Fabbrica
Alas, I have no images of Fabbrica to post with this report. I left my pocket camera at home. “No worries, Jim,” I hear you say. “That’s what makes this blog so real.”
Fabbrica is Mark McEwan’s new venture, a big, clever restaurant on the outer ramparts of the Shops at Don Mills, close to his food emporium. Giannone Petricone Associates designed the space, using reclaimed wooden strips on the soaring walls, a red, black and blue scheme and light fittings like white balloons hanging from octagonal umbrellas. The conceit is industrial but it’s all so obviously designed that the grit can only amount to a gesture. The space reminds me of the restaurants Terence Conran was opening in London during the 1990s – smart but also relaxed – with McEwan’s ever-practical touch visible in the details. For example, a romantic table of reclaimed wood in the private room is on wheels.
McEwan fans should not expect to see him in whites in the semi-open kitchen. That is the domain of chef Rob LeClair, formerly of One. His long menu reads Italian, but from no particular region, and flavours and textures have a refined North American approach rather than anything too robustly Italiano. It seems to suit the neighbourhood. McEwan has always been a master at divining the tastes of his clientele and the restaurant has been packed since it opened.
That was only a couple of weeks ago, which may explain why some of the service is still a little green (manager Craig Hudson is in the process of polishing things there) and why a couple of the dishes need fine tuning.
Straciatella is a case in point. This is a soup close to my heart. Long ago, when I was on the musical stage, I spent 18 months in Jesus Christ Superstar in London’s West End. My pre-show rituals were obsessively precise and unchanging – half an hour of table football in a Soho arcade then a bowl of straciatella in a local Italian dive. Fabbrica’s version is almost as good. The chicken broth is impeccable, subtly enriched with reggiano – and chopped parsley makes its usual refreshing contribution. But the eggs need a more delicate touch – a flick of the whisk, perhaps: they lie in the soup like a big lump of scrambled eggs.
Butterflied smelts, on the other hand, lightly battered and crisply fried, are fabulous, the fish moist, soft and white and served with half a grilled lemon and a lemon-caper aioli. One of the many bruschettas also pleased me – the bread only very lightly toasted so it’s still soft at heart, spread with bone marrow for a rich warm texture, topped with grated pecorino, parsley, lemon and a suggestion of horseradish.
The designers have built a glassed-in curing room at the back of the restaurant where salumi hang from the ceiling beside prosciutti that still have some time to go. Until they’re ready, the kitchen is slicing a particularly sweet ham from Italy alongside decent house-made capicolo and finocchio, all garnished with pickled vegetables and mustard.
Pizza here is Neapolitan style, the crust soft and slightly chewy but not at all charred the way we are used to at Libretto. We ordered one that came smothered in bechamel, cheese and sliced cremini and oyster mushrooms, finished with truffle oil.
Octopus is a palpable hit, slow cooked in its own juices with chili, garlic and parsley then lightly grilled. Tender tentacles are tossed with ceci beans, matchsticks of salami, peperonata, onion and arugula to make a lovely, decorous, gently flavourful salad. Risotto is similarly elegant and correct, the perfectly textured carnaroli stirred with small cubes of roasted pumpkin, motes of pancetta and a hint of riesling.
A lamb dish uses the neck meat, braising small, lean pieces with pale pine nuts and caponata in a rich, lip-sticking jus. In the middle is a hearty, firm sausage of lamb and fennel. With this presentation flavours start to soar but now we are near the end of the meal. Time for pastry chef Sabine Gradhauer to do her thing with salted caramel ice cream or the house take on tiramisu. It’s like an exploded millefeuille of delicate caramel tissue sandwiching piped espresso-infused mascarpone over white chocolate sponge cake. In a little glass beside it is a suprisingly lightweight frappucino slushy capped with with white foam.
Fabbrica will do well, I’m sure. It’s good enough – and good enough value – to please the neighbourhood, and a feather in the Shops of Don Mills cap. Another plume is coming there soon, I hear, as Amaya opens yet another location in the mall.
Fabricca. 49 Karl Fraser Road (on the north-east corner of the Shops at Don Mills, where Don Mills Road meets Lawrence). 416 391 0307.