Eduardo's
89 Harbord St., Toronto. 416-928-0926. Dinner for two with wine, tax and tip, $120.
What is the power of persuasion? At its worst, it causes people to make stupid choices and buy stuff they don't need. At its best, it's a pied piper who puts a sparkle on everyday things. That's the innocent feel-good glow of Eduardo's, thanks to Eduardo Barillo's unquenchable ebullience.
Senor Barillo is an ex- banker from Mexico City who bought Latitude on Harbord Street in 2001. It tootled along just fine till 2006. I liked Latitude for its unassuming neighbourly warmth and more than pleasant Latin American fusion food. I did not imagine that the restaurant needed a makeover, but what do I know? Maybe my living room needs one too, and I am living in pathetic design discordance.
In any case, at the end of '06, the TV show Restaurant Makeover, along with "star chef" David Adjey, did Latitude over, changing the name to Eduardo's.
The décor has jumped up a notch and gone from comfy to cool, thanks to huge teardrop light fixtures and a collage of brown mirror tile loaded with fat pillar candles. But they neglected to build a vestibule, so every time the front door opens, a blast of Arctic air cools down the room.
The menu has become more firmly nuevo Mexicano, and the execution ranges from marvellous to mediocre. But who cares? Makeover aside, the place is small enough that Barillo controls the atmosphere 100 per cent of the time. He appears to be the only guy ever working on the floor, and he works the room like a charm.
Barillo reminds me of my late mother-in-law, may she rest in peace. Although Nana, as we all called her, had been a good cook in her younger years, as she got up into her 80s and her trick knee played up more and more, she stopped cooking so much and began to rely increasingly on packaged foods.
You could sit in Nana's small apartment and have nasty oven-warmed frozen President's Choice deep-fried snacks for dinner, and nonetheless feel special and loved and happy -- because Nana was the love-bomb champion of the world. She was always so happy to see you and so full of love that who cared what you ate.
Barillo is the Nana of Harbord Street. Visit his place for the second time and it's "Hello my friend, thank you for coming back," as he shakes your hand and takes your coat.
It's a dinner party and we are Barillo's cherished guests: Such is the tone he creates.
Which is why I hardly care that the Caesar dressing is bland, and the grilled calamari are undercooked and hence rubbery and translucent, and their supposed lime sauce has no citric bite. Barillo is such a wonderful host that we instead celebrate his kitchen's successes -- starting with the clever, tiny tuna tacos of barely seared tuna in crisped taro slices topped with fab pico de gallo sauce (homemade salsa), impeccable micro greens, and a hot/cold splendour of tiny shredded radishes.
Empanadas can be disappointing, for they are often burdened with heavy pastry. But these are happy empanadas, thin delicate pastry with lovely lamb filling.
Chef needs a more aggressive editor (which Barillo clearly is not) but he's got the moves: His is the first mole sauce I have ever liked, from Mexico City to Texas and points east. Every mole I've met before has been heavy and unsubtle, but this mole is a light sauce with just enough undertone of chile, cinnamon and chocolate. Too bad the chicken it's on is badly overcooked.
Fish is more his métier than fowl: Impeccably fresh tuna has been marinated in axiote (a.k.a. annatto, a red seed used by Mayan people for colour) and citrus and barely cooked.
Sides are the market's bounty: fresh mango salsa, tiny zucchini, butter-braised radishes and sweet fingerling potatoes.
This is an ambitious kitchen, whose reach sometimes exceeds its grasp. Lamb duo is almost good enough -- properly braised shank with the loin roasted rare, served with wilted spinach and lamb enchiladas that are unusually unsoggy and subtly spiced, all in a delicate tomato-based chipotle sauce. All of which would be better if the lamb loin, the centrepiece of the plate, did not suffer from enough sinews to make it barely chewable.
As for the paella Valenciana, here too chef needs an editor. It's almost all rice, with a paucity of seafood and chorizo. Surely if Barillo tasted the paella he'd ask for it to be snazzier.
Same deal with the chocolate cake, which arrives cold and hard, almost impenetrable to the fork. Thirty seconds in the nuker and that baby would have been molten. Better is the très leches cake, of which Barillo is justifiably proud. He waxes poetic about the "three milks" of its name: fresh, condensed and dulce de leche (milk cooked down for so long that its sugar caramelizes and the result is milky caramel). This cake is Mexico's answer to the baba au rhum of France, a soaked white cake.
We are invariably shocked when the bill arrives. At $120 for two, Eduardo is a cheap date.
Here today, gone tomorrow: We heard great things about Fumetti, the former Eight Restolounge, on Brant Street. Chef Robert Bragagnolo, formerly of Lobby, was said to be practising molecular gastronomy there, à la Spain's Ferran Adria. Not any more. The door is chained and the phone is out of service. Charles Kabouth's Lux Lounge is closed too, although clubmeister Khabouth will be re-opening that space, renovated and with a new spin, in the spring.