Fine dining comes down to earth
How much of a bull market is there these days for Patrick Kriss?
So much so that the Toronto cook sparked some Shawn Mendes-size intrigue at a junior school fundraiser not long ago.
When one of the in-the-know parents came through with an auction item consisting of a done-and-done “rezo” for Alo, Kriss’s hard-to-get-into restaurant — a whale of a prize in the highly competitive and occasionally absurd world of Summerhill/Rosedale parenting — it wound up raking in the biggest loot.
It wasn’t even a gift card, the mom in question told me. It was solely a dining reservation — the opportunity to have a flexible “in.”
And, yes, the prize brought in more than the extra-good Raptors tickets and a BMW kid’s bike, which were also part of the auction. Talk about a feeding frenzy. When the story comes up with Kriss in person, he’s characteristically sheepish.
Economical with his words, and compact of body — with a closed-mouthed grin masking secrets of sauces past — he’s planted himself in a booth to mark two defining moments in his chefaissance.
First, a rare Relais & Chateaux designation just handed to the 2-year-old Alo — one of very few Canadian establishments to earn the prestigious international ranking. The second? One that’s a bit more down-to-earth, and is what’s brought us together in an all-new space for its slo-mo “soft-opening.”
“If we didn’t have that, it would be so loud,” the 37-year-old said, pointing to the thick, tube-like black canopy that acts as a curvilinear showpiece for the restaurant, just a few levels downstairs from his first, on Spadina Ave. Vinyl, it turns out. “There’s no echo in here.”
The only repeating sound may be that of the expectations game when one restaurant sires another. For this is Aloette — an obvious yet clever riff on Alo. And Kriss has decided to have dual citizenship: upstairs, a republic of fine cuisine; downstairs, a new nation-state of drop-in dining.
It’s a good old-fashioned diffusionbrand (the Miu Miu to his Prada?), and it comes with its own demarcations. While Alo continues to be a hushed experience of precision cooking (what one critic once described as “expertly choreographed hospitality, imbued with a spirit of lightness. They have not left a single thing to chance.”), Aloette is a more untamed beast, yet a few notches above a snack bar. The former has been a magnet for Gordon Ramsay in the flesh, and also “Justin and Sophie” (the prime ministerial duo booking a table to celebrate a special occasion). The latter — crucially — is a no-reservations joint, open from the lunch hour to late night.
“How many seats?” I ask, looking at the handsome but abbreviated bar, and the row of booths. “Thirtyeight,” Kriss announces.
I mention that the narrow space looks something of a designer train dining-car. Yeah, he’s heard that one.
You hungry? He needn’t ask twice. The dishes begin to stack before us, courtesy of Kriss and his chef de cuisine at Aloette, Matthew Betsch. There is, for instance, a “capicollo on toast” — ham hock jus, chive mustard, fontina cheese — that offers an excellent algorithm of crunch and ooze, plus a round of “clams casino” that does just the trick. There are impeccably appointed frites that promptly fall into the running for top spuds in town.
Most excitingly, there’s a tarty hilltop in the form of an “iceberg wedge” — complete with chive cream, avocado, pumpkin seeds and parmesan — that brings to mind old-school bada-boom, like that time on Mad Men when John Slattery’s character, Roger, tried to woo a prospective client in a restaurant by ordering a round of “wedges.” Take that, kale.
The retro vibe is further accentuated by the lineup of desserts. Think: “apple pie sundae.”
Kriss, who cut his teeth at Acadia and Splendido in Toronto, as well as Boulud in New York, is upfront about his ambitions.
“I would like to do more Aloettes,” he says, at one point letting it slip that the empire expansion could next hit somewhere north of Bloor. Within the wafer-thin margins of the restaurant world, the high-low tap-dance only makes sense. Being essayed by any number of marquee chefs, across most major metropolitan centres, it’s what Momofuku’s David Chang explained in the following way in GQ recently: “Every chef is talking about the need to develop lower-cost restaurant concepts that can be replicated in different locations, essentially rebooting the whole idea of ‘fast food.’ ”
Danny Meyer, a.k.a. Mr. Shake Shack, has dubbed it “fast casual.” Look at Daniel Humm and Will Guidara — the duo behind the world-renowned Eleven Madison
“Every chef is talking about the need to develop lower-cost restaurant concepts that can be replicated in different locations, essentially rebooting the whole idea of ‘fast food.’ ” DAVID CHANG MOMOFUKU
Park — who have dipped their tones into Made Nice, a more accessible eatery, in Manhattan. Ditto the award-winning Marcus Samuelsson, and his new easy rotisserie Streetbird in Harlem. As Chang has further explained, “It’s a way to diversify and offset the inefficiency of your high-end restaurants . . . if restaurants do it right, we reach a larger audience, support great farms and, well, survive.”
When I ask Kriss about the gourmand-validation that came with the recent Relais & Chateaux designation for Alo, he tightens palpably.
“It makes me nervous,” he admits. It’s a dash of humility, plus that old game of expectations again — supported with a face that I recognize from having talked to many a highflying chef over the years who won’t let themselves forget one rule: You’re only as good as your last dish.