Two years ago this month, I returned to the city I once called home: London. Amidst the nostalgia, I recalled the supreme pleasures of a city I count as being among my all-time favourites: the access to art (the National, the British Museum, and, my favourite, the National Portrait Gallery, are all free), the diversity of theatre (cherished memories of the Tricycle, the Donmar, and the Almeida remain), and the astonishing array of foods on offer –everything from Indian (ubiquitous in London) to North African, to gastro-pub and beyond. People may not realize it, but London is a foodie paradise. Between the markets (whether they be central –say Berwick street –or more far-flung, like the South Asian markets in Wembley), there is deliciousness at every turn. Even the East-end Eel pies –though an acquired taste –have a certain charm to them, if given the chance.
One of the more recent discoveries I made on my last visit to London was the variety of wine bars, particularly those catering to casual, fun, fresh dining. Because I stayed near the beautiful enclave of Primrose Hill (an area home to many celebrities, that sits nicely atop the chaotic punkish energy of Camden market), I found myself wandering around the area during most of my (too brief) time spent in London. I discovered an array of fascinating little independent shops –the sort you might imagine dot the English landscape like crocuses in spring. With the proliferation of multi-national chain stores in the smallest of communities, finding independent stores with knowledgeable, friendly staff is a treasure. A lingerie shop, a stationer’s, a wonderful knick-knack style store (where I found a gorgeous leather-bound journal and ran into a dear friend) –just some of the pleasures I enjoyed in Primrose Hill, along with yummy chocolate-croissant breakfasts on outdoor patios overlooking the quiet high street, dotted with pretty mums and posh prams.
Happy meals were spent exploring the area’s numerous fine pubs and wine bars –places like The Engineer, The Lansdowne and The Queens. I never thought I’d find the incredible, nicely casual mix of atmosphere, food, and people in Toronto. Save for a few special spots (JK and Grace being the ones that stick out at the moment), there are few places that have that unique combination of quiet coolness (without being off-puttingly chic or ridiculously hipsteresque), fab wine selection, a well thought-out menu, and good chefs. There’s something about Toronto that, when it comes to food, particularly this time of year, tends to cater to either the very-famous (read: film festers) or the very-uber-cool (read: under 30) –or well, both. Getting the menu, ambiance, crowd, and food right is a tricky balance. Guess what? Crush Wine Bar on King street has it. It’s like a little piece of Primrose Hill brought to King Street West. And it’s turned into a new favourite.
 | Owned and run by Brit expatriate Jamieson Kerr, Crush recently underwent a major renovation that saw its huge, cavernous, warehouse-style space get cosy-fied. Gone are the high ceilings, exposed beams and pipes so favoured by designers in years past. Wood, stucco, and smatterings of matte metal, along with a huge chalkboard running the length of the bar area and listing wines, make up the new Crush look. It’s intimate but not suffocating, with huge windows in the bar area and a higher ceiling in the dining area, plus cushy chairs and soft lighting. Crush also has a lovely private dining space that looks and feels more like a pretty room taken from your-posh-friend’s-loft, stylistically. Wines are listed by type, not country, which opens up doors to asking the barman about things like Viognier and Nebbiolo. No need to be shy, either. A note on the chalkboard behind the bar reads, “Help us foster a community of wine lovers”. With more than 200 wines, Crush seems like a good place to start. Wine bars (at least the ones I went to) never expect patrons to come in, well-versed in the particulars of Burgundian delights or Piedmontese treasures; that’s all part of the enjoyment of going to one –to learn a little something you didn’t know, and try a few new things. No one wants to walk into a restaurant and be looked at through the nose for not knowing their Grenache from their Syrah. Surely it’s surely part of the reason Crush offers wine tasting evenings, with what they call “Brown Bag” and “Top Ten” evenings ($35 each). As they say on their website, “pretentiousness will not be tolerated!”. Ah, now there’s a delicious thought. |
The bar menu itself leans toward the British, reflecting Kerr’s background. Eccles cake ($7), bangers and mash ($12), Welsh rarebit on toast ($6), all cheap and cheerful nibblies, are served in mezes-styled portions, perfect to pair with one of the forty wines by the glass Crush offers. Also on the menu are olives, nuts, a charcuterie plate, and a good selection of English and Canadian cheeses, ranging from the classic blue-veined English Stilton to the dry pungency of Toscano, sourced from an artisanal Ontario dairy. If you’re looking for pre or post-TIFF noshing, you can’t get much better than this. Simply prepared, unpretentious, and perfect after the stress and hassle of lineups, seat jockeying, and struggling for autographs. What could be nicer than a glass of wine and potted shrimp on toast to top off the day?
Ah, dinner. If film-going has worked up an appetite, take a walk away from the madness of Bloor/Bay or Roy Thomson Hall. Crush is every bit as fashionable as the next hipster hangout, but with none of the attitude. Dinner is just as British as the offerings in its bar area, with starters like Bubble & Squeak Soup ($9) -creamy, but not too rich, and flecked with lovely green -and seasonal selections like Heirloom Tomato Salad ($14), featuring a succulent selection of Ontario tomatoes simply prepared with olive oil, a grind of pepper, and fresh basil. Gorgeous to look at, and to the tongue. Mains include a carefully prepared succulent pork with baked beans and mouthwatering sweet-sharp peach chutney ($30), and a braised veal with onion gravy ($27). Put aside any notions of tough, overcooked, shoe-sole veal; this one effortlessly lifts away any and all negative past associations, with its tender texture, and thin, if perfectly, simply seasoned gravy. Presented simply, it doesn’t swim in a limpid, unctuous puddle, but rather floats with barely a hint of sauce, lightly, the way a good piece of meat ought; there is no fatty residue or overwhelming onion-y aftertaste –just pure, tender, sauce-y meat. Executive chef Michael Wilson knows how to handle his meats –with a light touch -and it shows.
| The same care and attention goes into the desserts at Crush. Again, if you’re seeking a place to get your sweet-on post TIFFing, consider a visit. Sticky goodness is the theme: treacle tart ($10), sticky toffee pudding ($11), frozen summer pudding ($12), English toffee ($3), all portioned accordingly, and good without being nauseatingly sugary; far from the cardboard-tasting, made-far-away-and-trucked-in dessert mainstays of other establishments, Crush’s desserts taste homemade –because they are. Crunchy dances with gooey, sweet dances with sour. Nothing is too architectural or pouffy, thank goodness, and the simple combination of ingredients –sugar, cream, eggs, for the most part –can actually be tasted in each item. It’s the sort of thing I remember tasting in London, in the small wine bars and pubs I came across in my travels. Not being an especially devoted dessert-o-phile, I was pleased to find the summer pudding at Crush a refreshing balance of berries, cake, and cream, combined into a beautifully moist square, simply topped with plump fresh berries and a single scoop of crème fraiche. Being a smart wine bar, CRUSH offers its bar cheese selection for dessert too, amusingly categorized according to the senses: hard, blue, tangy, stinky, etc. An impressive selection of after-dinner libations complements the post-dinner experience, with a decent range of grappa and scotch selections. |  |
Whether in full TIFF mode, or reminiscing over trips to England past, Crush Wine Bar is a good destination point. It’s handy enough to walk or bike to (on King, just west of Spadina), but it’s far enough away from the film fest hub to feel like an escape. It does what places like The Engineer do so well: combine the four corners of dining experience (service, selection, preparation, and price) into a comfortable shrine of delicious experience. You don’t need to spend a fortune here to enjoy a good meal and learn a bit about wine, and wine/food pairings. As William Shakespeare wrote, “good wine is a familiar creature, if it be well used.” At Crush, it’s well-used, well-presented, and easily consumed in a well-appointed space, along with the rest of Chef Wilson’s fare. Delicious simple, deliciously unpretentious, deliciously satisfying. Who says the British don’t do good food?
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