World Cup of Dining in Toronto, parts 3 and 4: Argentina and France

The waitress was Colombian, actually. After disparaging Toronto’s Colombian restaurants (while recommending a good bakery), asking my Greek friend if he IMG_00000169was Italian, talking about her son who plays hockey on a U.S. college scholarship, expressing her revulsion for futbol (which the owner has constantly on the wide-screen in the corner), and seeking technical assistance for her mobile, she recommended the churrasco.

Five of us made the trek north through the flurries to Dufferin/Eglinton, a not-particularly glorious part of Toronto I’d never seen. But the Sky Ranch Argentinian restaurant has been serving grilled meat here for at least a quarter century and so we settled down to some antipasti and a seriously carnivorous meal, washed down with red wine poured out of a decanter. We worked our way through a feast of blood sausage, chicken, kidney, sweetmeats, ribs and steak, with french fries providing the one concession towards vegetables. These being work colleagues our main table topic were the Sochi Games, Russian culture and first jobs. In the background, the waitress had taken advantage of the boss being away to change the channel from soccer to “Rambo: First Blood”.

“Possibility exists for French restaurant on Sunday night…..Mais il faut parler seulement en français!” And so my evening date was on with a charming-but-scarce gal. Despite the thickening snowfall on Bloor West and Royal York, the Merlot Bistro was busy, its walls covered in framed early 1900s French prints. Conferring with the server, we settled on crudités, tarte a l’oignon alsacienne, and escargots, out of curiosity. And a full-bodied French red, out of principle. C’etait bon. Discussion, en francais, ranged from dance moves to career moves, and madame staked her claim on the World Cup of Dining outings of other French-speaking nations.

 

 

 


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