The Lamb Shank at CenoMoe Doiron/The Globe and Mail
Could it be the enchanting entrance, a covered walkway bordered by a cedar hedge and garlanded in little white lights? The waiter who drools over you in Italian and proffers complimentary prosecco? The skinny, crunchy breadsticks and the impeccable black-olive bread? Could it be the quiet of the room, even when it's full - rather rare these days - allowing one to be heard in conversation?
Could all that grace be why a Toronto restaurant critic (not a blogger, an actual newspaper critic) fell over herself praising Ceno? Was it all about the foreplay? Did her tastebuds go AWOL when the waiter said bellissimo for the third time?
I wish mine had, because the bianchetti, eentsy weentsy white fish, came in tomato sauce that was all heat, no flavour. Porcini risotto clearly contained a plethora of mushrooms and had great texture but on the flavour front it was less well endowed; we couldn't find the supposed truffle-oil finish. And go figure about the grilled venison chop for $38. Its accompanying blueberry compote might go better on toast, and the chop itself is tough and a bit small for the price. As is most of the fish in the fish stew, whose tomato broth is on the heavy side of assertive.
But hope springs eternal. Maybe it would be better another night. So we went back again. I had seen online that Ceno offers valet parking; given the paucity of parking at Avenue Road and Davenport, I called to confirm the valet parking. "You want to know where to park?" said the person who answered the phone. I said that no, I wanted to know if they had valet parking. The person tried again to tell me where to park. I asked again about valet parking. "No, we don't have that." I gave up and headed over in my car. The Ave and Dav stars aligned and I found a parking spot. Upon arriving at the restaurant, I saw a big sign our front offering valet parking. Go figure.
Then there was the food. Again with the free prosecco and the (perhaps overly) effusive Italian waiter. There are cold calamari rings stuffed with bland (cold) raisins and pine nuts. There are tiny, almost undetectable pieces of overcooked Dungeness crab with pasta. There is salt-cod salad whose principal (almost only) ingredient is tough salt cod. For this, the cod stocks were depleted?
Things get stranger with the gnocchi. They come (says the menu) with half a lobster, for $35. Quite the price tag for a pasta dish, but hey, it's lobster. Or is it? The credible gnocchi in buttery tomato sauce are garnished with an upside-down empty half lobster shell. Which suggests that the contents of the shell ought to be on/in/around the gnocchi. But where's Waldo? Normally, in a lobster situation such as this, they proudly drape a claw atop the pasta, and litter the pasta with chunks of lobster. Here, not so much. I search in vain for lobster meat and find but small bits. Not a fun shell game.
The lamb shank is better, thanks to good, strong tomato sauce flavouring it. As is the Dover sole, a splendid throwback and a model of delicate white flesh. Its almost pure butter sauce deserves to be ignored, for it is strange. But not as strange as the veal chop. They asked how we wanted it. We said "medium rare." It arrived blood red, so undercooked as to be barely warm in the centre. And not exactly fork tender. If that's how it's served, why even ask how we wanted it?
Spaghetti with clams is good strong kamut pasta perfectly cooked, but it suffers from insufficiency of both clams and garlic. Nothing comes with veg, so we had ordered sides of zucchini and asparagus for the table. The zucchini arrived greasy, and so browned it was almost black, and they forgot the asparagus. We reminded them and they brought it after a few minutes.
We sat quite a while over dinner, pushing things around on the plates, ignored by wait staff. Maybe they didn't like us any more? When a waiter finally came by, we asked for the cheque and waited another 15 minutes. At least they're consistent.