« Skippa
The best seats
are right at the sushi bar
for a close-up view of chef
Ian Robinson and his sous
chefs. And when every extra
millisecond threatens the
fragile marriage of rice and
fish, it’s best to sit closest to
the source of the exquisite
omakase offerings: octopus
from Morocco on a thumb
of rice hiding a burst of
wasabi; New Zealand red sea
bream with shiso; Boston
fluke dotted with fermented
scotch bonnet dressing;
and another piece of sea
bream, oilier and sweeter,
its flavours magnified by
preserved lemon. Robinson’s
talents extend beyond sushi:
he grills black maitake
mushrooms with thyme,
then tosses them with
mizuna leaves in a miso
sauce, for an extraordinary
salad that tastes of char
and the wilderness. He
marinates mackerel for 24
hours in soy, mirin, and
sugar, and sprinkles it with
toasted sesame. His pickle
plate, best snacked on with
sake, consists of sticks of
quick-pickled cuke, carrots
dyed with beet juice, and
persimmon glazed with plum
and filled with three types
of mushroom. My favourite
dish is a simple mound of
steamed rice in a bath of
dashi flecked with sesame
and seaweed. In the centre
of the bowl is a water lily,
its petals sculpted from sea
bream sashimi. 379 Harbord
St., 416-535-8181; skippa.ca
kay pacha At Elias Salazar’s first
restaurant, he’s serving skewers
of beef heart in a paste of Incan
aji panca chilies (like a milder
chipotle); ceviche marinated in
a “tiger’s milk” of lime and fish
juice, onions, and chilies; and
seafood fried rice topped with
bites of butter-poached scallop,
aji-amarillo–pisco butter, and
béchamel. Potatoes, the national
food of Peru, appear everywhere,
Bacchanal Chef Cori Osborne
riffs on classic pâtisserie at
Bacchanal. The two standouts
are her slice of spiced baba au
rhum topped with a wave of
white chocolate ganache, mini-
cubes of pineapple and micro
basil; and her sugar-dusted
Paris-Brest, the finest doughnut
known to humankind: two
choux layers sandwiching
praline cream studded with
flakes of feuilletine. For all the
work put into them, they’re not
unduly precious—you don’t feel
guilty taking up a fork. I’m just
as impressed by the rest of the
menu—chef Luke Donato preps
a first-rate choucroute with a
white sausage stuffed with veal
and another stuffed with foie
gras; petal-thin slices of hamachi
and are elevated to godlike status
in an elaborate tower of whipped
yukon golds, pulled chicken,
avocado, yuzu mayo, and botija
olive purée. Most nights, at the
bar that takes up a big part of the
modest room, a crowd
of Lima expats knock back
fanciful, pisco-based cocktails—
it’s the liveliest party in midtown.
744 St. Clair Ave. W., 416-658-
0568; kaypacha.ca
crudo and pebbles of cuke,
dressed with a lemon emulsion;
and a grand slab of two-months-
aged côte de boeuf. The room
is a beauty, too, with its cognac
banquettes and walls dressed
in a toile depicting Toronto’s
unsung icons—raccoons,
Honest Ed’s, and the Zanzibar.
(There’s far stranger wallpaper
in the bathrooms—I’ll let you
see for yourself.) 60 Sudbury St.,
416-586-1188; bacchanal.ca
May-June 2018
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