchen, but I’ve never been able to do that with any degree of success when it comes to French cuisine, which places it in the rarefied world of eat-once-a-year-and-don’t-eat-for-a-week-after-ness. Meh. If I like something (or someone), I want it (or him) again and again and again. (And for the record, yes, I equate food and sex; sensuality is central to each, and to the enjoyment and celebration of life. See the Sex On A Plate post.)

Personally, I like food -and restaurant experiences overall -to be approachable, easy-going, pure, and unfussy. While I appreciate the art of molecular gastronomy, I can’t get my head -or tastebuds -around it making for an all-around satisfying meal. French with touches of modern, however, is something I really love, especially if there’s a light touch. Such is the case with Chef Didier Leroy. Dish after dish of amour pur emanate from his kitchen like pearls in a waterfall. and there’s no need to feel intimidated; servers are happy to explain ingredients and method, suggest pairings, and Chef might even come out and chat when all is said and done. Bravo! The restaurant itself is located in midtown Toronto, away from the hub of the scenester-foodie carnival, where basics like service, knowledge, and attention to detail can sometimes get lost amid the buzzwords and well… the buzz. Restaurant Didier is refreshingly un-hipster-esque, but at the same time, is classy, casual, and yes, affordable.

Chef Leroy comes with credentials. He is a member of the Association Des Maitres-Cuisiniers De France and the Academic Culinaire De France. In 2007, he was awarded France’s prestigious Medal of the Chevalier de l’Ordre du Mérite Agricole, one of the country’s highest honours. Dating back to 1883, the Medal recognizes the services of individuals who have promoted French culture through their activities within the sphere of agriculture. Leroy worked in numerous Michelin-starred restaurants and has been a part of such fine establishments as Auberge Gavroche and The Fifth. Impressively, Chef Leroy has been the official Executive Chef for the French Embassy/Consulate General in Toronto since 1990. Not too shabby.

The night I went I enjoyed a prix fixe menu, which, at $50 for three courses, offered tremendous value considering a/ the quality of ingredients (everything is organic); b/ the care and respect with which those ingredients are treated; c/ the incredible degree of knowledge, service, and honesty from the RD staff. They’ll steer you to the very-best wine pairings, any yummy accompaniments, and have an impeccable sense of timing, spacing out courses appropriately, and filling wine glasses at just the right times. And, of course, you’re getting the work of a first-class chef too. Yum.

For my first course, I chose Salade de Betterace, Orange, Fromage De Chevre, a delicately-flavoured beet salad with tiny medallions of snowy goat cheese and orange segments, and topped with Ontario greens. The beets were sliced paper-thin and were tender but not floppy, the fork prongs easily impaling their moist, sweet flesh. The goat cheese was, thankfully, not fridge-cold, but just the right temperature for swirling along the beets & greens, or spreading onto the beautifully crusty baguette side with the succulent, juicy citrus fruit. I could’ve downed another plate of this luscious, jewel-like salad, really, but I was happy the first course -along with the others -were proportioned accordingly, with absolutely no weird food architecture.

My second course was Duck Confit. It did, in fact, come with a gorgeously-charred sweet potato-half tucked beneath the meat, but there was nothing sky-high about the presentation, or indeed, off-putting about it at all. Quite the opposite! Duck confit is one of those dishes I have once a year (if that), owing to its extreme caloric content. In truth, it was closer to two years since I’d had the dish, but …. goodness me, Chef’s handling erased any negative past experiences entirely. It was, quite simply, the best duck confit I’ve ever had. Moist, if amazingly un-greasy morsels of tender meat, in a beautiful, rich-but-thin sauce that encircled the plate (with a just-so tender side of greens), each bite providing a pure, real connection to the bird and to the skill that so lovingly prepared it this way. Needless to say, I am now re-considering my once-a-year-only confit stance. Any increase might entail jogging home, however -or at least skipping dessert, which, on this night, was totally, wonderfully impossible.

Dessert was Trilogie De Chocolat Valrhona -or a chocolate trilogy, which consisted of layers of moist, ebullient bittersweet darkness. Runny, solid, soft -all the textures and flavours of this special, luscious treat were nestled together in one gorgeously posh, small portion. The level of detail was truly impresssive, with a lovely, subtle presentation and again, a just-right portion. The dessert -with a full-mouth flavour of rich cocoa, but without any cloying sugary qualities -paired beautifully with the 2005 Penfolds Grange wine my companion and I were enjoying the evening of our visit, and (as before, but in reverse) I would’ve gladly downed a few plate-fulls, were it not for the salade and confit that came before.

All in all, my visit to Restaurant Didier was a wondrously delicious experience. I happened to notice on the menus that the kitchen also caters to vegans and vegetarians, and offers a Chef’s Tasting Menu for tables. Truly, something for everyone, but with a smart, stringent respect for the French culinary tradition -along with the quality of ingredients -that, in this world of over-saturated hype and wannabe-stars -is truly inspiring. I am now a confirmed French food fan, thanks to the masterful work of Chef Didier. Yes, I want to return soon. And I will.

A la prochaine!

Local Chef

By Catherine Kustanczy

On July 6, 2010

In food

Further to my last post, I’m pleased to present my chat with Chef Trevor Middleton, who’s with The Local Company in Toronto. I think you’ll find his thoughts on food, presentation, and the cultivation of relationships enlightening. Does it get my any closer to defining what “local” means in this day and age? Yes and no. See for yourself.

How would you describe yourself?

I’m a moody bastard.

Where do you source your meat?

It all comes from The Butcher Shoppe. All the meat coming through (there), you have a guarantee -you know it’s Canadian.

The biggest challenge has been getting set up with (local producers).

What about dairy?

I’ll use Mr. Dairy -they source Canadian -but I will also source artisanal stuff, like Quebec organic. And I’ll also use stuff from the street (Danforth Avenue). Sysco is a major supplier to all the restaurants. You have to use it -but I only spend about $500 a week with Sysco, whereas I spend $1400 or $1500 everywhere else. There’s a local market near here, a village market, and I drop $60-$100 a day there.

How does the word “local” relate to what you do?

It’s a conceptualized name, meant to be a local restaurant, more local to the Danforth. The food philosophy side came with me -this comes from my love and intimacy with food. I’ve done enough fine dining, … (to know) I don’t want run-of-the-mill. I don’t ever want to be known for pretty food; I want a wonderful experience. I want to feel good about myself and what I ate.

A lot of this goes to my childhood. I was raised poor and with Crohn’s disease, and I was always hungry. Because of my own disease, I have to make it work for me, I can’t use garbage. Anything processed makes me sick, and it’ll make you sick along the way too.

What is your ultimate ambition?

My end goal is to teach. I want to be teaching culinary arts within five years. Part of it is, i have a gift with mentoring the young, and taking in lost souls. If you’ve got it together, don’t talk to me. I want someone who’s a f*ck-up, that’s how I heal myself. My former dishwasher is a young man most thought was autistic, and I found out it’s just social anxiety. No one would let him do anything but wash dishes; now he cooks every dish on the menu. He doesn’t have a high school diploma, though I have him enrolled in George Brown as a mature student. He carries that passion for food through his life now.

What do you think of sensuality as it relates to the restaurant experience?

When I worked at The Boilerhouse, they had beautiful food, wonderful execution, they were the best of the best. They had high-level chefs too, but I noticed one thing within a few months, something they tried to beat out of me: they take the rustic-ness out of food. They wanted perfectly trained-out stuff. I want chunks, not perfection. Restaurants take the technique part too far; they forget food is a living thing, that it’s natural, just because it has to be pretty. i think a lot of newer chefs are in a backlash, so now there’s more comfy food again.

What’s the end goal, for you, as a chef?

It’s morphing. At the beginning, it’s like everyone: you want to be a superstar. But really, the greatest experience is to sit down, invite people to have a glass of wine, a good meal, and talk. Dining isn’t just about food, it’s about how you interact – how you interact with your world, your surroundings. I’d rather be known as someone who cooks plain, simple food, more than anything else.

Do you know the people you buy from?

I do. If I don’t come in, they go, “where have you been?” One Asian lady at the local market, she and her husband always joke with me. Once a week, because of the nature of our relations, they’ll give me a care package to take back to kitchen, I have friendly relationships with local people. There are no pretensions. But I lament not being able to drive hours out to food sources. In the past, I ordered from Echo Bay -they provide grass-fed organic beef -but that means I have to charge more, and when I do, people (customers) complain.

What’s a chef’s job?

To engender respect for agriculture. If i can’t get organic, there are companies that have ethical way of doing business. I don’t want the fancy stuff if it’s not harvested ethically or sustainably.

Appetizer

By Catherine Kustanczy

On May 17, 2010

In food

I had one of the best meals of my life Saturday. But I’m not going to tell you about it.

At least, not yet. Between joejob drain, chasing stress(/inspiration), planning, and mad, passionate New York organizing (yes, I’m moving there), not to mention cold feet and a coughing dog (true), the timing just seems wrong to ruminate on the subtle, if no less voluptuous joys of a meal well-digested and thoroughly enjoyed.

I will tell you this: if you’re in Toronto, get your good, hungry self on over to the other side of the Don Valley Parkway (ie The Great Divide), to The Local Company (511 Danforth Avenue). Stay tuned to this space for details on the tasty morsels, delectable nibbles, and gorgeous big bites of what has to be one of the most delicious meals I’ve ever enjoyed. For now, a little lick.

Alongside gorgeous design, The Local Company has a wonderful ambiance that’s partly attributable to the classy surroundings, though kudos must go to the fabulous Suzana Da Camara and her talented musicians; their cover of Sade’s “No Ordinary Love” was every bit as sensuous as my creme brulee, and her superior French-language tunes were completely and utterly… lovely. The servers were equally attentive, knowledgeable, efficient, friendly, and very, very witty, exploding any degree of stuffiness that might’ve been created from such a gorgeous, modern space.

And give me a moment (however brief -for now) to swoon over the chef! I’ve always thought chefs were rock stars, and that’s made clear here. Sault St. Marie native Trevor Middleton is truly dedicated to his craft, approaching it just as much an artist as he does a crusader, teacher, and (true) geographer; affable, honest, and deeply committed to promoting local, sustainable food, lovingly cooked, he told me he wants people coming to The Local Company to get a taste of “Grandma’s” kitchen. Oh yum. What a deliciously posh, passionate, creative Grandma Mr. Middleton is. In true granny fashion, I left happily overstuffed.

Chef is also incredibly kind to guests at The Local Company. Amazing fact: it’s very reasonable. Really. That’s what you get for not being in the trendy part of town. But then, who would want to be? It’s worth the drive, for so many reasons.

In short, I had an orgasm on a plate. But I’m not going to tell you about it -yet. After all, there’s value in food foreplay… right? You’ll have to wait for the gooey details.

Sex on a plate, here we go again.

Curious, Heavenly George

By Catherine Kustanczy

On November 26, 2009

In food

Molecular gastronomy, as a rule, doesn’t generally interest me. I’d love to go to El Bulli, yes, more for the experience of going, and engaging with food in a way that marries it in a very high-concept, some would argue unusual way, with the artistic aesthetic. I think the main reason it doesn’t interest me is that I can’t possibly replicate most of those kinds of recipes -fancy, fussy, daring -in my own kitchen. But then, why would I want to? Shouldn’t food -some food -be a kind of experience? Should it not possess a kind of inimitable special-ness? Is that not what makes certain restaurants so unique? Some of the best art should, after all, be removed. Just as I can’t replicate certain unusual dishes, nor can I write a symphony in the manner of Mozart, or paint a Picasso. And I don’t want to. I am happy to leave some things to experts.

These considerations were in the front of my mind coming away from an evening at George, a gorgeous, Zagat-rated restaurant in downtown Toronto. Having been invited by a friend who is a member at the adjoining (and quite frankly, awesomely inspiring) Verity Club, I was curious about the mix of old and new world cuisine that George seemed so renowned for. It may not be molecular gastronomy in the true sense, but it mixed flavours, textures, colours and shades in ways I hadn’t experienced -at least orally -before.

In lieu of the main menu, my companion and I opted for the 5-course tasting menu, each of us receiving one delectable -and different – treat after another. One of the appetizers was a salad and seafood affair, another wafer-thin layers of tender, flavoursome sirloin nestled in delicate tasty nests of fois gras. A lovely palate-cleanser of saffron-ginger sorbet acted as an intermission between the wondrously delicious arias. Main consisted of gorgeous, rich entrecotes of beef, cooked in that gentle, knowing way that produces blushing-pink pink that melted on the tongue. Dessert was a selection of goodies made from Meyer lemons (which my companion enjoyed thoroughly) and chili-chocolate cake (mine -and I confess to wanting another piece ever since), followed by a selection of cheese and fruit, simply, elegantly presented.

Lorenzo Loseto and his expert kitchen team lovingly create beautiful dishes that possess a kind of old-meets-new aesthetic; they marry old-world hearty flavours with new-world experimentation, adding in generous portions of clean, artistic presentation that is never fussy but rather, presents food as paintings, complete with colours, textures, shape and shadow, on the blank, smooth palette of white porcelain.

A meal at George was, easily, one of the most memorable experiences of my life, and I rate it as a true culinary destination for both visitors and inhabitants of Toronto. Comforting home-cooking it’s not -but nor should it be. Unique, special artistic… delicious. I think my culinary colour range just grew -and for that, I can only be deeply grateful.