toronto – Page 52 – Sheryl Kirby

Flour, Sugar and Art at the Queen of Tarts

The Queen of Tarts
283 Roncesvalles Avenue
416-651-3009

Not many people can count watching Martha Stewart bite her own leg off as a hi-light of their culinary career, but for Stephanie Pick, proprietor of The Queen of Tarts bakery on Roncesvalles Avenue, it was an event that garnered her already popular shop international attention.

Someone at Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia got hold of some of Pick’s gingerbread cookies decorated to look like Martha’s famous getting-out-of jail poncho, and very quickly Pick was invited to appear on the show where Martha happily bit off the gingerbread likeness of her ankle, complete with royal icing ankle monitor.

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Who’s Sorrel Now?

While reading a review copy of Comfort Food for Breakups The Memoir of a Hungry Girl by Toronto-based author Marusya Bociurkiw, I was intrigued by her description of “green borsch”, a soup she was served while visiting Ukraine.

Green borsch contains no beets whatsoever, but instead is comprised primarily of potatoes, carrot, sorrel, broth of some denomination and spices. It sounded interesting and Bociurkiw’s description made it doubly so, but then I quickly put it out of my mind as I made my way through her book of food memoirs.

A few days later, I found myself in Benna’s, that delightful bakery/deli/grocery store in the Polish neighbourhood of Roncesvalles Village. I cannot pass Benna’s without going in and buying something, and I’ve found everything from delightful sweets and pastries to cheeses and Polish canned good there.

On this day, Greg and I were admiring the many varieties of both pickled herring and headcheese when I spied a jar of green stuff. In a total Celestine Prophecy moment, I reached up and realized I was holding the elusive green borsch or sorrel soup. And it was vegetarian.

Of course, I had to buy it.

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Restaurant Profile – Indus Junction

Indus Junction
811 Queen Street West
647-428-7119

If I say “let’s go for Indian food,” to any of my friends, their first thought is going to be buffet, where we all fill our plates over and over again with passable but not especially memorable food. Sure, there are some upscale Indian restaurants in Toronto, but even there, the focus is on traditional, with the compartmentalized plates reminiscent of a cafeteria. Like so many ethnic cuisines that are now part of the culture of our city, we have this idea that Indian food must be traditional. But India as a culture has embraced the 21st century, and there’s no reason why Indian food can’t be modernized as well.

Enter Alka and Poonam Dhir, whose month-old Queen Street restaurant Indus Junction serves up beautiful Indian food, laced with authentic flavours and techniques, but with a modern twist. It is the junction where east meets west, old meets new, and the traditionally male-dominated industry gets a feminine touch that is as breath-taking as a jewelled sari.

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Oyster Boy – A Down East Difference

oysterplate Oyster Boy
872 Queen Street West
416-534-3432
Dinner for two with wine or beer, plus all taxes and tip: $100

I’ve never been a fan of claiming you know about something because you’ve lived in close proximity to where it became popular. I once worked as a barista in a tourist area where a customer dissed my cappuccino because, “we’re from Seattle, so, you know, we KNOW coffee.” Apparently just by standing in the original Starbucks people are able to absorb absolutely everything there is to know about the beans, the production and the roasting of coffee. The same goes for people who have lived in London, England, and claim an expert-level knowledge of Indian food.

So it makes me feel like a bit of a hypocrite to write a review of a seafood restaurant and pull out the old “I’m from Nova Scotia, so I know seafood” line, but if the cliché fits, you’ve got to wear it. See, we made two visits to Oyster Boy on Queen Street West; one with another Bluenoser who had a similar opinion of the food, and once with some friends from Moscow for whom many of the dishes on the menu were a completely new experience. Seafood appears to be a matter of perspective.

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Sunday Brunch – beerbistro

beerbistro
18 King Street East
416-861-9872
Three course brunch for two with all taxes and tip: $90

There’s an old cliché about the difference between night and day, but I’ve actually found a good example for which to apply it. I guess you could say I’m one of those “sensitive types”, or maybe my hearing is shot from too many industrial concerts in the 90s, but I hate, hate, hate loud restaurants. All that clinking of cutlery and loud music and raucous laughter. When you’re out for a quiet dinner or actually want to talk to the people you’re with, many restaurants are just not conducive to that situation.

Thus, I’ve become a bruncher. Even though I know how kitchen staff across the city, yea, around the world, hate the concept of getting up early after a night of busy service to poach eggs for those too intimidated to do it themselves, I really do prefer the usually quiet solitude of brunch over dinner.

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Totally Fun

I have a friend who is a music journalist. Over the years, she has become quite respected in her field and is often asked to give quotes and interviews on certain bands or music-industry-related issues. She once told me that she refuses to do any interviews for print media, and will only do radio or television, preferably live. This is not, as I had joked to her, that she thought especially highly of herself, but rather that she was frustrated with her words being used out of context in print. Radio and TV allowed her to have more control over how her comments were used. And remember, she is a print journalist herself.

Which makes me wonder if they offer a course at journalism school called “How to make your subjects look like idiots through the wonders of selective editing.” Because the Globe and Mail interview I did is up, and man, did they ever do a fantastic job at making me look like an airhead. (At least in the online version you’re all spared the scary photo that makes me look like I have no neck.)

But, just to set the record straight, here are some “corrections”…

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Good Phở Fo’ Shizzle

Phở Asia 21
1208 King Street West
647-436-0680
Dinner for two with all taxes, tip and beverage: $30

My immediate neighbourhood is not well known for its fine dining. Sure, there’s a couple of awesome Ethiopian places within walking distance, not to mention The Gladstone, The Drake, Beaver Cafe, and some interesting Tibetan restaurants if I’m willing to trek a bit. But anyone who’s ever found themselves at King & Dufferin looking for good food will know it’s a bit of a wasteland.

Once you rule out the two fast food burger joints and the two fast food sub chains, what you’re left with is a pretty awesome roti shop (Island Foods), a decent greasy spoon (The Gate) and a passable sports bar (Shoeless Joe’s). Which is why we were happy to see that a Vietnamese place had opened up around Christmas.

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Buffalo Gals

First, an admission. I am not as well-travelled as I’d like to be. While I’ve been to most major cities in the US and Canada, I’ve never been across the big pond. Given my feelings about the environmental impact of travelling for pleasure, not to mention the fact that I just hate the process of travelling in general (waiting in airports, jammed onto a plane for hours next to someone with toxic perfume, etc) it is unlikely that I will end up seeing a lot of the world in my lifetime. Living in Toronto, that’s not really a big issue, as I’m lucky enough to be able to hop on a cross-town streetcar and be transported to Athens or Seoul or Bombay for the very reasonable cost of $2.75, but there are occasional things that even the wonders of globalization cannot bring to the most multicultural city in the world.

Things like buffalo mozzarella, that are consumed near where they’re made and generally are past their prime by the time they reach a destination on another continent. I always figured that until I was able to travel to Italy, I’d never get to enjoy the real stuff.

Oh, I’d eaten bocconcini, made locally from pasteurized cow’s milk and sold in tubs. Slightly softer than regular mozzarella, I found the stuff to be pretty bland and tasteless, although the various sizes of little cheese balls were fun to put in salad. I never really got the “silky” description though – most of the stuff I ended up with had the consistency and bounce of one of those hard little superballs you could get in gum machines as a kid. You’d whip them at the floor and they’d bounce forever off of every surface, until your Mom would come and yell at you lest the thing took out a piece of the Royal Doulton collection. Suffice to say that in the grand realm of cheese, bocconcini really wasn’t near the top of my list.

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The Hidden Treasures at the Total Health Show

We approached the Total Health Show this past weekend with a bit of trepidation. Although it’s a well-respected event, now in its 30th year, and despite the focus organizers put on the more credible aspects of its participants, featuring things like massage and natural foods, there’s still an element to the world of holistic health that provokes me to peruse the schedule for the tinfoil hat fashion show.

We went with the intention of checking out the food vendors, since people are finally cluing in to the fact that good health is directly related to good nutrition, but were consumed with the fear that we’d get roped into trying some bio-feedback aura testing or buying the $30 bottles of magical juice that purports to cure everything from halitosis to cancer.

There were some of those folks there, to be sure, and we tried to keep our cynical comments to ourselves, but we were actually very pleasantly surprised to find a great number of vendors with really interesting, and tasty, products.

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Cafe Bernate – What Have I Been Missing All These Years?

Café Bernate
1024 Queen Street West
416-535-2835
lunch for two (including a cookie) with taxes, tip and coffee: $30

Regularly for the past ten or twelve years or so, I’d pass Café Bernate and say to myself, “We’ve really got to go there sometime!” Located on Queen West at Ossington, I’d be reminded of it twice a day as I rode the streetcar back and forth to work, yet somehow I never made it over there. Not for lack of trying through – a couple of times Greg, the husband, and I set out with the express intention to have lunch at the little gem of a café only to find it closed or packed.

So when we were walking along Queen Street a couple of weekends ago and both of us found our stomachs rumbling for lunch, we were surprised, astounded even, to find the place open. Finally, we would get to eat at Café Bernate.

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