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Steak Frites

Somehow I had it in my head that steak frites was a steak cut into fry-shaped strips, even though we’ve ordered it plenty of times before. Le Select Bistro was voted as best steak frites and so we found ourselves walking along Wellington, in a section of Toronto we had never been to, even though it was one street south of Spadina and King. I was psyched about this dinner, even though I could barely read the menu online thanks to French and horrible cursive font.

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Voraciously hungry and tired from walking, we ended up ordering an appetizer to split. Usually this ends up spelling disaster as we wind up with too much food, poor dessert gets left behind. Not this time. I had seen on the menu that they have creme brulee (my all-time weakness, after cookie dough). The appetizer was a head-to-toe pig terrine. They were not lying. I am pretty sure there was a pigs blood sausage in the centre.

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Brent’s steak frites dinner looked hilarious, the pile of fries dwarfed his steak. I giggled, but it may have been the wine. I won by a mile with the venison on top of pureed sweet potatoes. One bite of the puree and I thought to myself: why doesn’t sweet potato every taste this good when I make it?! Brent had the exact same thought. You could say we had a psychic moment. Or we are both bad at cooking sweet potatoes.

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The creme brulee was no ordinary creme brulee. It was a B-52 creme brulee, which I managed to remember from my bar tender training* days as Kahlua, Baileys, Grand Marnier. I was secretly impressed with myself for remembering. The creme brulee was amazing, but it did not have a very distinct taste of B-52. If I had not noticed that I would have thought it was just regular creme brulee, i.e.: amazing.

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* there, now you know another little thing about me: I have my bar tender certification 😉

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Best Diner Patio- Take 2

Continuing in our trend of revisiting restaurants after our first attempt at eating on the patio fails, I managed to convince Brent to go out on a Tuesday instead of Wednesday, the sky was clear blue and it was boiling hot outside. Or I was still very out of it from having been sick all weekend (20+ hours of sleep and all I wanted was to sleep the next day). Plus they were calling for rain and thunder on the Wednesday. It was settled, we would go back to the best diner patio: Rosedale Diner (which is not as far as I had thought, turns out we took the long way last time by going down to Bloor).

I had been torn between getting the duck poutine and steak frites last time, leaving little question as to what I would order this time, steak frites, duh. We traded halfway but I was not having Brent’s bison burger. The meat was too bland, we traded back for the last few bites. For some reason there were shards of onion in my fries. The only good thing about the steak was the bites with sundried tomatoes (I know right, me? Liking tomatoes? Finding something improved when with them?!?).

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The patio was nice and secluded, it almost seemed like someone’s backyard. You could not hear the traffic of Yonge St back there. I wish we had somehow known to just order the hummus and pitas, that was the best item on the menu.

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I really hope patio season improves because so far the patios have been better than the food.

 

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I Had You In My Sights!

I was having a bit of an off-day yesterday. For one thing I awoke in a mild panic, thinking it was Sunday and wondering where my weekend had gone. I also forgot my camera to document our second visit to Czehoski. At least this time we made sure we were going there for dinner and not for happy hour. We had to go back, they have the best steak frites and the seventh best perogies and a creme brulee that I had to try.

This time around we were seated upstairs, right beside a nice pretty fireplace. The upstairs dining area is a lot nicer than the downstairs, and not just because of the fireplace, but also the view, you can look down on Queen Street. It was nice to sit by candlelight beside a fireplace and enjoy the wonderful conversation… until the world’s most awkward & irritating couple was seated next to us. Thankfully by then  we were on to dessert. Just one sampling of their conversation: “Roncesvalles used to be very European but now it is more of a mix…” at this point he was sitting on the windowsill because he “could not hear her because of the overhead speakers” yeah right, he wanted to be up in her face. Thankfully they moved to another table “farther from the speakers.”

The food was amazing. The pierogi were made with sweet potatoes instead of regular potatoes, which combined with the pan-fried cooking method gave them a slight BBQed flavour… which now makes me want to BBQ some pierogi (winter really has to end soon!). The steak frites were also really good, it is quite hard to go wrong with that so it is no surprise.

As per dessert: we messed up. First off, there was no creme brulee on offer. She mentioned creme caramel, which I thought maybe was there way of saying creme brulee? Nope. It was still a good dessert, albeit more of a flan. We both realized we should have ordered the cookie dough tartar. What is that you ask? Frozen cookie dough served with a wallop of maple walnut ice cream on top. Fortunately, Czehoski has a third floor… so we must go back, even just for dessert.

NOTE: the pictures are subpar to say the least, but as good as it gets when shooting in low light with a Blackberry. My bad.

 

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