Weezie's
354 King St. E., Toronto
416-777-9339
$100 for dinner for two with wine, tax and tip
The smell of cheap rent is all over Weezie's - and it doesn't seem to matter a bit. The obvious economies may even contribute to the place's charm. In a small room on King Street east of Parliament, chef/owner Constance (Weezie) Guitard makes big magic from small beginnings.
One wall is whitewashed brick, the other sports the kind of cheap wood panelling you might find in a small-town greasy spoon. No artworks adorn these plain walls. Cheap red cotton curtains hang on tall windows that let in light in the long spring evening. Light being free, it provides the room's only elegance.
Despite the absence of design or decoration, Weezie's has a charming feel to it, thanks no doubt to the personal commitment of an artist-in-residence. How else to understand what Weezie makes of something as humble as sardines? Her pan-fried sardines are what the serpent fed Eve, and about as dangerous. Butter-soaked breadcrumbs are as unhealthy as it gets, and what they do for sardines is like what a good foundation garment does for Dolly Parton. The butter gentles the strong dusky scent of sardines and the breadcrumbs take it down a notch. Add a rivulet of fresh basil oil, long-sautéed onions and lightly smoked tomato purée and this is an app with mucho mojo.
Weezie's leek and potato soup sneaks up on you; it's subtle and understated but correctly balanced and built on honest stock. Her starter salads are not as ambitious as the sardines, but are nicely balanced. The only unhappy app is - partially - steak tartare, which is wet! I am an addicted carnivore who struggles to say no to red meat; but when I say yes to it, dammit, I want it my way. That means I want to know that this is beef I'm eating, sans obfuscation or disguise. Weezie's steak tartare is strangely doused in too-spicy liquid, making it almost runny. My steak tartare is chopped steak with seasoning, a meat event as opposed to something red in liquid. On the other hand, the French fries that come with the unfortunate tartare are the Platonic form of frites: small, fresh, sweet and crisp.
Strange, though, that the only other misstep on the menu is also another beef item: the burger, which is big and thick and well-intentioned, slathered as it is in melted cheddar and with boutique bacon on top. But it's well done - brown, not pink. Like too many other restos, the server didn't ask how we wanted our burger done. This is a Canadian phenomenon. When we go to the U.S. and order a burger, they ask how we want it cooked. In Canada, restaurants almost never ask.
They have decided that undercooked burgers are bad for us, so we get them with the texture of Kleenex. I am all in favour of the nanny state; I always vote leftish. But don't tell me how to eat my beef. If indulging in a guilty pleasure, I'll damn well enjoy it to the hilt. Until they cooked it brown, the burger at Weezie's had so much potential.
Some gourmands turn up their noses at mac and cheese, thinking it plebeian. Yes, plebeian like roast chicken, plebeian like chocolate brownies. All three of which I think exceedingly fondly. Well-made mac and cheese has greatness, and the power to stir the soul. The version at Weezie's hits the spot. Adding grana padano and asiago to the more common cheddar gives unusual bite, which plays well off the richness of the béchamel sauce base. Adding bacon bits gilds the lily enchantingly.
Huge scallops have been perfectly sautéed to create a crispy crunch on the outside and a soft heart on the inside. They sit pretty with browned roasted cauliflower, grapes and pine nuts on a mediocre beurre blanc. If it were me, I'd have sautéed the grapes, roasted the pine nuts and made an à la minute beurre blanc. Less sturdy, more tasty. I'd also have toasted the almonds a bit more on the Arctic char, but this is a small point, as the char is perfectly sautéed and its garnish of anchovy vinaigrette is zingy with salt/sour/mellow, a perfectly balanced bath for green beans, wilted arugula and sweet roasted yellow and red beets.
Weezie has only two desserts, and only a fool would miss either of them. I don't like pecan pie - 99 per cent of the ones I have met consist of thick, gummy corn syrup filling under a layer of token (often aged) pecans - but Weezie's breaks the mould. The pecans are many, small and charmingly toasted, the "pudding layer" is thin and delicate and a creamed butterscotch sauce drizzles the plate.
The other dessert - gossamer lemon curd - is jazzed with a lot of lemon zest atop fragile shortcake.
So much pleasure. Life is short. Eat some pecan pie.