CANDIDE APPRAISAL
Service triumphs over artistry
When dining out, are we seeking sustenance or an experience?
If we are truly hungry, we’ll probably grab something simple like a sandwich or steak/ frites. But dining can also be an event in line with a museum exhibit or a night at the theatre. You can exit such a night rejuvenated, challenged, elated or inspired, or, on the flip side, perplexed, disappointed or frustrated as all get out. A dish can be designed simply to satisfy, or a chef can take more of an artistic approach, feeding you not only his or her food, but his or her vision.
These are two completely separate ways of dining, and it’s one of the elements I love most about the restaurant experience: the comfort of the inevitable vs. the thrill of the unknown.
John Winter- Russell is a chef who falls squarely into the artist category. I reviewed his cooking once before at the now defunct restaurant, Van Horne. My thoughts were best summed up in these lines: “This style of innovative- verging- on- overintellectualized cooking turned out to be the theme of my dinner. Some dishes were fabulous, while others were out there, way out there … too out there?”
While some of Winter- Russell’s dishes wowed, others left wanting, yet I was still intrigued by his game meat/ foraged food/ Into- the- Wild style. Despite many glowing reviews, Van Horne management didn’t feel the chef ’s cuisine was accessible for everyday customers. WinterRussell left in the fall of 2013, and planned on eventually striking out on his own.
In November 2015, news came that he had done just that. His new restaurant, Candide, is on tiny St- Martin St. in the former rectory and Sunday school of the St. Joseph’s Church in Little Burgundy. It’s a lovely spot, accessed by an icy lane on the south side of the church, which is now used as an event — and eventual office — urban renewal development space called Salon 1861.
Once inside, you are transported to a sort of Flemish/ Nordic dining room complete with exposed brick walls, bare wood tables ( made from the former church pews inlaid with marble), forest green banquettes, and all sorts of pretty light fixtures. Pine branches set in glass vases grace the tables and there’s bar seating for five facing a large open kitchen where Winter- Russell works alongside two other cooks. At the door I’m greeted by dining room manager, Valérie Bélisle, who recently worked at the wine bar Cul- Sec. But she’s not in charge of the wines at Candide. That honour belongs to Emily Campeau, a Quebec- born chef whose last post was that of chef
de cuisine at New York City wine bar Racines.
Winter- Russell’s set menu that I tasted in mid- January ( titled “Winter 2015”) will probably not be the same as the one served today. The chef is quite the stickler to the seasonal and regional approach, which means we’re looking at a lot of root vegetables, a few meats, cabbage and the like. It’s a menu spelled out in few words; dish descriptions include: “carrot, pheasant, oats” and “celery root, clams, leeks.” This is a very personal cuisine and reading through his menu, it appears Winter- Russell is a pretty serious kind of guy. Though critical acclaim for Candide has been rolling in since its opening, I, for one, perhaps, walked away from dinner scratching my head. This meal wasn’t exactly depressing, but it wasn’t the height of cheeriness either.
Let’s start with the positive, which besides the captivating room would be Campeau and her beautiful wines. Campeau’s carte is made up of private imports, most of which are natural, biodynamic or organic. There are Old World wines and New World wines ( including many Canadian
wines) with varietals listed next to each. Bottles are reasonably priced, with the majority costing under $ 60 and a Champagne at $ 92. Yeah!
Campeau is a passionate sommelier who defends her choices with conviction while taking your palate on a tour of some wild and wonderful flavours. What a treat!
Service at Candide is definitely one of this restaurant’s strengths.
Now if only I could be as enthusiastic about the food. I shared Winter- Russell’s five- course menu with a friend, meaning that we ate everything on offer as there is a choice between two dishes for the main course. I admired the effort but to be perfectly honest, I didn’t enjoy much. It was all so austere: no whimsy, no colour, and very little in the way of rich flavours. I don’t need foie gras, caviar and pink macarons, but does dinner have to be as bleak as an Ingmar Bergman film?
To begin there was a bowl of fermented red cabbage with homemade yogurt topped with two slices of smoked sturgeon. I enjoyed the velvety sturgeon slices but once they were gone, the yogurt and cabbage mix was
just plain dull. There’s potential with this trio, but the proportions are off.
The next dish featured slow roasted carrots with shredded pheasant meat, oats and apple slices. I was told the carrots were slow roasted for between three and four hours, but they could have used an hour more because they were still quite firm. The pheasant meat was scarce, as were the oats and apples. As much as I tried to like it, this appetizer lacked anything in the way of oomph.
A main course dish of roasted venison shoulder was paired with cipollini onions, Saskatoon berries and a light jus flavoured with pine. This was the dish of the night, as the onions were so sweet and melting and the berries added a welcome fruitiness while the pine was underplayed. The meat, though, was underseasoned and overcooked, but at least it had good flavour.
Wish I could say the same for the next dish. Served in a deep bowl and topped with tuiles made of black cabbage, the mix of ingredients included celery root, leeks and Arctic surf clams. When Winter- Russell served the
dish, he said it was his favourite. To me, it was like something out of the Lord of the Rings: Gollum food. There were large pieces of roasted celery root, a sort of leek sauerkraut beneath that, a few bits of tasteless cut- up clam and these khaki- coloured tuiles atop it all. It was all so bitter, clammy and grim. What the heck? All that was missing were a few snails.
The cheese course consisted of four slices of smoked Vlimeux cheese, some desiccated sea spinach, and a sweet potato chutney that added nothing in the way of pizzazz. And the dessert was an even bigger downer: angelica cake layered with candied lovage and a sort of honey sabayon. I don’t need an oozy molten chocolate cake with vanilla bean ice cream, but when your dessert is grey and seafoam green, you gotta wonder what’s going on.
I exited Candide a little tipsy and quite hungry ( the wine pairings are generous and the portions are small), but worst of all, exasperated. Having spent over $ 200 for two and yet not consuming one bite that fell under that important descriptor, delicious, I walked out feeling like that theatregoer who didn’t get the play, the dance lover who didn’t get the choreography, or the music lover who didn’t get the synthesizer symphony. While several critics have praised this chef ’s cooking to the hilt, I guess I just didn’t get it.
I’m up for an artistic experience with my tasting menu, but I expect to see a strong cooking technique on which to balance all that creativity. The lack of technique is a problem and so is the darkness on the plate. Winter in Montreal is depressing enough. This time of year, we could all use a little more fun and deliciousness. I’ll give Winter- Russell one thing though: at least his dour style never wavered from the first bite to the last. But c’mon chef … lighten up!