Tel.: 270-1119
Our party of four, two couples (including the boat guy again), descended on this Van Horne neighborhood restaurant on a rainy Monday evening in July. We were drawn by raving newspaper reviews of a local food chick, and by the new concept, an experimental top-of-the-line 95% vegetarian smoke-free futuristic dining spot, a creation of "le patron", Claude Beausoleil, who was also the founder of "L'Epicier". The boat guy owns a little piece of land in Jamaica on which he lets his neighbour's tree-climbing goat graze when he is not there. The other days, he fancies the grass himself. But other than that, my companions and I knew little about goats. The waiter told us that the restaurant's name was chosen because goats are vegetarian. But then again, so are warthogs, hmm.
The decor is clean, spartan and airy, with pictures and drawings of goats prominent everywhere. The menu is mainly, but not exclusively, vegetarian. In true biologically correct style, the delicious bread from Première Moisson comes in various "biological" versions. In a move that would surprise the smartest street goat, the restaurant has picked a sparkling water, Hildon, that has the queen's stamp of approval.
Let me start by saying that after a few horrible spyological experiences including Toqué and Cavalli, Les Chèvres turned out to be absolutely wonderful from all points of view. The service was impeccable, courteous, and knowledgeable. We were seated at the best table, facing the street. The dinner started and ended with delightful "on the house" surprises, small things that mean so much to eager diners.
The appetizers ($8 to $20) included a delicious white asparagus invention ($14: asperges blanches et pleurotes érygées braisées, fines ravioles & agave; la purée de mais truffé et bouillon au beurre, see picture) and foie gras de canard in a paste of grapefruit ($20). There were several other choices that would have woken up a dead goat, such as a cold leek soup ($13) and a mini-tomato and black plum salad with lemon and coriander ($10). All our appetizers, without exception, were finger-licking good.
Our waiter-sommelier recommended a Chateau du Juge 2000 ($45, 6 Euros at dealers in Europe—for smuggling wine in through Dorval, contact RestoSpy), an excellent white Bordeaux from Cadillac with an old forest nose and a positively intoxicating aroma. This was no ordinary French judge—he knew something about wine, and even more about mistresses, so we finished two of his bottles.
My main dish consisted of a perfect thick steak in a heavenly ragout of biologically pure carots and beans ($35). The thought crossed my mind that in view of Japan's prohibition on beef imports from Canada, maybe this was a barley-fed beef steak destined for a Japanese restaurant, but now rerouted to our good goat house. My companions were equally absorbed by their food, which included a bed of thin crepes with asparagus, caramelized onions, accompanied by a mushroom and truffled salsifis sauce ($27, see picture), or a full plate of juicy scallops, asparagus, and "pleurotes" (a kind of mushroom) in a bouillon of "salicornes", a small wild plant that grows on beaches and salt-pans ($34). It is clear that the chef, who used to work at Les Caprices de Nicolas, is enjoying himself, with or without the help of Jamaican goat grass.
The dessert list looks almost too exotic for a goat house. Consider, for example, the crumble with Manjari chocolate, cherries and icecream on the basis of black beer ($12). Unfortunately, we had to skip the dessert and the goat cheese.
Les Chèvres is not recommended for guys between 15 and 25 (not enough food), alcoholics (the wine hits the brain too brutally if it is only protected by vegetables), and Russians (no potatoes). It is ideal for beautiful young ladies (for the three reasons given above). In other words, it is RestoSpy territory!
Dinner for four, including wine and tax, but excluding dessert and tip, was $321, a bargain compared to restaurants with similar aspirations.— Reviewed by RestoSpy
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