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Get Laide
Rising star Sam Gassira cooks food better than sex
Review by Alan A. Vernon
& Don Douloff
(Published March 19, 2004)
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The carnal and the culinary have gone
hand in hand since the beginning of humankind. What can be more primal
than food and sex? Exactly the question laid out by Laide, a resto
lounge that might make even Hugh Hefner blush. Its naughty motif
announces itself the moment you enter the vestibule lined with
full-frontal nudes, every fleshy inch hanging out. This delicious den of
iniquity includes vintage lesbian porn, a gynecologically correct
bar/photo montage, instructive kama sutra posters and condoms than,
ahem, come with your bill. There’s even a stripper’s pole for use at
your own risk.
But
this wouldn’t be anything more than a jokey, lascivious lounge if it
weren’t for the unsung talent of Sam Gassira, a culinary genius whose
star is rising faster than, well, you know. For nearly five years,
Gassira spun gastronomic gold at the tiny, unassuming Focaccia, on
quiet, unheralded Hayden Street. But in a feat of multitasking that may
parallel the Rubino brothers (doing double duty at Rain and Luce),
Gassira will continue to oversee Laide’s menu while guiding the kitchen
at the soon-to-open Bloom at the other end of town.
Will he, too, be able to juggle both
gigs? Time will tell. As it stands, his work at Laide leaves us
breathing hard. Short and sweet, the globetrotting carte is designed as
tapas-sized tasters. Nothing is more than $14, an astounding price point
for food of this calibre. Like his sausage-like rabbit terrine ($8) that
seduces us with chunks of moist bunny wrapped into tight little bundles
of smoky pancetta. Setting off the smokiness is a tight, perfectly
mounded salad of finely diced veggies whose bold flavour bowls us over:
bitter radicchio, earthy avocado, sweet mango and tomato.
Another gastronomic mound of potatoes,
lentils and leek rides shotgun with four slices of the moistest pork
tenderloin ($14) in a spice-kissed pistachio sauce. You’ll get moist
just thinking about it. But the piece de resistance is gutsy Gassira’s
barbecued baby back ribs ($12). Tender, smokey and meaty they are, but
what marvels is a rib sauce whose restrained sweetness comes, believe it
or not, courtesy of a store-bought sauce revved up with hoisin, guava,
mustard and ketchup. It takes a confident chef to pair ribs with organic
potato chips -- also store-bought. We can’t resist ordering a second
batch which are Hoovered down in mere minutes, before using the lemon
wedge-scented finger bowls so thoughtfully provided.
Store-bought
phyllo also underpins a flaky tart ($8) that gets a powerful flavour
boost from sugar-sweet caramelized onions, slices of crunchy raw apple
and perfectly-pungent chaput chevre. And Gassira hasn’t lost his touch
with seafood, either. A troika of sea scallops ($12) swims on three
sauces that include a rich and briny caviar mayo, a sweet corn relish
and an acidic tomato/ginger/chile salsa fresca. More remarkably, each
sea critter is perfectly timed to tenderness personified.
A large hunk of soft short rib ($14) is
bathed in a marsala reduction that startles with the intensity of its
sweetness. Providing soft textural support are, again, store-bought
wonton-wrapper ravioli whose insides are lavished with a rich mix of
short rib, rosemary, ricotta and reggiano. Gassira misfires badly,
though, with tougher-than-vulcanized-rubber duck breast ($12) that’s
more fat than meat. But its accompanying, exquisitely restrained,
sweet-spicy chocolate sauce rivals that of Claudio Aprile’s.
Even
Gassira’s garnishes are high-end gourmet. Where most make do with
radicchio and arugula as an afterthought, Gassira goes to the trouble of
sourcing organic, Niagara-grown lemon-balm, coriander, cabbage and
watercress seedlings that add flair and fragrance to his camera-ready
fashion plates. Remember, these are mere garnishes.
Unfortunately, the hot streak wavers
with sweets, but just a tad. A flaky phyllo partners admirably with
sweet pear in a supernal strudel ($7) sided with chunky house-made
coconut/banana ice cream. But a gloriously thick and acidic mascarpone
mousse is the only good thing about an unforgivably bland and
oddly-textured cranberry tart ($7).
Despite this kitchen’s food fireworks,
we worry about Laide’s longevity. A chef with Gassira’s talent deserves
a wider audience. We fear Laide won’t attract hard-core foodies, who
might prefer to pass on the lascivious lounge lingo in favour of trendy
boutique hotel dining. But that would be their loss. To really get
Laide, you’d see it’s more than just a salacious scene of sexual
imagery. Like the film 9 1/2 Weeks, Laide will sooner have you licking
your lips, than gyrating your hips.
