Simple environs, complex cuisine
AFTER YEARs of simmering, the Mercuri name is set to boil once more with a tantalizing array of artful dishes
Mercuri μμ1/2 $$$-$$$ 645 Wellington St. (corner
Soeurs Grises St.) Phone: 514-394-3444 Open: Tuesday to Saturday 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Website: www. mercurimontreal.com
Licensed: Yes Credit cards: All major Wheelchair access: No Parking: On the street Vegetarian friendly: Not
especially Reservations: Recommended Price range: Plates: $16$36. Desserts $8. Fivecourse tasting menu, $65.
Wine pairings, $30.
A decade ago, I wrote a story about the next generation of Montreal chefs. I chose 10 at the time, including Chloé Gervais-Fredette, Steve Lemieux, Patrice Demers, Joe Mercuri, Michel Ross, Alexandre Loiseau, Daren Bergeron, Frédéric Morin, Frank Gioffre and Jean-François Vachon. Looking over that list today, I think I chose well. I have followed their careers closely, and the number of stars they racked up over the years is impressive. (Hopefully, I can say the same in 10 years for the 10 chefs featured on the cover of this section today).
There’s one name in that list, however, that always piqued my curiosity and that’s Joe Mercuri. The best known of the extended Mercuri family, whose members run many eating establishments in and around the city, Joe is a chef much admired by in-the-know Montreal foodies. A graduate of the Pearson cooking school program, Mercuri also studied fashion design at LaSalle College. He went on to work at Lucca, Mediterraneo and Cube before opening his own restaurant, Brontë, in the fall of 2003. I remember those early days well, and how odd it was to see Mercuri turning out all these beautiful plates in what was then a completely lifeless room.
Then, within a few months, everything changed when enRoute magazine named Brontë Canada’s best new restaurant of 2004. Reservations poured in, and a glamorous crowd of locals and tourists filled that buzz-free void. Mercuri was da man! His style could have been described back then as modern Italian, but the truth is, it was simply Joe Mercuri food. The flavour and texture combinations were always inspired. But the reason I could always spot a Mercuri plate in a lineup was that his presentations were just beautiful.
The restaurant carried on for six years before eventually declaring bankruptcy in 2010. After Brontë closed, every so often when you’d ask after Mercuri, you’d pick up on the latest rumour. I even bumped into the jovial chef a few times over the past few years, and he always seemed to be working on a new project. But then, silence.
Finally, news came last August that Mercuri was opening not one, but two restaurants in Old Montreal. The first, a fine-dining establishment called Mercuri, opened on Valentine’s Day. The second, a more casual rotisserie called Bar Mercuri, is slated to open May 1. The buzz was starting … Mercuri was back!
Having waited my requisite month-after-opening to visit the restaurant, I showed up on a quiet Tuesday last week. I slid into a corner banquette and looked around the empty room. The space is attractive in that converted Old Montreal loft sort of way with high ceilings, wood beams and brick walls. There are faux animal pelts draped over the backs of the chairs, but otherwise, the room is quite plain, as are the generic tunes playing noisily in the background. Alas, like Brontë when it first opened, there is zero atmosphere here, and the staff, though friendly, just seem to be walking around looking for something to polish. Hmm …
Mercuri emerged from the kitchen to let us know that since it’s still early days, only the $65 tasting menu would be available. The wine pairing option is a reasonable $30. A waiter brought me a cocktail list. A wine list never made an appearance. Sipping a fine cucumber, lime, basil and Angostura bitters-infused gin and tonic, I looked around thinking this was handsdown the most unprepared restaurant in which I have ever set foot.
I was there with two diehard foodie friends who are definite hard markers. I know Mercuri’s food is good, but was it good enough to overcome the desperate lack of front-of-house pizzazz?
In a word, yes! From the first mouthful of mushroom tartare to the final bite of pineapple macaron, most of the food was a revelation. Innovative, creative, complex and oh-so-flavourful, the dishes offered fireworks we taste all too rarely on the Montreal scene. Here’s what we ate:
To be gin, the waiter brought amuse-bouches: three ramekins for each of us, including a fourth of homemade chips on the side. The first contained a luscious Parmesan cream flavoured with just enough truffle oil to brighten but not obliterate the mix. Good stuff ! The second ramekin contained a dollop of mushroom tartare. Minced to an ounce of its life, the mushroom was enhanced with bits of walnut, herbs and a topping of fried panko crumbs. That little mix was all about textures and just scrumptious! The last ramekin held a beef tartare. Topped with minced razor clams, the tartare scored because it was both ideally hand cut into not-too-big-andnot-too-small chunks, and perfectly seasoned. We all swooned over that one.
If we swooned over the amuse-bouche, we all but fainted — in delight! — over the next dish. Here is Mercuri at his plate-presenting best, laying out three slices of raw yellowfin tuna around a scattering of mango cream, tobiko, powdered cilantro, and black sesame crumble. In the middle of it all was a squiggle of “spaghetti,” which turned out to be a gel made of soya and mirin. Again, what an orgy of textures and flavours, with the lush tuna setting the tone, the fish eggs popping, the crumble crunching, the mango adding sweetness, and the soya and miring gel melting the second it hit the tongue. Cap every bite off with that final hit of cilantro, and the resulting emotion isn’t so much satisfaction as elation.
Though less complex, the next dish was equally delicious. Set on a bed of smashed potatoes, a single piece of braised octopus was served with Taggiasche olives and chilies. The octopus was tender without being mushy, the potatoes were hearty and the chilies added a hit heat. And yet it was the olives here that surprised me most, launching a bolt of flavour with every bite. Wow.
The wows carried on with the next course, a comely little ravioli whose striated black and white dough was flavoured with charred leeks. Its filling consisted of homemade ricotta and was placed on a cushion of puréed celery root, shiitake mushrooms and a drizzle of mushroom jus. A whisper-thin sliver of fried pancetta was placed atop the stack, which we greedily polished off in a few blissful bites. Yes, I know, I’m gushing ...
After three such stellar dishes, there was bound to be a disappointment, and sadly it was the venison. Though perfectly cooked, the deer had a somewhat off-putting bloody/gamey taste. The accompanying pak choi leaves and roasted Jerusalem artichokes were fine, but weren’t enough to match the complexity of the previous dishes.
Alas, dessert also came up short, too. We were served one that consisted of a quenelle of milk chocolate ice cream with a chocolate crumble as well as tuiles made with panko and white chocolate. It was good, not great, though I did enjoy the final little nibbles, the aforementioned pineapple macaron and a delect- able, runny-centred chocolate truffle.
There’s no denying this is still early days at Mercuri, but they should work quickly to get their act together. Our delightful waiter, Frédéric, was professional, and the dishes were perfectly timed (that said, there were only two other tables occupied in the room). But his wine selections, though enthusiastically presented, were too pedestrian for such sophisticated cuisine.
I’m torn on Mercuri. One side of me sees great potential for this restaurant, while the other fears this is the case of an excellent chef back in action with a lumbering restaurant playing no role around him. Here’s hoping they can pull it all together. What a shame it would be to be deprived of chef Mercuri’s talents once again.