I went into Erling’s Variety with no idea what to expect.
I’d heard generally good things about the food and the atmosphere in the nearly
two years since it opened (and underwent an early name change due to some evil
corporate overlord nonsense). However, I hadn’t had the opportunity to give it
a try until my awesome friend C texted to invite me to dinner on a late-October
Friday night with several other fabulous women of my recent acquaintance. How
could I pass up an offer like that?
At the appointed hour I arrived and was immediately
impressed by the warmth of the space, which has a two-storey ceiling with
visible ductwork, all painted a warm grey and laden with quiet fans to keep air
moving – a must due to the open kitchen. Despite the height, and the wall of
windows facing Strathcona Avenue, it feels cozy. The warm wood tables and
chairs are spaced just close enough together to feel convivial but not
communal; the assorted soft pillows available to ease one’s back on the
banquettes (including one printed with the image of a pug) invite you to sink
in and stay a while.
Which we proceeded to do, with great enjoyment. A round of
very well-executed cocktails and two bowls of utterly delicious fries with
smoked duck-fat aioli were the first order of business. We savoured them as we further
contemplated the extensive but not overwhelming menu of small plates, which
include seafood, fish, meat, and vegetarian options. B, the lone member of our
party who was a repeat visitor to Erling’s declared that anything with mushrooms
was a must-try and that her husband had just kept ordering more of them. On
that very strong (not to mention hilarious) recommendation, C and I decided to
share the oyster mushrooms with goat cheese and kale on a pumpkin flatbread. I
also ordered the scallop dish, which changes daily, and the smoked sturgeon.
Others at the table went with beef tartare, roast pork loin, oysters (which
arrived fried, not raw as ordered, and were promptly comped and cold ones
brought out as well), fried pickerel, and seared tuna, and we all snacked off one another's plates.
The mushrooms were as advertised: heavenly. “I thought, how
good can a mushroom be, right? Now you know,” B pronounced, and she was right.
Umami does not begin to describe the depth of flavour these humble fungi
possessed. Matched with the warm melty goat cheese, the soft flatbread rendered
only a tiny bit sweet from pumpkin, some wilted kale and garlic, these
mushrooms SANG. They DANCED. They were better than Cats (but not cats; let’s be reasonable here). I tried to change my
mind about sharing but C insisted. A wise choice in the end; it was very rich
and I needed space for my other delicious dishes.
The smoked sturgeon arrived stunningly sliced and gorgeously
plated, crowned with strips of pickled yellow carrot and tiny piles of black
caviar on a bed of wilted spinach with a berry aioli beneath. The fish itself
was perfection: only lightly smoked so the flavour shone through, nicely
matched with the salty hit of caviar and the sharp pickles. However, the rather
intense acidity of the vinaigrette on the spinach combined with the sweetness
of the aioli overpowered the delicate flavours of the fish and provided the
only misstep of the night for me. Each element was tasty on its own, and the
plate was clean when I finished it; I just felt the two halves of this dish
were not meant to dance together.
I’ve left my scallops for last, though they arrived first,
because they surprised and enchanted me so. Unless there’s fennel involved
somehow, I am guaranteed to order the scallop dish on any small-plates menu, as
they are one of my very favourite foods. I’ve eaten a LOT of scallops presented
in a lot of ways. These blew past all previous incarnations and went straight
to number one on my list. Two fat scallops, each seared to barely-set
perfection with a crisp bronzed lid and crowned with tiny, adorable piles of
micro-diced beet relish, arrived with a smear of rich celeriac puree, a small
pile of wilted curly kale in a puddle of sharp-sweet confit tomato, and two sexy
chunks of house-cured and smoked brisket “bacon.” This was the dish I could
have ordered three more of. The Brits have a food term I love: “moreish,”
meaning it’s so good you want to eat more of it, and that’s what these scallops
were. I am still mourning their passing, days later. When the waitress asked
whether we needed anything, I actually said “a cigarette.”
I was able to shoehorn in bites of the seared tuna and the
pickerel, as well as two oysters (one raw, one cooked, both much tastier than I
remember oysters being when I last tried them at sixteen) and everything was
bright and interesting on the palate, rather than heavy or hackneyed. It’s not
weird food, but it is creative food, and that scores big points with me.
All this, and I haven’t mentioned the wine. After I finished
my delicious Southside cocktail I thought I’d have a peek at the wine list and
the word “Malvasia” leaped off the page at me. “They don’t have it by the
glaaaaaaass,” I moaned to my companions. B, a wine blogger, perked up. “Is it
the Birichino?” she asked. I confirmed that it was.
“Let’s get a bottle, then,” she said decisively, and so we
did, and it was awesome. It’s an aromatic and crisp California white, using a
Spanish grape varietal, and I’ve only ever had it at Play before, where it was comped
me by a delightful waiter who, upon seeing my delight at a different white
wine, insisted I had to try this, and bless him. It is SO GOOD. I now order it
whenever I see it. Kudos to Erling’s for an unusual and fabulous pick.
Speaking of comps: Our waitress throughout the evening was a
delight, but the occasional plate was dropped off by a man in his thirties
wearing a very nice grey sweater and a sweet smile. As we wound down our
admittedly raucous and random-silly-toast-filled meal, he quietly placed a bowl
of ice cream and four spoons on the table “with our compliments.” Such a sweet
gesture given that he knew none of us from Adam’s housecat. The awful part was
that it was peanut butter-and-banana ice cream and none of us liked it. I
tried, I did, but bananas are my nemesis, and apparently the others felt the
same. He noticed, stopped by again, and we apologized abashedly for not
enjoying the treat. He removed it gracefully and – I kid you not – not five
minutes later was back with two other kinds for us to try. As you will all have
realized by now, the Man in Grey Sweater is Liam, the owner of Erling’s, and
for his kindness, his terrific room, his lovely staff, and his utterly
fantastic food, I thank him. We four crazy women had just the best time and
left well-fed, well-cared for, and wanting more of what you’re cooking up in
that open kitchen.
1 comment:
Well! I know where my next dining excursion is going to be! Kudos for making me smack my lips. The salmon and steamed veggies are gonna tast pretty ordinary tonight ;)
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