Quetzal has really changed from our first visit. It’s busy and absolutely buzzing on a Thursday evening, likely thanks to their one Michelin star rating. And they started offering a tasting menu ($125 per person) to really increase the dishes each duo can try. They even have an “off menu” version, where you’re presented with some dishes that aren’t available a la carte or adjusted based on seasonal ingredients. You don’t have to ask me twice; off menu we go.

Note: This post contains the prices for dishes that are available a la carte. Portion sizes will likely be larger than what’s pictured.

Almost every table seemed to order the dry aged amberjack aguachile ($32). It’s certainly stunning with the ruby pink rhubarb juice studded with scallion oil, a mild but refreshing accompaniment to the fish. Having been dried aged, the amberjack was denser but still tender and the dollop of pasilla and chickpea miso gave it a bright pop of flavour. While I could have done without the jicama slice (it’s a bit dry and sucks some of the flavour out of the dish), the garnish does add to the dish’s presentation – just enjoy this separately.

Then things get interesting: we’re asked if we’d like to have a drink with the remaining rhubarb juice. Um, yes! Spooned into shot glasses and mixed with mezcal, the flavour profile completely changes from tart to savoury and spicy. It’s like magic.

Our next dish goes off the menu with a flatiron steak tartare. This needs to get on the menu as it was one of the best tartare I’ve had. Diced beef was mixed with olive, chilis, and something slightly crunchy (fried capers or puffed rice?) creating a wonderful varying bite. But it’s the airy hollandaise crowning the tartare that stole the show, adding a creamy element that’s not unlike aioli but much fresher and lighter.

The following memela is available on their menu, but the tasting gives it a different take. The toasted blue masa tortilla was covered with melted cheese, poblano (?) sauce, mushrooms, and pickled cactus, and a host of other ingredients. Together it created what I’ll describe as an amazing deep dish Mexican pizza, without the excess sauce and breading. One of these with a salad would be a great meal for one.

Who would have thought popcorn (albeit in powdered form) would pair well with Newfoundland scallops ($39)? A meaty sweet scallop, salty butter powder, herby garlic butter, and sprinkling of tangy Tajin created a delicious bite. Like Lays tag line goes… they’re so good, you can’t just have one.

While the hulking bone marrow and wild Argentinian shrimp ($52) looked impressive, it doesn’t work with tortillas – the flat bread doesn’t have the capacity to soak up the oily juices and the marrow was too blubbery to spread on the smooth surface. In the end, you have a slightly oily tortilla with a clump of blubber in the centre.

Still, I followed their instructions to scoop a bit of marrow onto a tortilla, add a piece of beautifully grilled shrimp, and top with a squeeze of lime. It’s edible, but I feel like the shrimp paired with slices of lardo it would work even better. Just make sure to scrape some of the honey glaze from the bone marrow as its burst of smoky sweetness brings the taco to a whole new level.

Every course is accompanied with tortilla, so by this time I’m getting full. Hence, if you’re doing the tasting menu, hold off on finishing all the tortillas at the beginning. Another plate arrives with the grilled hanger steak, and they complement this dish perfectly, so you’ll want the room in your stomach. Slathered with the black garlic mole negro and wrapped around steak, shishito pepper, mushroom, and sprinkled with queso fresco, you have yourself a delicious taco.

Still, if you’re too full, each element tastes great solo. The steak was tender and beautifully cooked. Add some of the earthy and slightly sweet mole negro for a deeper flavour.

Grilled maitake mushrooms are such a treat and Quetzal provides a generous portion alongside oyster mushrooms in the mushroom and shishito ($26). Having developed a crust, the mushrooms take on a meatiness with a creamy spiciness from the poblano crema and ancho sauce.

I’m glad it’s all paired with the Clearwater Farm tomato and cucumber salad ($25) as I really needed something light and refreshing to end the meal. A variety of tomatoes and crispy de-skinned cucumber are tossed with pickled garlic scape, queso fresco, fermented anaheim crema, garlic crisps, and shiso so the salad was anything but boring.

Surprisingly, the coconut nicuatole ($17) was the richer dessert of the two presented. The coconut cream was thickened with masa creating a luscious pudding that resembled tapioca or rice counterparts. I just wish there were more pieces of the compressed pineapple soaked in mezcal to go with each bite as it really jazzed up the nicuatole.

The spiced Mexican chocolate ($16) was airy and almost glided across the tongue. Crispy sponge toffee adds crunch while passionfruit provides freshness. I normally hate chocolate and fruit desserts but didn’t mind this one.

Usually, I don’t like eating at the bar, but scoring a last-minute reservation didn’t leave many options. Luckily, the bar seats were the next best thing to the Chef’s table - the bartenders were so friendly and even educated on the dishes.

Of course, they are even more knowledgeable about mezcal, so if you want to sample this spirit, Quetzal is the place to visit. They have an amazing selection and if you provide a price point, they’ll bring forward some options and describe each one in detail. It’s how we settled on the Colores ($57), after finding out the high-end bottle at $150 per oz was too rich for our blood.

It just seemed appropriate to end with a sip of mezcal. After all, it brings our tasting full circle, having started us off when mixed with the rhubarb juice from the amberjack. 

Read mainstream articles written about And/Ore and their two-in-one concept and stunning décor are well cited characteristics. With that in mind, I’m not going to rehash these details and instead focus on Ore, the restaurant located on the bottom floor of the building.

As you descend by elevator into the cavernous dining room, it gives off a haunting tunnel-like ambiance. It’s here they serve their 8-course tasting menu ($150) with an optional wine pairing ($80) that’s begins with a glass of champagne and ends with a cocktail (in our case, a floral espresso martini).

The starting bites were a hit and a miss. The hit being a crispy and creamy arancini adorned with aioli and truffle shavings that made for an amazing first taste. This was followed by the biggest miss of the evening, a fishy tasting piece of fluke that couldn’t even be saved by the grapefruit segments. I quickly chased this down with the tuille wonton topped with caviar, which would seem inventive if it weren’t for the off-putting taste still lingering in my mouth.

At least the Timbit sized bread was as delicious as it looked: hot, soft, and buttery… three words that all milk bread should aspire to achieve.

Beautifully caramelized, the scallop was just cooked through and sat in a delicious lettuce and leek oil sauce. At first glance, the sheer number of hazelnuts and diced pear seemed excessive, but somehow worked. In fact, for someone who dislikes nuts and fruit on savoury things, I really enjoyed the dish.

Our table unanimously declared the maitake as our favourite item. The mushroom was cooked perfectly taking on a meaty feel. The celeriac base held a hint of curry, but the entire dish mellowed with a splash of vinegar. The only miss was the unfortunate wine pairing, which I can only describe as “salon-like” with its aroma of perming solution and soapy floral taste.

Chef Missy Hui should consider leaning more towards a “vegetable first” menu as she does meatless dishes beautifully. The roasted honeynut squash looked plain but was flavourful in a bright refreshing manner. Who would have known salsa verde could be a great compliment for root vegetables? And I love how she brushed the shiso leaf with egg white, rather than dipping it in tempura, to create a crispy but not oily bite.

The salmon was poached to a medium doneness, so it was juicy and tender. And while I enjoyed the cucumber and green tomato garnishes, I can’t help but feel it was missing something. A grain of some sort, whether it be couscous to keep it light or a risotto to make it hearty would be appreciated.

Generally, I find sorbet palette cleansers to be too sour or sweet. At Ore, their pear sorbet was fantastic with a hint of nuttiness and a cold pop from the semi-frozen green grape. Can I get another one of these with dessert?

Boy did the short rib smell amazing glazed in a lemongrass (?) and soy demi glace. And while the sauce was a tad salty, it did fully permeate the chunk of tender beef. Yet, it was the fluffy smoked potato dumpling that stole the show for me. You can’t go wrong with meat and potatoes.

When I heard their dessert was Black Forest cake, childhood memories of disappointing birthday celebrations flooded my mind. Luckily, Ore’s rendition was good, incorporating a moist chocolate cake and Amarena cherries that had its sweetness balanced with bourbon. Ultimately, it was the dark chocolate ganache that really helped bring it all together… maybe this cake has redeemed itself.

Ore’s petit fours were a welcomed ending. While the rum baba needed more liquor to not taste like a profiterole, I enjoyed the bite along with the soft chewy macaron and micro chocolate truffle.

Sitting in the cave-like environment, I couldn’t help but get sleepy, especially as our meal went past the 3-hour mark. Ore attempted to keep us awake by blasting music, which was too loud for the enclosed low ceiling environment. As much as I enjoyed the unique dining room, increasing the meal’s pace and decreasing the music’s volume are some small changes Ore could implement. 

In a nutshell... 

• Must order: spaghetti and black cod
• Just skip: wild king crab salad 
• Note: DaNico offers a prix fixe menu for $150 that allows diners to choose their three courses

As I recount my latest experience at Alo, I grapple with the final mark: would I still consider them a 9 or a “top pick”? There were dishes that were incredible, but then some that missed the mark. The tasting menu ($225 per person) was off to a shaky start when the canapés arrived.

We’re instructed to eat the four bites in a particular order. The first, an oyster with compressed cantaloupe and Iberico ham oil had a fishy essence without an acidic element (like the traditional mignonette or lemon) to help cut through the strong taste. It also seemed off that it wasn’t ice cold for something that should be served uber fresh. The first bite was a bust.

Slowly, the redemption started with the beautifully presented uni tart, which was made even creamier with a thick crème fraiche on the bottom. While this wasn’t mind-blowing, it was at least not repulsive.

After the fishy oyster I had doubts about the mackerel tart, but this was unfounded as the meaty fish was very clean tasting and well balanced with bright pops of the daintiest tomatoes and fruit. Indeed, there was an ocean-like essence from the caviar, but it wasn’t overpowering.

The canapés ended with a foie gras and strawberry jelly tart that created a sweet and savoury element. This was surprisingly good and wonderfully rich.

It’s unclear if Alo is pandering to Michelin inspectors as the procession of Japanese dishes just seem out of place at a French restaurant. Sure, I can understand if they want to throw in one dish that’s has a Japanese influence, but to feature a handful was just too much.

Moreover, some dishes just can’t live up to what you’d be served during an omakase meal. Chef Patrick Kriss should drop the madai course, a sea bream paired with chili oil, caviar, and kumquat. Like the oyster, it was fishy and warm. Give me this fish cool with freshly grated wasabi and soy sauce any day.

The kinmedai was better, the red snapper was at least cold and refreshing with the oh so finely julienned radish in the centre. The various oils complimented the fish nicely and this was an improvement over the other sashimi course. If Alo must have a sashimi course (why would it), one is enough.

Having a soft spot for chawanmushi I wouldn’t be opposed to this remaining on the menu. The actual steamed egg was hot and silky, but then enhanced with lovely French and Western elements: smooth foie gras tofu cubes, fragrant truffle paste, crunchy radish, sweet corn, and crispy chicken skin. All this amongst a pool of reduced capon broth. What an incredible dish!

At this point, the meal started having an upward trajectory. The chanterelle mushrooms were so meaty and cooked to the point of perfection – no longer raw and spongy but not too wilted either. Paired with spinach, artichoke, and a luscious whipped egg sauce, it was so delicious that I wanted to lick the bowl.

The seared scallop and roasted mussel continued the ascent with its superb execution. The scallop was seared beautifully and super sweet and the mussel so tender ending with a lovely clean finish that it’s unlike any mussel I’ve ever had. Paired with a savoury foam and parsley sauce, these were the perfect seasoning not overshadowing the seafood’s natural flavours.

At the beginning, we were asked if we’d like to substitute the rice dish for foie gras (supplemental $40). Why anyone would want to miss out on the Koshihikari rice with Dungeness crab is beyond me. Koshihikari is a short grain rice that’s cultivated to be used in many dishes, including risotto so that it has that creaminess but also a more distinct grain that Arborio. The risotto was cheesy and savoury with bits of snap pea added to give it a crunchy pop of freshness that was so good that I longed for more. To elevate the dish, thin slices of wagyu beef topped the dish, so that as it melts the fat seeps into the rice. Do not replace this baby.

A boneless lamb chop follows seared to perfection and having a lovely charbroil taste. As you have a cube of the meat with the garnishes, each bite tastes so different – whether it’s the peel tomato, fried shallots, or patty pan squash. Somewhere down the line you sample the the olive stuffed with sausage, which is good but a bit heavy, so I’d recommend saving it for the last bite.

Alas, the meal bell curves with the last savoury dish being mediocre. The striploin was fine, slightly over cooked, but at least having a nice grilled essence. Yet, it’s the miso sauce that really threw me off and added a weird funk to the steak. Perhaps if we upgraded the dry aged angus to the Japanese A5 wagyu (supplemental $90) it would pair better, but as it stood the sauce was a bust. Moreover, the deep-fried eggplant tempura garnish was too seedy and bitter.

The only saving grace was the pain au lait that gets paired with the striploin. It’s just as fluffy and fragrant as I remembered. I absolutely love Alo’s bread, so much so that they even gave us an order to go, what a sweet and unexpected gesture.

Normally, sorbet palette cleansers can be really tart and pungent. Alo tones it down with their take on strawberries and cream where the layer of cream at the bottom helps balance out the frozen Italian wine with strawberries and the champagne foam.

Dessert progresses with a tasty meringue with peach mousse and vanilla cake. Garnished with a verbena lemon sauce the dessert is a nice balance of sweet and sour. After so many dishes, I’m glad it’s a lighter finish that still has a sweetness that satisfies.

It wouldn’t be a French meal without a box of petit fours, presented in a lovely tree box. I love that they made a mini lemon meringue to pay homage to Aloette downstairs but it’s not nearly as good as the sister restaurant as meringue is so small that the bite was fairly sour. The passion fruit caramel was too sticky and the chocolate caramel too sweet. It was the simple strawberry gelee that was just right, enhanced by the fruit’s natural flavours and a great consistency. I felt like Goldilocks going through the petit fours trying to find the perfect bite.

Save room for their canale as it’s a lovely combination of crispy caramelized shell and fluffy moist interior. Consequently, it also paired perfectly with a cappuccino ($6).

The roller coaster food aside, Alo does excel at service. There’s a lovely chill we-don’t-take-ourselves-too-seriously vibe with the 90s rap playing and the entire staff sporting New Balance kicks. Everyone we encountered was so friendly, professional, and knowledgeable that we knew we were in good hands.

Avelo’s 8-course meal ($120) leaves you comfortably full, without sickness, given dishes aren’t overly heavy. Perhaps that’s what I found lacking, the one or two course that simply envelops you in glutinous comfort food. The closest contender was probably the fourth course - a buckwheat gnocchi with fermented porcini sauce – still, the buckwheat gave the gnocchi a nutty fibrous kick and the sauce was more umami than rich. Hardly the sinful plate I was looking for. At least it was flavourful and the chanterelles beautifully sauteed.

The sourdough everything bagel on the bottom of the first course was superb: crusty on the outside and fluffy on the inside. In lieu of cream cheese and lox, Avelo uses kojified carrot and macadamia cheese, which replicates the slight smoky creaminess on the bagel. It’s just an interesting way of starting a tasting menu, maybe Avelo’s version of a bread course?

Having dined at Avelo’s predecessor, Awai, I was praying for the mushroom soup, a heavenly concoction that had even those who detest mushrooms nodding in approval. Sadly, it didn’t make an appearance and the soup featured roasted kabocha squash instead. It’s difficult to make squash soup exciting, something that can so easily be made at home. Avelo tried to enhance its presentation with apple and salsify pieces to decorate the bowl, but they did little to augment the experience as they’re rather similar in texture. The pumpkin dust was a good start, adding a bit of grittiness to the smooth soup, but it really did need something else crispy or chewy (perhaps a puffed tapioca) to balance out all the mushiness.

Interestingly, after a rutabaga is roasted, it gives off a potato-like flavour, except it’s a severely dry spud. The kitchen tried adding mashed cauliflower to create moisture in the dish, but the small dollop was hardly enough. What it really needed was a sauce, something that would add liquid and flavour as the dish was so boring - when you’re serving vegetables flavour is your friend.

Slices of truffle garnished the rutabaga, but its dry texture meant the truffle was wasted. If anything, this prized ingredient would have been better featured with the gnocchi instead.

Their one bite amuse bouche was impressive: a potato galette that’s described as Avelo’s version of cauliflower tots. I’d say it’s more like fried mac ‘n’ cheese except without the pasta. The galette is piping hot and delicious. Still, some of my friends found the horseradish garnish overpowering, adding a sharp tang when the onion base was already good on its own.

Give me another galette in lieu of the celeriac kofta any day. The kofta is just a drier less exciting version of the potato galette. Sure, it was plated prettily with a well roasted parsnip log adorned with flowers but didn’t taste nearly as good.

What does Avelo’s kitchen have against moisture? I can imagine someone at a stove grumbling about never wanting to make a French sauce again. All their dishes are dry and screaming for sauce… like the cranberry bean tempeh with roasted radicchio. The fruity glaze on the tempeh was fine, giving the beany slab an almost Asian sweet and savoury flavour. But then the huge slice of bitter radicchio was such an inappropriate side. If anything, they could have continued with the Asian influences by having the tempeh sit on a bed of soba or slaw, switching out the pickled okra for snow peas for crunch.

After scanning the menu, the dish I most anticipated was the rye berry risotto. Overall, the execution was satisfactory, but the grain could have been cooked longer to allow the exterior to soften; as it stands, its more wild rice than risotto. I did enjoy the mole base (yay, a sauce!) that when mixed with the plain grains gave it a boost of flavours. The crispy crackers were also a nice garnish that contrast textures, and useful for scooping up the rye berry and mole to create a fancy tortilla and salsa.

Avelo presented two different desserts amongst the table and recommended people share with their neighbour. It’s a smart idea to encourage diners to try something different. Initially, I thought the pineapple upside-down cake would be a winner but found the coconut mousse base (not a cake) made the dessert taste more like pineapple pannacotta and lacked the buttery richness I was craving.

While the tonka bean amazake wasn’t my first choice, the hints of cocao nibs gave the gelatin-based dessert an earthy depth. Still, it could be creamier. If Avelo was going to feature two desserts, they should consider making each stand out – two pannacotta-like desserts with different flavours are hardly exciting - I would have much preferred if they switched it up and did a sweet and savoury option. The later being a nut cheese and cracker plate that is also more shareable.  

At least their mignardise was impressive. In lieu of the traditional truffle, Avelo presented their version of a “Ferro Roche”, a silky hazelnut ganache piped into a crispy caramel cone dipped in chocolate. Now this is inventive and fantastic, something the other desserts should aspire to grow into.

Overall, the meal wasn’t bad, it’s just not overly exciting and tastes like a vegan meal – healthy and void of rich elements, which is what you need to counteract course after course of vegetable and grains.

Still, I could probably overlook the blasé food and rate the experience a 6 out of 10 if it weren’t for the service. Maybe we just got someone who was too new that was left on her own. The gentlemen who eventually stepped in to explain the dishes was so passionate and animated that I loved hearing his descriptions of each course… somehow, he made a piece of charred radicchio sound exciting (it’s not). But our main sever just didn’t perform basic things I’d expect from a restaurant:

1) Using proper glassware for wine. When we ordered Prosecco, it wasn’t served with a flute or champagne glass, instead those small 3oz glasses you’d find at a winery tasting. It was a little strange as these hardly bring out the bubbles of the wine, but we used it without complaint.

It was when we switched to a bold red and our server brought another round of these mediocre glasses that my friend stepped in to politely ask if she could bring us the red wine glasses, we clearly saw displayed at the bar instead. Our server’s response, “Oh, I guess you’d prefer something that can let the wine breathe more?” Ding, ding, ding! Yes, and something to allow us to take in the aroma of the wine.

2) Performing basic math to split a bill. I completely understand if a restaurant can’t accommodate bill splitting for large tables, but our group was less than six. Since everyone didn’t partake in the wine equally, we asked if she could split the first bottle amongst the table and the second to the few who drank it.

After making it sound like a HUGE favour, something that could be accommodated this one time as they weren’t busy, the bill was merely split equally in five. C’mon, if it’s dividing by five, I could have done that calculation in three seconds with a phone. After explaining again what we were hoping for (uneven bills given the wine situation), on the second attempt, she simply took both bottles and split it amongst the few.

With this much modern technology and the tasting menu prices being constant, is splitting two bottles of wine differently that difficult? In retrospect, I wish she just said she couldn’t do the math as I could have easily calculated them myself.

To sum the experience up in an equation: boring dry food (6) less lack of basic serving skills (1) = experience at Avelo (5).