From Café Boulud To Eating Toronto: Ten Years Ago

[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: October 22, 2013]

After looking over some new torques by Richard Serra at the Gagosian's huge Chelsea space, it was time for a return match with Café Boulud. In 2003, Andrew Carmellini was still running the kitchen, and--taking price into account--it was maybe the best upscale French restaurant in town.

Cocktails across the street in Bemelmans first, of course.

This must have been the occasion when, noticing the British accents at the table, the daft server suggested just bringing "a big bowl of pasta and put it in the middle of the table."  Two American citizens and one long-term resident--accents or not--turned a withering gaze on him, and after the amuses had him set a platter of Wellfleet oysters in the middle of the table instead.

I follow this with a crab salad, then a Pennsylvania capon--a bird not seen often enough in restaurants--with mashed potatoes. For several years, I made capon the centerpiece of Thanksgiving dinner. It's a rich, fatty, meaty fowl. Yalumba Viognier, 2000 with the crab; E. Guigal Gigondas, 1996 with the bird. Some Muscat with a dessert which my diary doesn't describe.

Then it was onboard a plane for the quick flight to Toronto, re-reading Nietzche's Gaya Scienza for some reason.  This was one of many periodic trips I took to Toronto for visa reasons, and my employer very decently installed me in the Four Seasons, just behind the shopping strip of Bloor Street.

I'd researched dining options, and one of the newer restaurants getting praise from my online peers was Sen5es. Yes, sic. And it's still there--an airy, modern sort of space--although it now seems to have given up its dinner destination pretensions. Ten years ago, I ate:

Lobster and scallops with sea urchin sauce and osetra caviar

Seared foie gras with pear tarte tatin

Red deer loin, foie gras sauce, lobster risotto, cranberry jam

Ginger panna cotta, green tea parfait

I was surprised by the lobster risotto served with the venison, but it has left no scars on my memory.

Inniskillen Montague Estate Pinot Noir, 2000, and the mandatory Inniskillen Ice Wine accompanied the meal.

The next day featured a rendezvous at the offices of immigration lawyers, a ton of paperwork, and then the interminable wait to lodge the paperwork at the grim American consulate.  I knew in advance that I wouldn't get the visa until the following day, so I filled the late afternoon shopping on Bloor Street.

After drinks at the very pub-like Duke of York, dinner was at a well-established wine destination, Opus on Prince Arthur. Plush and clubby, in a gorgeous old townhouse, dinner at Opus began with a telephone directory-sized wine-list plunked on the table.

I'm surprised to see I ate a  saddle and rack of rabbit with root vegetables as an appetizer.  Perhaps I was being greedy. Next, rack of Quebec Isle Vert lamb, quinoa, sweet potatoes, and a red wine reduction. Then cheeses, and a banana parfait.

This was back in the days when the Canadian dollar bought around $1.40 US, so the upper reaches of the wine-list were tempting.  A 1996 Flor de Pingus, 1996, would probably hit around $300 on a New York wine-list today. I don't know what it cost in Toronto, 2003, but the restaurant owner was pleased enough with me to fetch some fancy cognac from the top shelf and set it on the table.

Next morning, Degas sculptures at the Art Gallery of Ontario--the usual suspects: dancers, bathers, horses--until visa collection time.  Then home, where a World Series was underway.