The Herbivore’s Dilemma
Planta gives vegan food an upmarket makeover. Are dishes masquerading as meat the best way to wow a new crowd?
anticipated vegan restaurant” sounds about as plausible as “President Trump,” and yet here we are: Yorkville’s Planta is Toronto’s latest evidence that veganism, touted as the healthiest way to lose weight and extend your life, has become extremely cool and increasingly mainstream. Plus, it’s a welcome antidote to scandals about shrimp-farming slaves and scary studies about the environmental impact of a meat-centric diet. After so many tomahawk steaks, charcuterie intermezzos and pork-butt ssäm feasts, we’re ready for a collective detox.
Even if the moment is right, chef David Lee’s animal product–free restaurant, which opened in September, is a big gamble. He needs to persuade his fans, who followed him from Splendido to Nota Bene, that root vegetables can be as sexy as foie gras. Lee’s business partner is Steven Salm, who runs the group behind The Chase, Kasa Moto and Colette Grand Café. Between the two of them, they know how to make a restaurant work.
With Planta, they’ve avoided the strident associations of veganism by calling the menu “plant-based,” which sounds good for you, not punishing. The restaurant (in the former Pangaea space) is as airy as a West Elm catalogue, all white-washed surfaces, Arcade Fire music and curving banquettes upholstered in geometricpatterned synthetics—no leather permitted. Ponytailed servers, as poised as yoga instructors, wear animal-friendly Chuck Taylors. Your cocktail, made with coldpressed juices, arrives on a silver tray, and what comes out of the kitchen is as striking as anything you’d get at any of Lee and Salm’s other restaurants.
I’ll return to Planta just for the burger. Creating a delicious veggie patty that’s as good as the real thing requires ingenuity and a touch of sorcery, and Lee wanted his to rank with the famous (even among nonvegans) patty at New York’s Superiority Burger, or the trademarked Impossible Burger, which is served at a handful of exclusive restaurants like Momofuku Nishi and eerily replicates the texture of ground beef. Over the phone, Lee told me how he’d developed an early version using textured vegetable protein but wasn’t happy with it. He kept experimenting with various grains and flours, and even flew to Nishi to try the Impossible Burger for himself.
Finally, five days before Planta was set to open, he landed on a patty primarily made of black beans, mashed lentils and beetroot, plus a dozen spices. The beet lends a subtle sweetness and produces a nice char. The burger holds together well yet invites a good chow down, giving just like a fresh chuck patty. While no blindfolded taste-tester will mistake it for a real burger, it’s deeply satisfying. He serves it on a plush, housemade sesame bun with pickled onions, jalapeños, rounds of ripe tomato, a sheaf of Boston lettuce and mushrooms that have been smoked over white-oak chips, which, if you let your mind wander, pass as a fine substitute for bacon. It’s served with excellent seasoned fries, which I didn’t mind dipping in a “mayo” of tomatillo and soy milk.
I can also endorse the bowls of lentils or brown rice mixed with roasted fruits, sprouts and herbs, as well as snacks like deep-fried gyoza stuffed with a gingery kimchee and tots made from cauliflower, not tater. And I liked what Lee did with a watermelon plate—his variation on poke, the suddenly popular Hawaiian tuna dish that’s this year’s beet salad. He gently compresses the fruit with kombu, then tosses it with avocado chunks and, for crunchy contrast, nori chips.
But plant-based fare has its limitations. I’ve eaten at Planta several times and found as much to love as to not. I want the place to succeed, but often it’s a total turn-off and a case