Atlantica

Atlantica

38 Beachy Cove Road
Portugal Cove, NL
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9 out of 10

I have as many compliments for this restaurant as the Executive Chef has tattoos...

Starting at the arm, moving to the leg:
1. The scenery. Step into the dining room and immediately be overwhelmed by a window spanning the length of the room overlooking Portugal Cove. As the sun sets over the course of the meal, the Belle Island ferry looks like a slow-moving candle on the dark water, making its way from shore to shore. As hours slip by, the ferry's crossings become the sole mark of the evening's passing.

2. The service. Polite, helpful, and respectful. Does that count for 3 tattoos? Not many servers are able to satisfactorily describe various cooking methods of the chef. Onion soubise, a béchamel-type sauce of slow-cooked puréed onions, to accompany pan-seared Nova Scotia sea bass with braised fennel, tomato confit, candied lemon and balsamic vinegar. Thank you for the balance between knowledgeable attention and respectful distance.

3. Devotion to local products. While Quebec isn't exactly close by, the elk and fois gras that grace the menu travel less than the New Zealand lamb that is found in most St. John's restaurants. Atlantica takes only baby steps outside of the city for theirs. Also, much of their produce comes from just down the road at The Organic Farm, the owners of which were present at this meal. They immediately identified their small pea tendrils being used as garnish on the plate of the maple-smoked duck breast appetizer. A verdict was not reached on whether the spaghetti squash that served as bed for the wild yellow fin tuna was theirs as well. My guess is that the farm's mint fell in love with the local lamb and ran away together to Chef Vardy's kitchen to be served in a spice-crusted rack of the meat with kalamata olives. The olives had a much longer journey to get to the kitchen.

4. Respect for tradition, with a splash of innovation. Beautifully-presented veal osso buco braised in red wine is updated by adding saffron to the sauce itself instead of the usual risotto accompaniment. In fact, Atlantica serves the meat instead with new potatoes. While the orange and yellow-hued spice loses its job of colouring the pool of risotto, it's a nice touch to see its presence maintained in the dish even if Vardy prefers to support the potato over the success of all the local rice paddies...perhaps a good choice.

5. Not a disappointment, despite the large shoes to fill. The exceedingly competent kitchen staff (who are respectfully listed on the menu alongside the Executive Chef) has, I'm sure, helped ease the restaurant's transition between departed chef Jeremy Charles and the man who inherited his kitchen. A unique shooter glass amuse-bouche still appears at the beginning of the evening, and the blind tasting menu is still featured with or without wine pairing, but Vardy's use of oriental flavours sneak into the meal when you least expect it (without pushing into the abused realm of Asian fusion), through the yuzu citrus sauce delicately gracing one of the three raw tuna offerings of the "cru" plate appetizer, the sriracha hot sauce that adds a kick of heat to the impossibly thin and flavourful venison carpaccio, and the beetroot and ginger pachadi that spins sweetness and spice into a Newfoundland chutney.

There are moments when I wish I could drink cream, like when the amuse-bouche is a layered shot of consommé and puréed celery root. The dairy-free version cried out for the sweet cream in which it was meant to drown, and cruel garlic, maybe lemon, and the natural bitterness of the vegetable won out. The beautiful layering of the glass was also lost, having no colour change or extra ingredient to separate the purée at the bottom from the broth at the top. Still, the effect of the liquid texture followed by the mash was different, though it made me think that shots of wheatgrass at organic juice bars should always be served with cream, as those at the table who could digest milk were very satisfied with the start of their meal.

6. The bread. Fennel and dried apricot. A gorgeous crust and refreshing flavour on its own, made even better by intoxicating olive oil and thick balsamic. Unfortunately I think the sweetness of the first thing to touch my lips made the celery root seem more bitter by comparison. Perhaps I wouldn't resent not being able to drink cream so much if the bread has been less good.

7. The wine list. I love it when I don't recognize many of the bottles. I also love a broad range of prices and a decent amount of options served by the glass. These are well-chosen bottles that form a list that I am no where near qualified enough to critique, especially not having tried the blind tasting menu with wine pairing ($80 for 6 courses, plus $50 for the pairing). I strongly doubt that a requested recommendation here would not be intelligently suited to your meal.

8. The appetizers. The aforementioned venison carpaccio seemed overly lemony at first, but with each bite the lemon relinquished control and in came peppercorns and the flavour of the meat itself. Thin slices of duck breast were outshone by their accompanying drops of beet sap (yes, sap, not juice) on individual drops of truffle oil that enhanced the earthy maple flavour of the breast. Of all the things cooked in fat that weren't duck, the pear confit was certainly the most unique, and was a smart combination with honey and mild sweetbreads. The tuna three-ways was incredibly fresh, but only the sauce of soy, sesame, sugar, karashi (crushed mustard seeds) and a myriad other ingredients could bring out any flavour in the fish itself. If only we lived on the other side of the country, this dish would have been spectacular.

Then, fois gras. The "control fed" duck had no idea how delicious it would become. Both Quebec and Atlantica certainly knew. No need for the accompanying poached pear, but a perfect choice with the pancetta chip for pork-based saltiness to complement the incredible smoothness of each bite as it disintegrates on your tongue.

9. The mains. Celery root comes back with the Black Angus tenderloin. Cultivated mushrooms inhale the reduced and then reduced some more veal and wine-based Bordelaise sauce. The osso buco and its oyster mushrooms have nothing on the concentrated flavour of this sauce. Throw in some truffle butter just in case you thought it wasn't ridiculously gluttounous enough as it was.
The sea bass was seasoned and seared. That was all. The strong accompaniments demonstrated the versatility of the fish, giving the option of combining each bite with acidic tomato (instead of sweet), sweet lemon (instead of acidic) or rich balsamic (sweet and acidic, yet a strong contrast from the tomato and lemon).

Again I found the tuna suffered, not through any fault of the accompanying flavours, but because of the fish itself. It was nicely torched on the outside and rare on the inside, and the simplicity and freshness of the meal are to be appreciated (photo at top).

Back to Asia with pork belly. Slow-cooked in sweet, Japanese sake-based liquid, the pork fat breaks down and locks the moisture into the meat along with the clean, alcoholic warmth of the rice wine. Atlantica's belly is given a crisp crust on top and bottom of the melting moisturizing layer and tender meat layer. The varying textures turn the dish into a savoury mille-feuille-style tiered pastry. The caramelized scallops are certainly not to be ignored in the same dish, but can't stand up to the salty sweetness of the pork. They do appear beautifully placed on sprouted lentils and topped with the Organic Farm's baby sprouts. Some may find the pork to consist of too much fat and not enough meat, and in this case the dish will happily win you over with the cardamom carrot purée. Light as a feather, this sweetness stands up well to the pork.
I really didn't need the elk sirloin in my dish of braised shallots, cabbage, parsnip and spaetzle. Like the "hand-crafted" gnocchi that accompanied the chicken breast and little grey snails, the "hand-thrown" spaetzle combined eggs and flour (without the potato) to create fluffy pillows of dough. I admit to knocking the elk off the other ingredients root out more shallots that had absorbed the meat's reduced tarragon-juniper sauce. I swear I don't even like gin and tonic but the juniper berry flavour was subtle compared to the sweetness that burst from the braised onions. I really don't understand how cabbage can taste that good. I would happily be vegetarian except that the meat's juices are what flavour the vegetables. Deep-fried shallot slivers to garnish were the only touch reminiscent of Asia in this dish, bringing me back to meals of Indian biryani and roasted leg of lamb. The elk, however, had nothing to do with long-stewed pieces of inexpensive cuts of meat, and everything to do with the North American dream of a lean, perfectly-cooked medium-rare steak.
10. Dessert. There are times when it's very nice to be lactose-intolerant. As much as I would have loved to try the Chef's favourite dessert, his lemon tart, I wouldn't have been treated to the only zabaglione I've ever been able to eat. The traditional combination of egg yolks, sugar and sweet wine is often made with cream. The traditional version presented this evening, however, stood true to its milk-free roots and only substituted champagne for the Italian prosecco. Who am I to complain? A very generous portion of the custard sat atop fresh blackberries, sweet strawberries and nice blueberries (I'm sure they would be from Newfoundland if it were summer). I knew egg whites could be light as air, but between the "hand-thrown" German spaetzle and Italian zabaglione I am impressed by what a good hand can do with yolks. Mayonnaise will feel like a waste from now on.

11. According to this meal, Europe and Asia are the royalty of cooking techniques, but Eastern Canada can be very proud of its local foods that emulsify so beautifully with the age-old techniques. New traditions and old. Contemporary and romantic.

I didn't end up getting a clear answer on exactly how many tattoos the Chef has. If he has any more than 11, or decides to get any more, I suppose I'll just have to return for another dinner.

Expect to Pay: $60-$90 a la carte, including tax, tip and a glass of wine; $117 6 course blind tasting menu, including tax, tip and a glass of wine; $169 blind tasting menu with wine pairing, including tax and tip
Hours: Tues-Sat, dinner only, reserve 2-3 weeks in advance
(709) 895-1251

Bistro Sofia

Bistro Sofia

320 Water Street
St. John's, NL
7 1/2 out of 10

European

Finally there's a true bistro in St. John's. This affordable, unpretentious spot specializes in braised meats and old-world comfort foods like lamb shanks, pork shoulder and duck confit. Unfortunately, once a coffee shop, always a coffee shop. Having taken over the old Coffee Matters Too location on Water Street, the food far outstrips the decor. That means this makes a perfect casual lunch location, but even a business lunch would be a stretch. The person sitting with their laptop and latte at the couches near the small tables is a little jarring when you're ordering one of the best versions of osso buco that you've ever eaten.

Once you get past the overly casual atmosphere, the fall-off-the-bones tender lamb in red wine and the perfectly seared salmon in blueberry ice wine sauce will change any latte-related assumptions you may have made. This place is certainly not a glorified coffee shop. After having worked at some of the city's best restaurants, Chef Gregory Bersinksi shines in his own kitchen, serving what he does and likes best. There is no menu (save a meagre, though very affordable wine list - all wines offered by the glass...except the red we wanted...and, oh, also the white we considered), but rest assured that Bersinksi's offering make for a difficult decision. Even the two soup and salad option (the only appetizers) are fresh and comforting. Our evening's choices included a crab bisque, a tomato gin soup, an organic greens and a "shopska" salad. It took asking several tries to make sure we got the name right and make sure we'd properly heard, and then we still had no idea what it was. We were apparently out of the loop on the popularity of shopska salads in St. John's. If only there was a chalkboard to review the menu we wouldn't have had to repeatedly badger the server with questions of what the mysterious salad could be.

Then there was a very long un-bistro-like wait. If only there had been some bread to nibble on, or some water to sip for the 25 minutes before the unknown salad arrived I would have been more appreciative and less skeptical. Is it rude to go to the counter and ask for water? Sustenance! Give us sustenance! 20 minutes later, wine should not have been the first item to appear on the table.

Shopska Salad

The shopska was, in fact, very good. Tomatoes, cucumbers, fresh roasted shredded red peppers mixed with a few pieces of green, olives and a house-made balsamic vinaigrette. Tomatoes the likes of which I would have sworn were unavailable in Newfoundland at any time of the year, let alone early Spring, , were the highlight of the Eastern European dish. It's strange to rave about cucumbers but here I am, raving. The only disappointments were with the dressing. There was no balsamic to be found, and with the olives already in the salad, there wa sno need for all the added salt. The olive oil was stellar, though, and the balsamic wasn't really missed.

the risotto that accompanied the salmon is one of Bersinski's signature dishes, and I wish I could make a risotto this well. I was only disappointed to find it a bit too salty. Those with food allergies will be happy to find that the bistro often has vegetarian and vegan options and many of the dishes are dairy-free, like the risotto. The risotto was perfectly al dente, creamy and luscious, all without the seemingly requisite presence of a heap of butter and cheese. Suddenly risotto went from a heavy side dish to a light and flavouful (beautiful green onions) pairing for the sweet blueberry sauce. the salmon itself was incredibly tender, and was covered with just enough blueberry. the ice wine in the simple sauce added mostly sugar, not flavour, so there was no fear of overpowering the delicate and perfectly cooked fish. If only there had been more risotto and vegetables (the vegetables themselves were lovely. Often added to a plate as after-thoughts, these were carefully prepared and amazingly flavourful). It was certainly a meal for a small appetite.
I believe the braised lamb did not fall, but rather jumped from the bone, and the precisely diced vegetables retained their strong flavours through the long, lower heat of their slow cooking. If only it did not leave you wanting a second meal. For lunch, this would be perfect, or perhaps if bread was offered to soak up the rich sauce, an appetite could have been satisfied. Prices here are respectably low, but money is not made by skimping on carrots, even if they are delicious.

With the salmon, a Villa Maria Sauvignon Blanc. the only other option by the glass was a pino grigio. The Chardonnay was out of service, leaving nothing on the wine list that stood a chance of complementing the sweet sauce of the fish. A Folonari Ripasso Cabernet Sauvignon for the lamb. I'm baffled as to why the server would insist that we try the more popular merlot with the dish, when it was actually made with the Folonari.

This is certainly a laid-back enough place to just come for dessert, and you should. Layers of mousse, rich chocolate ganache, pastry cream and marzipan (almond paste) form the basis of the decadent individual pastries, tarts, macaroons, and the visually heartbreaking (because you can't eat them all) whole cakes. Watching a chef take fresh pastry layers from the oven, then pour dense liquid chocolate over the top of a mousse base was just stunning. These concoctions may be special ordered, and if you need dessert-ordering inspiration, a pamphlet of option, as well as a large fridge of half-made layers cakes, are on display.

Bistro Sofia stands by its bistro roots as an appealing option for a comforting, home made meal, but it's not an intimate, relaxing atmosphere. It's also, unfortunately, not a great place to take guests. The wait is too long to be a place for a quick bite, and the food is too gourmet and delicious to think of the place as a coffee shop or cafe. It's certainly not fine dining, though, with the couches, WiFi, and loud pop music ("Drop it like it's hot"?). I'm afraid they have no yet worked out what kind of clientele they wish to attract. If only the atmosphere and service matched the quality of the food, this would take a run at being one of the best downtown dining spots. It is a new venture, however, and I'll choose to believe that with such high quality food, this will, in time, become a wonderfully charming bistro.

Expect to Pay: $25-$40 with tax and tip
(709) 738-2060

Gourmet Garden International Cuisine

Gourmet Garden International Cuisine

377 Duckworth Street
St. John's, NL
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8 out of 10

Pakistani

This marks my first St. John's restaurant review! The city is a burgeoning culinary scene of both fine-dining and ethnic eateries. Where once food quality topped out at fi' and chi' (nothing wrong with it), now the city boasts a handful of prestigious restaurants that any food snob would enjoy, as well as your neighbour, his sisters, their second cousin twice-removed, her four kids, and their Poppie.

Now there are the city's newcomers - locales like Sun Sushi, International Flavours, A Taste of Thai, India Gate, City Lights, Asian Taste, and the Multi-Ethnic Eatery in the Torbay Road mall that are all helping make St. John's a global city. What's the attraction to these new restaurants? They're exotic and affordable. As much as Newfoundlanders are skeptical of raw fish, there were enough adventurous folk and returnees from Toronto to convince the city that Sun Sushi, the original St. John's sushi spot, was worth a try. Years later they're still going strong.
The newest addition to the downtown restaurant scene is Gourmet Garden. It's what most would call Indian, but the owner, Iftikhar Ahmed, is actually Pakistani and while the food in both India and Pakistan is different from region to region, what most people think of as 'Indian' food makes up the majority of the menu. A few big differences include the abundance of kebabs (skewers of meats like beef, lamb and chicken), which constitute the most popular food business in Pakistan. Newfoundland has fish and chips places, Pakistan has kebab houses. We have Ches's, they have Al-Hamra Restaurant. Now we have Gourmet Garden, so I maybe don't need to justify a trans-Atlantic journey.

No kebab is created equal, though, in the same way you'd argue over your favourite chips. Pakistani kebabs are also closely related to Afghan kebabs, the country's neighbour to the west, so a good way to get accustomed to these snacks would be to try the ones at Goumet Garden and their neighbour to the east, the Afghan Restaurant, to compare their versions. Despite the proximity of the countries, the two countries' food, and the two St. John's restaurants, are very different, yet delicious experiences.

Be warned, the kebabs don't come in the ridiculously reasonably priced lunch buffet ($11, tax included), so you'll want to make a few trips. You probably won't mind. The buffet is a great introduction to the restaurant and the cuisine, so before word gets out on how great this place is you might even get the whole place to yourself. A lunch buffet where you're the only guests could be a recipe for disaster - visions of un-eaten, lukewarm, over-cooked meat and vegetables sitting in chafing dishes full of oil. Not so here. Since the amount of guests was expected to be low, only a handful of dishes were served in the buffet itself. Extra complimentary items that couldn't sit and wait to be eaten, like home-made samosas, a beautifully rich stewed lamb dish, coriander, tomato and onion chutney, and naan came directly to the table without a pit stop in the buffet.
The options in the buffet itself included a beef biryani, a chicken leg biryani, a spiced potato dish with red peppers, spinach and carrots, a soup-like lentil dal, salad with lettuce, tomatoes, croutons and cheese (I don't think Caesar ever quite made it to Pakistan...but England did), and a simple boiled and fried potato dish in a spice blend masala. My only complaint was that the beef and chicken in the two biryanis was dry. Biryani is a very hard dish to make and the two at Gourmet Garden would have been great if they hadn't been waiting for customers to arrive, which was proven to me on a return visit for dinner where the seafood biryani was incredible. Biryani takes an age to make and boasts a list of ingredients longer than the grocery list you take to Sobeys on a given Saturday. It's a baked rice dish often served at celebrations, but it can be a meal in itself. Saffron is soaked in warm milk to give the rice its traditional orange flavour, though it can be replaced by food colouring. I'm pretty sure this version used saffron, and they definitely didn't skimp on meat. For all the spices in the dish, it actually tastes very mild, so if you're not a fan of spicy food and what you would normally think of as Indian and Pakistani cuisine, you'll probably like this dish when it's made-to-order, or fresh into the buffet.

As it was, the buffet biryanis just couldn't compare to the incredibly tender and fresh lamb brought hot to the table (pictured above). The fresh spices of fennel and mustard seeds made for succulent, savoury mouthfuls to highlight the lamb's natural flavour.

When the samosas came, I knew this as going to be a good meal. They were made of a surprisingly thin hand-shaped dough surrounding a very mild potato filling. With the salty cilantro chutney, the flavour popped out of its dough comfort zone. The dough itself was also refreshingly crisp since it hadn't been left cooking in the hot oil too long.

The dal dish and the potato dish with red peppers in the buffet competed for top vegetarian marks. The dal was a mildly sweet, nicely chewy, and very salty blend of mouth-calming comfort after a bit too much of the cilantro chutney. The potato tasted like cheese, so I suspect creamy yogurt was added, like it is in biryani, to coat and thicken the dish. It's a small point, but care was put into how every potato was chopped. This was not a quickly-thrown together side dish. There was precision and expertise involved. The chef later explained to me that she used organic yogurt and fresh spices, which I believed since I tasted every whole cumin, fennel and coriander seed in the dish. The flavour did not come from pre-ground spices or commercial spice blends, and obvious effort was made to make the dish as fresh as possible. I'm also very happy to say that none of the buffet items had my nightmare pools of grease. That's not to say that this is low-fat food, but the health benefits of the spices (turmeric, cinnamon, and fennel for digestion, ginger for the immune system) were not out-balanced by the amount of oil, as is often the case with South Asian restaurants.
There was a lot of potato, and there was a lot of rice. Add the naan and more potato in the samosas, and this was a starch-heavy meal. That's not to say that there was a lack of meat. Pakistani cuisine actually involves more meat than most Indian cuisine (perhaps because of the abundance of kebabs and fewer dietary restrictions?), and with the additional lamb dish and dal, there was more than enough protein on the plate. It would have been a struggle to go back for seconds. I certainly felt like I had gotten my money's worth, even though the buffet was relatively small. Only two other dishes would complement the buffet - another vegetable dish without potato, and a yogurt dish to cool the palate. Once lunch business picks up expect the buffet to grow, but if the lamb is any indication, dinner and a la carte ordering will be your best bets. Also, at dinner, the chef makes fresh naan bread, and you won't be disappointed that gulab jamun (deep-fried dough soaked in sweet syrup) and home-made, honey-drenched baklawa doesn't come with the buffet.

St. John's is lucky, indeed. So often a new Pakistani take-away in Toronto's Little India sells the cheapest food it can to make a profit. Vietnamese places in Montreal mostly will use MSG to flavour the food instead of relying on fresh spices and home-made broths. The city sets the standard and new restaurants need to adapt to compete in a tough marketplace. St. John's may not have the variety of larger cities, but what we have is quality. Gourmet Garden International Cuisine is a great example of why we can be proud of this city.

Expect to Pay: $12.50 lunch buffet, including tax and tip; $15-$25 for supper
Hours: 11am-10pm daily, lunch buffet everyday
(709) 237-7861

Loire Restaurant

Loire Restaurant
119 Harbord Street
Toronto, ON
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8 1/2 out of 10

French

I've been cooking a lot from Josée di Stasio's ode to modern French/Québecois recipes and food traditions, "A la di Stasio" recently. I've also been fortunate to eat at some of Montreal's French bistros and restaurants in the two years since I moved to the city from Toronto. Duck Confit shredded for an appetizer salad, or the entire crackling leg as a main. Cuts of meat braised for hours, placed atop mashed celeriac purée, the meat and plate drizzled with a sweetened balsamic reduction. Perfectly tender fillets of salmon or the Canadian, generally more sustainable replacements of rainbow trout or arctic char.

It seems that to find a good French meal in Quebec you need only put your nose in the air and walk in the general direction of baguette. In Toronto, this is not the case. While being so close to Quebec, it's incredible how little French food culture has permeated the city. Fine dining in Toronto has exploded in the two years since I've moved to Montreal, with great chefs, dining experiences, local food movements, farmers markets and an incredible variety of dining options presenting themselves. So it's surprising that the only obvious recent Quebec food invasion is poutine. Where is the foie gras? The paté? The terrine? Lardons? Cretons? Tarte Tatin? Pouding Chomeur? Sure, Toronto has a current love affair with pigs, too, but the line seems to be drawn at bacon, ham and BBQ ribs. Is there nowhere to get a tire d'érable (a 'pull' of maple syrup poured over a long counter of snow, and rolled up on a popsicle stick into a maple lollipop)?

So when I got back to Toronto after my two-year hiatus, I went looking for more French restaurants. Surely there must be something authentic?

Loire Casual Gourmet (119 Harbord Street, at Major) took a long route to Toronto - from France, not Quebec - but the restaurant would be an instant neighbourhood gem in Montreal. A small dining room gives a feeling of intimacy and the relaxed atmosphere justifies one third of the restaurant's name. The exquisite cuisine reflects another third, and the regional origins of the two owners, (Chef Jean-Charles Dupoire and Sommelier Sylvain Brisssonet) the final third.

I walked into this restaurant and felt at home. Immediately welcomed by the co-owner and M. Brissonet, who ran the floor that evening, I was impressed by the quiet confidence and pride I observed. I was walking into someone's home, and being treated as a guest. This was a place to respect.

The menu flavours change regularly, but the main ingredients remain the same; there will usually be mussels, oysters, goat cheese, fois gras and a charcuterie platter with house-pickled cornichons. That night's charcuterie featured pork rillette and chicken liver paté, while the PEI Mussels came with an exquisite lamb sausage broth. Sweet and smoky, it was the perfect start to a cool, damp evening. Empty mussel shells quickly scooped up the rich broth, since the perfectly French baguette (exactly what you will find in every French restaurant in Quebec, but nothing like the soft, dense slices found everywhere in Toronto, except at Ace Bakery) was not up to the challenge of absorbing such a treat.

A second appetizer of rabbit terrine was surprisingly light and refined. Gently-seasoned with fennel, and completely free of pork or cream, it was moist despite containing none of the fatty texture associated with terrine. The turkey-like flavour of the lean, protein-dense meat, however, became repetitive. Certainly after several bites there was nothing new to discover, and had it been any heavier, finishing it would have made the rest of the meal arduous. So there lies a balance in adding flavour without adding too much weight and richness. There is only so much simply-seasoned rabbit (or other white meat) that one wishes to eat. It tasted more like casual home-cooked comfort food than restaurant gourmet.

From the mains, the Loire burger and ultimate French dish, duck confit. The burger combined next-door-neighbour, Harbord Bakery's, challah bread, Quebec cheese, and a thick patty of New Zealand lamb (not Ontario? Not Quebec?). The lamb was simply seasoned with house-preserved tomato jam which happily replaced ketchup. In true bistro fashion the burger was accompanied by a large pot of fresh-cut fries. Beautifully cooked, nicely presented, straight-forward and honest cuisine.

The duck was a contemporary spin on the traditional confit. Shredded confit leg dotted the rich chipotle broth that enveloped the home-made tagliatelle. Four slices of seared duck breast were perched on the pasta. It was impossible to cut the breast without immersing it in the broth (to try to taste the flavour of the meat itself), but as it was a little past medium-rare, it benefited from the juice. While the broth was supposed to be seasoned with chipotle, there was nothing spicy or smokey about it. Fortunately, the duck breast and leg infused the broth with enough flavour , without even overwhelming the noodles. The person in the kitchen responsible for making such wonderful pasta should be given a medal, as the incredibly thin noodles were actually the second highlight of the dish. France has seemingly stolen the art of pasta-making from its Italian neighbour, and Toronto is the beneficiary. College Street's Little Italy has a few things to learn from the Loire Valley.

A very interesting and well-chosen wine list featured many lesser-known options from France (including several from the owners home Loire Valley, as well as unique Burgundy and Beaujolais gems) and a wide selection of Ontario wineries including Stratus, Tawse and Clos de Jordanne. The Clos de Jordanne Pinot Noir was dry enough to both not overpower the flavour of the duck and to complement the mild spice of the missing chipotles. It was unfortunately far too heavy for the rabbit, but if I wanted to match both I could have opted for two of the many exceptional wines offered by the glass at very reasonable prices ($9-$13).

Dessert again wavered between good and very good. The peanut butter mousse with vanilla ice cream was satisfactory. It became overly savoury from the peanuts and nothing in the dish could bring out the intricacies of the chocolate. Paired with a sweet coffee liqueur, however, the dessert would be spectacular. A specially offered plate of a selection of house preserves with fresh fruit was a much better end to the meal. Peaches and strawberries with fennel was like combining dessert and a traditional digestif of Pastis in one. It was almost too bad that it negated the need to order a liqueur from the carefully selected dessert wine menu of aged Ports, an Ontario ice wine, and a late harvest vidal. Of course, there is always the option of a plate of Quebec cheeses instead of, or before your digestif. Another example of tradition being comfortingly balanced with innovation.

After a wonderful meal, I am proud to say that Loire Restaurant is a little taste of France in Toronto. It is not trying to be authentic and traditional with every dish, but there is an obvious respect for food, a simple elegance in every dish, a gourmet honesty in the presentation, and a pride in the high quality of local ingredients that form the highlights of a meal in this high-calibre restaurant.

Expect to Pay: $45-$60 per person, including tax, tip, and a glass of wine
Hours: Tues-Fri 12pm - 2:30pm, 5:30pm-10pm, Sat 5:30pm-10pm, closed Sun-Mon
www.loirerestaurant.ca
416-850-8330