Yet there are so many things I will miss about my Queen & Bathurst abode: the neighbourhood cat lady who always begs for quarters and says ‘you’re welcome’ if I decline, the proximity of everything, including Kensington and Ossington, Trinity Bellwoods Park, and all the lovely clothing stores I can’t afford.

Now there’s another reason to stay put: North of Brooklyn Pizzeria.

Located at 650 1/2 Palmerston, just up from the corner at Queen, this place is definitely the type of joint that would end up knowing my name.

As its own name suggests, this is Brooklyn-inspired pizza, right here in our very own Northern city. The guys inside this quaint outpost, decked out with wooden tables and black and white photos of Brooklyn, are very nice, if a tiny bit disorganized. They have no water glasses yet, so when I ask for water I am (apologetically) given it in a plastic container, their pop is in a black mini-fridge that’s hard to notice, and they generally seem to still be figuring stuff out. It’s their first week though, so let’s forgive them.

The pizza menu is simple; there are five pre-selected types to order by the pie or slice (White, Pepperoni, Puttanesca, Margherita and Seasonal Veg), a list of ingredients to create your own pizza pie with, and just a couple of extra additions to the menu (Arugula Salad ($6) and Garlic Knots ($2.50 for 4).

While they don’t do delivery yet, you can call for take-out, and they’ll consider delivering to those in the very, very close neighbourhood. They do hope to get a real delivery service open in the next month or so.

We order a slice of White, a slice of Margherita and a slice of Puttanesca.

The White ($4.40 for a slice, $22 for a pie) is a thing of beauty. Topped with fresh ricotta and roasted garlic, this pizza is pulled out of the oven and covered in a large handful of lemon-seasoned arugula at the last minute. Whatever they put in their lemon dressing is phenomenal, and its tart sweetness against the soft, fresh ricotta makes for an entirely unique slice of pizza.

The Margherita ($3.90 for a slice, $18 for a pie) is where I taste the Brooklyn connection most. For me, the Brooklyn is in the oiliness of a good mozzarella combined with the zest of a solid tomato sauce, which are both present in North of Brooklyn’s version. The basil is a little lacking though, and the crust, which is thin, is a little too hard where your fingers hold onto it.

The Puttanesca ($4.40 for a slice, $22 for a pie) is a little boring compared to the other two. Scattered with black olives and leeks, the Puttanesca sauce doesn’t have the feistiness it deserves. (Side note: did you know the term for Puttanesca sauce comes from puttana, the Italian word for prostitute? Oh yeah. Apparently, this sauce, which typically includes tomatoes, garlic, anchovies and olives, was quick and easy to whip up between client visits. Thank you Italian prostitutes of yesteryear, you are amazing!)

The Garlic Knots ($2.50 for 4) are airy, golden knots of dough covered in garlic and sprinkled with fresh cheese. A class-act snack.

I very much look forward to ordering whole pies from this place on lazy Sundays. Welcome to the neighbourhood, boys.

This place is more cheese than it is substance, which is immediately implied by the massive yellow doors that comprise the entrance, further suggested by the gigantic beasts that stare down at you from the high walls as you eat your meat, and reinforced by the gun-holstered staff. (Have I mentioned this place is supposed to be a modern take on saloons of the Old West?)

Yes, the staff, which is copious but mostly useless, all wear leather gun holsters. If they were filled with something useful – pepper grinders, for example, I could back these props, but they’re just for show. The staff almost seems just for show as well.

Our hostess was blank-faced and confused when we told her we’d be making a last-minute addition to our party. Our server seemed like he had difficulty stringing a sentence together, was way too aggressive in coming to our table, and didn’t know the answers  to most of our questions about the menu. Later, he seemed to check back into his own body and became more attentive, helpful and interesting, but the first impression had already taken hold.

Though I’ve already bashed the decor, I’d be lying if I claimed it didn’t have any effect on me. The ceilings in this place are soaring, I like the heavy black chairs, granite tables and large front windows. Similarly, the almost-open kitchen, which is protected by a glass wall, is extremely impressive. It’s all a bit over the top, yet you can’t help but be taken in by it.

We were at Weslodge for lunch, so we haven’t had a chance to review how they operate at night, but I’d be interested to see if there were a marked difference.

We begin with a few starters: the Scotch Eggs ($4) and the Buffalo Tartar ($15.) The scotch eggs are near-perfect: wrapped in chorizo, they are served with tomato jam and black truffle. The batter is extremely crunchy and slightly smoky and the tomato jam is sweet and tangy and spicy. One of my dining companions and I debate about how the egg is cooked – while she likes the yolk to be runny, I really enjoyed how they do it at Weslodge, which is almost solid.

The Buffalo Tartar is inconsistent. Served with pickled mustard seed, capers, foie gras flakes, egg, slices of hot pepper and mini slices of pickle, every mouthful was a different experience. While I really enjoyed the surprising heat of the small pepper scattered throughout, some mouthfuls were way, way, way too salty, overpowering any other flavours present. The bits of meat, however, were soft yet springy, and entirely melt-in-your-mouth. I couldn’t even detect a hint of the foie gras flakes, which makes me feel this dish is falsely advertised on the menu, and the two small slices of accompanying sourdough were incredibly boring.

For our mains, we ordered the Ontario Smoked Trout Salad ($9),  the Bison Pastrami Sandwich ($16) and the daily special, a Lamb Burger ($18.)

The salad is advertised as Kale+Fennel Slaw+Apple Crème Fraiche. I was picturing loads of fresh kale covered in smoked trout, with an accompanying slaw, but this is basically a heap of slaw mixed with trout, and a few decorative touches of kale. It’s good, but nothing special. The trout is brilliant, but there isn’t much of it, and I found the dressing overdone – the plate is basically drowning in crème fraiche.

The lamb burger is also good, but nothing magnificent – again, more flash than substance. The six whole fries on the side are served in a ridiculous-looking  jenga-like stack. The lamb burger, which is served with feta, avocado and harissa on top, is very tasty (I have trouble criticizing lamb,) possibly a little bit too salty, and complemented by a sweet bun that seems to be egg-based. The harissa adds a nice smokey sweetness and those ridiculous-looking fries – which come with home-made ketchup, if you ask – are enormous, golden and delicious.

Last but not least, the Bison Pastrami sandwich, which is the winner of the three: the meat is just slightly salty, superbly flavourful and comes served on soft bread with aioli, house pickle, apple slaw and those fries, which are here flanked by an alarming-looking streak of dijon mustard.

Of course, there is dessert. The menu is intriguing: full of dishes featuring honey comb, there are such creations as chocolate mousse+olive oil pudding+raspberries that look thoroughly promising. We opt for the Lemon Parfait ($8), which is served with orange blossom yoghurt, honey comb and pineapple. The parfait itself is zippy and refreshing, the honey comb is a crunchy toasty deep sweet, the orange blossom yoghurt is a delicate, beautiful addition, and the pineapple, which is actually served as a foam here, provides the perfect finish. This dish takes you through an array of diverse creamy textures: from the cloud-like lightness of the pineapple foam to the dense cold of the parfait. It is a gorgeous experience, and I nod my non-existent cowboy hat to the dessert chef for pulling us up and out of this absurd meal.

But the brightness doesn’t last, because we’re handed the bill and see we were charged$7.50 for our three still waters, which we stupidly thought was just tap water in a fancy jar (oh, look – there’s giant Q on the jar! Ok. We see. Thanks.)

Oh yeah, we also had a cocktail. It was $15 and had over 10 ingredients in it (apparently,) but tasted simply like a bourbon with heavy floral notes. God, I hate this place.

For those of you who don’t know the Indian Rice Factory, it’s a gem of a restaurant that consistently turns out excellent Indian food. Oh yeah, and it’s been around for 43 years, which must be some sort of world record for a Toronto restaurant. I used to live near this corner back in a time in my life when money was very rare, and feasting out was even rarer. When the occasion did arise that I should be able to spend a little cash on eating out, I couldn’t resist the Factory. I love Indian food, and they do it really well here, and I knew I’d never be disappointed if I went.

One of the best aspects of the Factory is its absurdly gorgeous secret magical garden out back. It’s got a gently burbling pond, dazzling flowers and an abundance of shaded tables. It’s like Indian fairyland back there, so when I heard they were opening a Chai Bar partly so their patio got more use during the day, I was inappropriately excited.

The bar, which is a small but airy building inside with one counter and one employee, sells chai-inspired caffeinated beveragees, Indian and other sweets, and your regular old espresso-based coffee.

They also do lunch: two rotating options a day, one veg and one-non veg. When we went, you could get either a vegetable curry or a chicken curry.  To go ($9), or on the patio ($10).

Obviously, it was out on the patio for us. Disclaimer: Danielle and I are hungover. The night previous the review was our launch party. Many cocktails were had. Much drunken dancing was done. The light of day is harsh, we haven’t eaten anything and we’d pretty much eat raw rice covered in grease if someone gave it to us right now.

We start with caffeine. Danielle’s original-style chai ($4) is so perfectly potent and beautiful I keep stealing sips of it and ignoring my own hot beverage. I chose the Indian coffee ($3.50,) which tastes similar to a latte, but with a markedly different tasting base than espresso. It doesn’t wow me. I recommend the chai instead: it’s ginger, cinnamon, coriander, cloves, peppercorns and more, freshly ground in a mortar and pestle, then steeped in tea.

The lunches are brought out to us on metal plates with divided sections for the generous serving of rice, sliced cucumber and tomato, yellow lentil dal, papadum and the veggie curry itself, which is composed of dark lentils, peas, cauliflowers and potatoes. While the yellow lentil dal is a winner, the rice isn’t as fragrant and fluffy as the main resto makes it,  and the lentil curry is decent, but underwhelming. Not the pop of flavour you would get if you were having dinner in the Factory.

The chicken curry is much better: a spicy and intense sauce with tender, fall-apart-in-your-mouth pieces of chicken, this is more of what I expect from a Factory-associated place.

We’re attended to with interest by the cook who delivers our dishes, and are heavened out of our hangovers by the beauty of the back garden, but the meals are quite meh.

We’re too out of it to grab dessert, something which, by the looks of it, I think I’m going to have to return for.

Stepping into this place is like stepping back a century into a rural Ontario farm home. Every detail is in line: the quirky hand-painted glasses, the wood paneling, the old stoves that act as server stations and the used books they use to mark reserved tables. I love that this restaurant exists on the corner of a desolate stretch in the Junction; this represents all that is good about the city – the ability of places to transport you to another time and place.

We forgo appetizers here in expectation not only of a heavy main course, but also because it’s Sunday and on Sunday after 9 pm the Farmhouse Tavern offers oysters for $1 each,  starting at the half-dozen. We’ll get to that later.

We share two mains for our meal, the Mushroom Gnocchi ($19) and the Garden Dumplings ($20).

The Garden Dumplings are crispy, golden potato dumplings topped with a green pesto and surrounded by fresh veggies drenched in butter: peas, green beans, turnip, leafy greens and on and on. I had forgotten how good vegetables cooked in butter are because no one dares do this anymore, but my god.  The dumplings themselves are dense, rich of hearty potato flavour, soft and warm inside and a bit crispy on the outside. The pesto – which may include basil, but I really can’t put my finger on it – is punchy and creamy and the perfect accompaniment.

The Mushroom Gnocchi is filled with meaty, intense mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, sage, asparagus and shaved pecorino. The gnocchi is exactly how it should be: it’s fluffy soft and melts in your mouth. The sun-dried tomatoes – which are scattered cautiously – add a perfect zest amongst the darkness of the mushrooms, the pecorino’s sharpness stands out against all the strong notes here, and the sage gives that final layer of complexity. All of this, by the way, is drenched in a brothy yet creamy sauce, which seems to be butter-based but also has a tangy hint to it – possibly lemon, or vinegar.

Oh look at that, we finish our meals and the clock strikes 9, which means we need oysters. We order a half dozen at the lovely price of $6. They’re fresh from PEI and served with a red wine shallot cucumber mignonette, which we don’t like as much as just a sprinkle of lemon. We’re oyster purists – a bit of lemon, maybe a bit of hot sauce. If you scoop a shallot-packed sauce on there, it’s going to overpower the flavour of the oyster; please don’t do that to good oysters like the ones at Farmhouse. Please.

Have I mentioned that all the way along we’re drinking cucumber-infused water regularly replenished by our server, who is attentive but not hovering, knowledgeable and generally lovely? We’re also sipping on Junction’s Conductor ($6), a super hoppy beer that cuts all the richness of this meal well.

And now on to our favourite part: dessert. We want the Apple Pie because we suspect it would be perfection, but they’re out, so we settle on the Brownie with Bourbon Whip ($6). The brownie itself is coarse, cocoa-y and not too sweet, a mistake most brownies make. The subtle sweetness of this one pairs well with the Bourbon Whip, which is velvety and honey-ish and scattered with candied hazelnuts. The perfect farmhouse ending.

The photog (that’s cool people talk for photographer) and I hit up as many food stands at 707  as we could, but didn’t even make it to half of those open. We didn’t even succeed at spending our entire lunch budget for the day. Totally shameful.

First stop: TNT Roti. A Trinidadian restaurant serving a variety of Caribbean dishes, from the extraordinary (Sea Moss drink!) to the more typical (Roti) and run by two of the nicest people I’ve ever met. We order the Ginger Beer ($3) and Sorrel ($3). The former tastes like fire, in ginger form, with a hint of sweet. Brilliant. Definitely not your typical toned-down ginger beer – this is the real thing. The Sorrel was also superb; made from the sorrel plant, it’s sweetened with cane sugar and tastes, well, deeply floral – kind of like a mix of plum and grapes. We were also offered some fried plaintain (so good) and curried apple (probably the best thing I tasted at 707) to sample for next time. Definitely going back there for a full meal.

On to Kanto by Tita Flips, a Filipino spot, where we order a Balut ($2).

Let’s talk about Balut. Balut is a delicacy from the Philippines. More specifically, it’s a duck embryo that has been fertilized for 28 days. The ones at Kanto come from a farm in Fergus, Ontario and have only been fertilized for 14 days. Subsequently, unlike the 28 day ones that are commonly sold as street food in the Philippines, this embryo is not as far along: after 28 days the little duck is basically totally formed inside the shell, while that’s definitely not the case after 14.

The owner of Kanto suggests we turn the egg upside down, crack a hole in the top, then suck out the hot broth. Afterward, we can peel the top portion and scoop out the rest.

The broth is eggy-tasting and hot, but easy to consume. When we peel off the shell to reveal the inside of the egg, it makes us a bit more squeamish. This is definitely starting to look like a duck: there are black feathers. There’s a typical-looking yellow yolk, a dark brownish part, and a gray part. The whole mess is very hard to come to terms with psychologically. The yellow yolk simply tastes like an extremely sulphur-y normal egg yolk, while the disgusting-looking parts are more complex and meaty. With a little salt and determination, the Balut is doable, if very much an acquired taste.

After the Balut we head for something tamer at The Original One, which serves Bubble Tea and Dim Sum. We get Steamed Pork Buns (3 for $3) and Cream Buns (3 for $3.) The pork buns are decent – not the best I’ve had, but are spongy soft outsides with smoky sweet pork inside, though a little lacking on the filling. The cream buns are served hot, filled with sweet egg custard, and also spongy soft on the outside. Damn good for the price.

Finally, it’s on to La Pupusa, a place offering up cuisine from El Salvador. We get a Corn and Bean Pupusa ($2.75), which is a corn tortilla stuffed with soft cheese and refried beans. The tortilla is extremely dense and golden, and acts as the perfect complement to the mild gooey cheese and beans. To round it out, it’s topped with a tangy mix of warm shredded carrot, lettuce and tomato.

We also order a Beef Taco ($3.75), which actually kind of startles us with its simplicity.  At first, this purity of ingredients is  hard to get used to, after all, I’ve been scarfing down tacos at La Carnita like it’s nobody’s business recently, and this is definitely not packed with all those wild and complex flavours. But there’s very much something to be said about the simplicity: this taco is full of ground beef that smacks of fresh lime, and is covered in jalapenos and mint. Yes, mint – and I love it; it’s definitely something I haven’t been able to actually, really taste on my taco elsewhere – it really shines through here.

Have I mentioned we’ve set ourselves up to eat at one of the tables arranged in clusters along the sidewalk in front of 707? We’re on Dundas, so it’s busy, but I find myself wrapped up in the food anyway. All the vendors here are amazing – they all want to talk about food, and not only their ideas about it, but yours as well. Very in tune to the vibe of Feast On It! So yeah, we’re obviously kind of in love with them.

This is a must-return-to spot. We missed out on the Montforte Dairy shop, House of Jaffle (which serves crepes), Casbeh (North African) and many others. I feel almost anxious about the food I didn’t eat at 707. It’s my duty to hit up every stand.

Shall I repeat that last part? Psychotically good.

White Brick Kitchen is as bare on the inside as it is on the outside – a Plain Jane tables-and-chairs type deal. But clean,  which is the only essential element.

Why this place isn’t slam-packed with foodies is beyond me. Grand Electric has lines every night and this place is basically empty?! Wrong, wrong – oh so goddam wrong.

This menu is a carnival of absurdly delicious and artery-clogging delights: Brisket Burger, Pork ‘n Pickles (a garlic pork butt sandwich,) BBLT, Meatloaf, Fried Chicken and on and on.

We started with the Deviled Eggs ($4) from the short but charming appetizer list, which includes Homemade Tater Tots ($5) and BBQ Kettle Chips with Aged Cheddar Pimento Cheese Dip ($6).

Apologies to my Aunt Rosilyn, who previously held the title for best deviled eggs ever: you have been replaced; White Brick had me on my knees with their version. Served almost cold, these eggs come with fried onions, which are placed jutting up and out from the egg, and are long, dry, perfectly crunchy and so superb against the orgasmically creamy yolk mixture. The filling, which is advertised as containing olive tapenade, is definitely somehow different, though I couldn’t taste the olive; it just had a few extra miles of flavour and the absolute perfect texture.

Paulette’s is a simple yet genius concept: Korean fried chicken, donuts, coffee. Three of the world’s favourite things. It’s mainly take-out style, with a small seating area – and is super retro. The ladies behind the counter are decked out in soda-shop style hats and aprons and the walls are a weird aqua blue.

You can get a whole ($21), half ($12.95) or snack size fried chicken ($8). We grabbed a snack size, which was a drumstick and a breast. Your chicken comes with a choice of dipping sauce or dipping salt, with the option of paying $1.25 to get more than one option. We went with the chili maple dip and the sumac oregano salt.

For those of you expecting buttermilk fried chicken here, you’re not going to get it. This is definitely Korean-esque. The fried batter is extremely crunchy, definitely tastes of Asian spice and, oddly enough, isn’t actually attached to the skin. The skin is its own spicy thing, entirely separate from the batter. And the actual chicken meat is good: juicy and tender.

I was quite obsessed with our dipping salt; if you haven’t tried sumac spice before, it’s a must-before-you-die type thing. It’s sour, but subtly sweet, and entirely intense. There’s nothing quite like it. The chili maple sauce was also good, but I’d say this chicken really doesn’t need any other flavours detracting from the already uniquely flavoured batter.

For dessert – because who doesn’t need dessert after fried chicken? – I ordered the Donut Dots (bite-sized donuts) with Garam Masala Sugar (8 for $4.50.) They tasted exactly like Tiny Toms. Only the cinnamon of the Garam Masala mixture shined through.

The full sized donut ($2.75) however, was phenomenal. We ordered the Raspberry Rose Donut, which was covered in a raspberry icing that tasted EXACTLY like a burst of fresh raspberries,  topped with chunks of graham cracker, and all hiding a cake-y soft donut. I think Paulette’s has their donuts down more than their chicken.

To top it all off we enjoyed a Frozen Hot Chocolate ($3.25), which tasted like a moderately crappy hot chocolate mix made freezing cold. Sounds like I’m dissing it, but I actually loved that thing; you know how sometimes bad-ish 50s things can be orgasmically good? This was one of them.

So, kids, if you feel like ushering in an early death with donuts and fried chicken, you can grab the sweet stuff (and coffee) starting at 7 am and the chicken starting at 11 am. Oh god, and I don’t want to hear anyone complain about this not being traditional good old Southern style buttermilk chicken; if that’s what you want, go elsewhere. Otherwise, enjoy this crunchy ish on the streets of Leslieville soon.

I’ve loved the Aliens series since I was a child, and when I heard Prometheus was happening I was as pumped as Foster the People’s “Pumped Up Kicks” song makes me feel.

I waited in anticipation of its opening. When it came out, I heard it was a sloppy, inconsistent mess; I was heartbroken.

When I got there, however, I was very pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t brilliant, but it was far from being the horror show I’d expected.  Low expectations are the best.

This is how I felt with La Carnita, with one important difference:  I’ve never had La Carnita, even back when it was just a truck/pop-up. I lined up for it once, but backed out after 20 minutes and no progress. Therefore, I can’t compare the restaurant to the truck.

We go to La Carnita on a disgustingly hot June evening.  It’s 6:15, the restaurant is crowded – but there is no wait yet. I dig the atmosphere: it’s narrow, but seems to go on forever and ever. There are art piece-chandeliers against  street art walls (they were graffitied freehand by artist Andrew Kiddler) and a dark wooden bar lined with multi-coloured stools. It’s cool, but not so cool that I feel I’m not allowed to be there, which is how I felt when I recently went to Grand Electric.

Drinks

The beer menu is  impressive. Good. Because tacos and beer go brilliantly together. There’s an extensive number of Canadian and American craft beers I’m eager to try, but we decide the cocktails are too tempting.

My Who Shot Ya? (2 oz Bulleit Bourbon, Jamaica syrup, ginger syrup and lemon juice) ($10) is a smooth, sweet, lightly fruity affair laced with the fire of a bit of ginger. Danielle’s Carnita Margarita (2 oz Tromba Tequila, 2 oz cointreau, lime juice and agave nectar) ($11) is a salty-bite-y delicious margarita.

Starters

Out of the very tempting list: Sweet Corn, Tortilla Chips with Ancho Powder, Avocado Mango Salad, we settle on the Chiles Rellenos ($7) – oaxaca cheese studded with cilantro and chilli peppers, deep-fried and accompanied by a lime and adobo yogurt sauce. The mild oaxaca is perfect for frying, and lets the flavour of the cilantro and peppers shine through; this is hot, crispy and gooey, and the tangy yogurt sauce complements it exquisitely.

Tacos

All La Carnita’s tacos are $5.

The In Cod We Trust might be my favourite: it’s advertised as voltron sauce, lime crema, pickled red cabbage, green apple and cilantro. I taste the pickled red cabbage, the bright green apple and the lime against the crunchy batter of the fish, which itself is light, tender, perfect. It’s quite spicy, but not too much for the average gringo to handle.

A close second for me is the Crispy Avocado & Frijoles: beans, crispy avocado, chipotle sauce, queso fresco and cilantro. The batter on the avocado is incredibly thick and crunchy, which is needed for the almost hot, almost disappointing avocado itself. This taco is heavy on the cilantro, but it works, and the black beans add a nice grounding, earthy flavour.

Their taco special of the night – Crispy Squid – is also pretty damn good. It’s served cool, with moderately tasty squid slathered in a creamy sauce. I find the veggie topping is too abundant here however – it almost overpowers the flavour of the fried squid, which should be the highlight of this dish.

Last but not least, the Tostado de Lengua: Westcoast verde, orange sauce, grilled pineapple, radish, and beet sprouts. Lengua is beef tongue: it’s texture is very tender but simultaneously slightly powdery. All the ingredients are piled high on a crunchy tostada. This taco, indeed, is beautiful: the bright green beet sprouts, red and white radish and chunks of dark golden grilled pineapple make this burst in front of your eyes. It’s as tasty as it looks: I love the almost lemon-y sweet, meaty grilled pineapple against the tender tongue, and the crunchy, springy veggies that round the more intense flavours out.

 Dulce!!!

If you’ve been following this column for a while, you won’t be surprised to hear we consumed their entire dessert menu, which is small but achingly exquisite.

I adore where they’ve gone with this. First: paletas (popsicles)($3.5). The flavours offered change based on the season; for summer they’ve got Lime Pie with Crumbled Graham Crackers and Pineapple and Chilli with Guajillo and Arbol. The former tastes exactly like a Key Lime Pie; it’s coated in salty graham cracker crumbs, which fall away in your mouth (and all over the table) to reveal an uber creamy lime interior. Sweet, but not too sweet.

The pineapple paleta is a mecca of sweet that reveals a bit of heat at the end of each lick.

The Churros ($5), which come with a housemade cajeta sauce (condensed milk and caramel,) are very hot, crunchy on the outside, warm and soft on the inside, and absolutely made by the killer cajeta sauce, which I polish off with the help of one end of my popsicle stick. I’m classy like that.

We were in and out fast. Food came quickly, and I was a little disappointed it was over so soon. Service was a bit spotty. There was one stretch of our meal where no one came to our table, and our main server seemed extremely unhappy to be serving us. She wasn’t exactly rude, and she was knowledgeable when we asked her a question, but she definitely wasn’t gushing with enthusiasm. And we definitely didn’t see her smile once. To be fair, it was hella busy. But still.

I’m settling on 3 bites with La Carnita: it wasn’t as much of an adventure as Pachuco is, for example – it’s missing those complex flavours, that push to somewhere exciting, but it’s fun. And the food is good.

For you art lovers,  don’t worry: they haven’t ditched their original concept of serving art along with tacos; as I said, the interior is obviously an artspace, and when we left we were given a signed Meathead print along with the bill. It was a skull, with two pigs for eyes. Customers who purchase one of the first 5000 tacos sold each month will get one of these prints. They’ll also be selling shirts designed by various guest artists ($21). The art has not disappeared. Neither has co-founder Andrew Richmond: he was out assembling tacos at the workspace near the bar. It was lovely to see him.

After a trip out East, where lobster rolls (soft, golden buns stuffed with lobster meat) are ubiquitous, a light bulb went off in Pettit’s head: Toronto needed some pop-up lobster.

I first heard about Rock Lobster through the Toronto Underground Market (TUM), where Rock Lobster had become a regular event vendor and crowd favourite. Having never made it to any of these events, I was ecstatic to hear they would be opening up in Kensington Market at 214 Augusta, in the Latin American Food Court I often frequent.

One balmy midnight on a Thursday, I heard via twitter (apparently the new place to announce restaurant openings) that Rock Lobster’s doors would be opening the following day. I was determined to go. Unfortunately, after reviewing beers in the sun all afternoon, my urgency to eat fizzled and I didn’t get to the market until one hour before closing time.

It was too late.

Word of the opening had spread and people had come en masse, lining up to devour Rock Lobster’s lobster rolls, tacos and ceviche. Ever so graciously, Pettit dished out tacos using the last of the lobster meat for myself, a friend and another late comer, and gave them to us on the house by way of apology.  I was disappointed I didn’t get the lobster ceviche and roll I was after, but the taco was incredible; the soft shell was filled with an avocado crema, spicy sriracha mayo, chunks of lobster meat, cilantro and a lime wedge to squeeze over top. Delicious and refreshing.

With a taste of how good Rock Lobster was, Sunday couldn’t come fast enough.

When I returned on Sunday I was pleased to discover there was plenty of lobster left. I’d never had one of Rock’s Lobster’s rolls, perhaps their most famous dish, and I knew without a doubt that once I got my first taste I’d be hooked.

Pettit makes his rolls in the traditional East-coast style: butter-grilled lobster mixed with mayo, in a grilled top-loading white bun, with a side of chips and a dill pickle.

Once out into the street, I bit into the golden bun: it had a crunchy shell but was warm and squishy on the inside. The cool lobster gave a nice contrast and the meat was undeniably fresh (they have east-coast lobster shipped in 2-3 times a week).

I ate my roll as I walked down Augusta, too focused on the food to find a place to sit. As I walked along, person after person stopped me to ask what I was eating, and where I got it. I told them about Rock Lobster and their new home at 214 Augusta. Clearly, Toronto has been in dire need of something like this.

And it gets better: Rock has even teamed up with drinking fave Cold Tea, so while there’s no immediate seating at the joint, you can get your food delivered to the bar (à la Ronnies and The Grilled Cheese style) to enjoy with a cold beer. Alternatively, why not find a seat on the street, enjoy your lobster and people-watch – one of the best parts of hanging out in Kensington.

The Feasting Room is a six-month pop-up project with the goal of encouraging Torontonians to eat the entire beast, from head to tail. Chef Noah Goldberg (Lee, DB Bistro Moderne) and Manager Mathieu Dutan (Bistro Bakery Thuet, La Palette) do this by serving diners six courses using various parts of one featured animal ($65), with the option of adding wine pairings to each course ($35).

A different animal is selected to go on the carving block each week, with favourites being repeated. It’s a noble goal; after all, most of us are beyond disconnected from the processes that go into preparing our meat. Our minds believe pigs live in the freezers at Loblaws, either as bacon or ground pork.

What happens to the rest? Why isn’t head cheese (made with the head, trotters and collagen) as common a feature at our tables as it was in my mother’s home?

The Feasting Room opened its first week with cow, and did its second – which we attended, with pig.

Eating the Whole Pig

Upon being seated, each diner at The Feasting Room is presented with a small white card bearing the design of the week’s animal, carved into various parts, with the numbers 1 to 6 on each part. The numbered parts correspond with the courses, which remain a surprise until they are served, and may vary each day of the week, depending on what parts of the animal the restaurant has left.

We’re presented with snacks even before the real first course comes. First up is a bowl of crispy pig skin served with homemade apple sauce. They look like triangular crackers but are overly salty and so hard they feel like they might break your teeth. Fortunately, the homemade apple sauce is divine and offsets some of the saltiness.

The next little amuse-bouche is a quail egg, covered in pork shoulder, breaded, fried and served with homemade ketchup. It’s a Scotch Quail Egg! This one isn’t really a winner either; it tastes almost like fast food to me, and the ketchup is very similar to Heinz – too sugary. 0 for 2 and I’m getting restless.

We sip on some sparkling wine with the starters and I hope the real courses bring better.

The First Course: Ham Hock Split Pea Soup.

The ham hock is the part between the tibula/fibula and the metatarsals of the pig’s foot. Here, it comes as pieces in a creamy, smoky split pea soup topped with watercress and served with small slivers of crispy pig ear on the side. This is a winner; the salty pig ear is delicious when dipped in the creamy soup, the ham hock is tender, and the paired red wine, a 2009 Tempranillo from Spain by  Zuazo Gaston, highlights the earthy, tobacco flavour of the dish.

The Second Course: Head Cheese

What the &*$% is head cheese? Is that what you’re asking? I know, it sounds pretty bad, and the actual description probably won’t make you feel cozier,  but here it goes: head cheese is chunks of meat from the head of a pig thrown into gelatin made from its collagen, alongside some herbs and veg, all presented like a pretty jello mold. Are you comforted now?

At The FR they use parts from the head and feet, then serve it in the gelatin with pieces of parsley, celery and carrots. They then slice it for you and serve it on a plate with a variety of pickled vegetables, including fiddleheads and carrots, as well as a couple ofKozlick’s Mustards and some French wet salt. The head cheese is surprisingly light; it reminds me of stuffing (there are some of the same elements, right?), but it’s nothing more than generally pleasant.  The pickled veggies are brilliantly done and are what really makes this course for me, especially with the addition of a dash of wet salt.

The Third Course: Pig Spleen and Bacon Roulade

The pig spleen and bacon roulade is served with a salad of Ontario asparagus, cornichon, frisse, capers, crispy sage, and red wine vinaigrette. Spleen isn’t too striking a flavour, so the stand-out here for me was the crispy sage that tops the salad, as well as the sage that was pounded into the roulade; it adds that bold note to the otherwise bland, spongy spleen.

The wine for this course, however, is outstanding: a Blason del Valle 2010 Malbec from Argentina, the server – who has been outstanding herself both in terms of knowledge and attention to detail the entire evening – refers to it as a “chocolate vanilla fruit bomb.” Definitely.

The Fourth Course: Braised Pig Cheek

The cheek is where things get magical; I was entirely unprepared, having never eaten animal cheek before. It’s a fat-flavour explosion; the meat actually melts in your mouth and the bread, which is attached as a sort of crust to the cheek – adds the salty, garlicky crunch needed to round the dish out. The accompanying shallot sauce is also mind-blowing. The salad, however, which is arugula and yellow and green beans with a mustard vinaigrette – is a bit too heavy for this over-the-top dish.

I can’t adequately explain how heavy this is; one bite and you can actually feel the fat spreading through your body. I swear. It’s a bit disconcerting, but that didn’t stop me from consuming my entire plate, though Mathieu tells us some people stop at half. Luckily, the wine pick for this dish cuts through the fat expertly. It’s the Ravine Vineyard Estate 2009 Riesling from the Niagara region; it’s a bottle from one of those fluke crops that the winemaker has been unable to replicate. Apparently, half of the grape crop that year was hit with a mold – one that winemakers actually want when making ice wine, while the other half developed normally. The result was a tartly sweet Riesling with heavy notes of green apple. Mathieu was so excited about it that The Feasting Room actually bought up the LCBO’s entire stock. If you want it, you need to go to The FR. As one of my dinner companions said upon sipping it, “it tastes like I’m drinking a green apple.” It really does – a super boozy green apple.

The Fifth Course: Pork Tenderloin

Doesn’t sound too adventurous, but they dress up their pan-seared tenderloin here with rooibos-soaked dates, a rhubarb compote and a bed of purple potato. The tart sweet rhubarb and the earthy sweet of the tea-soaked dates match well with the flavourful tenderloin, and offer something a little out of the ordinary.

The Sixth Course: Red Bean & Candied Bacon Cannoli

This dessert is disgustingly good; I mean that in every sense of the phrase. The actual cannoli dough has been fried in pork fat, the filling is made of mashed red beans and candied bacon, and it’s all served on top a bed of dulche de leche sauce and candied bacon peanut brittle. It’s all just hell-yeah good: crunch-soft-crunch-cream. The candied bacon peanut brittle is my discovery of the decade; my dessert porn. My absolute. I desperately need the recipe.

Furthermore, the alcohol pairing for this course is Curious Fare worthy: called Barenjager – which literally means bear jager – it’s a honey liquor that actually tastes, and has the consistency of, honey. It brings the whole dessert experience over the top – to that dangerous Las Vegas-esque territory, but without actually bringing us there. A gonzo show to finish us off, why not?

I have been thinking about this meal the entire week, and not just with my belly (if you know what I mean.) This is not only a culinary adventure, it’s a lesson. It strikes me several times days after this meal how absurd it is that we do not use the entire animal on a regular basis. What a waste.  How careless are we? If we insist on eating the animal, why can’t we eat it ethically and without waste? The Feasting Room is asking you that question in six delicious courses.

My only serious criticism here is this: six courses of meat is really too much. My body felt uncomfortable with all that pig for the rest of the evening; it’s definitely an experience to be had only once. An idea excellent in theory but not so much in practice.

The Feasting Room is open from Thursday to Monday each week. They take reservations from 6-10 pm from Thursday to Sunday, and 6-11 pm on Monday.  This week’s animal is lamb. Next week is rabbit.