Crushing It

by Julie Reitsma
It’s no secret that the making over of a restaurant can turn a once fine establishment into nothing more than a hot mess (yes, we’re looking at you, Food Network). So, when we got the call for a fancy media dinner—think moleskins and feather boas—at Crush Wine Bar to celebrate the redesign of their space and menus, we were curious if we’d catch Igor and his demo team sneaking out the back door. Thankfully, Crush avoided that décor black-hole, and the space, done up by Giannone Associates, is funky (upside-down wine bottle light fixture), whimsical (Lucille Ball à la grape-stomp greeted us upon entry), and intimate (turn the lights down low).

Food-wise, Crush’s Executive Chef, Michael Wilson, has ventured into gastro-pub territory, with modern takes on British fare (sadly minus the spotted dick) all the rage. The bar menu, with its Bangers and Mash ($12), Cornish Pastie ($9), and a well-rounded fromage list that involves a “Stinky” selection, also includes a few toasty nibbles, such as Potted Shrimp ($7), lemony fresh and topped with micro-greens, and Welsh Rarebit ($6), the most fabulous of topless grilled cheeses, drenched in Guinness and Worcestershire.

Having finished our pint of McAuslan Cream Ale (a hard choice with three crafty beers on tap), and brushed the bread crumbs and wee shrimp bits off our lap, we headed into the dining room to sample a bit of this and that from the dinner menu. Starters include the Bubble and Squeak soup (surprisingly flat and silent, but seriously delicious) ($9), and the Fish Pie—toasty, pastry goldenness overwhelming the pot and our hearts—could be a full lunch, but still manages lightness. The filling (no pun intended) of flaky halibut was beautifully accented by fennel and garlic, with a counter-balance to the creaminess provided by a side of celeriac, red onion, and parsley.

Moving to mains, the Arctic Char, delicately flavoured with a light citrus sauce, was served with fresh from the earth heirloom veggies, with colours so garden glorious that it’s evident that Crush really does stand by local farmers and produce. Joining other options, such as the Pumpkin Ravioli ($22) and Chrisandrea Farms Pork Chop ($30), is the Braised Eschol Veal Breast with Onion Gravy ($27), a dish which, despite some perhaps too-bitey swiss chard, provoked a torrent of adjectives, including “succulent” and “orgasmic,” and was described as both a river of meat (in the good way), and so tender that it was fall off the…itself? Accompanied by one of the many fabu wine choices on offer (Crush is still a wine bar, after all!) and, depending on how vocal you are, you could have yourself a really serious “When Harry Met Sally” style moment.

The best way to end your British culinary caper is to top ‘er off with some pudding. The Summer Pudding, served with fresh local berries, devon cream (swoon), and topped with a crisp yummy sesame curl, was tasty, but would perhaps be a better fit, due to its breadiness, as a sweet breakfast dish. The Sticky Toffee Pudding, served with home-made ice cream (all of Crush’s ice creams and sorbets are made in house), has got that traditional, caramelly, flavour down to a tee, and will leave you with enough of a delightful sugar rush that you may not need that end of meal espresso.

With words like “bubble,” “banger,” “squeak,” and “scratching,” on the menu, you know you’re in for an experience. All told, the revamp works—a newfangled interior that feels different, without being unrecognizable, and a menu that gives traditional Brit dishes an escape from their boiled and bland reputation. We’re not sure if UK fare will be our most frequent craving, but it’s definitely popped back up onto the radar. To be honest, if we may be so punny, we may just be developing a bit of a crush.