Authenticity is not this place’s goal
Despite fun, lively atmosphere, European focus misses the mark
There’s a case to be made both for and against Tennessee Tavern.
The new Parkdale restaurant serves a hodgepodge of central, southeastern and eastern European cooking.
On the pro side, it is a fun and lively place, with a stupendous drink selection and affordable comfort dishes — just as owners Grant van Gameren, Alec Colyer and Max Rimaldi (Enoteca Sociale) envisioned.
At the same time, the food at Tennessee pales next to restaurants such as the Serbian Bonimi and the Polish Chopin. Who needs a hipster copy when good originals abound in Toronto?
The partners first kicked around the idea of a vegan barbecue joint. (At least we were spared that.) The trio settled on the current format given their family connections — Colyer is Lithuanian while both Rimaldi’s wife and van Gameren’s stepfamily are Polish.
They opened Tennessee on June 9, keeping the American name used by the previous occupant.
Trendsetting chef van Gameren usually runs single-subject restaurants, be they Spanish (Bar Isabel, Bar Raval), mescal (El Rey) or greasy spoon (Harry’s Charbroiled).
But Tennessee tackles Polish perogies ($11.95), Croatian cabbage rolls ($12.95), Hungarian sausage ($11) and Serbian cucumber salad ($8.95) — sometimes all on the same plate, as in the hunger-trouncing dinner for one ($19.95). It’s as if a food fight broke out during the Treaty of Versailles negotiations.
Van Gameren says he takes cabbage rolls as seriously as foie gras terrine.
“Our goal has been to take inspiration from these regions and some of the restaurants we like to frequent and then employ people who are driven by their culinary career to turn out delicious and consistent, well-seasoned eastern European food,” he writes in an email.
But the Wiener schnitzel ($10.95) is soggy, not crisp. Van Gameren later explains the veal is breaded 24 hours in advance and may not have “the time to properly crisp up and dry out” when the kitchen is busy.
He’s working on “getting that schnitzel crispier.”
Van Gameren also says authenticity isn’t the objective, which explains the socalled goulash ($13.95). Tennessee turns Hungary’s beloved soup into a dry chunk of beef on noodles. It’s very, very wrong.
Also on the con side: The room’s acous- tics are those of a bowling alley. It’s so dark diners use the glow from their smartphones to read the menu. I dislike the creepy dolls (one hangs, unclothed, from the dining room rafters) and The Shining washrooms (the dripping words form a Polish drinking song).
Back to the pros. I like the sizable wooden tables from100 years ago that look and feel like they’ve seen action. Friendly servers smoothly talk up the dishes. Jokes are printed on the menu. The back patio is cute.
Squiggly spaetzle ($8.25) look and taste the part. And what’s not to like about thick sour cream? It’s there with the supple smoked salmon ($9.95) and with the homey dried-apricot cake ($5), Tennessee’s sole dessert. When mixed with dill and slathered over rich Bismarck herring ($7.95), the tangy cream ticks off all the Mitteleuropean boxes.
The preponderance of smoked foods and Tymek’s pickles encourages the drinking of local craft ales and rakija and palinka fruit spirits. These latter are served in pretty vintage Chinoiserie glasses that funnel the aroma of plum ($6) or quince ($12) upwards.
Still, I find Tennessee’s kitchen has yet to meet its stated goals.
You be the judge.