Scaling the Heights

“Where is Vertical?” I ask the security guard at Canadian Place. “You go left, then right, then left, then up the escalator then right and then left.”

I step off the escalator to be anesthetized by the fermented soy and multicultural grease billowing from the fast food joins in Canadian Place’s vast food ghetto. But “where’s Vertical?” I ask a cleaning lady.” Well, you go left, then right, then left, just beyond Jimmy’s.’ My eyes uncross just enough to spot the little sign Vertical.  

If it took me more than ten minutes to reach Vertical via the yak route, it took Ken who’s meeting me, double that. He took the Lhotse Face route by following signs on King Street that led him to hike up outdoor steps to the mezzanine and a locked door. It wasn’t until he threatened to break it down that  kindly Food Court personnel let him in.

Once we remove our oxygen masks and rehydrate, we look around. Vertical is a square room with views you wouldn’t want to see shrouded with sheers, and a scarlet-tented ceiling punctuated by fat lozenges of lights. It’s a riff on a sultana’s boudoir. But after initial amazement, we don’t laugh. The room works. It’s friendly and it’s relatively quiet considering it’s packed for lunch with Bay Streeters celebrating TGIF with bottles of wine and lots of gossip. Best of all, from the moment the fresh baked bread lands on the table with a glass of prosecco, I get this niggle of anticipation that the food here is going to be good. In fact, it turns out to be excellent.

Ken earns his living by watching TV. He eats vicariously via the Food Network. He says he’s looking forward to the real thing. “ Nigella just opens the fridge door and pulls out everything and cooks it.” How about St Jamie (Oliver). ‘He’s got chubby.” His eyes roll back at the mention of The Barefoot Contessa. “I thought I’d be seeing a rerun of the Ava Gardner movie –instead she’s a Hamptons hostess.”

Vertical’s menu is posh Italian which means hold the cheese and canned tomato and don’t overdo the “evoo”– “What is “evoo” and why does Rachael Ray slosh it on everything?” asks Ken.  Chef Tewfik Shehata uses Extra Virgin Olive Oil discreetly - he has compiled a menu of austere but robust flavours. Hard to decide what to eat from this tempting list. Twice cooked pork belly garnished with mustard, or gnudi, ricotta gnocchi made with mushrooms rapini and parmesan. Grouper is roasted and comes with blood orange marmellatar (a rare slip into menu bafflegab),  a slowcooked veal breast….Finally, Ken picks two big scallops, cured so they’re tangy, then seared to perfection with blood orange vinaigrette. Ken thinks that Martha Stewart did scallops interestingly, but he’s gone off her. “She’s patronizing.’ No wonder. Celeb-mad Food network has robbed Martha of teacher-diva status and made her put up with jokester stars like Oscar,Tony,Emmy,& Grammy Award Winner Whoopi Goldberg.

I pick lobster and crab ravioli and cross my fingers. This luxury mixture sounds great but is often cloying, rich paste, richer sauceHere they are light and lucid, two large ravioli stuffed with salty strands and fibres of shellfish and draped with tomato-lobster sauce, yes you can have tasty fresh tomato sauce in these days of ever-advancing tomato technology.

Branzino is the Venetian’s favourite fish, one of the many bass that swim the sea. You can call a fish anything and get away with it – there is no fish-naming protocol. The little pan-seared filets come from a fish farm-raised in the Mediterranean and flown here from Greece, but the fish is still sweet and tender and complemented by the bitterness of sautéed arugula. I order lamb osso buco which is terrific, lamb melting off the bone and if I use my knife I can winkle out a little bone marrow, accompanied by a few wellcooked green beans and little chunks of roasted celeriac.

 “When I watch Emeril, I feel full before he’s even cooked anything” says Ken who is sending for the dessert menu. Mr. Shehata not only has a nuanced food personality but he has a delicate touch: after two courses, we feel satisfied but not full, a tribute saved for the finest eating experiences. And how great it is to have a food’s identity stamped firmly on a single big plate, rather than lots of little mix’n’match plates that often seem interchangeable.

More surprise to come. Desserts are usually grace notes, the end of the arc of a meal. “Who’s the pastry chef?” I ask our peripatetic waiter who covers the room with élan. He says “Carla – but she’s not here.” He adds hastily “ But she was here this morning to make the desserts.” He then delivers two superb plates, an airy but smooth chocolate cake with sprinkles of sea salt and crème fraiche, and a caramelized pear with hazelnut gelato. CarlaTK has beautifully balanced the sugar with the taste of the ingredients. The icecream is revelatory, full of crunchy chopped nuts. Pastry cooks are too often marginalized as specialists. I hope Ms. TK is ambitious, perhaps even channelling Michel Richard, author of this year’s cookbook phenom Happy in the Kitchen. Mr. Richard is a pastry chef turned master chef and restaurauteur – he  transforms and reinvents savoury dishes with pastrymaking techniques.

We’re reluctant to leave and rope up for the descent. Climbing down is worse than climbing up according to Everest summiteers. From the bar, Canadian Place’s Hillary Step looks daunting, a crazy pavement of steps going in all directions. We make the street safely full of praise for  Vertical, -  and advice. This chef deserves better access. Go horizontal, get a street storefront and call it Safe Harbour.

 *** Not to be missed.. Vertical. First Canadian Place, mezzanine at 100 King St. W.416 214 2252.  Lunch plus tax: $115 Wines by glass:$8 up. Good wine list; BYOB $45. Wheelchair access