LUCIEN
36 Wellington St. E. 416-504-9990 Dinner for two with wine, tax and tip, $200.
Simon Bower got pretty badly snookered on his YYZ restaurant. Putting a not-so-cool fine-food resto on Adelaide Street West, smack dab in the party district, was like opening a Holt Renfrew in Liberty Village: It flew like a lead balloon. For a period, becs fins came and checked out YYZ because they were happy to follow Simon Bower from his fabulous Mercer Street Grill and because they trusted chef Chris Zielinski's food. But YYZ wasn't fun for anybody. The party people would never go there because it wasn't a dance bar, and the gourmands found it cold and too minimalist, thanks to naked white Formica banquettes in one long unbroken row, and accents in the palest green and grey.
Bower went away and licked his wounds for almost three years after he closed YYZ. And clearly gave the matter of his defeat significant thought. He knows that those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it, which could explain why in designing his newly opened Lucien, he has done a complete 180. Housed in a mid-19th-century building that has seen too many restaurants come and go, Lucien is a warm intimate space, twinkling with crystal chandeliers and a rose glow. The open kitchen hides behind pretty patterned metal, which mimics the screen hanging from the ceiling.
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But once Scot Woods's food begins to arrive, we only have eyes for the plates. Chef Woods did a brief and glorious stint at Habitat on Queen Street in 2005. He is an artist who does not take kindly to being told what to do or being reined in financially, which may go partway to explain why he has worked in 14 kitchens in 10 years. And quels kitchens! He did stages at Alinea in Chicago and Sushi Kaji, worked briefly for Alain Ducasse in New York and also cooked at Jov, Senses, Avalon, Canoe and Chiado. One could call him unstable, one could say he learned from the best, and if we're lucky, finally having his own place to call home will keep Woods in one place - for he and Simon Bower are partners in Lucien.
And now downtown has a holy trinity - within easy walking distance we have Jamie Kennedy, Claudio Aprile at Colborne Lane and Scot Woods. His amuse, deceptively simple, catapults him into that tasty triumvirate. It is a tiny shot glass of garlic soup, a sweet roasted puree topped with green mousse (made, we guess, from tender young shoots) studded with fragments of toasted garlic cloves.
Artichoke with French beans arrives on a big white rectangular plate scattered with individual items, more a Picasso abstraction than an appetizer. It's almost too gorgeous to eat, but too yummy not to hoover, thanks to foie gras that has been salt-cured to bring out and intensify its sweetness, with small bites of chicory and corn sprouts strewn among perfect little green beans, artichoke quarters and "shallot paper" (!) for entertainment. To make the latter, the chef sautés shallots and then dries them in a dehydrator.
Woods uses the lessons of molecular gastronomy - but with restraint, as notes of grace and entertaining diversions, neither to impress nor overwhelm. He wraps pork belly in plastic to seal in the juices and then cooks it very slowly to create soft fat pink flesh throughout. How smart to set off the divine decadence of pork belly with the bite of kimchee pickle, the liquid of barely poached egg, and the snap, crackle and pop of toasted barley on top.
He extracts unexpected mellow flavour from chanterelles in crystalline consommé punctuated by snails, green garlic and Serrano ham bits, with melted Spanish sheep cheese on top. His ceviche is unusually delicate. Only octopus panzanella disappoints, because of rubbery octopus and bland flavours.
The artist deconstructs traditional southern fried chicken with buttermilk biscuits and greens à la Ferran Adrià of El Bulli: He removes the breast skin, cooks the meat sous vide very slowly to keep it plump and juicy, fries the skin crispy and "glues" it back onto the breast meat with buttermilk just before serving. He bones the chicken leg, crams it into a square mould, cooks it sous vide for moisture and tenderness, unmoulds and sears it just before plating, for a crisp finish. Hot enriched buttermilk spurts from a small round croquette when pierced with the fork. On the side are the slickest collards I've ever met, lightly creamed, the smoothest onion gravy possible and bubbly puddles of buttermilk foam.
To say that the perfectly cooked cod comes with melt-in-the-mouth scallops, beets zinged with horseradish and truffled bay cabbage is to do Woods injustice: These are indeed the components of the dish, but they do not convey the delight of the taste.
As with the pretty pink lamb served with menazzaleh, Lebanese veggie stew in which the individual flavours of eggplant, onion, chickpea and tomato are to remain distinct, which they are, exuberantly, al dente so. Atop the lamb is a snow-white plume of sweet and tart minted yogurt mousse. Woods's riff on ramen includes moist duck breast and confit leg with lovely house-made noodles. To this chef, ingredients are a happy playground. He toys with lobster and skate, poaching the two texturally similar sea critters together in puree, adding smoked corn, watercress and chorizo for wonderful bite.
As if all this gustatory pleasure were not enough, the service brigade led by Simon Bower is ultra-smooth, for he is the consummate front-of-the-house professional - knowledgeable, attentive and deft. Go figure how the server can rhyme off (with a good accent) the five different kinds of dark chocolate in "chocolate complex," or the seven artisanal cheeses (served at room temperature).
The only possible truth is that the entire Lucien team has been infected with the Bower/Woods grand passion for the pleasure principle - ours.
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