The season’s most anticipated openings are two seafood-centric spots
Maléna at Av and Dav (Image: Ryan Szulc)
Toronto is a raw bar town. We’re over-served by excellent oyster houses, and we probably consume more sushi per capita than any city east of Vancouver. But cooked fish is a problem here; we’ve never had a standout seafood spot. This spring, Nathan Isberg, of Czehoski and Coca fame, opened what early adopters described as a nose-to-tail disciple’s take on the life aquatic on Dundas West. And in Yorkville, a neighbourhood that’s desperate for a few more decent places to eat, front-of-house kings David Minicucci and Sam Kalogiros launched Maléna, a flashy fish spot. It looked like Toronto might finally turn into a seafood town.
Kalogiros and Minicucci, who also run L’Unità, the casual Italian place near Av and Dav, are masters of engineering atmospheres that are loud, exclusive and democratic all at once, with service staff who are expert at navigating it all. Maléna is done up in high-homely style, with barnboards, glossy-framed mirrors and Hellenic-themed dinner plates on the walls. The two-storey space is jammed most nights with a mix of middle-aged glitter girls, criminal lawyers (Clayton Ruby and Brian Greenspan one night, dining separately) and boldface names both minor (Senator Pamela Wallin, designer Sarah Richardson) and major (Jessica Alba, who, one blaspheming regular noted, looks a lot like an ugly version of Jessica Alba in person). It has quickly become one of the toughest reservations in town.
Kalogiros learned the trade in New York, where he was captain at Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s Mercer Kitchen. Minicucci, meanwhile, managed Xacutti and Annona at the Park Hyatt. And no one is better than Zinta Steprans, Maléna’s young, disarmingly down-to-earth sommelier, who patrols the room in a cotton boyfriend blazer, working from an oddball-fabulous list that’s strong on fish-friendly Greek and Southern Italian wines (I loved the northern Greek sparkler made in the French style from moscophilero grapes) and making a point of stopping at every table.
The kitchen gets a lot of things right. The menu is Greek, mostly, by way of Sicily and Puglia, so the tzatziki is seasoned southern Italian style with only a little garlic, and the sheep’s milk feta salad gets fennel and white balsamic vinegar. Chef Doug Neigel marinates fat sardine fillets in lemon and good vinegar so they’re bright, balanced and nicely punchy, and then stacks chopped romaine on top as a smart, if trashy, refresher. Soft-shell crabs—not Greek, exactly, but no one’s complaining—get the tempura treatment, sizzling from the fryer; only Nota Bene’s David Lee, who was eating at Maléna one recent Friday, does them better.
Neigel sources fish so fresh you’d think you were in a seaside town. Though the cooking is inspired by the shores of the Ionian Sea, he forgoes the usual farmed and dubiously sourced southern European seafood for an Ocean Wise–approved list that few other east-of-the-Rockies restaurants could match. Neigel buys live spot prawns, firm-fleshed wild salmon and line-caught ling cod direct from Organic Ocean, a B.C. fishermen’s co‑operative, plus impeccable soft-shell crabs from the East Coast, and mackerel that tastes mild and delicate instead of the usual funky and badly in need of a shower. Plenty of other restaurants feature one or two great seasonal West Coast fish selections these days. Neigel seems to have them all. And then, as if to apologize for his good fortune, he does what just about every otherwise competent chef in Toronto does with seafood—he cooks the bejesus out of it.
I read this review in the original print version, and have been wondering what the following meant: “…and then stacks chopped romaine on top as a smart, if trashy, refresher.” Smart but trashy? What?
The state of fish coming from restaurant kitchens may be a function of clientele not knowing fish can be a little undercooked (just as we now realize pork does not have to have the bejeezus baked out of it). My mother-in-law insists that her salmon be “quite rare, please” and it arrives quivering almost every time.
August 10, 2010 at 1:11 pm | by KathleenWe’ve never had a decent fish spot? What about Joso’s?
August 10, 2010 at 1:35 pm | by todd oliveThanks Kathleen. I wondered that as I was writing the piece: steakhouses always ask how you want your meat done, why not fish places, too?
Don’t you think romaine is a little trashy? It’s delicious, but its just sort of unfashionable these days.
Todd: Joso’s is good but incredibly expensive if you want market fish. And don’t you think the whole boobs thing is a little much?
August 10, 2010 at 2:29 pm | by Chris Nuttall-SmithAgree that the general state of attention towards fish is lacking in our city when it comes to how long it’s cooked. Just came back from Restaurant Week in NYC & had lunch @ Eric Ripert’s Le Bernardin. My main was skate & my partner had the halibut – all cooked just right.
August 12, 2010 at 12:23 am | by Michael W.is this the new direction Fulford wishes to take TL’s food section?? I suppose it is in keeping with the rest of the magazine. Chatto could have never written such a bitter review ( or poorly worded). Maybe Nuttall-Smith has never been to Chiado, a well respected seafood restaurant in this city. Glad i cancelled my subscription last year!
August 12, 2010 at 11:09 am | by melAs a concierge (and foodie), my job is to know food and restaurants in order to provide the best dining experience to my guests. The author obviously has no clue what he is talking about and is unnecessary mean and vitriolic in his review. Maybe you did not enjoy those places sir, but you lost all credibility with this poorly written and pompous article.
August 12, 2010 at 8:06 pm | by Mariejoso’s 100%. expensive, you’ll have to travel to europe to duplicate this experience. now that’s expensive!
August 13, 2010 at 11:36 am | by nushiaAbout time someone called it as it is on fish in this town. With the exception of Kaji and other high end sushi spots, I’ve seen more fish ruined in this town than the Gulf of Mexico. Nuttall-Smith is right. Let the fish quiver. You can always cook it more, but can’t cook it less. This is what criticism is folks.
August 13, 2010 at 4:21 pm | by DavidJames Chatto’s Review of Malena
One of the most perplexing questions you’re ever likely to hear is whether there is a decent Greek restaurant in Toronto. My old answer was no. My new answer is Maléna. I first met Sam Kalogiros six years ago, when he was a server at Luce, the Rubino brothers’ deliciously idiosyncratic foray into Italian cuisine. Kalogiros comes from Corfu, the Ionian island I know best, and he mentioned at the time that he had a long-term ambition to open an Ionian restaurant. He said the same thing a few years later when he and co-owner, co-manager, David Minicucci opened L’Unita at Avenue Road and Davenport. L’Unita’s food was Italian, convincingly interpreted by young Canadian chef Doug Neigel. Now the same team has opened Maléna, just a few doors south on Avenue Road, in the premises that used to house Pink Pearl. Already mighty popular, it has a casual, quirky charm that isn’t as obviously cool as L’Unita. And aside from Chiado, Starfish and the top sushi contenders, it’s Toronto’s most serious seafood restaurant.
August 15, 2010 at 1:13 am | by SebastianBut is it Greek? Canadians used to the opa!-Zorban-burnt-meat-‘n’-baklava enclaves of the Danforth might not think so. But sophisticated Athenians and Corfiots will give a shrewd smile and a nod of appreciation to Neigel. His menu (strongly favouring seafood over meat) is laden with Ionian references, not slavishly copied but judiciously appropriated and translated.
Sea urchin crostini is one example. I always associate sea urchins with the Ionian because of a particular morning when my friend in the village where we lived, Philip Parginos, taught me how to go snorkelling for octopus. At lunchtime we pulled ourselves out of the water and onto some flat, gently sloping rocks to dry off in the scorching sun. Philip had gathered some sea urchins and now he opened them with his knife, took out the lemon he had hidden in his diver’s pouch, squeezed some juice into each urchin and we ate them just like that. However many Japanese uni treats I’ve had since, that remains my seminal urchin experience. At Maléna, Neigel takes very crunchy toasts and spreads them with a little puréed avocado (these days, they do farm avocado in the Aegean islands). Then he lays the sea urchin on top, strews some red amaranth seedlings over them and finishes it all off with a sprinkling of black salt. The avocado is a great idea – echoing the texture of the urchin but too bland to impinge on the purity of its flavour – but it’s the salt that brings the dish to life (and reminds me so forcibly of that seaside lunch, I suspect).
Crab is another rare pleasure in the Ionian. In the market in Corfu town we once saw a big kavouromama, a female crab with her glistening eggs. Greedy gourmets were arguing about which of them had the right to buy it. At Maléna, they serve a single huge stone crab claw, still in its shell, and pair it with avgolemono sauce. Not your usual avgolemono – a liaison of egg yolk and lemon juice stirred into chicken broth – but a stiff version with the texture of an aïoli and mixed with masses of chopped dill. Scrumptious.
Then there’s the Ionian seafood soup. It contains cod (I’ve never heard of cod in the Ionian) as well as clams, mussels and spot prawns, all nicely undercooked to preserve their freshness and delicate textures. The broth is a thin tomato consommé flavoured with fresh oregano and basil leaves and lots of ground pepper. Slices of grilled ciabatta lie on top, which means they’re soggy by the time the dish comes to table.
I could go on – there are so many delicious things on the menu – especially whole fish of various kinds, simply and flawlessly grilled – and you can’t get more Ionian than that. They do the same thing around the corner at Joso’s, of course, though there it’s seen as Dalmatian. Same wind and water.
And in lieu of a cheese course, Maléna suggests a finger of saganaki – salty kephalograviera cheese fried and served hot with a curiously bitter orange and ouzo marmalade. It’s an unusual combination and I will have to taste it a couple more times to figure out whether or not it really works.
One last treasure Maléna presents is the talent of sommelier Zinta Steprens who gets to play with a really original little wine list that features a number of unusual white wines, all available by the glass. From Greece, a crisp, aromatically floral blend of moschofilero and rhoditis is made by Skouras. From Friuli come three stunning wines from Bastianich – a malvasia, a tocai and a blend of chardonnay, sauvignon and picolit. A glass of either would be the ideal partner to a light dinner sitting at the bar, conversing with half a dozen oysters (from P.E.I. not Corfu) or a crudo of Qualicum Bay scallops: true Canadian-Hellenic détente.
Maléna is at 120 Avenue Road (one block south of Davenport). 416 964 0606.
James Chatto’s Review of The Atlantic
Dundas and Brock weren’t looking their best the other night when my family and I met up for dinner at The Atlantic (1597 Dundas St. W., 416 219 3819). There are barricades along the sidewalk (water main repairs, not G20) and odd blue hoses sticking out of the pavement, perfect for tripping unwary feet. Flags, vuvuzelas and the other gaudily gimcrack trappings of the World Cup are for sale everywhere (Portugal and Brazil are the favoured teams in this neighbourhood and both are still involved, though other nations are not (sob)). The Atlantic is chef Nathan Isberg’s own place, formerly an unpretentious Portuguese family restaurant, now renovated on a minuscule budget. Pretty it ain’t – dark blue walls, rough boards to hide the ceiling, plain old wooden tables, vintage junk-store knick-knacks – but it is hip and wry and casual enough to bring a smile of approval from its cool 30-something clientele. There are a couple of model ships to admire (one built by Isberg’s brother) and good music from some Indie-lover’s iPod. An extraordinary old black-and-white photograph of a harvested whale on a slipway will dismay sensitive diners; others will see it as a sombre reminder of the blood-letting that underpins most acts of eating.
August 15, 2010 at 1:14 am | by SebastianThere are other nice touches. A blackboard over the bar offers an unusual cocktail list including an “All day breakfast: cold slice of pizza, ½ btl of beer and a deep sense of foreboding” or something called “The Terrorist” – it’s a cup of mint tea. “Yes, it’s quite a funny list,” agreed the waitress, “though I’m not sure how practical it is.” The dozen wines offered are all temptations and delightfully inexpensive – Daniel Lenko’s 2006 Unoaked Chardonnay for $39, for example, or a sensational Catalan “Syrahnnosaurus Rex” from Domaine Ferrer Ribiere at $60.
Isberg was one of the Queen West wunderkinder a few years ago, dashing across the road to stretch his culinary muscles between both Coca and Czehowski. His relationship with the owners ended in tears, however, and though things are patched up now, he is eager to go it alone as Atlantic’s chef-patron. And I do mean alone. There is no one else in the kitchen. Hence the structure of the menu – 18 small dishes ($3-$12) plus cheese ($13) and three desserts ($7) and the occasional G20 Special – that night it was “dinner served in a fake lake, $1.8m, free after 10pm.”
How to describe the food…? The overall mood of the menu is almost defiantly rustic, consciously domestic and yet slyly exotic – as if Isberg had gone back to school to take a second philosophy degree and was rustling up food one night for other students in his digs. A bowl of priest-strangler pasta with scarlet flecks of pickled chili and a runny Sao Jorge cheese sauce is surely in that basic league. Mussels with salt cod, chorizo and a big slab of toasted brao cornbread are dominated by the sweetish, garlicky, salty bacon personality of the chorizo – which is one way of doing mussels, just not very subtle. But that may be the point. Isberg seems to be chasing big, bold, simple, salty flavours at Atlantic. Fat sardines, grilled and smoked, are as robust as they can be, with nothing but a lemon wedge to mitigate the delicious pungency. Orecchiette are stirred up with tender chunks of braised duck leg, flecks of smoked mackerel (works nicely with the duck and boosts the umami), and lots of bitter, garlicky rapini. Another people-pleasing pasta dish stirs tiny spherical fregola with excellent chanterelles and tangy wild leeks.
Occasionally, a more delicate approach showed the value of finesse. A simple steamed fillet of halibut, for example, was gorgeous over a fine mix of roasted cauliflower and couscous with a smoked paprika dashi – restraint paying dividends. Lovely little steamed artichokes came with a bowl of bagna cauda into which each precious petal was to be dipped, but the rich liquid was so spiked with garlic, salty anchovy and caper that the flavour of the artichoke risked being lost. Cold edamame and mint soup, supersmooth and richly textured, was oddly sweet and overminted – and sweetness and mint only really go together in cocktails, candy or toothpaste. Or in one of the evening’s desserts – a lightweight chestnut-flour crepe wrapped around chocolate mousse and topped with caramel sauce that was crunchy with salt crystals. Fresh chopped mint was the dominant impression and here it worked beautifully.
Three years ago, Isberg and I spent a few days together in New York where we both admired the rustic, tapas-sized dishes at Blue Ribbon, Casa Mono and The Spotted Pig. Of course, it’s much easier to be quaint and simple when you can draw on the limitless resources and personnel of Mario Batali’s empire. Determinedly independent these days, Isberg goes it alone. The price point will keep the place more than busy (it was packed on the night we were there) but I’m looking forward to finding out what this chef will do next.
Thanks for posting Chatto’s reviews. It’s nice to be reminded what food “criticism” is like when the restaurant knows the “critic’s” coming, the chef and staff give the “critic” the royal treatment, and the “critic” will never, ever say anything critical, even when the restaurants are trash.
August 16, 2010 at 9:15 am | by Morgan DuncansonIf I’m trying to figure out where to eat, I’m going to stick with the actual critics, who aren’t afraid to tell the truth instead of pleasant lies.
was david alone? or with a waitress
August 18, 2010 at 11:01 pm | by jennifer o'brienwhat The $@#34@
August 18, 2010 at 11:02 pm | by jennifer o'brienMorgan, the difference is that Mr. Chatto was the food writer for TL- not a food critic. It’s easy to criticize, but not so easy to write well. And Mr Chatto always made the reservation under a different name if he was reviewing. Once there he may be recognized, but if a place is truly terrible it would be too late to impress.
August 22, 2010 at 12:10 pm | by melI Llove to have whole fish grilled perfectly with just olive oil , salt pepper and squeezed lemon , i was quite surprised when we went to BLD Restaurant on adelaide street , a new place nad they had Branzino whole on as a feature , it was done just as i like it , cooked perfectly, fresh tasting , apparently they bring fish in as features when feshly avaialble , served with gralic rapini , very nice , i hav had eaten at Josos and malena and both are equally as good , seafood needs to be fresh ,whole , and cooked simply , no sauces , thats how i think it should be .
April 14, 2011 at 6:35 pm | by Michael