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Now here's a restaurant with ambiance. Formerly a tailor's shop, this cozy turn-of-the-century space has been transformed into a quietly elegant steakhouse. Comfortable seating, white linens and a series of old-style gas lamps suspended from cleverly decorated columns give this place an old-world charm. Not to mention the four-foot-tall candlesticks that line the aisle. It's even a challenge to avoid passing the small but enticing marble bar without first enjoying a cocktail. David, our calm, friendly server, doubles as a very competent bartender; he sure knows how to shake up some fine Sapphire and Cosmopolitan martinis ($9).
The large, split, tail-on grilled shrimp in a maple syrup glaze ($12) are absolutely divine. Trouble is, there are only three, leaving us wanting another half-dozen. But what really surprises is the accompanying plain rice "timbale" that, I swear, is Uncle Bens. Adding salt to the wound, the menu informs that these same succulent shrimp can be ordered with any steak for only $1.50 -- each!
Ditto for the stuffed portobello mushroom on a bed of asparagus ($9). At this price one mushroom is a meagre serving. Now it is large, tender and tasty, but it is topped, not stuffed, with some Parmesan and herbs mixture that more or less resembles bread crumbs -- and way too salty at that.
A good vichyssoise ($7) is hard to find. And after sampling this one, the search continues. Instead, an extremely viscous leek and potato puree is ever so nicely decorated with a small bird's nest of crispy thin leek strips perched atop the surface. And the garnish of fresh chive sour cream is nowhere to be found. And that's not the only thing it lacks: it's rather mild and misses without delivering any oomph or character to titillate the palate. Salt helps, but pass this up.
The appetizer of the day consists of one small, crispy, fish cake ($9.95) served with a delectable aioli. But the high ratio of mashed potato filler to white fish makes me wonder when a cake becomes a croquette -- or even knish for that matter. Overpriced. To be fair, 36 is one restaurant that knows a good pickle. At no charge, they put out a lovely tray of capers, olives and huge slices of delicious, tender, full sour Strub's dills.
One event does dampen spirits. In light of the Walkerton tragedy, paranoia probably has most restaurants serving more bottled water than eau de tap. But after we order one bottle of flat ($7.50), somehow our very efficient and knowledgeable waiter takes the liberty of opening new bottles to fill our giant water goblets. (They should pour wine by the glass that way). When asked if subsequent bottles were on the house, he replied: "I'll stop pouring if you ask me to." Stop! Three bottles of water after taxes and tip total nearly $30. Our eager server, pleasing as he was, should've checked with us first.
Waterlogged, we swim over to the fresh catches of the day -- a surprising highlight for a steakhouse. A selection of five pristine whole fish is offered from a platter kept in a small refrigerated curio cabinet opposite the bar. The grilled oratta is a type of sea bream (a.k.a. porgy) flown in from the Mediterranean. It is wonderfully fresh and surprisingly dense and sweet, and comes off the bone cleanly. And while the skin isn't crispy, it's still worth a chew. Delicious to the last morsel and incredibly priced at $27.95. (Fish fans can get it from City Fish Market on Dufferin.)
While 36 uses great quality Canadian Sterling Silver beef, they're leaner cuts and lack the flavour that marbling, found in only the best USDA choice cuts, adds. To compensate, lots of external flavours like mesquite are applied. A generous bacon-wrapped beef tenderloin is served on a small pool of what is reportedly a red Bordeaux wine sauce ($32). This dish only reaffirms the problem of this beef's cut. Its neutral taste can only be augmented by the flavour of mesquite and bacon. The smaller and more flavorful New York striploin is glazed with roasted garlic, European smoked bacon in a Roquefort jus ($29). Reasonably tender and juicy, it isn't cut thick enough to be properly grilled to the desired medium rare. Ditto for the four smallish grilled lamb chops; competently prepared, yes, but a trifle tough. No swooning. It also comes with a rather microscopic, but very tasty bean ragout.
An aside on sides, they don't inspire. The large, thinly sliced, pieces of carrot have been sautéed in clarified butter and are just okay, as are the skinny asparagus spears. The Yukon mash is a tad watery and is also shy on flavour. The fries, while infinitely better than most, are served less than piping hot.
For dessert, the cognac infused chocolate mousse has been piped into a small pyramid made from three triangular pieces of what seems to be baklava-inspired sweet phyllo -- a major deviation from the menu which reads mousse wrapped in a crisp orange tuile. Whatever it is, it ain't tuile. As for the mousse, it's more like a hybrid of chocolate icing and cake batter mixed with granulated brown sugar. Light, elegant and airy this isn't. Indeed, some lumpiness reminds of the hardened skin that forms when chocolate pudding sits in the fridge too long. Another pass at $8.
The same can be said about the sweet apple crisp ($7), incorrectly described as a crumble. This unimaginative dessert, served in an attractive white ramekin with a sweet, toasted oatmeal top, has a more muffin-like appearance and taste. What really shines here, however, is the side of champagne, blood orange and rhubarb sorbet. Ask for that one on its own.
In a city with a surfeit of steakhouses, 36 on Wellington can be categorized somewhere between the stellar Harbour Sixty and the cheap 'n' cheerful Le Biftheque at the Sheraton Centre. At these prices, however, you'd expect slightly larger portions and a little more finesse. They have the ambiance and service down pat (big spenders that we are, management sends over a complimentary glass of lovely port), but the kitchen needs more of a chef and less of a cook.
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