Kost’s pricey fish tacos far from perfect
Kost (out of 4) Address: Bisha Hotel, 80 Blue Jays Way, 44th floor, 437-800-5938, kosttoronto.com Chef: Ben Heaton Hours: Sunday to Tuesday, 7 a.m. to 10:30 p.m.; Thursday to Saturday, 7 a.m. to 11:30 p.m. Reservations: Yes Wheelchair access: Yes Price: Dinner for two with cocktails, tax and tip: $150 Remember the milkshake scene from Pulp Fiction?
Vincent Vega (John Travolta) and Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman) go to retro eatery Jack Rabbit Slim’s. Wallace orders a $5 shake. Vega can’t believe ice cream and milk cost that much.
“You don’t put bourbon in it or nothing?” he asks the waiter.
I react the same way to the $45 fish tacos at Kost, the restaurant atop the new Bisha Hotel Toronto.
For that price, I expect the tacos to be perfect — with a bottle of tequila on the side.
Neither happens. The tacos are as bland as they are pricey. Made from a 400-gram sea bream, the battered pieces (head and tail included) taste like cardboard.
For $45 tacos, they don’t even take your coat. We eat sitting on our jackets.
So it goes at Kost (pronounced “coast”), a Baja Californian-Mexican spot with great views of the city but little else of value.
Getting there is its own misadventure. You run the gauntlet of unsmiling hotel-condo staff downstairs — does the doorman ever actually open the door? — and queue for the dedicated elevator to the 44th floor. This elevator is the only public space in the building without thumping music.
For $45, I expect tacos to be outstanding — with a bottle of tequila on the side. Neither happens. The tacos are as bland as they are pricey. Made from a 400-gram sea bream, the battered pieces (the head and tail included) taste like cardboard
At the top is a deceptively casual room wrapped in windows. As is typical with any project by Iconink, of which Bisha owner Charles Khabouth is chairman, decor is key, from the white director’s chairs to the hidden menu cupboards. Steam rises from the rooftop swimming pool, closed for the season.
It’s quite the scene. Diners pose for selfies on white couches. At the pink Plexiglas bar, American businessmen wearing wedding rings buy drinks for surgically enhanced ladies.
With all that going down, it’s a surprise to find decent calamari ($15) with a spicy avocado dip.
It’s the rare success. The menu uses all the right words — habanero, chorizo, mojo verde — but instead of fluent, the food is garbled. Does executive chef Ben Heaton even know what Mexican tastes like? Or is he counting on diners being unable to detect the lack of authenticity through their mink eyelash extensions?
I ask because of the smashed avocado ($12), a nasty mixture on par with supermarket guacamole. The pico de gallo on the side has zero flavour, thanks to pallid winter tomatoes.
“We were inspired by California cuisine with the extended flavours of the Baja Peninsula,” a spokesperson says later in an email. “The space and the incredible views really dictated a lighter and fresher approach to the menu.”
But “lighter” shouldn’t equal insipid. The dullness continues with a wedge of griddled panela cheese served as an appetizer. The kitchen tricks out the mild, paneer-like dairy product with roast grapes and some crushed almonds, but these bells and whistles don’t add much taste — or justify the $16 cost.
There is a nice moment involving juicy shrimp ($19) on a paste of pumpkin seeds. I enjoy it the first time the cooks send it out. Moments later they accidentally send a second plate, this one garnished differently. So much for consistency.
Sheer dreariness defines the tacos, which come with six flour tortillas for the table to share. Duck ($45) is as salty as a margarita rim. Lime wedges, salsa and shaved fennel fail to make a difference. Ditto the dried-out sea bream ($45), which comes with sliced jalapenos as anemic as the blond wood throughout the room. Even the red cabbage slaw lacks zip.
When it comes to desserts by Nesreen Mroueh, there’s some improvement. Pineapple upside-down cake ($10) is fine, better than the runny coconut panna cotta ($10). Tres leches cake ($10) is wildly overdecorated; in contrast, a scoop of sweet corn ice cream ($4) is pure minimalist pleasure.
Kost should be pronounced “cost,” since the price tags are memorable, not the food. apataki@thestar.ca, @amypataki