IT”S THE BAR SCENE STUPID

I’ve  seen the future and it’s Colborne Lane.

I couldn’t wait to eat at Colborne Lane which has been promo’ed for months as Toronto’s first molecular restaurant. I assumed that Chef Claudio Aprile would be applying the techniques pioneered by Spain’s Ferran Adria who is to the 2000s what Paul Bocuse was to the ‘70s – a cooking revolutionary. I haven’t found a local restaurant/lab experimenting with the full palate of hydrocolloids, calcium chlorides,methyl cellulose, thixotropy, used by Mr. Adria and his peers, England’s Heston Blumenthal and Grant Achatz of Chicago. The only visible influence is foam – now a cliché on all the smartest menus  –Mr. Adria’s original inspiration. It was after he spotted a can of instant foaming Reddiwhip in a supermarket that he had his Aha moment and went right back to his kitchen to foam a potato – a spurt of spud never before imagined.

Liquid pea ravioli followed: Mr. Adria mixed fresh peas, mint and water, calcium chloride, the stuff that keeps cement from hardening, sodium alginate, the stuff that makes McDonald’s apple pie gluey, to produce a fresh intense taste previously accessible only to rabbits. Now budding chemist-cooks are buying foaming kits from Canadian Tire and sending abroad for the correct chemicals.*   I wonder when the first MC home kitchen will explode.

LOL (laugh out loud) to think that after all the trashing of the ingredients processed foods, no nutritionist has uttered a peep about the haute chemical kitchen.

Colborne Lane almost trembles with anticipation. The staff exude a pride in themselves which is catching. I’m guided past a long bar with a washed silver wall into what looks like the Munster dining hall, a rectangle held up by big wooden pillars and on the walls, mirrors with their centres scratched out. I half expect the late Fred Gwynne to come up from the kitchen with a tray on his flat head.

Colborne Lane takes reservations at 7 and 8.30. I tell my companions that if they’re doubtful about making the 7 o’clock deadline, I’ll be there to hold the table. As my friends drift in, so does a service glitch. The cocktails take ages to arrive, it’s forty minutes ‘til we are able to toast each other. But the waiters are charming and the wine service is attentive and knowledgeable.

The menu is called  Volume I.The Editor among us cries ‘Not more work!” She is revived by the lobster bisque ($16) a fragrant coconutty creamy broth with a few tender mussels and a small lobster raviolo which comes in a flower vase. The Bon Vivant goes overboard about the ceviche of lobster on saffron new potatoes and we’re all jealous. Meaty undercooked lobster chunks. The Man- About-Town orders the tart with potatoes mashed with white truffles truffles and a poached egg on leek puree. Oh, dear, the egg is hard. The dish is returned. The tart improves with a soft poached egg but I think it should have been foamed.

The chef generously sends out a freebie  of rare tuna  perhaps because, the waiter informs us, our second plates are  going back to the kitchen even before we get them. “It’s like a new car being found faulty and returned to the factory for retooling” grouses the Bon Vivant.

So far, we haven’t had a magic moment when a food is transformed to produce an unexpected taste. But then Colborne Lane is really retro, fusion/confusion, overloaded with garnishes, as many as five of six flavours per plate. How I wonder could  I taste the lamb ribeye ($23) which has to compete with dried olives and pumpernickel crust, caramelized eggplant, mint chutney, toasted-cumin rosti and green tea yogurt?

Not to worry. When the delectable tea-smoked squab arrives, I need a magnifying glass to identify the garnishes, two chocolate sauces, one hibiscus scented, the other with smoked cardomon, and the spiced-quince crepe stuffed with foie gras. Same goes for the tiny clumps of pineapple and black bean relish, Stilton-scented risotto, beet puree,tonka bean and sweet potato puree with Madeira that surround the Hoisin-flavoured pork tenderloin and pork belly. When I consider Stilton and pork, I’m glad the garnishes are too small to taste properly, but if they can’t be properly savoured, why are they there?

The pork is braised “sous vide”: to retain moisture, the meat has been vacupacked and immersed in a thermal bath for 36 hours. Last year, the NYC health department temporarily banned this  MC technique. The reason: the potential danger of reheating cooked food. Better reason: the pork is dry.  The five-spice scented breast of duck is a downer, tepid and accompanied by a dayglo orange brick of squash flan which actually jiggles.

But wait: the crispy-skinned striped bass in black truffle and miso broth ($21) gets the bon vivant’s blessing. The consensus is that the lobster ceviche and the squab are worth a return visit – if only the restaurant wasn’t so noisy. We communicate in shouts. Diane Vreeland, the legendary editor of Vogue nailed the customer-driven business’s  dilemma when she told the president of Lord and Taylor “It would be ever so much nicer if it was less crowded.”
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As we leave around 10.30, the bar is filling up with metrosexuals and twentysomethings downing brand name cocktails, adjusting ipods and texting Puff Daddy. Boy did we ever get a wrong number thinking we were here for the cooking. The cybermoola card drops. The future belongs to the echo boomers, the huge rich cohort moving into the power position. The real point of Colborne Lane swims into focus. It’s the bar scene stupid.

*For details go to hungryinhogtown.typepad.com

** Try it. Colborne Lane 45 Colborne St.Ph:416-368-9009 Open Tue-Sat 5.30-11 pm. Food: Dinner for two with tax: $145. Wines by glass start at $11. Thoughtful winelist. No Wheelchair access.