Quatrefoil: continuing their high standards
We passed a window full of accolades on the way into Quatrefoil, in Dundas, on Sydenham. It will be interesting, I thought, to see how the celebrated place would hold up amid the recent boom in Hamilton’s restaurant scene.
Right away, we were greeted and led toward the corner to a table by the front window where I had an excellent view of the room. It had a classic feel: white tablecloths, warm light peach walls, and gold chandeliers with curled edges that held flameshaped bulbs.
The anomaly of the dining room? The bar at the back, which was lit up in bright fuchsia. A touch of futuristic funk to shake things up.
Our server, who was a gem, presented our menus to us and left us for a short bit. Why? The wine list was four pages long, with at least 20 wines on each page. They were sorted by country, each one with one or two by-the-glass options.
Cocktails to start though, and when they came, my companion remarked, “These are drinks for ladies!”
Indeed, they were quite refined looking. Both were pinkish, hers in a fluted glass and mine in a classic rocks glass. Mine was called the Tea Kila and was sweet with Chambord at the beginning and end, with a small wave of Cazadores Blanco tequila and subtle earl grey in the middle. It was nice but a little heavy on the Chambord for me.
My companion’s violet sparkle was a liquid version of a grownup floral cotton candy, balanced perfectly with the acidity from the Crémant du Jura sparkling wine.
The amuse bouche that followed was a salted cod empanada with puréed jalapeño. A salty spicy bite that was nicely balanced.
Our server came back and we asked for his menu and wine list recommendations. Elk Cove or Pearce Predhomme? “Elk Cove,” he shot back, with no hesitation. He regaled us briefly with his love of the Northwest region and then informed us that this wine was more structured and well suited to our meals. It was also one of a handful that came in a half bottle, if you are lightweights like us.
It was delicious — the structure did lend itself to a beauty of a finish — long and dark, complementing our dishes perfectly as the “intentionally unobtrusive” electronic mood music mellowed us out (the server told us later that it was a channel called, “chill”).
Our server could be overheard sharing tidbits of advice throughout the meal: organizing a tasting menu for one table, detailed comments on a Chablis at another. He was knowledgeable, elegant and had just the right hint of theatricality that made us feel like we were in the midst of something special.
I am quite accustomed to eating excellent food but I give a rare rave to this server, and it speaks as well, to the care and dedication the chefs (and owners), Fraser Macfarlane and Georgina Mitropoulos, give to training their staff.
Our first two appetizers came out soon: a bison tartare and a duck pastrami. The duck plate was an elegant layering of duck, parsnip, and a couple fronds of frisée. Then some hazelnuts and cured grapes to add some sweet and crunch. I loved the fried parsnip and the overall profile of the dish but thought the sliced parsnip could have been seasoned a little better to bring it together better.
The bison was outstanding. With a leek ash aioli to complement the truffle, pear and sunchoke, this dish was musty and rich — a perfect combo with the wine. There was pickled fennel
on the dish that I thought was overassertive but my companion enjoyed it.
She was in a quacky mood and had duck for her main as well, this time with “kimchee”, which was more like barely spiced cabbage leaves and spaghetti style daikon, both of which I thought didn’t add much to the dish. The confit, though, was nice and tender, as was the breast, and the slice of citrus and the roasted rutabaga on the plate were bright and earthy splashes of flavour.
My plate was more cohesive and fantastic. An enormous grilled veal chop lay in a rich jus that melded smoothly with the mushrooms on the plate, as well as those that were rolled in the agnolotti (pasta). The plate tasted as if it was infused by the approaching spring.
At this point, the interior lights were taking over the natural lighting from outside and our desserts came out. Though the complete dishes showed technical know-how, I was thrilled more with individual components. The creme brûlée was classic, with a thin slice of carrot cake and a revelation of an apple and rum raisin sorbet, the clear star of that plate. The lemon semifreddo (which could have been more assertive with the lemon) had a coconut streusel as an accoutrement that was like a streusel sugar cookie mix. Delish.
To send us home, a small plate of burnt milk truffle and sea buckthorn macaron. They capped the meal perfectly. Quatrefoil’s still got it.