Mother's Day and Baked Chocolate Pudding with the Works

A few weeks ago, my mom flicked someone off. It was entertaining and mildly embarrassing. She was driving and we were leaving a busy plaza. At a two way stop sign, she slowed down when a lady in a van signaled to turn into our narrow path. My mom stayed put, there was another car coming behind us, giving us little room to move. The other lady began to make frivolous hand gestures, motioning us to back up but we didn’t budge. Soon, she began honking and even her daughter who sat in the passenger seat joined in, yelling through their window. Other cars crammed the intersection, impatiently honking. The lady finally surrendered and as they drove off, her teenage daughter, faced us and with a cold glare, twirling a forefinger to her temple, the universal sign for crazy. In prompt fashion, my mom gave her the middle finger. I beamed and couldn’t have been more proud of her.

My mom is the sweetest, gentlest person you will ever meet. She’s a great shopping companion, never refuses ice cream (especially when offered a Magnum bar), and she’s always there to comfort me whenever I need a hug. She’s my biggest fan of this blog and always willing to sample any of the sweets I make. For Mother’s Day, I took her to L’Avenue Bistro for dinner. We stuffed our bellies till we couldn’t move, I regretted not wearing stretchy pants. This is my third time eating there and definitely remains as one of my favourite places to eat in Toronto. It’s a cozy restaurant with exceptional service and consistently serves memorable dishes.

To start, there was yellow gazpacho and salted cod beignets with truffle mushroom mascarpone cream. The latter didn’t look too appetizing but I could have licked my plate, looks can be deceiving. I convinced my mom to have the buttermilk fried chicken, knowing she would fall in love with the crisp, crackly chunks of chicken. It was served in a citrusy slaw with a little chilli, a good balance of heat and acid. I had the duck confit in a ridiculously good blood orange beurre blanc and green beans. I ate it all, even picking at the bone with my hands and licking my fingers. 

Without missing a beat, our server brought us the dessert menu. We settled on the triple chocolate terrine, which was milk, dark and white chocolate whipped with heavy cream and then frozen. To my surprise, the white chocolate had the most pleasing texture, much smoother and lighter than it’s counterparts. 

As if we weren’t big enough gluttons, I made baked chocolate pudding the following night. It reminds me of a dense chocolate cake with a gooey centre, sort of like a molten lava cake enriched with extra eggs and butter. I topped it with Speculoos ice cream, dulce de leche sauce and crushed nuts, pretty much the epitome of indulgence. Mom and I ate it with our feet propped up on the ottoman, watching tv and satisfying our inner fat child.

I actually finished my portion in three (!!) sittings, it’s insanely rich with a truffle-like texture and big chocolate flavor. I even ate my leftovers cold, straight from the fridge and liked it more, it makes me think of crumbly flourless chocolate cake, something you just can't say no to.

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Ruby Watchco

I've been meaning to tell you all along. There’s a restaurant right here in Toronto that will knock your socks off. For real.

At Ruby Watchco, almost all the ingredients are sourced from Ontario. Every night, there’s one set menu, and each table is given large platters for sharing. There's an unanimous sense of satisfaction among the patrons who try to fit every morsel of dinner into their mouths.


The restaurant is led by the talented Lynn Crawford, if you haven’t seen her on the Food Network, you're missing out on how creative, how amiable and how much zest for life this woman has. On her show, Pitchin’ In, she travels to various towns to rekindle her passion, discovering one ingredient, say turkey, wild boar, crawfish, avocados...you name it, she’s on it.

She befriends farmers, pitches in, learning how they harvest the freshest food. In the second half of the show, she uses that ingredient and prepares a special dinner for her new friends. Audible sighs of pleasure span the table.

Chef Lynn’s ability to transform an ingredient into something extraordinary illuminates into her restaurant, I brought my mom to Ruby Watchco so we could experience something magical too.


Our waiter seated us at a table just metres from the kitchen. Already, I was anxious to be in such close proximity to her (Aren’t chefs intimidating? Not to mention TV chefs!). My mom, on the other hand was mad excited for dinner, she couldn’t sit still. Like me, she admires Chef Lynn’s gusto and originality. My mom had the biggest smile on her face, like a little girl in a candy shop.


To start, I ordered the Apple Sour cocktail; a fusion of apple cider, bourbon and maple syrup (you can never go wrong with maple syrup). One sip made my lips pucker, but then the golden sap mellowed out the tartness and a shot of warmth ran down my spine.


The first dish was truffled white bean and 5 minute hen egg salad, with Sleger’s Living Greens, garden radishes, and A.F.G.’s Seedless cucumbers (I couldn’t figure out who A.F.G. was). The balance of red and green colors, each leaf slicked with vinaigrette, made the salad look like a painting. The egg was perfectly cooked, none of that murky gray tinge when I hard boil eggs. The yolk was a gorgeous yellow, so bright, so round, like someone sliced the sun in half and dropped it on our plate. There were also cheese scones flecked with chives: elegant, flaky pastries served with whipped butter.



The main course was a feast. I rarely go to restaurants that serve too much good food. There was chicken soaked in a beautiful puttanesca sauce, a sauce so rich, so succulent, it bolstered the tenderness of the meat.



There was a flurry of side dishes: delicate Boston lettuce with cucumber mint dressing. Strips of grilled eggplant that was so moist, I had to twirl it around the tines of my fork like spaghetti just to keep it together. And if that wasn’t enough, there was orecchiette with whipped goat cheese.




I was so full, I felt pregnant, or as the Quebecois say, “Je suis plein.” It's a good thing I could take my leftovers home, because why wouldn't you want to carry these adorable boxes?


Before long, the cheese course arrived. Today was Guiness 10 year old Ottawa Valley cheddar by Forfar Dairy served with date and jalapeno relish and biscotti. I usually stay clear from musty, moldy cheeses, but this fromage was nutty and not too strong.


Finally, for dessert was the lemon and elderberry trifle with vanilla sponge, Hewitt’s sweet vanilla cream and a meringue kiss. A spoonful of luscious berries doused in cream was pure bliss. The crunch from the meringue added extra texture to the smooth dessert.


We were just about done with our meal, but my mom really wanted to say hi to Chef Lynn. It took us a while to work up the nerve, but eventually, our waiter Jon introduced us. I was blown away by how gracious and approachable she was. I rambled several compliments to her (I’m not even sure I made sense), she politely said thank you. As Jon snapped a photo of us, Chef Lynn gave a big grin and said, “Smile guys!”



In front of the kitchen, there's a large wooden table where Chef Lynn adds the finishing touches to her dishes before service, you can't help but admire her attention to detail and love for her craft.

I'm curious to see how the menu will change in the summer, in fact, if I do return for dinner, I should prepare a few coherent compliments, so I don't seem like a total idiot when I greet Chef Lynn.

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Bravi

It's taken longer than expected to discover restaurants that lure me to return again and again. Lynn Crawford's Ruby Watchco on Queen Street East has definitely earned Must Go Back status. I not only watch her admiringly on the Food Network, but her creativity in combining ordinary ingredients to create extraordinary tastes is really just...well, extraordinary. Another terrific place is Auberge du Pommier at York Mills. The food is clean and crisp and fresh bread baked on the premises always earns brownie points in my book. My favorite part was sitting outdoors under the canary yellow and white stripped canopy surrounded by the lush garden.


This weekend I went with Minh to Bravi on Wellington Street East. An Italian restaurant that is definitely underrated. From the moment we walked in (Oopsies! 30 minutes late) we felt welcomed. The host took our coats and immediately offered us drinks at the bar. I sipped a glass of juicy sweet Kim Crawford rosé and Minh enjoyed a caesar.

A few moments later we were brought to our table, I didn't think much of it, it looked like an ordinary seating for two nestled in the corner. Our noon brunch was big enough to tide us over the whole day, giving us plenty of energy to walk from the Harbourfront to the Distillery district. We window shopped luxurious furniture shops, touched everything in quirky craft stores and explored cafes, inhaling lusty fumes of chocolate. By 8:30pm, I was ready to eat and boy, was I in for a surprise.



My arugula salad with bosc pear, roasted pistachios, and pecorino was divine. The perfect balance of bitter and sweet was pronounced with the Meyer lemon and olive oil dressing. The cheese added a hint of nuttiness to the dish. Minh's turnip puree with apples was sumptuous too. One bite took me on a wave of flavors (in a good way), first was that earthiness from root vegetables, followed by a jolt of tartness from the fruit yet tamed by the lemon cream.

The highlight of the night was not the food however; it was how our entrees took us on a high (literally). “Would you like to go for a ride?” Our waiter politely asked. Dumbstruck, I stuttered, “S-s-sure.” What I naively thought was “just” a quiet corner was really a freight elevator. As it clanged and clacked upwards, my jaw dropped. The company of other restaurant patrons disappeared and were replaced with the carved initials of lovers who declared their feelings in every wooden crevice possible. The only noise was distant voices from the kitchen and our forks scraping food off the plate. How sneaky Minh was to book this place, voted one of the most romantic dinner spots in Toronto.


I've been craving pasta the past few weeks so naturally, I ordered the basil-infused pasta sheets with seafood in a tomato sauce. It was lovely. Delicious. Fresh pieces of shrimp, scallops and squid were tender and succulent among the slippery rags of pasta. The robust sauce was rich and chunky in tomato. Minh's salmon with roast fennel was fabulous, the fillet intensely moist, the vegetables slippery on my tongue; fragrances of licorice and olive oil swirled together harmoniously.


I'm sure the elevator has passed rigorous testing and that it is in tiptop condition, but despite Minh's urging, I was too much of a scaredy cat to take a ride up and down. Why risk getting stuck in an old elevator with only a candle as a source of light? We had already finished our meal, the bread basket was long gone, and if it stopped working, what could we possibly survive on? Green olives? (Yuck) So we finished our main courses, came back down to ground level and stayed put with our desserts.

Though it’s always nice to lounge on my sofa and eat homemade bread, I still reminiscence the crackly olive bread, the soft and chewy rings of squid, and the thick cut pasta sheets in the quiet confines of the elevator.

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The Drake Hotel

Roasted brussel sprouts and mashed butternut squash was the selling point for lunch at the Drake Hotel. I haven't eaten the bitter green orbs in months, and I missed them. I indulged in 3 consecutive days of Happy Belly Time for Winterlicious—a food event where over a hundred restaurants have a prix fix menu, showcasing their sumptuous food at a reduced price. The Drake Hotel was one of our destinations.

I expected a lavish hotel with tall ceilings and moldings along each corner and arch, but I was wrong. The setting was rather a piece of contemporary art itself. A turquoise wall, loud orange and black vintage wallpaper on the another wall, mirrors rusting at the back side. Ceiling lights covered with coral reef shaped material to dim the dining room. “In/Out” printed outside the kitchen doors, always swung open by busy servers. Climb up the staircase and spy a bust of a large man with his back facing you. He is balding, as evidenced by his pepper gray hair--it's strange and just out of place.

It's an odd setting when all the elements are added up, I'm sure there's a reason but I just don't know. I can only reason what I eat.

My hands shook as I eyed menu, I was hypoglycemic, absolutely famished, I had skipped breakfast for this meal. I chose Caesar salad with garlic croutons and anchovies, followed by grilled skirt steak with mashed butternut squash and roast brussel sprouts (!!). And finally New York style crumb cake with pear and ginger compote.

The Caesar salad was lacking crisp and freshness, but the croutons were excellent, garlicky without being too overpowering, and I kept digging for more croutons beneath my bed of lettuce. The skirt steak was pretty awesome, a huge slab of meat running with juices and topped with tangy Montpellier butter. The brussel sprouts were roasted with charred bits, my favorite way its made. The main course lasted us nearly an hour just to finish. We were talking, sipping coffee and mimosas, admiring the adorable little girl with the fedora, and trying to get the waiter's attention to pick up our empty dishes.

When dessert finally came, my jaw was exhausted from the meat chewing exercises. I was bulging full but determined to finish what I started. Yet its such a shame to finish the meal with a disappointment. There was nothing “New York” about my New York style coffee cake. It was rock hard. It should be renamed Gobi desert style sand cake. The pear and ginger compote was mediocre, and lacked any sort of syrup. The cake begged for a sauce to soften the texture. On the bright side, my companion's apple strudel came with homemade milk and honey ice cream. Now this was worth loosening my belt for. It was fresh, creamy and not throat-achingly sweet. We ordered 2 extra scoops which came 10 minutes later, we oohed and ahhed and dove headfirst into our new and improved desserts.


Winterlicious you have been fun, I enjoy going about town eating and critiquing. When the snow melts away and the grass is greener, I look forward to wining and dining for Summerlicious

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