I haven’t been able to darken Sorrel’s doorway till now. Since the Gallic sprite Georges Gurnon sold Pastis and retired to Florida, I was too sad to try its replacement.
There were always those who disagreed with my ranking Pastis #1 in Toronto for a few years. I admit it was never the best food in town, but I adored Pastis for the ebullient welcome, the ultra-smooth service and the upmarket French bistro food. Going to Sorrel felt somehow … disloyal.
But there is the new owner Faro Chiniforoush, all smiles at the door. One can not help but be disarmed. Once seated we’re relieved to discover the fabulous crusty baguettes of yesteryear. And the mellow crowd — le tout Rosedale is here, silver-haired captains of industry, cashmere crewnecks draped artlessly over square shoulders in $300 Harry Rosen shirts, their womenfolk also quite cashmere. The world is still turning on its axis.
Money knows food.
The new owner replaced Georges’ sunny yellow walls with mother-of-pearl and a silvery brick pillar. Georges is gone but somebody’s got an iron grip on this kitchen. They’re doing a shrimp, scallop and fin fish ceviche that’s quite dazzling thanks to coriander and chilies. Grilled artichokes are a great app too — grilled fast and soused in good olive oil.
Sorrel’s Ceviche ($18) features scallops, shrimp and fin fish. (Image: CJ Baek)
Gone are the pâté and the butter-roasted lobster of yesteryear, but the menu remains a robust homage to the modern French bistro, the cuisine not formal but always carefully executed. We adore the big fat gilded scallops sitting pretty on cauliflower purée with barely wilted baby spinach. And the classic bistro fave, spaghetti Bolognese, comes to us here with Berkshire pork and snazzy beef. A flurry of Parmigiano Reggiano on top, and this is the spaghetti of my dreams. Surprised at the pedigree? Money knows food.
For dessert, there is an ineffable custardy smoothness to the bread pudding with a drizzle of dark caramel sauce. I can’t do the crème brûlée or the flourless chocolate cake. They remind me too much of long Champagne-soaked dinners when Georges was there.
Sorrel is … mostly … as good as Pastis was. The food is sometimes better. But Mr. Chiniforoush restricts himself to the door, at his peril. Where Georges incessantly prowled the room, making sure that every guest was being perma-pampered, the new guy leaves a little too much to his staff.
They have great intentions, and mostly do the right thing. But not always. One dinner my guest orders more wine and the server slops it into my glass. Upon hearing that I don’t want it, she doesn’t do anything to fix it. Not life-threatening, but the service was smoother under Georges.
The issue here is supervision. If one has staff, when isn’t it? While Georges Gurnon played the lovable imp, all air-kissing and Champagne flutes, that was the window-dressing.
Underneath he was a fiercely professional manager who controlled every aspect of his restaurant. How else did a non-chef always have such good food? And he never stopped sweeping the dining room with his eyes, looking for trouble — an empty wineglass, a plate uncleared for too long, a table with no bread. And there he’d be to fix it.
Does the current owner believe he’s above bussing tables? He might take a page from the book of our great restaurateur Franco Prevedello, who never stopped moving around his dining rooms. There lies the path to greatness.
Sorrel, 1158 Yonge St., $100 dinner for two