THIS RESTAURANT IS NOW CLOSED. If ever a place existed where a young couple might feel comfortable wear matching fur coats, Cowbell is it. At least, so felt the couple sitting at the bar one winter night, drinking red wine and taking periodic smoke breaks to help digest the copious amounts of bloody, fatty meat piled on their plates. Chef-owner Mark Cutrara’s menu is devoted to the virtues of the flesh. A charcuterie platter comes with house-cured sausage, salty-spicy pepperoni and sour gherkins (the only odd inclusion is a stray, fishy smeltchovie). It’s a killer start—most cardiologists would say literally. Such mains as tender Angus beef and gamey venison are blood-rare and seasoned simply to showcase the flavour of the meat. The apple-maple sorbet is sweet and refreshing after everything heavy that came before it.
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