Zoomer Comfort Food
By Gina Mallet Gina@ginamallet.com

The Bon Vivant has returned from a long pilgrimage to find his inner soul and now longs for something rich and luxe and rewarding.

Where else to go but Auberge du Pommier, faux France in North York?

Auberge du Pommier is France as most people who aren’t French would love it to be, undemanding and pretty French provincial. This isn’t the icy France of perfectionism, of visionaries like  Chanel and ascetic chefs like the late Alain Chapel who was known as the monk. Rather it has the ingratiating charm of St. Laurent and the rustic appeal of Bofinger, the delightfully blowsy  brasserie in Paris. It is the kind of restaurant where Colette’s cocottes went together when they were past it and finally got to eat what they liked rather than what their sugardaddies wanted to see them eat. “With teeth like that...” sighed Gigi’s mentor Aunt Alicia as she examined her great niece’s superb incisors …”I could have devoured all Paris and most of Europe. “
              
Auberge is ideal for zoomers too. A zoomer is Moses Znaimer’s zippy name for the aging boomer who feels 35 even if he’s past fifty. Znaimer, once the boomer king of CITY TV, is now morphing into zoomer entrepreneur, a new media empire in the making. He’s got a lot to work with.  

Zoomers, the baby bulge gen, have limned the tastes and styles of the last decades – they made a bundle on tech stocks, made the weed arugula into a ten buck salad, and turned Perrier into a health food. And they want to keep a Clintonesque grip on the franchise.

 But oh those irrefutable dates.. Once it seemed so great to hear “times they are a’changing” but no more.The first zoomer turned 60 in 2006 and despite the personal trainer and the belief that they could live to be l00,  the future loomed with visions of walk-in bathtubs and those senior citizen bumper cars….

Auberge is therapy for zoomer moneybags who can dream of ’68 in bourgeois comfort. On this steamy night, we skip the cool of the whitewashed  cave and sit on the patio under the white and  yellow canopy where the chairs are so comfortable and the music is made by throaty French torchsingers evoking the pleasure and pain of love. How dull the one is without the other, and at last, a tune to hum.

Service isn’t simply good - Auberge has polished service into a crown jewel. Gabriel, our Rumanian waiter, takes trouble over every detail discreetly interpolating information without shorting conversation. Neil Robinson, a senior manager, is our wine guide. We pick the entry wine on the list, a $50  2004 Ch. Grand Moulin Vielles Vignes.

At first I was wary of the chef Jason Bangerter because he has spent time in Anton Mossiman’s kitchen in London.  The maestro – Prince Charles’ favourite chef - has a penchant for salt. About ten  years ago, Mossiman spent a week cooking at the now defunct Movenpick on Yorkville. The tasting menu was superb—if you liked salt. I remember an exquisite champagne risotto that tasted like swallowing the Dead Sea.

Bangerter has adopted Mossiman’s precision sans salt. He has a silky complex palate  and knows how to take the most effulgent ingredients and transform them into a comfort food. How else to describe his showpiece – truffle soup or eau de foret,  It comes frothed in a glass, looks like café au lait and hints of the most delicate leaf mould.($17)

His spin on Coquille St. Jacques ($24) is carefully calibrated - the caramelized scallops are paired with braised kobe beef cheeks, a subtle juxtaposition of textures and tastes sparked by wild cranberries. I have a quibble however over the Steak Tartare. It comes prepared. Kinda takes the fun out of the dish. I like to mix the raw egg yolk, capers, chopped onions etc into the tenderloin myself so I get it to taste just as I like it.

 At last – a guilt free fish!  Pan-seared Hawaiian yellowtail ($39) which is really Kahala, a toxic trash fish which is now being bred with ecologically-approved farming methods. It’s a pleasantly textured fish and quite quite safe. Chefs love it because the newly named Hawaiian yellowtail is like a blank slate – you can do anything with it as it doesn’t taste of fish at all!  

In this case, the yellowtail is pan-seared and poised on lentils the colour of  Germany army greatcoats  and studded with creamy noisettes of foie gras, dotted with a pearl onion or two and glazed parsnip—Ironically, the dish is an ode to the earth.

Bangerter is right on message with tournedos on creamed cauliflower set up by the hint of horseradish in the tomato confit and a crackly wild mushroom croquette ($43).  I have chosen less well. The lobster pieces poached in butter are  suave enough: they come in a little bowl with a citrus and tarragon mousseline. The result is a superior soup. The accompanying salad is desultory.  The dish doesn’t adhere – it  needs something carbohydrate to sop up the jus.

Auberge doesn’t stint: the helpings are generous. A doggy bag is needed to tote some of the steak home. And there’s no room for dessert although the Chocolate Truffle Delice, hazelnut crunch, peanuts, cocoa nibs and white chocolate cream almost  revives an effete appetite. We opt instead for nibbles of the cheese plate, call for the bill, have to be revived with Calvados,  send for a fiacre and find our way back to North America.  

*** Auberge du Pommier,4150 Yonge St. 416-222-2220. Wheelchair access. Not noisy. Dinner for two, food and tax $160.