Could it be the condom ads in the bathroom that are keeping people away? Couldn't be that, because lots of restaurants market condoms (and so much else) in the johns. Could be maybe the blast of arctic air that permeates the restaurant every time the double doors open -- and close with agonizing slowness. No, it couldn't be that, because dozens of Toronto restaurants provide frigid air every time the door opens, for no extra charge. Could it, then, be the sensitive and highly expert service at Picante Tapas Bar?
Coats are not taken. You get to hang them on the rickety rack at the front. Our server offers "Perry-Air" to drink. One evening we're offered one dessert only -- tiramisu. After ordering it, we're told there's no tiramisu, only chocolate cake. But the coup de grâce, the icing on the cake, the nadir of service, came when our server spooned the paella onto our appetizer plates, on top of the olive pits and bread ends.
If Picante Tapas Bar didn't serve the best darned paella I've ever eaten, there'd be no point spilling printer's ink on the place. But being the only customer in a restaurant is chastening. You can't help wondering if everybody else knows something you don't, even when your taste buds tingle. If I were chef at Picante, I'd be raising hell about mediocre-to-poor support from the front of the house. Good cooking like that deserves better than icy drafts and stupid service.
The food is better than good. Paella is challenging. It's mostly rice, with bits of seafood, chicken, chorizo sausage, sweet peppers and peas. It takes talent to make rice taste like anything. All the paella I've ever eaten (or indeed made) has suffered from dry rice with flavour missing in action. The Picante paella is just that -- picante. The rice is moist and bursting with flavour, as if every grain is infused with robust olive oil jumped up with sautéed garlic and chilies.
Instead of featuring dried-out chicken baked in the paella, the dish is topped with perfectly grilled chicken, hence even more flavour. This chef understands the architecture of building layer upon layer of flavour, giving each layer the best technique. The paella is a veritable gold mine of small delights: peeled red and green peppers, sweet spicy chorizo sausage, peas, fresh tomatoes, and perfectly cooked mussels, shrimp and squid rings. One day the chef adds artichokes and big green olives, another day hard-boiled-egg quarters.
Things are looking way up. Hot tango music fills the air. Many candles burn on the bar. There are haunting charcoal sketches of Spain's national folly, bulls and matadors. The sangria is divine, red wine turned into a fun drink thanks to oranges, brandy and ginger ale. And the tapas, the small dishes selling for $4 to $6 each, are almost as good as the paella. (Which, by the way, lends itself splendidly to takeout. Call an hour before you want it, add a strong Spanish red, and, shazam, cocooning was never so yummy.)
Of the almost two dozen tapas, my favourite is Spanish potato omelette: Very thinly sliced potatoes combine sweetly with egg for a creamy texture. Runner-up would be shrimp in spicy garlic olive oil, in which great scads of fried garlic top shrimps in chili-spiked oil. Moorish-style chicken kebab is also none too shabby, with grilled chicken, eggplant and zucchini, and cumin for sweet spice. Fried calamari are not crisp, but they are also not overcooked. Their aioli dip (a.k.a. garlicky mayo) covers a multitude of sins.
Skip the artichoke hearts and olives. The Picante canned artichokes and $2.50 will get you a latte at Starbucks. Skip the dessert, too. Have another sangria, and call a cab.
Picante Tapas Bar, 326 Adelaide St. W., 416-408-2958. Accessible to people in wheelchairs. Dinner for two including wine, tax and tip: $90. The Valentine's Day Disappointment: The deservedly popular restaurant Boba had two full sittings booked for last Saturday night's Valentine's trade. There were 20 no-shows and another 10 people phoned at the very last minute to cancel. That's how restaurants lose money. If Toronto diners don't start taking responsibility for restaurant reservations, we'll become L. A. North: Restaurants will start overbooking (to make sure tables don't sit idle) and we'll wait for tables; and they'll demand credit-card deposits to hold tables. Is that what you want? No? Then wise up.
Tempo (son of Lava) opened at 596 College St. on Monday. Presiding chef is Tom Thai, sushi wizard (ex Youki, ex Café Asia). Last week Jamie Kennedy opened a new café on the ground floor of the Royal Ontario Museum. The Egypt-influenced sit-down restaurant will stay open till the blockbuster Egypt exhibit closes in May.