Le Papillon on the Park
1001 Eastern Ave., Toronto
416-649-1001
www.lepapillonpark.com
$130 for dinner for two with wine, tax and tip
In John Irving's latest novel, Last Night in Twisted River , Pastis Express, the charming bistro on Toronto's Yonge Street, plays a minor but significant role. Long a (part-time) denizen of the city, the American author portrays the resto and its gamin proprietor, Georges Gurnon, who is thinly disguised in the book as M. Arnaud, in all of their abundant Gallic charm. He has also prompted me to reflect on the staying power of French food.
Despite the recent interest in Julia Child's work, la grande cuisine has been out of style for decades, and even the simpler forms of French cooking are not exactly selling like hotcakes. It's thus easy to leap to the conclusion that French food is finished. If that's so, though, how to explain the roaring success of Pastis Express? Its mussels and frites and foie gras terrine fly off the shelves every night. This is because they employ great technique on the best ingredients. Flavours are clean and crisp and one never feels overcome by cream or butter, proving that it's not French food we're tired of, but food that's drowning in butterfat. Unfortunately, the latter is part of the problem at the latest wannabe temple to francophilia: Le Papillon on the Park.
Le P on the P is a spawn of Le Papillon on Church Street, which enjoyed a 34-year run before its owners, Paul and Danielle Bigue and Sandra Kane, split amicably and went on to open two separate Papillons - Kane's opened last year on Front Street, while the Bigues launched more recently in Toronto's east end. The Bigues's place cleaves back to their Montreal roots with a celebration of Québécois cuisine; it's a gloriously renovated big brick house now channelling French country chic à la moderne with a huge, beamed pine ceiling, French doors opening onto Jonathan Ashbridge Park, blue-and-white-checked tablecloths partly covering pine tables and a genteel spaciousness that is very un-downtown.
We're accustomed to thinking of Le Papillon as a creperie, but the menu in the new place has far more breadth than that. How wonderful, for instance, to see an old fave, French onion soup. (And oh joy, they offer a small appetizer portion of it for reduced commitment.) But what a pity there is precious little onion flavour in it. Sure, the melted cheese roof is smooth and sweet and the beef stock is pleasant, but where are the onions?
As for the crepes, the crepes themselves are thin, crisp and unsoggy and the fillings are merely competent. Spinach, cheese and bacon, for example, features perfectly (barely) cooked spinach, oodles of smoky bacon and oozing melted cheese. Delete the bacon and add nicely fried mushrooms for a veg version. But would that the kitchen not use sugar in the batter for its savoury crepes.
Some of the mains, moreover, are outstanding examples of why French cooking has fallen so far out of favour. Gratin de fruits de mer is overcooked shrimps and scallops in a lot of soupy white wine and cream sauce topped with breadcrumbs and served with blah ratatouille and a generous pile of plain white rice, giving new definition to the word heavy. Duck breast with Grand Marnier sauce suffers similarly: The meat, although pink, is tough and gristly, the sauce is yellow and sweet (too sweet) but otherwise not noticeable and the sides of mashed potatoes and that same under-powered ratatouille are deeply disappointing.
Le Papillon's bête noire is the food of France. Shrimps mignonette with garlic and butter are awash in far too much liquid. Matters are made worse by the bread and butter. These usual mainstays of French cooking are horribly debased. Whipped salted butter served in plastic packets to go on spongy bread? Quelle horreur .
But all good things happen when Le Papillon goes Québécois. The poutine, for instance, is a joy. Poutine being all over town, the bar is way up on Quebec's soul food. Le Papillon's rendition is exceedingly yummy: ultracrisp fries with fresh, sweet cheese curd melted just enough to ooze and just enough light gravy to flavour but not drown. As for the tourtière, this pie of ground pork, veal and beef with sweet spices is wrapped in short, fragile pie crust and happily garnished with sweet and sour tomato and apple relish.
Traditionally, the Québécois love their sweets perhaps even more than their savouries. Maple syrup being their national liquid, sugar pie and pouding chômeur take pride of place in the Quebec sweet lexicon. In other words, bring your sweet tooth. The pouding chômeur , which translates as "pudding of the unemployed" or less literally as poor man's pudding, was invented by factory workers during the Depression to make the most of cheap ingredients - flour, butter, sugar, egg and maple syrup. Le Papillon's version is thick, gooey, rich and wonderful, as is its sugar pie. Vive le Québec sucré!