Channeling a world of make believe, I’ve discovered a secret dining spot. 

A famous essay by John McPhee, staff writer at The New Yorker, with the headline Brigade de Cuisine, got me thinking.

He was writing about a small dinner spot in the countryside, surrounded by gardens whence came much of the produce the chef presented each evening. McPhee was sworn to secrecy not to reveal the chef’s name or the location for fear they would be overrun by looky-loos. The chef only wanted serious foodies for whom he was prepared to cook an amazing repertoire of over 600 dishes. Some people came twice a week and he didn’t want them ever to have the same meal. The evening menu was invented late in the day when he saw what he had to hand. 

McPhee was writing in February 1979, after the chef allowed him to sit in the kitchen and make notes over several evenings, as upwards of 50 covers were served each night. He described the meals he ate and what the chef cooked, and how he cooked it, in mouth-watering detail. The essay is 25 thousand words or more long, so I won’t go into much more detail.

Unusually, the chef worked alone, with his wife who made desserts and served as hostess, bartender and sommelière, and a couple of servers, often his children. In a great restaurant of Europe, McPhee explained, the team in the kitchen would be led by the gros bonnet, and under him a saucier, an entremettier, a potagiste, a rôtisseur, a grillardin, a friturier, a garde-manger, aided by many commis running around. Here, with the exception of his wife as la pátissière-en-chef, the chef is the entire brigade de cuisine. He wore a knitted woolen cap rather than a toque blanche.

At the end of the story McPhee revealed that the anonymous chef and his mystery wife had sold their country property and were moving on. We never learned where. 

Now, I’ve discovered an eating place in Niagara-on-the-Lake, Ontario, that ticks every box in just the same manner. To give context to those who have never visited, the township covers a largish area between the highway, the river, the lake and the canal, with the so-called Old Town celebrated as the historic former capital of Upper Canada and several villages scattered among endless rows of vines, swathes of soft fruit orchards and acres of greenhouses.

As someone who has lived in Toronto for decades, where the lake is due south, there’s a weird geographic displacement that many new residents say they suffer. The town feels upside down. Not upside down like folks in Australia, just off kilter, off axis, disorienting. The lake is in the wrong place. We’re so used to it being south that it’s hard to reorient to the reality that it’s now north. Well, trust the compass friend. It does not lie.

So, when I think I know the way to my new fave resto, I find its location is like the secret garden; well, secret. If I gave you directions, you’d just get lost.

On a recent evening, I sat there in delightful company. Snowy white starched linen tablecloths, contrasting black napkins, beautiful silver chalices filled with quite unseasonable flowers, roses, ranunculi and delicate lilac coloured flowers I couldn’t identify. Soft lighting came from multi-branched silver candelabras, the cream-coloured wax dripping unheeded onto the table.

The view was strange, a dark void as if one was looking out into the infinity of space. A few stars twinkled out there, or perhaps they were more prosaic lanterns. But the company didn’t mind. We were all far too interested in chatting with friends to be looking out. Instead, we took in the handsome men and beautiful ladies around us. And that was just the serving staff—kidding!

Unlike McPhee, I’m not privy to the identity of the chef or the work in the kitchen, or how many departments he (or she) might oversee, or whether this chef works alone. It all goes on behind closed doors.

Wine flowed, red and white, excellent offerings from Jackson-Triggs. The first course arrived. We’d chosen a roasted heirloom beet salad with toasted hazelnut vinaigrette and an intriguing quenelle that turned out to be lime fromage sorbet. Plates cleared, we enjoyed sweet and smoky mustard crusted beef tenderloin, caramelized onion and potato pavé, locally grown organic winter vegetables served with a red wine jus. Tiny edible flowers decorated the plates, perhaps rosemary blossoms. The pavé, layers of butter-soaked wafter thin potatoes, twice baked, was delicious and I’ve promised myself to make it for guests. One more exotic potato dish for Simplifood Too (coming soon—watch this space).

The conversation flowed around us, rising to Shavian heights of wit. Or perhaps it was the wines. Finally, dessert: quintessentially English sticky toffee pudding, filled with an exuberance of dates, drenched in a rosemary caramel sauce with candied ginger ice cream. I loved the idea of making individual puddings in a muffin tin, which I will try to replicate below.

Carriages at 10 read my invitation, for we are much too jolly to make our own way home. Fortunately, in NOTL, nothing is very far away. Out into the starlight and the brisk evening air. And so to bed.

And where, my dear readers, is this amazing dining experience to be had? Sadly, that would be telling, and if everyone goes, the secret would be out and the ambience spoiled. But below I share the recipe for sticky toffee pudding.

STICKY TOFFEE PUDDING

• Servings: 6
• Print

Makes six individual puddings.

Shopping list

Pudding

• 5 oz / 140 g dates, pits removed, roughly chopped (about ¾ cup)
• ½ tsp baking soda
• ¼ cup boiling water
• 4 TBSP / 56 g unsalted butter, room temperature
• 6 TBSP / 84 g light brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 cup / 200 g all purpose flour
• ½ tsp baking powder

Toffee sauce

• ½ cup / 113 g / 1 stick unsalted butter
• 1 cup / 225 g brown sugar
• 4 TBSP / 30 ml whipping (35%) cream
• 2 TBSP / 30 ml molasses
• 2 TBSP / 30ml dark rum (OPTION: brandy or bourbon)

Topping

• Freshly whipped (35%) cream

Preparation and cooking

1. Pudding: Place dates and baking soda in a bowl. Pour boiling water over and ensure they’re submerged. Soak for 10 mins. Drain, reserve ¼ cup liquid, 2 TBSP dates, mix in baking soda.
2. In a large bowl, mix butter and sugar. Use hand mixer on high until light and fluffy, about 1 min. Reduce speed to medium, add egg and continue to mix until combined. With mixer on low, add flour and baking powder and combine.
3. Preheat the oven to 350˚F / 175˚C.
4. Add reserved liquid to dates. Blitz dates using hand blender. Pour dates directly into flour mixture and blend at low speed.
5. Spritz 6-cup muffin tin with vegetable oil spray. Divide reserved chopped dates into 6 portions. Divide the batter evenly and bake for 17-19 mins, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Allow puddings to cool for about 5 mins before turning out onto a rack.
6. Sauce: While the puddings are baking, make the toffee sauce. Combine all ingredients (except liquor) in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, cover and leave alone for 10 mins. Remove from heat, stir in liquor, and allow to cool slightly.
7. Place puddings bottom side up in bowls, while still warm, spoon on sauce, top with a dollop of freshly whipped cream. Serve at once.

Until the new trade paperback revised edition titled Simpifood Too is available in the Fall, the complete compendium of all Nigel’s recipes from the past decade, Simplifood: Amazing food, simply prepared is available as an eBook well priced at 9.99 in any currency. Click on Amazon for Kindle devices, Barnes and Noble for Nook devices, Kobo for Kobo eReaders, and Lulu Publishing for any other formats, including Apple iPad.

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This is Nigel’s 409th blog on Gentleman’s Portion. The SEARCH function at the top works really well if you want to look back and see some of his previous recipes and stories, or check under CATEGORIES.