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