Literary Spring

Of course the Epitourists love to eat, but we also love to read. May’s gathering on Wolfe Island was a melding of food and literature welcoming the green of spring.

Menu

Spring Soufflé with Creamy Mixed-Cheese Sauce

2016 Alsace Pinot Blanc L'ami des crustacés classique

Kaarina's Sprout Salad and Elizabeth on the 37th Crab Cakes

Kunde Chardonnay from Sonoma County

Rhubarb Spritz

Chinese Pork and Shrimp Dumplings with Scallion-Soy Sauce

Madeleines



Caroline

The bones of my dish came form Jamie Cooks Italy / Spring Soufflé with Creamy Mixed-Cheese Sauce. I struggled with which spring vegetables to use. His recipe includes asparagus, peas, mint and sadly, zucchini. At my first attempt, I included the zucchini and found that it made things watery (besides, save the zuke for fall!). I excluded it the second time around. I must admit that Oliver’s spring trio of choice makes for a lovely mix: asparagus, peas and mint. But when Emilio-the-forager handed me a kilo of freshly picked fiddleheads, things changed again. Would a trio of fiddleheads, peas and mint work? No doubt it would.

We wait for them with excitement: Ontario grown asparagus! Upon seeing my first bunches “…tinged with ultramarine and pink, finely stippled in mauve and azure…”, I couldn’t resist: asparagus, fiddleheads and spring onions it would be. Forget the peas. And without peas, what’s the point of mint?

We wait for them with excitement:
Ontario grown asparagus

What makes this soufflé SO delicious is the sauce served on the side for pouring over. I chose whole goat’s milk, parmigiano reggiano and taleggio cheese to make mine. Divine! I paired my dish with a Pinot Blanc 2016 from Alsace: L’ami des crustacés classique.



Le soufflé et sa sauce!

 “…but what most enraptured me were the asparagus, tinged with ultramarine and pink which shaded off from their heads, finely stippled in mauve and azure, through a series of imperceptible gradations to their white feet–still stained a little by the soil of their garden-bed–with an iridescence that was not of this world. I felt that these celestial hues indicated the presence of exquisite creatures who had been pleased to assume vegetable form and who, through the disguise of their firm comestible flesh, allowed me to discern in this radiance of earliest dawn, these hinted rainbows, these blue evening shades, that precious quality which I should recognise again when all night long after a dinner at which I had partaken of them, they played (lyrical and coarse in their jesting as the fairies in Shakespeare’s Dream) at transforming my chamber pot into a vase of aromatic perfume.” — Marcel Proust In Search of Lost Time: Swann’s Way

My Spring Soufflé with Creamy Mixed-Cheese Sauce



3 spring onions

3 tbs olive oil

250 g asparagus

250 g fiddleheads

6 tbs pinot blanc

6 large eggs



Sauce

1 1/2 tbs unsalted butter

3 tbs all-purpose flour

2 cups whole goat’s milk

100 g parmesan cheese

freshly grated nutmeg

100 g Taleggio cheese



Preheat oven  to 350 F. Finely chop the onions and asparagus. Place in a large frying pan on medium-high heat with 2 tablespoons of oil. Cook for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the wine. Cook for 5 minutes.

 For the sauce, melt the butter in a sauce pan on medium heat. Stir in the flour until combined, then gradually whisk in the milk until smooth. Simmer for 5 minutes. Finely grate in 75 g of the Parmesan, nutmeg and Taleggio. Season to taste. Pour half the sauce in with the vegetables and mix, then leave to cool to room temperature. Put the remaining sauce aside for now. 

Separate the eggs, stirring the yolks into the vegetable mixture. Beat the whites until stiff then fold through the vegetable mix. Generously butter 4 ramekins and divide soufflé mix. Garnish with blanched asparagus spears and one fiddlehead. Sprinkle with the remaining 25 g of parmesan. Bake 25 minutes or until golden and puffed up. Warm the remaining cheese sauce and serve on the side for pouring over.

Kaarina



The Book Of Negroes by Lawrence Hill inspired my crab cakes. Sam Fraunce prepared them for Aminata when she arrived in Manhattan on the first leg of her journey to freedom.

"He said the way to make a decent crab cake was to roll just a touch of bread crumbs, melted butter and cream into the crab meat. It was so good that you wanted to treat it tenderly.
 (...) 'Crab is not something to overpower with energetic spicing,' he said. 'Crabmeat wants to melt quietly on the tongue.' "

I’ve never forgotten that advice.
 I rejected dozens of crab cake recipes trying to find one that met Sam’s exacting standard. My crab cake recipe is based on one from a Savannah, GA restaurant — Elizabeth’s on 37th.

The challenge is keeping the crab cakes from falling apart. I can never do it. Now I just push them back together to reshape and serve. I’d rather preserve the taste and texture than the shape.



In a salute to Wolfe Island spring, we picked dandelions from Laura’s Back 40, where just that morning I spied four deer grazing on the dew-kissed grass. The dandelion leaves added a bitter kick to the sprout salad accompaniment to the crab cakes.



The dandelion leaves added a bitter kick to the sprout salad

Kaarina's Sprout Salad

1 tsp garlic finely chopped

1 tsp fresh tarragon finely chopped

1 tsp honey

3-4 tbsp champagne vinegar

1⁄3 cup (125 mL) canola oil

Salt and pepper to taste
3-4 cups of sprouts (such as pea and radish) and bitter greens (arugula, dandelions, escarole, watercress

3 green onions, thinly sliced

A dozen violas for garnish (optional)



MEASURE the first  6 ingredients into a small jar and shake hard to emulsify (or use a blender). Toss with greens.



A lightly oaked or unoaked Chardonnay, such as the Kunde from Sonoma County, pairs well with the crab cakes. And a rhubarb Spritz is just the ticket if lunch runs into cocktail hour!



Rhubarb Spritz

 (from our very own mixologist, K)

1 tbsp rhubarb compote

1 oz Hendricks gin

2-3 oz Prosecco

In a champagne glass, stir rhubarb compote and gin. Add 3-4 ice cubes. Top with Prosecco. Stir.

Rhubarb Spritz

Laura

“Back home, I told the cook girl to boil enough pots of water and to chop enough pork and vegetables to make a thousand dumplings, both steamed and boiled, with plenty of fresh ginger, good soy sauce, and sweet vinegar for dipping.” – The Kitchen God’s Wife, Amy Tan

I love dumplings! They’re easy to make but time-consuming. The filling and pleating is relaxing when you have a chunk of time to devote to the process.

Dumplings and Scallion-Soy Sauce

And no literary feast is complete without a nod to Proust’s madeleines.

A perfect end with madeleines!

Literary Feasts

 From Diane's blog.

The theme for this month's Epitourists started with spring and then morphed to literary greens and settled in nicely to literature.

I was trying to decide on the dish I would bring to Wolfe Island when I realized Rob and I also had a commitment to visit friends in Ottawa/Quebec. Darn! I know this will be a great feast and it would be wonderful to see the Island greening in the spring.

Still I have been participating in spirit and trying to choose my dish.

Green eggs and ham? A tea party, à la Alice? Dare to eat a peach?

One of the first literary foods that sprang to mind was from David Eggers book A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, when he wrote about slicing the circles of an orange and placing them on his younger brother's plate, to brighten up a canned food dinner and add some vitamin C. Funny how that image has stayed with me for so many years!

In my research I came across a book called Pleasures of the Table, A literary anthology compiled by Christina Hardyment, and spent a few hours at virtual feasts: Roman bacchanals, domestic dinners, picnics with Peter Rabbit. A "spare feast! a radish and an egg" savoured by the fire in The Task by poet William Cowper.

Memorable: MFK Fisher writing in Serve It Forth about the secret pleasures of crisped tangerine sections:

Almost every person has something secret he likes to eat.
...It was then that I discovered little dried sections of tangerine. My pleasure in them is subtle and voluptuous and quite inexplicable. I can only write how they are prepared.
In the morning, in the soft sultry chamber, sit in the window peeling tangerines, three or four. Peel them gently; do not bruise them, as you watch soldiers pour past and past the corner and over the canal towards the watched Rhine. Separate each plump little pregnant crescent. If you find the Kiss, the secret section, save it for Al.
Listen to the chambermaid thumping up the pillows, and murmur encouragement to her thick Alsatian tales of l'intérieure. That is Paris, the interior, Paris or anywhere west of Strasbourg or maybe the Vosges. While she mutters of seduction and French bicyclists who ride more than wheels, tear delicately from the soft pile of sections each velvet string. You know those white pulpy strings that hold tangerines into their skins? Tear them off. Be careful.
Take yesterday's paper (when we were in Strasbourg L'Ami du Peuple was best, because when it got hot the ink stayed on it) and spread it on top of the radiator. The maid has gone, of course - it might be hard to ignore her belligerent Alsatian glare of astonishment.
After you have put the pieces of tangerine on the paper on the hot radiator, it is best to forget about them. Al comes home, you go to a long noon dinner in the brown dining-room, afterwards maybe you have a little nip of quetsch from the bottle on the armoire. Finally he goes. You are sorry, but -
On the radiator the sections of tangerines have grown even plumper, hot and full. You carry them to the window, pull it open, and leave them for a few minutes on the packed snow of the sill. They are ready.
All afternoon you can sit, then, looking down on the corner. Afternoon papers are delivered to the kiosk. Children come home from school just as three lovely whores mince smartly into the pension's chic tearoom. A basketful of Dutch tulips stations itself by the tram-stop, ready to tempt tired clerks at six o'clock. Finally the soldiers stump back from the Rhine. It is dark.
The sections of the tangerine are gone, and I cannot tell you why they are so magical. Perhaps it is that little shell, thin as one layer of enamel on a Chinese bowl, that crackles so tinily, so ultimately under your teeth. Or the rush of cold pulp just after it. Or the perfume. I cannot tell.
There must be someone, though, who understands what I mean. Probably everyone does, because of his own secret eatings.

And this recipe from the 1770s, To Raise a Salad in Two Hours, from The Art of Cookery made plain and easy:

Take fresh horse dung hot, lay it in a tub near the fire, then sprinkle some mustard seeds thick on it, lay a thin layer of horse dung over it, cover it close and keep it by the fire, and it will rise high enough to cut in two hours.

Italian Spring

Kaarina

As our bitter winter dragged on into April, I frequently found myself thinking of our spring holiday to northern Italy a few years ago. What I wouldn’t give to be back at Corteforte Winery and B&B in Fumane, north of Verona, and the adjacent Enoteca Della Valpolicella where we dined three nights in a row. The food was that divine. Fresh peas and pasta. Beef braised in Amarone, served with creamy polenta. Zucchini blossoms bathed in pesto. Each dish matched to a regional wine.

The divine food of Enoteca Della Valpolicella

Revisiting those memories was the inspiration for our April Epitour: Italian Spring.

Italian food is deceptively simple — most recipes are limited to half dozen ingredients or even less. But it’s all about those ingredients: Fresh. Seasonal. Preferably local, which is what makes Italian cooking at its best regional.

I chose Artichokes alla Romana as my welcome-to-spring antipasto, which along with some salumi, marinated olives and pane rustica kept us content while Laura worked her magic with the primi - homemade mushroom tortellini. Next Caroline amazed us with a dandelion torta. We finished with a spring classic - fried lamb chops with puréed radicchio and a simple fennel salad.

Artichokes alla Romana

The recipe for Carciofi alla Romana is simple as is the method of cooking and marinating them. The challenge is finding fresh globe artichokes. Ours come from California and the season is short in the rare Ontario grocery stores that bother to carry them in the early spring. Just as challenging is getting the choke out before cooking the hearts. The first time is a nightmare but it gets easier. (Google or You Tube will show the way.) The taste is worth every minute of the prep.

Laura

I rarely take the time to make fresh pasta, but whenever I do, I find it such a satisfying thing. I especially love making filled pastas.

I chose to make tortellini. And of course I wanted to use my neighbour Kelly’s Gourmet Mushrooms in the filling. They grow shiitake, lion’s mane, and blue oyster varieties. I used a combination of all three.

I usually use Marcella Hazan’s recipe for fresh pasta. Her Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking is my bible for Italian cooking. The ingredients are simple: 1 cup of all-purpose flour and two eggs. And a little bit of milk added when making dough for a filled pasta. But this time I decided to try the pasta recipe that went along with the Serious Eats mushroom filling recipe I’d chosen. It uses a combination of whole eggs and egg yolks. The eggs came from my next-door neighbour and the yolks were so yellow, they turned the pasta a lovely deep hue. However, I think I will return to the tried-and-true Marcella recipe. I found the “Serious Eats” recipe quite stiff and hard to work at first. Luckily it softened up during it’s 30-minute rest and was ok to roll through the pasta roller.

I chose to serve the tortellini with a very simple browned butter, grated Parmesan, a splash of white truffle oil, and a few micro greens for a springtime touch.

Simply delightful mushroom tortellini!

Caroline

When lunch themes are announced, I’m certain that our foursome goes into a deep period of culinary reflection. Routines are broken. Daily chores are ignored. Partners are neglected. Once breakthrough is achieved, a grocery list is compiled and it’s a run to a “carefully selected purveyor of ingredients”. We then enter the testing phase which is most likely to occur over the course of two to three dinners with our significant others — who, at times, ogle our creations with a reluctant eye.

Dandelion greens came to mind when Kaarina launched her Italian Spring theme. I pass these lovely bunches in the produce section knowing that bitter greens are not enjoyed by all. I have acquired a liking for them over the years and have learned to disguise their taste to make them palatable for the more conservative palates.

I decided to modify a favourite recipe, a Sausage and Broccoli Rabe Torta from the northern Piemonte region. Layered crespelles — Italy’s version of crêpes — and besciamella sauce are delicious examples of the French culinary influence on this region. Of course the erbe would be dandelion greens and two fistfuls of rapini to give the tart more volume. The addition of a couple of uncased Italian sausages truly makes this a “one-pot-meal”. The layering begins and ends with buttered breadcrumbs mixed with garlic, grated fontina and parmesan cheese. Perhaps a little labour intensive but, this torta is deliciously worth it.

Delicious tart of dandelion greens

Kaarina

Artichokes are notoriously difficult to pair with a wine but it seems that the  northeastern corner of Italy — Friuli-Venezia-Giulia — produces whites that somehow defy the odds. Surprising even to me, I found a bottle in my own cellar that had been gifted to me years earlier. Marco Felluga Russiz Superiore Sauvignon Collio 2010 had the full body and the acidity to take on the artichokes.

Caroline met the double challenge of matching a wine to bitter greens and creamy richness of the torta. The ripe dark fruit and velvety tannins of Bogle Essential Red 2015, a California blend of Old Vine Zinfandel, Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon and Petite Syrah paired perfectly and went on to compliment our secondi — fried lamb chops.

Two stars!

Marcella Hazan’s Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking has been my everyday home cooking guide for many, many years, but for this Epitourist adventure I sought fresh inspiration from the Great Italian Chefs. What a fun website! Bios of chefs, links to their restaurants, features on regions and regional foods, and of course, recipes. Tons of recipes, from their restaurant menus and their family kitchens.

This is where I found Filippo Trapella’s grandmother’s fried lamb chops. It’s a family Easter favourite in Bologna.The radicchio purée is borrowed from a duck recipe created by a 30-something Michelin-starred chef Lorenzo Cogo of Vicenza, who infuses traditional with international influences for a fresh take on Italian cucina. The simple fennel salad is a long-standing favourite from my guru Marcella: Thinly sliced fennel tossed with the best Extra Virgin Olive Oil you can afford and salt to taste.

Fried lamb chops on radicchio purée

With no thought for dessert, we sipped on a little grappa — a barrel-aged Ducale Grappa Stravecchia Reserva — for a fine end to a fine afternoon.

Fine ending!

Epi T.O.: A Two Day Epitour

It was time for a road trip to shake off the lingering cabin fever plaguing us after a long brutal winter. Last spring we sampled the delights of Montréal. This year we decided on a two-day "epitour" of Toronto, which is quickly catching up to the City of Saints when it comes to all things food. 

We met at St. Lawrence Market, treating ourselves to the antipasti bar at Scheffler’s Deli, an institution at the market since 1955, before heading to Liberty Village for the first of two bakeries on our list.

In the following posts, Laura reports on the bakeries, Diane savours the cocktail choices at Drake Hotel, Kaarina reviews dinner at Laissez Faire, a new King St. W. restaurant, and Caroline takes us on a romp through the Assembly Chef's Hall, a Richmond St. “food court” with a difference.

From Grain to Loaf: A Tour of Three Toronto Bakeries

Laura

Rustic Brodflour loaves!

One half of the Epitourists are sourdough bread obsessed. Caroline and I have been nursing starters and practising our leaven, autolyse, proofing and baking skills for most of the winter. Stand-by for a blog post soon. On our recent Epitourist adventure in downtown Toronto, I put a few bakeries on the itinerary.

Brodflour

This recently-opened bakehouse is tucked into a back alley in Liberty Village. They mill their own flour on a huge stone mill that is prominently on display in the space. The mill is from New American Stone Mills in Vermont. They source rye, red fife, spelt and hard spring wheat from Ontario and Manitoba. Head miller and partner, Jesse Saldana, gave us a great tour and explained how the mill grinds the whole grain between two huge granite stones. The flour is then sifted to remove some of the bran and germ.

There is not a lot of seating in the bakery but we sat down on the couple of benches and tasted a sampling of slices of some of the breads they bake: Dark & Sweet is a heavy, oblong loaf of rye with dark molasses and caraway; Heritage Hearth, a traditional style sourdough batard made with red fife and spelt; and Whole Grain sourdough with rye and whole prairie hard red. Needless to say we all left with loaves to take home. They were also offering samples of sweet Cardamom Knots. Their consulting baker is Swedish, so much of their offerings along with the Hygge-style décor is Scandinavian inspired. Caroline and I also purchased some of their freshly-milled flour to test in our own sourdough loaves. 8 Pardee Avenue, Toronto

Brodflour... such a cool place!

Forno Cultura

This Italian bakery is located in a basement on King Street. It’s a narrow space jam-packed with breads, sweet and savoury baked goods and there’s even a fridge full of pasta sauces, soups and cured meats, and a wall of olive oils and preserves.

Cultured ovens!

The owner is a third-generation Italian baker who wanted to preserve artisanal baking methods. They make beautiful sourdough breads, but it was easy to get sidetracked by all the other goodies. A glass-fronted case runs along the length of the bakery, full of biscotti, croissants, cakes and other beautiful sweet treats. There’s also an assortment of deep-fried arancini and stuffed croquettes. Caroline purchased a few of these home for a quick dinner upon her return home from our gourmet adventure. I left with one of their beautiful biscuit-style cake made with ground almonds and filled with a lemony pastry cream.

Cliffside Hearth

A sourdough baguette is an art to shape

I made a little side-trip on my own to my favourite Scarborough bakery. It just happens to be up the road from Kaarina’s place and very close to our yacht club. It’s run by the husband-and-wife team of David and Camelia. David worked in bakeries for years before starting to bake sourdough bread in their backyard brick oven. After neighbours kept asking to buy his loaves, the couple decided to open up a bakery.

Handsome red...

Since my move to Wolfe Island and my own foray into sourdough baking, David has been a great resource, graciously emailing back and forth with me answering all my sourdough questions. So it was great to be able to spend an hour with him that morning to talk sourdough in person. It was 9:30 am and the end of David’s work day. He’s up and in the bakery in the wee hours of the morning to get the breads proofing and baking.  Unfortunately I was so caught up in my learning that I forgot to take any photos. But you can have a look at their website and Instagram for some drool-worthy pics.
I’ve been struggling with baker’s math and how to ramp up my bread production. David shared his excel spreadsheet with me. It makes it easy to figure out the ratios of starter, flour, water and salt. He also showed me his big bucket of starter that he keeps in the fridge and feeds once a day. He laughed about the “blogger bakers” who name their starters and baby them with twice-daily feedings at carefully monitored temperatures. David said he hasn’t got time for that and it’s impossible to control temperature in the bakery. He says he’s trained his starter, much like a flea circus, to live in the fridge and deal with hot water poured over it. I’m not going to question his methods. His bread is the best I’ve tasted. And don’t get me started on his croissants. I don’t know how Kaarina can live so close by and resist eating them every day.

Cocktails at the Drake Hotel

Diane

Cheers!

Late afternoon sunshine played through windows at the Drake Hotel as we eased ourselves into the banquette. The ambience was understated and not contrived, with lots of wood and burnished surfaces.  Music was playing at a level that respected comfortable conversation between friends.

The venue first opened in 1890 as Small's Hotel, near what was then one of the wealthiest neighbourhoods in the city. The bar has seen many changes over the last century and a half, and is enjoying a revival as a boutique hotel, concert venue, art space, and restaurant.

Gord Hannah is the head bartender and chief cocktail ambassador at the Drake. In a recent interview, he says "As a hotel bar, we have always had a strong affinity to the classic cocktails that form the basis of bar programs for 200 years. We are also a music venue, art gallery and restaurant, so our team always tries to stay current with global offerings and new cocktail trends. Stevie Wonder will always be on a playlist for a DJ, but to stay current, you also have to offer the newest underground artist. Our bar team does the same – a well made old fashioned will always be a crowd pleaser, but our new version of the Tequila Sunrise will open up your eyes to new things.

One of the nice things about going out with the Epitourists is that none of us mind sharing our drinks, so we were all able to sample some of the concoctions devised by Drake's own bartenders.

None of us mind sharing our drinks...

  

Caroline had a Martini huile d'olive, with three small drops of olive oil shimmering on the surface that floated together. The basil infusion ended up being good to the last drop. 

Laura's  brown-butter-maple Old Fashioned was a nice twist on a classic as well, mixing sour and sweet with a bit of a tang. 

I ordered a sour sipper dubbed la Bohème, which was a mix of tequila, Campari, absinthe, charred pineapple, sage, and lime. The pale grapefruit colour was a nice surprise when it arrived at the table.

Kaarina enjoyed a bubbly Cava, effervescent with tiny bubbles.

I'm marking my calendar now for the Toronto Cocktail Conference, which takes over The Drake Hotel from August 13 to 15 this coming summer.

The Drake Hotel, a great place for a cocktail!

Laid Back On King Street

Kaarina

Our Epitourist foursome was looking forward to dinner at Laissez Faire, a new King St. West restaurant, as the highlight of our two-day foodie tour of Toronto. We thought laissez faire an appealing concept for a restaurant and were quite excited, looking forward to expertly prepared, French-inspired cuisine served in a casual atmosphere. What we found was that the two - laissez faire and fine dining - don’t necessarily mix all that well. The problem is that by its definition - “let it be,” “leave it alone” - laissez faire is an attitude that spreads all too easily, and in a small open space it’s a short trip to the kitchen.

Is stylishly hip good enough?

We were there on a Tuesday, so likely the kitchen A Team had the night off. There was no sign of Michelin-trained owner/chef Zachary Barnes - not surprising since the place is open every night for dinner. His credentials (Barne’s CV includes Toronto’s top-rated Alo, UK’s Restaurant Gordon Ramsay and New York’s Daniel) had built up grand expectations for us. Those expectations were amply met by a finely-wrought menu, if not its actual execution that night. Cool, laid-back bartenders are at the centre of the operation. One meets you, seats you, pours cocktails, wine and beer from a long and well-stocked bar that runs a good third of the length of the stylish narrow room with an open kitchen at the far end. Brisk and efficient, he takes your order and jockeys the food from the kitchen to the table, where you are perched on less than comfy high stools.

From the menu, we started with a winner: A smooth and creamy burrata, oozing with buttery satisfaction, served on a bed of bitter greens and poached fruit along with triangles of toast to smear it on.

Smooth and creamy burrata

Although the porcini truffle arancini trio should be easy enough to share four ways, the very, tiny risotto balls had us beg for a fourth so that we could each enjoy. The wait staff graciously obliged!

Arancini trio

The crispy pork belly with a sherry gastrique and pomegranate seed and parsley garnish was perfection and shared between four, a guilt-free indulgence.

Pork belly, a guilt-free indulgence

The roasted cauliflower visuals were fantastic: the romenesco sauce an artful swirl of carmine beside the cauliflower. That we could agree on. The taste, not so much. The unfamiliar herb flavours delighted some and alienated others, as did the char on top of the overcooked cauliflower.

The roasted cauliflower visuals were fantastic

The whole grilled sea bream, although slightly overcooked, had a lovely crisp skin and the grilling imparted a smoky flavour to the mild fish served with classic lemon and dill garnish.

Grilled sea bream

A shared brioche panna cotta with a pretty apricot compote made for a light sweet finish.

Nicely presented panna cotta

A creative menu, easily shared plates, good value, crisp service, hip decor all should add up to a return visit when chef Barnes is in house, perhaps even a splurge at the chef’s rail overlooking the open kitchen, where a tasting menu is offered Thursday to Sunday. But we will not be giving Laissez Faire a second chance. And that’s because the music is played at a mind-numbing, ear-splitting volume better suited to a night club than the dinner hour, making any effort at normal conversation impossible. When we asked for the volume to be turned down, the response was not surprisingly laissez faire - they left it alone. And so will we.

 Laissez Faire, 589 King St. West