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Once in a while it's nice to remind ourselves how far Toronto has come as a dining-out capital with a world-class talent pool of chefs. And one restaurateur has been around to watch our status grow since the beginning. Of course, we speak of veteran foodie George Gurnon.
Born in Marseilles and hotel-school trained, Gurnon developed a following in the '70s as the affable maitre d' at the original Courtyard Café and then at the subterranean, yet chic, Noodles. But it was in '87 when he and chef Claude Bouillet really made their first mark. They broke new ground opening Le Bistingo on Queen West, a strip more notable back then for its second-hand clothing than its high-priced dining haunts. Alas, all good things come to a close.
Thankfully, Gurnon and Bouillet resurfaced in swank Rosedale, and in 1997 opened Pastis. But it was the arrival of 28-year-old Scott Pennock last fall -- trying to fill Bouillet's big and well-trodden shoes -- that piqued our interest.
Ironically and much to our chagrin, save for a soup, Pastis features no pastis-based recipes. And with the exception of posies for each table, the decor is unimpressive. The flat expanse of sugarcane beet-coloured walls and large, gold-framed, bright floral artwork scream '80s. As for service: it kind of evokes classic French. But if servers don't have time to bring repeatedly-requested slices of bread, doesn't it make sense to leave a basket?
We kicked off with a pretty, wide-brimmed bowl of freshly steamed, small, tender mussels in a tasty broth of wild leeks, tomato and white wine ($13). The rounds of neatly laid-out mussels were crowned with three large tail-up shrimp in an extremely well-executed tempura. The shrimp, delicious to say the least, are firm, moist and flavourful. Problem is, once you've eaten them, the mussels pale to pedestrian.
But there is nothing common about a remarkably fine Pastis fish soup ($9). This classic bouillabaisse -- served without whole pieces of fish -- is properly reduced to a purée. Earthy in colour and rich in texture, the flavour of this Provençal staple hits the mark. Ladled out of a large white porcelain tureen (which, in France, would've been left at the table), the soup is accompanied by two thinly-sliced rounds of toasted croûton topped with a surprisingly yellow-coloured rouille (a garlic/olive oil-based sauce) that looks and tastes more like aioli with grated cheese. This singular stellar dish includes the elusive anise-flavoured Pastis liquor, but it's so well integrated, it's barely detectable.
Another worthy appetizer is a large raviolo ($13) filled with fresh green and white asparagus, shaved Parmesan, sage and browned butter -- sitting in a posh puddle of truffle oil. This special-occasion recipe that oozes with organic egg yolk, is one chef Pennock picked up while in Italy. Only 10 or so portions are prepared nightly. And with the exception of it being a trifle too tough around the edges, this is one special treat. Very pleasing to the palate and the eye.
Other openers include a surprisingly-light miniature warm goat cheese soufflé ($10) on a caramelized vidalia onion, accompanied by greens, vegetable chips and a tangy, diced, sweet red and yellow pepper relish. Also notable, albeit a tad unusual, are deep-fried spring rolls ($10) filled with fresh scallops, with Asian greens and a Vietnamese dipping sauce. Gurnon may successfully defend this dish in recognition of the 100 years the French spent in Vietnam. But such a beautiful filling is wasted on such a fast-food snack.
Moving on to les plats, two classics are chosen. Four succulent ribs of roasted New Zealand rack of baby lamb ($29) are both tender and perfectly cooked, albeit fatty. Served in their own jus, they come with a creamy potato gratin and a truffle-flavoured melange of veggies. What really shines are terrific, fork-tender provimi veal sweetbreads ($25) on a bed of spinach-like beet greens, served with a field mushroom strudel and a variety of other fresh veggies. The sweetbreads hale from Quebec's renowned Le Ferme de Gourmet, and are in a very light Madeira sauce. Gently sautéed they are, but braised (as described) they are not. Nevertheless, a highlight of the night.
From the menu's bistro section comes a slightly bland, pan-seared piece of fresh Alaskan halibut ($22), gently coated in a cornmeal crust and served with a beurre rouge, steamed baby bok-choy and baby red potatoes. It doesn't disappoint. But this and the only other seafood dish (grilled Atlantic salmon with steamed basmati rice) have little to do with traditional French cuisine. Why not monkfish, wing of skate, crayfish or even coquille Saint-Jacques?
Finally, a pan-seared provimi veal liver ($21) is tastefully de-glazed with aged-balsamic, and served with shallots, smoked bacon lardons and slow-roasted tomatoes and zucchini. A side of crisp, greaseless Yukon Gold frites in peanut oil adds grace to fries.
The desserts (all $8) range from a good crème brûlée made with fresh "Madagascar" vanilla bean (which is actually from Mexico) to only acceptable profiteroles served with a perfectly serviceable vanilla ice cream, bittersweet chocolate sauce and raspberry coulis. A caramelized hot apple tart is served warm with a separate bowl of Calvados sabayon -- which one waits 20 minutes for. Not worth the wait. The crust on this large, low-rise, round apple tart takes a detour from the decadent department; hey, where's the butter? Meanwhile, the accompanying sabayon is more stylized than classic, resembling more the head of a cappuccino whose head is laced with the inhale-able apple-flavoured liqueur. Generous perhaps, but lamentably light.
It's a well-known fact that when you mix Pastis with water, it gets cloudy. This is perhaps the same way we feel after visiting this fine French-inspired eatery; French-inspired because it seems the young Pennock is squeezing out hard-to-find French classics and moving the menu in a more international direction. You'd think an enterprising restaurateur like Gurnon would capitalize on the image of its French namesake.
Overall, with the exception of dessert, if you want a more expensive version of the attractively upbeat Le Paradis bistro, you'll adore Pastis. However, if you're a fan of the much more traditional French classics that can be had at Provence, you may be in for a disappointment.
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