Wednesday’s chef is full of Woe
Was it a mistake to go out to dine on a Wednesday? News out of California suggests that Wednesday, not Monday, is now the preferred day for suicide. Was this what drove me to reserve a table at Truffles in the Four Seasons Hotel on a Wednesday?
I made the date in all innocence. Truffles is a gilt- edged brand which should mean that while chefs may come and go, the restaurant will always deliver a good if expensive dinner.
But – pity the poor trusting customer – this is no longer certain. The resto as reliable institution is no more. Back in 1996 when I started reviewing restaurants, I never mentioned a chef unless he was a visiting fireman like Anton Mossiman – billed as Prince Charles’ favourite chef. I see that as late as 1997, the New York Times’ Ruth Reichl reviewed La Grenouille, queen of the frog pond, and never even mentioned the chef’s name. Must have been one of the last times because by then the Food Network had begun its baleful trajectory spinning out stars like Mario Batali and Emeril Lagasse, celebrities who drove restaurants to success. Today a resto rises and falls with the name of the chef. Often the chef makes the headline.
Which brings me back to Truffles. A few years ago Truffles boasted Lynn Crawford, Iron Chef who wuz robbed of victory in the Peanut Battle with Bobby Flay. She was followed by Lora Kirk from London’s haute Connaught Hotel who presented austerity du jour. Now a new chef, Laurie Bandur.
Truffles projects a retro formality which suits the suits who dine there. Bon Vivant dresses up with a demure suede jacket and I wear my red rimmed Raybans. We are served enthusiastically which hasn’t always been the case at Truffles where waiters have been known to limp across the finish line.
Tough times call for deals, and Truffles has joined the choir: two courses for $39, three for $49. We go for three courses.
I opt for veal sweetbreads, always a tossup, because their delicacy demands just the right counterpoint. ($21*)This time, the sautéed sweetbread sits alone and dry on a big square plate decorated with vegetables. “A mystery bag of groceries” cries Bon Vivant. I crunch a radish and admire a streak of red pepper, but when I bite into the parsley root, a warning bell goes off. It is bitter.
Sour is one thing, it is a spurt of acid. But bitter is a hostile food: it lingers long after you’ve eaten the ingredient. Used carefully it can be a sharp complement to sweet – ironically, the sweetbread would have gained flavour from a trace of bitterness in the mustardy vinaigrette.
More bitterness! Chilled lovage and celery soup ($18*) is pleasant until the bitter aftertaste kicks in despite the emollient mascarpone panna cotta and “laughing bird shrimps”. These are “sustainable” shrimp compared to rock shrimp. FYI, rock shrimp are better.
I can’t believe it: more bitterness, the celery in the clam chowder which washes overcooked halibut, garnished with undercooked pearl onions.
Little discs of grilled Atlantic lobster ($ 43* or $9 supplement on prix fixe) are elegant if chewy but the accompanying warm salad of violet artichokes, green beans , crispy duck with foiegras sauce is very good indeed.
Truffles is the kind of restaurant that calls for a soufflé. What I get is a grand marnier cupcake with a glass of ice wine gelee and ruby grapefruit granita – OMG it’s as bitter as Fernet Branca, the fave Italian herbal cure for hangovers. The pistachio crème and cherry compote went down nicely with an almond biscuit.
Who is this embittered chef, Laurie Bandur? She graduated from the George Brown Culinary Arts Program and “has been perfecting her culinary skills over the past number of years” -no mention of her being a line cook. She looks dishy, ripe for the Food Network. But looks don’t count at Truffles where it’s the cooking that matters.
*Truffles, Four Seasons Hotel 21 Avenue Road, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M5R 2G1 Tel. 1 (416) 964-0411. Wheelchair Accessible. Not noisy. Prix Fixe for Two plus tax: $111 (*regular price)
