“The skylights really let the light in,” I comment to my friend as we are seated. The linens are neatly folded in front of us and feel thick to the touch. The tables are set far apart for privacy and easy navigation. So far so good.

A greasy-haired waiter shows up at our table promptly inquiring after our drink choices. We hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu yet, so he leaves and returns with water. When he returns a second time, we still weren’t ready, and he seemed to have decided we were never going to order. It takes much longer for him to return a third time.

My friend and I both made selections from the Summerlicious menu, and I added a pot of tea to my order, surprised that they had a tea menu at all¹.
The food came reasonably quickly.

We both had the charcuterie to start.

The salamis were forgettable, and the cured vegetables were far too sour. The pork rilettes on toasted ficelle turned out to be something like a meat pâté on a slice of demi-baguette bread. The pork rilettes were good, but considering it was the only eatable item on the plate, that wasn’t saying much.

My entree was the Lake Trout, while my friend opted for the mushroom risotto.

The Lake Trout was a horrendous disappointment. The skin was nice and crisp, but the trout itself was completely lacking in flavour. The green beans and potatoes were boring, the kind you might find at a large banquete dinner. The roasted almonds and shallots were an interesting mix, although far too buttery, which made the aromatic almond and lemon noisette less noticeable.

The mushroom risotto fared better with my friend’s palate, although tomato in risotto was a questionable choice. The risotto was creamy, but far too salty.

For dessert, we both chose the Niagara Angel Food Shortcake. We were hopeful that dessert would satisfy our taste buds – after all, dessert was virtually always agreeable to us.

The apricots in crème Anglaise were quite nice, but the angel food shortcake part was peculiarly foam-like – you can tell from the picture how spongey it was. It was also tough to break apart, I had to use a spoon and a fork together to pull the cake into smaller pieces.

The waiter came back only once to check on us during the meal, and another time, looked over while I had an empty plate in front of me but did not come to clear it.

“So… why did you insist we come to Pangaea?” My friend asked out of curiosity, assuming I had read a rave review somewhere. I admitted I had not, but had made my decision largely because the chef had followed me on Twitter. She rolled her eyes. I deserved it.

I felt a little guilty about making her accompany me to this disappointing experience when I went to the washroom and – to my horror – found myself in a tacky tiled bathroom that looked like it had been built 20 years before the rest of the restaurant. The metal stall doors were rusting, the tiles on the floor were uneven and dirty, and there was barely any water pressure coming from the cold water tap. Classy.

Not only was the service inconsistent, the food disappointing and overpriced (I would never, ever, ever come back for a regular-priced meal), but the washroom was dirty! There was toilet paper on the floor and pee on the seats. For goodness sakes, Moxie’s has nicer washrooms, and there are drunk people there on a weekly basis!

The washroom was the last straw. My friend and I grabbed our purses and vowed, with good reason, never to return.

Rating:

1. A very decent selection, I might add.

I first heard about The Only from some foodie friends, who mentioned there was a new restaurant on the block rapidly rising to stardom after being named one of Canada’s best new restaurants. At the time, I had no idea they were also one of the only restaurants attempting to “do the sustainability thing.” It wasn’t until we invited Paul and Jason to speak at a sustainability event at the business school that I really understood, and came to appreciate, their unique venture. Paul and Jason get all their ingredients from local farmers, who they have established great relationships with. However, this means their menu is completely dependent on what is “in season” or what they can get from their farmers that day/week/month. Obviously, costs are going to be higher for ingredients that are local, organic, or both, and it can be reflected in their slightly higher prices. However, they claim to offer top-notch service on top of great tasting food, so you get what you pay for.

I made a reservation for six people on a Monday night, but unfortunately, only three could make it. Before I had even taken off my coat, the waiter scolded me for not calling ahead of time to let them know our reduced party size. It wasn’t so much what he said that put me off, it was how he said it – as if I was a human being lacking in basic decency. Well, sorry if half my party decided not to show up at the last minute. Did that give him the right to scold me? Did that give him the right to ruin my meal before it had even begun? Was this the great service they prided themselves on?

I was quite miffed as I sat down, and wondered if he would have scolded another customer the same way if it had been a 50 year-old man as opposed to a 20 year-old girl. I decided to ignore it, since I had been looking forward to coming to The Only for quite some time. Besides, he wasn’t our server for the night, and our server turned out to be very nice, and even humoured us when we started talking about premium gins¹ by bringing some out.

Between the three of us, we ordered three appetizers, two intermediates, and one main. The serving sizes were quite reasonable, and the meal turned out to be more filling than we anticipated, so none of us had room for dessert by the end.

The artichoke soup was first to arrive.

I have never had artichoke soup before, so it is hard for me to judge the quality of this particular bowl of liquid cream. Other than the fact that it was very creamy and not too flavourful, the soup made no distinct impression on me (certainly not my favourite dish of the night).

Then came the winter vegetable salad. My friend ordered this because she was curious what would constitute a “winter vegetable” as opposed to a spring/summer/fall vegetable.

I was amused with the “really good Tuscan olive oil” description on the menu. I am not sure if this was the same olive oil that they used on the rest of the dishes, but I realized by the end of the night that I did not like this “really good Tuscan olive oil.” At the time though, the taste of the salad suited me just fine. Unfortunately, we could not identify most of the ingredients, other than winter cabbage, carrots, and radish.

My appetizer was a quail, which out to be more of an “intermediate” than an appetizer.

It was very well-seasoned, and the meat was not too tough even though the skin was toasted to a crisp. The “boneless” part was a lie, as you can obviously tell from the photo, but I actually prefer bone-in meats, because meat near bones tend to be more tender². Smoked capicolo is basically bacon, and it is actually not in this photo because the chefs forgot to put it on the dish when they first brought it out. Our waiter later brought me a few pieces, which was quite yum. And for a creative finish, the sour cherries were a delightful twist.

The first intermediate to arrive was my friend’s house-made gnocchi.

Naturally, this dish did not appeal to me because of the abundance of cheese. Nonetheless, I tried some, and discovered a surprisingly unhappy aftertaste, to which my immediate reaction was “nyech!”

While we tried to deduce what made me react negatively to the dish, I found that my own intermediate had the same unpleasant aftertaste.

Despite how I tried to enjoy my dish, I simply couldn’t. We finally pinned down my cause for displeasure: it was in the olive oil. Something in the olive oil did not agree with my palate. And as much as I enjoyed the raw trout and the tender potato chunks, I could not develop an appreciation for this “really good” olive oil.

Instead, I shared the rest of my friend’s duck entree, which was delicious.

Maybe things flavoured with sauce as opposed to olive oil agrees better with me (which would make sense considering my palate is accustomed to the strong flavours prevalent in Chinese dishes), or maybe the chefs here are just really good at game meats. Either way, the duck breast was tender and savoury with a crispy skin. The meat was medium rare and lightly seasoned, yet it was very xian³. The cabbage and peas tasted great in the calvados sauce. Like the sour cherries in my quail dish, the poached apricot gave this dish a sweet twist.

The restaurant is small, but the ambience was mixed. It wasn’t quite homey, but it wasn’t quite upper-class either. There was a sleek elegance to its understated wooden furnishings. The bar was very well-stocked with some premium liquors and a varied wine selection. I would say they delivered quality service if it wasn’t for the initial lecture I received. The servers were well-versed on the background of the restaurant, but you can tell the chefs are the one running the show (the servers could not withstand prolonged questioning on the ingredients of particular dishes).

Would I come back? Certainly, but not often at these prices. And next time, I’ll steer clear of anything infused with olive oil.

Rating:

1. She realized she had the bottle(s) we had been discussing, and brought them over to our table to show us, since we’d forgotten the name(s).
2. There are three reasons for this: 1) because it’s buried down inside the meat, the bone and its surroundings don’t get as hot and cook as fast as the outer parts do; 2) there are more tendons and connective tissue near bones, and the collagen protein in these tissues turn into gelatin when heated, and 3) sometimes, there is more fat near bones, and we all know how delicious animal fat is. Reference: What Einstein Told His Cook by Robert L. Wolke.
3. Xian is Chinese word to describe a particularly savoury taste, of which there is no English equivalent. In Japanese, it is called umami.

We were excited when the Neptune Salad arrived though, a heaping plateful of shrimp, scallop, and lobster. That is, until we realized the scallops again tasted funny, like the chemically-treated kind. Besides, premium scallops would never be heaped onto a $11 salad, so I guess we should have seen that coming.

The only perk? They have great coffee.
Rating:

What drew me to The Tasting Room initially was its large selection of appetizers, which came in large enough portions to constitute a small meal, or to share. Their Scallops Wrapped with Bacon are out of this world, but to be honest, so are most of their appetizers. Carribean Shrimp and Banana Curry is another unique appetizer that cannot be missed. The Calamari was a little on the bland side, but the Coconut Lobster Lollipops certainly made up for it. Prices for these appetizers are close to their entrees, but so are the sizes.

Their daily soup has also been consistently satisfactory. The daily soup is not on their menu, but I recall enjoying an excellent Black Bean Soup on two different occasions. I have not tried their entrees, as I am always full after the appetizers, but I have it on good authority that their seafood pasta is well-stocked for a $13 entree (lunch, $19 dinner).

They also have a very reasonable wine flight for anyone interested in a little wine tasting. Their servers are knowledgable, friendly, and always provide impeccable service. My only complaint is that their washroom facilities are far too small, but the rest of the restaurant is stylishly decorated.
Rating:

Our party of 7 arrived at 7pm without a reservation, but were seated within about 40 minutes. The restaurant was busy but the waiters were nonetheless attentive and quick to take our orders. We ordered off the Summerlicious menu, which was pleasantly varied and a great deal ($25 + tax and tip) for a three-course meal.

I had the Sun Ripened Watermelon & Tomato Gazpacho to start, the Preserved Lemon & Chili Chicken entree, and Warm Strawberry & Rhubarb Buckle to finish. The appetizer was a disappointing start to the meal, as it was too sour for my tastes. The sourness overwhelmed all other flavours so that the watermelon did not come through at all.

I had a taste of my friend’s Potted Tiger Shrimp Pate, which was much better than my sour bowl of questionable yellow contents. Perhaps I just ordered the wrong thing.

The entree was two pieces of chicken breast (skin on), generously rubbed with seasoning, sitting atop two slices of tomato. The seasoning for the chicken was great, but unfortunately, like all chicken breasts I seem to try, they were thick and dry and bland past skin surface. The yogurt sauce was also extremely strange and did not compliment the spelt salad at all.

Is this what all chicken entrees are doomed to be? Why are restaurants so adamant to do a chicken breast entree when they can just as easily use boneless, skinless chicken thighs that are so much more tender and flavourful? And why do they refuse to marinate the white meat? Why must the seasoning be restricted to a superficial layer on the outside? I simply cannot understand.

My friends ordered the lamb brochette, which I did not try because I’m not a fan of lamb but I was told it was all done “medium” when they’d asked for rare.

Then there was dessert. Ah, dessert. Always my favourite course. It was at this point that the restaurant finally managed to get back on my good side, with an amazing, crumbly strawberry and rhubarb buckle. I haven’t made up my mind as to whether or not I like rhubarb, and there wasn’t a lot of it in the dessert. It was topped with a heavenly toasted almond ice cream.

The best part of the dessert was not the ice cream nor the rhubarb (or lack thereof), but the amazing texture of the slice. It was crunchy on the outside and moist and soft on the inside. It wasn’t incredibly rich, and it wasn’t soggy either. I didn’t think it was possible for this restaurant to redeem itself after I left my appetizer untouched and my entree only half-eaten, but the dessert really was quite perfect.
I had a taste of my friend’s eton mess, which really did look messy, but in a colourful, unpretentious kind of way. The taste was sweet and fruity, but nowhere as good as my buckle.

The environment was a lively, classy one, which is surprising considering the restaurant is located in an unassuming plaza. I also cannot forget to mention that the service was excellent, especially considering our waiter took time to explain proper etiquette in getting a waiter’s attention (we asked) and listened while we explained the story behind the tapping of the table by Asian customers (he asked).
All in all, the meal did not live up to the name of the Oliver & Bonacini restaurant chain, but the dessert did.

Rating:
svgallery=oliverbonacini

Until I started writing this recipe, I did not know what these were. I’ve used them before, oh, plenty of times. They’re great for stir-fries, easy to work with, and an easy, tasteless way to add some veggies to your dish.

Turns out, they’re not veggies. They’re fruits! Melons, in fact. I’d always had a sneaking suspicion they were related to melons (the green and the crisp and the seed gave it away), but I never really bothered to confirm it.

Chayote are apparently native to Costa Rica and a popular ingredient in Mexico, although I was introduced to them in a Chinese supermarket. Known as 佛手瓜 (Fu Shou Gua) to me, I’ve used them in stir-fries alongside the likes of chicken, soybeans, and firm marinated tofu. Since they’re related to cucumber, you can imagine that they soften easily, so you shouldn’t cook them too long if you want to retain their crisp character. They don’t have much flavour to them (less so than cucumber), and they’re fairly good at retaining water.

Anyway. Long story short. I’ve been meaning to make something with the rest of my beef chunks, which I had already slow-cooked with some salt, star anise, and dried chilli peppers. I also needed to make some “street food” for Blog Party #33, which I’ve been undecided about the entire week.
Suddenly, inspiration hit.
You know in some Chinese buns, they’ll have pulled pork or beef that’s heavily marinated? Well…

I decided to pull apart the beef chunks into “strings”, and stir-fry it with chayote and onion. The result was a great mish-mash of savoury pulled beef and soft chayote. The best part was that both components were moist (beef looses its moisture quite easily) and packed with flavour.
The street-food element is that it would be a great stuffing for a pita. In fact, it could easily be turned into a main with the addition of any number of carbs: steamed Chinese buns, white rice, or even something made from potato (polenta or mashed).
I’m trying to cut down my carb-intake though (I’ve grown up eating rice with every meal so believe me, this is a lot harder than it sounds), so I had to think of something else.
I also had to make this into an appetizer in order to qualify for the Blog Party. So…

Ta da!
I had been chewing on a stick of cucumber while I was debating (yes, I chew on sticks of cucumber), and realized that the cucumber tasted pretty good with the beef-chayote dish. So the end result was a cucumber-based appetizer with some beef, chayote, and onion. I topped it off with a small piece of red pepper to give it some colour.

The verdict: the makeover of the “street-food” beef and chayote stuffing into an elegant little appetizer is all sorts of genius. Cucumber and chayote naturally marry well since they’re members of the same family (which I did not know at the time! Hence, genius), but they also contrast each other since the chayote is soft and full of flavour, while the cucumber is on the outside, adding a fresh crisp to every bite. The beef is moist and well-marinated in typical Asian fashion, with an aroma of sesame decadence and a subtle spicy undertone. This is probably the healthiest street-food-turned-appetizer ever!

The name of this dish is another brand of genius in itself (thank you, thank you very much). Since cucumber and chayote are in the same family, they are “The Green Sisters.” The love feud is between them and the beef, whose passion is ignited by the spicy undertones and the red pepper topping, much like the tip of a flame.

We recommend that this appetizer be consumed with Amazake¹, a low-alcohol Japanese drink made from fermented rice.

svgallery=beefchayote

Ingredients:
0.3 lb stewing beef
2 tsp salt
1 star anise
3 dried red chili peppers
1 chayote, cut into strands or thin slices
1/4 white or red onion, cut into strands or thin slices
1 cup beansprouts (optional)
0.5 cup soy sauce
1 tbsp sugar
2 thin slices of ginger
2 tsp sesame oil
1-2 tsp 老干妈 (Lao Gan Ma) chili sauce²

To make the beef:

1. Boil a pot of water. Add the beef stew cubes.
2. Wait until the water boils again, then dump the water out and rinse the beef. Add water until it is 1in above the beef and return to stove.
3. When the water is almost boiling again, add 2 tsp salt, star anise, and dried chili peppers. Wait for the water to boil, then turn the heat down to a medium-low setting.
4. Cook for at least 30min or until beef is no longer hard.
5. Remove from stove. Take out beef cubes and keep the liquid (will be used as stock later). Pull apart beef cubes with your hands. (If you’re good with a knife, you can also cut them, but make sure to cut them into tiny strands).

For the stir-fry:

1. Heat the wok. Skim some oil from the top of the beef stock and add to wok. Add 1 cup of beef stock.
2. Add beef, onions, ginger, half the soy sauce, and half the sugar.
3. After mixing, add the chayote, the rest of the soy sauce, and the rest of the sugar. (Optional: You can add another tsp of salt here if needed. For an appetizer, I wouldn’t add the salt, but if you’re eating this as a main with plain rice or steamed buns, go ahead and the salt.)
4. Lower the heat to medium and cook until chayote is soft. Make sure it doesn’t dry out when you’re cooking (add water or more beef stock if needed). The mixture should always be just immersed in liquid.
5. Just before you’re done, turn the heat back up to high, add the sesame oil, and stir frequently. This will make the water evaporated faster and thicken the liquid.

If you’re serving this as a main, serve hot on a bed of white rice or alongside some plain steamed buns. It can also be lunch tomorrow if you heat it up and stuff it into a pita. If you’re serving it as an appetizer, put some on top of slices of cucumber and garnish with a small slice of red pepper.

1. From Wikipedia: “Amazake can be used as a dessert, snack, natural sweetening agent, baby food, salad dressing or smoothie. The traditional drink (prepared by combining amazake and water, heated to a simmer, and often topped with a pinch of finely grated ginger) was popular with street vendors, and it is still served at inns and teahouses. Many Shinto shrines provide or sell this in the New Year. In the 20th century, an instant version became available.
   Amazake is believed to be very nutritious, with no additives, preservatives, added sugars or salts. Outside of Japan, it is often sold in health food shops.”
2.