Two words:  Michael Motamedi (co-owner).  I wouldn’t hate his face as much if he wasn’t so vocal about how good looking he thinks he is.  Other than that, it’s a nice place.  There’s a bar upstairs with a few tables, which is where we sat as the band re.verse (a.k.a. the reason why we were there) was playing up there.  The downstairs is more of the dining area, cool and dark like any other basement setup.


Our servers were really enthusiastic about our food.  Good for them for supporting their product, but honestly, most of it was just ok.  They raved about the duck raviolo which was cold when it got to the table, and even if it was warm, it did not live up to the hype.  We were told they had one rooster left, so we ordered the buttermilk fried rooster immediately (we would have ordered it regardless), and that too was just ok.  I tried the lamb brains because I’ve always wanted to try them…and I would put them in the same box as I put sweetbreads in terms of taste and texture.  Not  a fan.  The dishes I liked most were the bone marrow (I mean, it would be hard to completely screw that one up), tomahawk chop (was juicy, flavourful and perfectly cooked) and the foie gras ice cream waffle — why aren’t more foods topped with shaved foie gras?!


Overall, the dishes are well plated, surprisingly not utilizing the negative space aesthetic of which Mr. Motamedi is very fond. The most thought-provoking plate (and perhaps gag-reflex-triggering, for some) is the rooster. The whole bird is deep fried and presented with a knife stabbed in his chest, as if the poor guy hasn’t been through enough. It was hard to look him in the eye as we savagely ripped his head off. The H.K. chicken leg (don’t let the name or description of the dish deceive you) also includes a pair of deep fried chicken feet — someone please tell me how to eat these properly because I must not know how…where the meat at?!


Not only do I think  this resto is overhyped, I think it’s overpriced for the portion and taste of most of the dishes, especially when compared to similar restaurants. It could be that I just don’t have a palate for Italian food.  One of Parcae’s chefs is from Buca, and I didn’t fancy that place either (not that the food was bad…I just wasn’t blown away like the rest of the world seems to be).


As I mentioned earlier, the servers are very supportive of the menu, and are quick to make suggestions. They graciously moved us from the basement to the upstairs bar when we realized the band would be playing upstairs. The bartender wasn’t much help though. When the drink I wanted wasn’t available (they ran out of yuzu juice), she had no suggestions to offer and gave me stankface when I ended up ordering a vodka water. Instead of turning her nose up at me, she could have used that energy to make me a surprise cocktail…party pooper.



348 Adelaide Street West, Toronto, ON M5V 1R7


Monday – Thursday:  5:00 PM – 12:00 AM
Friday – Saturday:  5:00 PM – 2:00 AM




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