[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: October 21, 2014]
Patient readers may recall that I was obliged, in the years I awaited my green card, to cross the border every fall to renew my visa. This nonsensical archaism sent me regularly to Toronto (I aired the possibility of Tijuana once, but my immigration lawyer would have none of it).
So it was an annual trip, travel and accommodation paid, during which I spent half a day filling forms, then had nothing to do but stroll and eat until I could pick up my new documentation.
For a change of perspective, I settled into the Toronto Hilton this time around, rather than the usual Four Seasons, and then headed for Opus on Prince Arthur, a restaurant with conventionally luxurious food, and an insane wine-list, size of phone directory. I took a glass of Veuve Clicquot with some fingerlings garnished with local caviar and sour cream.
Then it was loin of elk, and a selection of cheeses, to accompany a 1990 "Les Puliers" Nuits Saint Georges 1er Cru by Henri Gouges. I don't know what I paid for it, but I suspect it was well under $200 (and the exchange rate helped too).
The morning at the US Consulate, nursing a Burgundy hangover; a burger at Village Idiot (near Bloor Street) for lunch, then an afternoon with new acquisitions at the Art Gallery of Ontario.
That evening, it was down to the distillery district for the dining highlight of the trip, a meal at Pat Riley's fabulous Perigee. I said back then that Perigee was one Toronto restaurant New York would love, but I realize only now how truly ahead of its time it was. A team of young, madly enthusiastic chefs, prepping in a fully open kitchen all afternoon, then serving the day's spontaneous tasting menu to diners seated at the counter surrounding them (there were tables too). No two diners in a party received the same dish. It was a breathtaking performance. The service was highly polished and personalized too.
And doesn't it sound very much like New York City, 2014.
I couldn't note the entire parade of food, but highlights included foie gras served with fig jam and a savory panna cotta; Japanese diver scallops with pancetta, plums, and plum sauce; a superb roast squab; and--the desserts were magical--Black Forest "gateau" with smoked white chocolate ice cream.
But there were many other courses, with wine pairings, and an Armagnac to finish.
I spent the following day traipsing the streets--Bloor Street East, down Church to Dundas, over to Chinatown (chicken and fish maw soup, clams with black bean sauce), then down Queen Street to an old pub for pints of Guinness--until my visa was finally ready. Then home in time to watch the Yankees drub the Red Sox at Manitoba's.
Next week, Per Se, round two.
Comments