Guu Izakaya opened its doors in Toronto on December 18, 2009. Since then, Ryerson campus dwellers, the work crowd, Toronto foodies, and Vancouver expats have been pouring through its doors non-stop. From the exterior (and from the usual hour-long line-up outside its doors), the restaurant looks more like an exclusive club than a Japanese “pub”. Izakayas in Japan are affordable watering holes that also serve food for salarymen to hit up before going home. However, when I dragged my own crowd of two Vancouver and one Ottawa expats to Guu on a Saturday night, we were mostly interested in the food.
As soon as I pulled open the massive wooden door to its entrance, I was greeted with a loud and energetic chorus of irashaimase! from all over the restaurant. I was temporarily shell-shocked and froze in the entrance way, literally too dazed to take another step. Was this a restaurant? Was I still in Toronto? The warm, lively, chaotic scene before me seemed a world away from the wet, cold, windy, and empty street I had just left. I spotted my friends at the bar and quickly joined them.
The restaurant was not very large, but they seemed to have somehow fit a hundred people inside. The commotion of the Japanese chefs behind the bar, along with everyone else in the place, made it so loud I found it difficult to hear myself speak. Every few seconds, the entire staff would shout a chorus of Japanese together, and I would again be shocked into a daze. It took us a long time to order as the shouting made it hard to focus on the menus in front of us. Time here also seemed to go at a faster pace than the outside world. Our server came by four times before we were ready to order – it seemed like we were taking a long time when in reality, we took no more than twenty minutes. When we finished our meal (in a rather timely fashion I would say), we realized we had maxed out our two-hour time limit, but it felt like no time at all. » Read the rest of this entry «
Reds Bistro is a classy restaurant well-known for its extensive wine list. Located in the Financial District of downtown Toronto, it is frequented by men with loosened ties and women in matching suits after a long workday. This may explain why its bar is not open on Saturdays, much to my dismay.The service was truly that of a high-end restaurant. Our server was bright, cheerful, and perceptive. He easily adapted to our pace and mannerisms (the average age of my party was probably younger than most of their customers) without making us feel out of place. He was patient in explaining the wine list, as well as the items on the Summerlicious menu.
The wine list was its own book, perhaps the book they swear by around here. Impressive. We ordered a bottle of Hogue, a German Riesling that was crisp and tart, everything a Riesling should be, while we waited for the final member of our party to arrive. My friends and I chatted over wine and bread and took our time ordering. When we finally ordered, the food took a while to come, but I barely noticed with the good company.
I started with their “Fresh from Ontario Garden Salad,” which was easily forgettable. In fact, I didn’t even take a picture of it because it was so unimpressive. It was a quarter of uncut iceberg lettuce, and some steamed rhubarb and scallion halves on the side. The miso carrot vinaigrette was the only redeeming quality of the dish, but I spent most of the appetizer portion of the meal brooding over the fact that I had to cut my own salad leaves. “Why aren’t you taking a picture of it?” My friends asked, knowing I’d be reviewing the restaurant later. “It’s a salad. It’s a boring salad at that. What can I say? The picture won’t be worth a thousand words. It won’t even be worth a hundred.”
My entree was Wild Alaskan Copper River Salmon Fillet with Maple Soy Glaze, Warm Field Cucumber and Wasabi Salad. What they didn’t mention on the menu was actually the part of the meal I enjoyed the most, a fried spelt cake. The spelt was crunchy, and the cake was crispy while expertly foregoing the taste of deep-fry batter. It was delicious. Possibly because I have an irrepressible desire for all things deep-fried, but this cake scored points even for originality. I mean, a hardy wheat in a deep-fried cake? Who would’ve thought?
The presentation of the salmon was slightly better than the salad, and I had high hopes for it after I had tasted the fried spelt cake. However, I nearly spit out my first forkful of salmon. Now, let me preface this by saying that I am not a seafood lover. It takes a lot of skill – and I mean a lot – for me to be able to enjoy a seafood dish. Steamed fish fillet with a salt and pepper rub and some lemon is not going to do it for me. In this case, it was salmon fillet with a soy glaze. Sorry, but yuck. I almost felt bad for being so utterly turned off by the salmon fillet, since the restaurant had a nice atmosphere, the service was attentive, and the wine was outstanding. But even after taking a gulp of the wine and tackling the salmon again, I simply could not swallow it. The slices had noticeable layers of fat in between and all I could really taste were salmon lipids. The fillet was slightly seasoned but no amount of seasoning could cover up the unmistakable smell of fish – the kind of smell that develops if the fish was dead before it was cooked. Yes, I know it’s salmon, and yes, I know Toronto isn’t exactly a fishing village, but I can’t compromise my taste buds, now can I? I find it nearly impossible to enjoy seafood that is not fresh. The times I have enjoyed eating fish have always been when the fish was alive right up to the point it was prepared for cooking.
Some of my friends ordered the steak, which they seemed to find more agreeable.
For dessert, I had originally ordered the Pudding Chômeur, but my friend and I switched after she had a taste of mine and loved it. The pudding chômeur was rather good, although a little sour.
I ended up having the rest of her Chantilly, which was decent. It tasted basically like chocolate mousse, not nearly as light and “whipped” as it should have been.
Overall, I was not impressed with the food or the presentation of Reds Bistro (still not over the fact that the salad was just a quarter slice of a head of lettuce). Perhaps I’ll come back on a day when all I want is a nice glass of wine (a day when their bar is actually open), but for all the other days of the year, I’ll take my money elsewhere.
Rating: 