There is few things in life that compare to the exaltation of having a dish that completely blows your mind. People throw around the term "life-changing" far too liberally these days (cuz really Hot Yoga really only means shifting your US Weekly budget into the waiting arms of Lulu Lemon) but when you've had those rare meals that are the kind that inspire Allah to start offering out legions of virgins to his newly deceased flock, you know it. And nothing will be the same again.
While I've encountered these lofty plates a number of times in my lifelong pursuit of hedonistic overload, its no small feat that three times I've had this experience in the confines of Grant Van Gameren's The Black Hoof. I won't lie, I enjoyed this spot a whole lot more back in its infancy as an industry speakeasy packed with chefs, bar-jockeys and wine stewards. I suppose even then I knew the hoards of food hipsters would innevitably descend upon its glorious floors, oblivious to the simple pleasure of following a grueling dinner service with some foie gras and Labatt 50. Of course I cannot begrudge the success of their little no frills charcuterie pad, if for no other reason than the 3 times its meals have changed my life.
The first time was the discovery of Jamon Iberico. This is the Wagu of the cured pork universe, complete with prize-bred hogs with special diets and daily massage treatments. While this may seem frivolous nonsense to the layperson, talk to me after you've had a thin slice of iberico melt on your tongue (it literally does that...for serious). The 2nd time was glutonizing over their cow tongue on brioche. The epic tenderness of braised tongue was enough to ensure I would never really appreciate a corned beef sandwich ever again (or at least the unsmoked variety....cuz even tongue cant hold a candle to Schwartz's patrami).
But its the 3rd one that tops them all, and is in fact the inspiration to an entire oddessey, around which this article is based upon. It was a sleepy September Thursday whereupon, still soaked in the afterglow of a surreal weekend in New York City, I sunk my teeth into the loving arms of the most seductive mistress. The Raw Horse Sammy at the Black Hoof. Virtually a horse carpaccio on sliced baguette, with quail egg for yolking and a chili sauce to finish the sandwich. We paired it with a Tawse Cabernet Franc (which by the way is easily one of the top bottles of wine I have ever had from Niagara....truly world class) and from the first bite, I knew I had been launched into an entirely new chapter in my life. The horse was to become my obsession.
Turns out that horse can be a pretty quiet obsession. Almost from the dawn of civilzation the horse has enjoyed a man's best friend stature, bested only by the domestic dog. After all this celebrity I guess its only natural that very few kitchens, the world over, are graced with the loins of the cheval. Its a common menu piece in the Veneto, where its been an historical centerpiece of local cuisine for centuries. In Vino Italiano, Joe Bastianich describes a rustic Verona tavern serving up horse meat in three seperate menu items, in cuts and plates that are commonly seen with beef. However unlike the sedantary cow, the muscular horse contains alot less meat of the sort of divine tenderness sought after by the distinguished carnivore. As can be expected they are excellent pairing partners with the regional red wines Amarone and Ripasso. My mouth waters at the idea of a tenderloin, braised in beer & cocoa, decked out with a blueberry compote, being chase down with a velvety 2007 ripasso.
As I pushed on in my crusade du cheval, I began asking around the city to find my next step. I discover its not all that uncommon in area restaurants, especially those dedicated to passionate carnivores. In addition to the couple of cheval-centric dishes I've had at the Hoof, Chef Matt Beasley (who I strongly believe has star potential written all over him) also described to me a horse dish he used to cook at Globe Bistro. Yet the deeper I searched it became clear that there wasn't a butcher anywhere in Upper Canada carrying horse for the sonsumer market. To find this I had no choice but to turn to the last bastion of unapologetic carnivore celebration left on this continent of hyprocritical fashion-foodies. Every road to preparing horse in my home kitchen ran through Quebec.
Six hours of red/yellow/orange tree-lined highway and a pit-stop in Old Port Montreal later, I found myself in an Anjou food market staring at the counter of Chevaline Plus. Their selection was a game heavy playlist, challk full of pheasant, elk and even (perhaps troubling) pigeon. But I had eyes only for one, the butcher's namesake & specialty. The horse. After considerable discusssion I settled upon a healthy slab of Cheval Roti (in essence a horse tenderloin, complete with the butcher-string ties) and a Cheval Mignon (a cut equivalent to its bovine counterpart). Now barely past noon, northeast of Montreal, I had 9 hours to plan, purchase groceries for & prepare in Toronto for a dinner based around the chunks of cheval I had icing in a former beer cooler.
Oddly enough my inspiration came in the form of a Tim Horton's donut. Not to be mistaken with the typical Timmy's fare (their donuts have never been the same since the centralization of their bakeries in that Brantford Ontario factory....garbage I tell you), their special Pumpkin Spiced Donut was a pocket change revelation. The flavors smacked me into longing for the Thanksgiving dinner I never had the week before. Instantly the night's menu was set. Cheval Roti braised in beer & cinamon, Medium rare Cheval Mignon with sauteed mushrooms & carmalized onions and roast pumpkin with toasted raisins & cinamon. While my cellar is rich in berry reflectant ripasso's, the shift toward a more savory style lead me to the Grenache section, selecting a 2006 Gigondas by Laurus and the 2005 Les Mines from Priorat (the best bottle I've ever had for under $30 and while I once boasted an entire case, this was the last bottle of this wine no longer available in the area). The pumpkin scraps would also give birth to a delicious soup to pair with some Scwartz's smoked pastrami the following day. My audience for this dinner would include cooks from both Savoy & The Soho, as well as Sommali Pirate. A strange cast to conclude this strange journey.
The meal came off without a hitch. While the lean nature of the meat left me wishing I had braised the roti for at least another hour, the flavor was unmistakably captivating, especially when dipped in some close at hand deli mustard & horseradish. In contrast the mignon was grilled to perfection. Tender and dripping in juice it was the kind of bite that made this entire crusade worthwhile. Though I must admit, while we sat there, pouring down some dynamite wine over our feast and talking food, travel, and the suddenly inspiring Toronto Maple Leafs, I couldnt help but recognize that all of this still came short of living up to that first bite of Van Gameren's Raw Horse Sammy.
I guess thats why they call it life changing.
