Shakespeare’s famous saying proclaims, “If music be the food of love, play on.”  It aptly reminds me of Bar Poet, a restaurant that blends top 40 tunes from past and present, an eclectic comfort food menu, and arcade games. And by the end, the 2-hour seating limit flies by and all we want to do stay longer.

The arancini ($15) was seriously good. Made with mushroom risotto, there’s an earthiness to the creamy rice ball that’s stronger than the cheese only versions. But add in sambal cream and chili oil and that hit of heat goes so well with the comforting starter.

Somehow, we ordered a lot of dishes incorporating chili. The NYC spicy rigatoni ($18.95), an item so highly recommended in Google reviews, was surprisingly plain: pasta tossed in a spicy rosé cream with a fine dusting of Parmigiano. While it was tasty, a few spoonsful were sufficient, I can’t imagine having an entire dish to myself.

Even the Dovercourt and Queen ‘sweet’ calamari ($19) had a zing. The menu describes the sauce as being tomato based (pomodoro aioli) but tasted like the spicy rigatoni. Regardless, it’s a flavourful dish as goat cheese, chives and pickled peppers mingles with the squid. Even though the ingredients do detract from the calamari’s crispiness.

Bar Poet is known for their pizzas (all $22). If you like pepperoni, you’ll love the Hot Rod, a pie covered with tiny pepperoni with hot honey creating a sweet, salty, and spicy bite. For me, it was a bit greasy and heavy, but likely wouldn’t bother a pepperoni aficionado.

I preferred Rob’s Favourite Pizza, which sounded like a hodgepodge of ingredients, but they work together so nicely. A white pizza made with alfredo bacon sauce, it combines pulled chicken, brie, kale, spinach, caramelized onion, hot honey, chili flakes, and Parmigiano. Despite all the spicy elements, the pizza was the least spicy of the dishes we ordered, likely the chili and hot honey calmed by the creamy ingredients. Rob knows how to create an interesting meaty pie.

The pizza crust stays dry on the bottom despite an ample number of toppings. While it doesn’t have the requisite crispiness I enjoy, there was a lovely chewy consistency and sour dough finish that makes it tasty even without dipping sauce. Additionally, I love the inclusiveness of Bar Poet’s pizza menu with pies available gluten-free as well as vegan.

Everyone raves about the tiramisu ($9). While it wasn’t terrible, it also wasn’t great. It incorporated too much cream (didn’t incorporate enough mascarpone) and not enough of the espresso ladyfingers. While the Skor bits adds a unique element, left in chunks it was too crunchy and would be better in powdered form.

We were intrigued by the peanut butter espresso martini ($19), which emits a faint aroma of peanut butter but none of the taste. A decent rendition of the drink, it’s really sugary given it’s mostly made with Tia Maria and no vodka. Ultimately, one is enough, and I was glad that I switched to their other cocktails like the white negroni ($19).

Amongst the foliage ceiling and twinkling lights, Bar Poet creates a unique environment. Somehow, amongst the blasting music and Skee ball machines, there’s a romantic aspect to makes you want to eat, drink, and play on.   

If song writers were to remake popular songs to update them for the 21^st century, I wonder how Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song would change. Could chestnuts still be roasting on an open fire? I can’t remember the last time I’ve had roasted chestnuts, especially not during Christmas. And do families really cook anything over an open fire anymore? The closest foods that come to mind are barbequed meats and pizza, but I guess “tomahawks and pizza cooking on an open fire” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it. Regrettably, you now have a glimpse of my chaotic inner mind.  

Perhaps it’s a tune that Otto Trattoria will consider remaking for their holidays as their wood burning oven is prominently displayed and coaxes every table to get one of their pies.

I like tasting a chef’s skill with a plainer pizza. We tried the burrata pizza ($24), which was covered with tomato sauce, basil oil, cherry tomatoes, and the cheese. The crust had a lovely soft chewy consistency but would have been better if it weren’t soggy in the centre – unfortunately, there was too much tomato sauce. Still, I liked that the chef broke up the cheese and applied it evenly across the pie so that every bite contained some burrata.

The prosciutto & rucola ($22) takes the basic pizza and tops it with a covering of thinly shaved cured ham and arugula. Strangely the chef cuts the crust before topping the pie, so diners need to saw through the prosciutto with a butter knife, which causes the cheese to slide around. One small change of cutting the pizza after covering it with the meat would help make eating this easier. Messiness aside, the paper-thin crust remains crispy and it’s a flavourful bite as you get the fresh tomato sauce, gooey cheese, salty ham, and peppery arugula.

I’m glad Otto leaves their tomato sauce rather neutral so it’s not overly salty. If anything, it allows you to ask for their chopped green chili oil to scatter over top to give it a light heat.

The chili oil also pairs nicely with the rigatoni Bolognese ($24), cutting through some of the heaviness of the meaty beef and veal and helping to flavour the under seasoned sauce. While the menu notes it’s served with rigatoni, the pasta almost resembles an oversized macaroni that really traps the sauce within the crevices and inside. The dish is simply finished with parmigiano and tastes authentic.

While I was taken aback by the square pasta shape used in the shrimp linguine ($23) – surely, more spaghetti than linguine - I’m glad it was homemade and arrived with a lovely chewiness. The white wine, olive oil, and garlic sauce was thickened with a touch of pasta water, so it clings nicely to the noodles. Along with cherry tomatoes and spinach, the dish is fresh and nicely seasoned. I just wish there was more than four shrimp and that they would be cooked less so they aren’t as rubbery.

Yet, nothing surprised us more than the sheer size of the chicken parmagiana ($31) - just the cutlet resembled a dinner plate and was covered with a gooey cheese. Usually, it's a dish you need to eat quickly or starts to get soft. At Otto's, the thinly butterflied chicken breast was lightly coated in bread crumbs so it held onto the tomato sauce without becoming mushy and the spaghetti cooked al dante remaining chewy to the last bite. Trust me, you need to share this dish or be prepared for leftovers galore.  

I was skeptical whether Otto’s calamari fritti ($18) would be good… it came out so quickly after placing our order. They are likely the frozen variety, but nonetheless lightly battered, crispy, and well seasoned. For those wanting some heat, you’ll find it in the aioli.

The more I think about it, the more I like the sound of “pizza toasting on an open fire”… it has a ring that causes a food lover’s heart to sing. Mr. Bublé, maybe it’s time for another Christmas album?

The financial core of Toronto isn’t what it used to be… it’s quieter and less hectic. Yet, I’m happy to see that restaurants are still opening, and their opulence hasn’t taken a hit. Black + Blue has made its way from the west coast and into the Exchange Tower, occupying the former site of the TSX. It’s a massive space with soaring ceilings and a grandeur that makes you stop for a moment to take it all in. Focus on the details and you’ll realize the large bull artwork on their wall is made up from hundreds of steak knives, how cleaver.

Their prix fixe lunch menu ($45) offers diners a choice of a main with either an appetizer or dessert (some supplements required). Word for the wise: you’ll want to share the appetizers as some dishes are rich and the portion sizes would impress a Texan.

Thinly sliced barely seared beef forms a beautiful ruby base for the beef carpaccio. Dressed in horseradish crema and tangy pickled shimeji mushrooms, the two give the meat bright pops of flavour. Personally, I would have gone with either the crispy shallot or fried capers on the dish; having both seems like overkill and the oily garnishes overtook the delicate tender beef. But the slices of shaved parmesan were a great addition offering a bit of sweet and saltiness.

Black + Blue’s calamari is left in thick sticks, lovely bites of tender and meaty squid. The coating is crispy and light but also too salty so that it renders the dipping sauce useless. If you’re going to provide a condiment, it’s best to reduce the seasoning so that diners can taste the sauce.

Leave room for the mains as they are big. A huge cone of sizzling hot parmesan fries arrives with the steak frites ($15 supplement), they are deliciously covered with a layer of cheese and a bit of parsley for a fresh richness. Once again, I did find them over seasoned so with the garlic aioli (a tasty rendition) it ends up being too salty. I also had to leave the red wine jus unused as it was a bit too soy sauce and beef stock heavy to pair with the steak.

The steak frites includes a sizeable sirloin but it was cooked poorly: the medium rare is well seared on the outside but still fully rare in the middle. My husband, an excellent steak preparer, hypothesizes that the meat was too cold before being placed in the pan, evidenced by the tell-tale ring instead of a gradient doneness.

When my friend mentioned the undercooked steak to the manager, he brought over a doneness card to indicate the steak was cooked to their medium rare standard. My recommendation: print more of these cards and place one in each menu, so diners understand Black + Blue’s definition as it doesn’t appear to follow the Toronto standard.

Still, the manager was nice about it and noted they would have been happy to put the steaks back on the grill (likely not something chefs trying to time the next table would be “happy” about) and made up for the miscommunication with a plate of petit fours.

Underdone steak aside, Black + Blue nailed their service as everyone was a delight: professional and attentive without making the restaurant seem stuffy. Of course, the environment is anything but stuffy with the airy high ceilings and upbeat songs blasting from the speakers. One thing’s for sure, this isn’t your typical steakhouse. 

Self-coined as the world’s first immersive, multi-sensory art resto bar, Selva’s accolade is debateable. Indeed, the restaurant is a visually stimulating environment, and I could taste fresh ingredients that might be found in a jungle, but there were other senses missing:

• What could I smell other than the pungent deep woodsy citrus aroma of the magrud lime that seemed to be part of half of the dishes? Possibly if even a few dishes were served in a cloche encapsulating an aromatic scent or if a powerful broth is poured table-side, it would help emit a smell to add to the sensory experience. At the very least, using diffusers in the non-dining room portions of the restaurant that lets out a “jungle” aroma could check this box.

• Unless you count the dishes that could be eaten with your hands, there’s not a touch element to Selva.  Maybe they could incorporate this by changing up the cutlery and plates for certain dishes (serving the ceviche on individual leaves, creating savoury cotton candy, or even dehydrating some ingredients so that it becomes an edible handheld vessel). I know, these are all things that are difficult to create, but if you’re going to call yourself multi-sensory…

• And finally, there weren’t even any sounds that reminded me of being in a jungle, the easiest sense to create. Of course, Selva shouldn’t become a reincarnated Rainforest Café (who is old enough to remember this place?), but even adding noises at the entrance and in the restrooms – the same areas with the diffusing scents - would help.  

This is all to say that Selva is hardly a multi-sensory experience, especially not the first in the world. If anything, my dining experiences at Alinea or even Hutaoli’s Markham location would be way more multi-sensory. Nonetheless, Selva is still a lovely environment to dine in: there’s something about the brightly coloured foliage hanging from the ceiling and beautifully presented dishes that puts you in a good mood. And the gorgeous artwork all over the restaurant’s walls, ceiling, and floor by Clandestinos Art is certainly something to behold. Would it be strange to commission a replica in my dining room?

It pains me to say this, as I deeply respect Chef Nuit and love her other restaurants, but Selva’s menu needs an overhaul. The best dish of night, unanimously agreed upon at our table, was the eggplant dip ($18 plus an extra $6 for the guacamole). It was such a nice thick consistency, but also flavoured in an interesting manner with shrimp paste (?) and chili so there’s an umami spiciness to the meaty vegetable. Even the shredded mint on top was a great touch. On the other hand, the guacamole is run-of-the-mill and could benefit from a twist to make it special, whether it be the addition of finely chopped chilis or Thai herbs. All in all, the dips are beautifully presented with an array of fresh vegetables and warm crispy tortillas. In retrospect, I would have happily had the entire platter to myself as a meal.

Perhaps I’d add on the yellowfin tuna ceviche ($18) as a starter to get the sole smell element once we squeezed the magrud lime and that distinctive aroma engulfed the table. Plus, it’s a decent dish with the delicate soft tuna contrasted with plenty of crunchy ingredients (roasted peanuts, grilled corn, celery, pickled onion) and slices of red serrano chili adding a light spice. If anything, the ceviche could use a bit more salt and oil to balance out all the acidity.

The meal starts to go downhill from here… literally as each successive dish is presented it’s worse than the one before. The grilled sea bream ($36) is still fine: while it could be taken off the grill sooner to keep the flesh moister, the skin had a lovely crispy texture. The lemongrass sandwiched in the middle of the fish was a great start, but surprisingly didn’t really diffuse any flavours into the flesh. Once we added pieces of pickled chayote, onion, and a dash of yellow pepper sauce the flavours improved, but the fish could still benefit from more salt. Who knows, maybe the sea bream was actually seasoned perfectly, and I just couldn’t taste it over all the raw garlic used in the tomato rice. Wow is this garlicky, beware to people who are on dates.

In fact, the tomato rice would go better with the grilled Denver steak ($30), which by itself is forgettable. The thin under-blade cut of beef was overcooked, but thankfully due to the marbling remained tender. It just doesn’t have a lot of flavour: like the fish, it could be seasoned more, and the sriracha-looking condiment was a sweet pepper sauce that doesn’t really add anything to the steak. If the beef was served over a bed of tomato rice perhaps the garlic in the grains would give it a punch of flavour and the beef’s fat and juices mellow out the rice. At the very least, I’d replace the sweet pepper sauce with a more traditional chimichurri, perhaps made from the leaves from the baby radishes and carrots used in the dip platter, a bit of Thai basil, and bird’s eye chili for a Chef Nuit inspired touch.

The corn fritters ($14) were shaped too small so they resembled popcorn corn versus a fritter and could have benefited from being drained longer so it wasn’t as oily. If the batter truly incorporated red curry paste and lime leaf, the ratio of spices to flour needs to increase as it didn’t taste like much. In fact, we really couldn’t even taste the corn.

Yet, the fritters were still better the fried calamari ($18), which I couldn’t stomach more than two pieces. Firstly, the sweet and sour sauce covering the bottom of the plate, rather than being served on the side, meant the sesame batter fell off the calamari leaving us with chunks of syrupy batter and naked squid. The calamari were also cut much too small so without serving spoons it was difficult to pick up with a fork.

In general, I’m surprised a restaurant that creates a family-style menu doesn’t include sharing utensils with their dishes. I finally asked for an extra spoon and fork with the fish, but these were cleared away with the sea bream and it seemed like a pain to ask for new ones with each dish. If you’re serving a sharing menu, especially under COVID conditions, providing tables with proper serving utensils is key. Moreover, swapping out the plates after every few dishes would be even better as by the end of the meal those small plates were messy.

And the worst dish of the night was also the last – talk about not ending with a bang. The shrimp in the tacos ($46 for 6 servings) were over done and rubbery and the amount of salsa, guacamole and red pepper sauce that arrive for six tacos is comical, there was enough for two tacos at best. Especially when paired with corn tortillas, which are such dry wrappers that need a lot of sauce and ingredients to stand up to the rich earthy corn flavour. In retrospect, had I known there was a lack of condiments, I would have asked for the tacos to be served with the lettuce instead.

We all grumbled over the make-your-own factor of the dish… did we seriously just spend $46 for a Chilli’s experience? Maybe this is meant to be the “immersive” factor where you feel like you’re foraging the ingredients to create your own meal, but the dish really doesn’t work in a dark restaurant where we could hardly what’s on the plate – boy did I feel old having to whip out a phone to see all the garnishes. Maybe if our table had more than one tealight in a wax-stained holder (that we had to request) we could have seen better. Selva, if you’re going to keep serving these tacos, please just make them for the table. Give me those pre-made tacos in an accordion metal holder any day.

On top of the lack of sauce and lighting, without any tongs it was impossible to pick up the julienned cabbage, lettuce, chayote, mango, red bell peppers and onion with a fork. We eventually had to abandon the unsanitary mass of forks diving into the same plate and use our hands instead. If you’re afraid of germs or eating with people you’re not close with, skip this dish. On second thought, even if you’re eating with your partner who’d you gladly swap spit with, I’d skip the tacos.