77, ave. Shamrock, corner Casgrain, opposite Jean-Talon Market | Tel. 514.750.0774
Sun, Tue-Thur: 11:30am-11pm, Fri-Sat: 11:30am-3am, Closed Mondays
here was a time, in my youth, when things seemed simpler; more well defined in the world of food. Everything was hyper-delineated, with no cross-boundaries. Greek was Greek and everyone knew what souvlaki was. Japanese was merely laughable by today's standards. Everyone knew that Japanese had teriyaki in everything, even if no one knew quite what teriyaki was. Chinese was chow-mein, chop-suey, fried-rice and egg-rolls. There were no standouts, no rebels.
Fast forward to today, when everyone is trying to stand out, where cilantro or lemongrass or galangal are now no longer near-unpronounceable exotic ingredients from the hinterlands of Sumatra.
But somehow during all this culinary evolution, there always seemed to be one constant: Italian. With Italian cuisine there is no fenugreek, palm sugar, zatar or tamarind paste. Dried pasta with good old tomatoes, some garlic, a little olive oil, maybe some onion powder and that was it.
So carry it through to someone who likes to cook and you'll see that it seems to be one of the easiest ethnic foods to recreate at home.
Which brings me to why I don't like to go out to eat Italian food. Mainly, I don't like to spend money to make something that I can make perfectly well myself. Spaghetti bolognese: basta. Garlic bread: mangiare. Sunday Gravy: bada-bing bada-boom.
So it was with slight reluctance that I set out tonight for dinner at Basi, a young restaurant near Jean-Talon market. I'd been seduced by a chance encounter; I'm an inveterate stopper-by when I see an outside menu and as I passed by on some market-shopping day I noticed Basi, a cornerfront resto pretty much opposite Capitol, the Italian grocer, and was immediately attracted to it.
Nah, I said to myself, after peering in through the window, out of my league. I thought this place probably serves Lobster Tails "fra diavolo" at $45 a pop, Penne all'arrabbiata at $36 for some overcooked/underspiced crap, the usual pantheon of Montreal choose-your-sauce and type-of-pasta at prices that match the decor, which in this case was, well, outrageously beautiful – a symphony in blue and white. It just had all the upscaleness of St. Laurent and Buonanotte and Matteo and Med Grill and all the rest of those tight-skirted overpriced Primadonnas.
Forget it, I said. I can make pasta.
But I had to use the bathroom, so after I got a chance to look at their menu more closely and to my surprise there were no $45 fra diavolos nor $36 pennes. In fact, pretty much nothing was over $30, and most way under. Most appetizers at $6.00. Huh? Carpaccio for $6.00? In a place that looks like it was designed by AG&F architetti? Many wines in the $30 range?
appetizers
I decided I just had to eat here, if only to find out who was behind it.
And so it was that I and my companion arrived a bit late at 8:30 in the evening on a cold Wednesday evening to see what it was exactly that I would not be able to cook myself. As it turned out, the whole menu was way beyond anything I could imagine creating in my own kitchen.
After we sat down in one of the high-backed white booths, we were approached by Lynn, the co-owner and lovely wife of chef-owner Maurizio Mercuri who came to greet us and tell us a bit about the restaurant.
"During the summer, it can be wild," she said, somewhat wistfully, in response to a question about the quietness that night. "The terrasse really draws them in, and after all, we're literally opposite the market." Indeed. The view from our bay window was the lights of the market and I have myself been victim of the insane throngs that go through it during a typical summer's day.
As we examined the menu, we observed a large family party, children and all, having heaps of fun, somewhat incongruously cavorting in the middle of the room, sitting in amazing, low-slung blue armchairs, but at the same time my eye was distracted from the menu by banks of retro wood-framed TVs all broadcasting exactly the same silent program, in this case an E-Channel special on Hugh Hefner with Italian subtitles. Hilarious! 25-odd TVs all showing 70s-era clips in an Italian restaurant opposite Jean-Talon market. Who knew? But it all somehow melded seamlessly.
Danny, our server, sidled silently over and took our order, never intrusive throughout the meal yet never neglectful.
To begin, for some reason not entirely known to us, a surprise treat was delivered on a rectangular plate: cherry tomatoes stuffed with arugula pesto, celery chips with black olive tapenade, roasted red peppers stuffed with mozzarella di bufala and smoked prosciutto with butternut squash – all a sublime explosion of fresh flavors. Perhaps the chef was using us as guinea pigs; at any rate, it might not be on the menu, but I think all you have to do is ask.
The carpaccio entrée was visually delectable: slivers of beef on a bed of greens with capers and olives in a balsamic marinade. As an aficionado of strong tastes, I felt it lacked a certain vinegariness, but the meat was supremely supple, the greens were crunchy with not a hint of too much time spent in the refrigerator, and the entire plate was pretty much devoured. My companion's Crespeli (crêpes) with wild mushroom sauce was one of those dishes in which your mouth doesn't have any idea what the ingredients are but discovers them one by one and encourages a tendency to swoon.
There is a small but focused menu for the mains. One senses not a need to be different from all the rest, but a need to simplify and beautify without being overly eccentric, and this seems to extend itself to the holistic philosophy behind the entire concept of the place from top to bottom. What's amazing is that this is accomplished without a ding to pricing or friendliness; I am not kidding when I say that I don't want too many people to find out about this place.
My order of Gamberi – shrimp – in pastis Marsellaise was simply superb. There were only three shrimp, but they were the biggest I have ever seen, almost 5 inches long, butterflied and perfectly cooked in a subtle anise/garlic sauce that tenderised rather than rubberised. My companion's rack of lamb was a hefty portion of succulent, buttery lamb that was not a hair overdone, and I'm not a big lamb fan. In all cases, portions were large but not overwhelming.
gamberi
lamb
The Pear Maraspan dessert was magnificent and the two different coffees, one with Kahlua and one with Tia Maria, both cobbled together to our specifications, were the caps on a glorious meal.
There were a few gripes: the lighting was quite dim for these tired eyes and the writing on the menu quite small, and I debate the need for the screaming, blinking "Ouvert" sign that illuminated our table from outside. It cheapens the outstanding design that is the hallmark of the restaurant. Thank god that for once the food matches or even surpasses its surroundings.
After the dinner Maurizio poked his head out from the kitchen to see how we'd liked it and I was amazed that he himself had produced the whole affair, not delegating to an underling, that is probably the norm with all the other upscaled Italian joints on the Main. This, I decided, is a family place cunningly disguised as an upscale eatery but at family prices. The food was nothing short of outstanding; hardly a single miss throughout the evening.
And I'll be damned if I thought I could ever make it at home. – Reviewed by Chef Nick (Dec/08)
If you'd like to be notified as each new review is posted, click here.
