More Cowbell!

Another birthday for Joe, another opportunity to have a very expensive dinner. As usual, I read online reviews and decided to take Joe to Cowbell (1564 Queen Street West, Toronto), a restaurant that specializes in meat (animals are slaughtered and cured on the premises) and locally sourced ingredients.

On arrival, we found the restaurant to be small and intimate. The ever-changing menu was featured on chalk boards hanging from the wall; the dishes available to diners did not just change from day to day but also from hour to hour. Joe ordered the Grass fed Angus Beef with diced sausage, arugula and butternut squash ($30) and was informed by the server that he would be getting sirloin since that was the part of the cow that the chef had currently reached. I ordered the Red Deer with sausage, pickled beets and sauerkraut ($36, seen on the left) in the nick of time as it was the last portion of the chops available that night.

Before the arrival of our main dishes, Joe and I each enjoyed the Potato and Leek Soup with Goat Ricotta ($9) and shared the Cowbell Chaucuterie ($16), a selection of meats, cheeses and pickled vegetables of the day.

The soup was deliciously smooth as was the goat ricotta, which complimented it perfectly. The pâtés proved to be the most exciting part of the Chaucuterie as the sausages tended to share a similar smoky flavour.

Joe seemed very happy with his sirloin steak (seen on the right) and I was impressed with the freshness of his squash. However, I was absolutely in love with my red deer; truly cooked medium rare and flavourful in spite of the leanness of the meat. Everything else on my plate, including the sausage, paled in comparison.

For dessert, I chose the Chocolate Tart ($9, seen on the left) while Joe selected the Poire Etienne with vanilla ice cream ($9), named after its maker. My Chocolate Tart was dense but not overly sweet nor rich. The berry sauce that accompanied it had me scraping my plate for its surprisingly complex flavour. Joe enjoyed his dessert pear though we disagreed on the correct method to eat the accompanying chocolate roll; I was in favour of using one's hands while Joe used both his fork and spoon to carry and push the roll, respectively, into his mouth. Sometimes, I wonder if I can take him anywhere.

The waitstaff were pleasant but one of them never smiled though he was polite enough. It seemed ludicrous for him to be so intensely serious when he wore a red, long sleeved cotton shirt that featured the word 'Cowbell' on the chest. In my mind, a crisp shirt would probably have contributed to a more appropriate uniform.

Joe and I will be on the lookout for the restaurant's Farmers Nights in 2009. The chance to eat locally grown produce is appealing to both the conscience and the appetite.