|
1808 Sherbrooke Street West
|
Telephone: (514) 934-1801 Major cards.
 February 17, 2004
It was like going to a museum: if you are in the right mood, you will savour every microsecond, enjoy every sensory stimulation and feel enriched and more cultured when you leave. On this winter night, a few months after the opening of this restaurant, my companion and I both had that right "let's go to the museum'' feeling and "let's eat in pink'' oomph.
We had an absolutely wonderful evening, conversing mostly about the incredible discoveries on our plates. Once in a while, a restaurant appears that ups the ante, that makes heads turn, that forces the others to pay attention, and that advances the culinary tradition of a city. On the French side of our island, L'Epicier and Les Chèvres have made just such a splash. On the Anglo side, Brontë just increased the stakes when chef-owner Joe Mercuri, who used to be a sous-chef at Cube, opened this long, narrow, sublimely decorated, slightly Italian fusion restaurant across from the Chateau Versailles on Sherbrooke Street.
The decor dances in rose and violet, the decadent colors of the decade in most new upscale restaurants. The air is pink-colored by soft electronic alternate sounds like one can only find on internet radio stations such as Secret Agent. The Pink Panther is not far away and Kato is hiding in the kitchen. Transportation to heaven is provided by a few Billie Holiday selections. I can't imagine a better setting for a tête-à-tête.
My companion, who ate at Brontë a month earlier, asked me not to say anything nice about this restaurant for fear that hordes of Huns, Kozaks, Formula One tifosi and ex-mayors would come down from the suburbs and the hotels to ruin the precious atmosphere. Tough luck, because I will sing the song of the Mercuri brothers tonight. This ristorante is near the top of the pile in our gem of a city.
The first positive sign is customer recognition. Our handsome waiter, who looks like Tiger Woods, walks like Tiger, and talks like Tiger, recognized my companion, and even remembered every dish and drink she had a month ago. How about that for a memory? Having forgotten my wallet, and with my pants still unzipped, I felt very small and humble. Tiger is the waiter/maitre'd Parisians only see in their dreams. He recommended us a white Jurancon 2000 ($40), which was, as it turned out, the perfect wine for our meal.
The entrees run from $13 to $16, the main dishes from about $23 to $36, and the desserts are all $9, so that the total pre-tax and pre-tip bill was $130 for two.
 All dishes come in multiple components, each requiring about thirty seconds to decipher and process. The amuse-gueule, a standard addition in all top restaurants, consisted of a rather large velouté of parsnips (parsnips cream soup) made with cream and yoghurt, truffle oil and a prosciutto of magret de canard (duck). It feels like Montreal's chefs have an amuse-gueule competition, but Joe wins by a mouthful.
The cutlery, receptacles, plates and bowls are all adapted to the style of the restaurant. Wouldn't it be nice to select plates also according to the character of the diners, squares, saucy girls, deep thinkers, starlets, pear-shapes and apple shapes, tightwads, octogenarians, inflated egos, neanderthals, and bubbleheads?
My appetizer was a limoncello-cured salmon, sea-salt wafer, salmon tartare with a Delicious apple and celery salad, crème fraiche and a micro amount of tobiko, accompanied by a palate-cleansing shooter of limoncello, apple jelly and green tea ($13). A square white plate with a pink splash, and a green glass off on the side, back in the museum. Joe, you are an artist.
For her main dish, my companion had yellow beet risotto, crème fraiche, basil, purée of yellow beets, basil oil, lobster claws, pan-fried scallops and shrimp, and red beet decoration. Tiger told us that the risotto was not made from chicken stock, but rather from vegetable stock. There are no interruptions here for additional salt or pepper, a habit I find particularly disturbing in many restaurants that "pretend", because the chef knows very well that each dish is perfectly seasoned. The attention to even the tiniest detail makes this a place for the gastro-perfectionists.
 Not to be outdone, I sampled the grilled red tuna, which was slightly seered on the outside and perfectly juicy and raw on the inside. It came with Jerusalem artichoke and a piquillo papper ragout, Risina bean purée (with spinach mixed in), and tomato vinaigrette ($32). This is food you eat while discussing each ingredient with your partner. It is difficult to compare with other places, because it is in a new dimension. I can judge the tuna (it's the best), or the vinaigrette (perfect) or the purée (it is one of the tastiest in town), but the combination makes this tuna want to jump up and go frolic with my companion's lobster.
The desserts are compositions as well, albeit a bit more disjointed than I would have liked. A few fruitier selections would have been better for us at this point in our lives, but we still enjoyed the "mascarpone mousse with layered espresso and chocolate cake, espresso jelly and cream, and biscotti".
Another dessert we sampled was called "Cuba and Baileys", which is a Baileys-based multi-colored pudding, with a citrus doughnut, chocolate fudge cookie, and praline cake. A breathalyzer test did not reveal any booze in the dessert, but then again, virtually no Montreal area restaurant knows what spiking means.
Yes, that is what Montreal needs, spiked desserts in square plates for round gentlemen and pear-shaped ladies who want to see pink elephants in a long thin purple rectangular restaurant. It is hard not to feel "geometric" when you leave this gastronomic and architectural jewel. — reviewed by RestoSpy
|
