Vol. 13 No. 44 • July 29 - August 4, 2010 THE TRI-CITIES' WEEKLY ALTERNATIVE- ONLINE EDITION


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THE LAST SUPPER AT VERSES



by Denise De La Franier
November 4 —10, 2004
Verses Restaurant 182 Victoria St N. Kitchener 744–0144 Tues–Sat:11:30am–2:30pm, 5–9:30pm 9 out of 10 When I set foot inside Verses Restaurant last Friday night, I was relieved that I wore my Sunday best. Still, I wasn’t exactly prepared for the level of formality we encountered inside this former church. I have to confess that I had a difficult time keeping my musings on the potentially controversial surroundings separate from my opinion on the quality of the service and the food. The New Apostolic Church was built in 1946, and purchased last year by Brett Shantz and Debbie McFadden who decided to maintain the original feel. The exterior looks pretty much unchanged and the inside still exudes an atmosphere of worship. I could write quite the rant on the broader social and religious implications of this, but really, it all comes down to the food. That said, I’d still like to describe the decor, which I found beautiful, if unsettling — I spent much of the evening watching the all–seeing eye that was watching me back. The place seems dusky and hushed upon entry, and there are imposing, colourful Lamb of God stained glass windows situated above the red–carpeted area where the alter once stood. Along the side walls is arch–shaped stained glass in a spectacular blue and green diamond pattern. There are dark hardwood floors, regal, high–backed chairs in red velvet, and the tables are draped in crisp off–white linens. The menu is filled with obscure–sounding delights, like Lobster Roulade, Foie Gras, Guinea Hen, and Osso Bucco. Prices are significant: starters range in price from $7 to $21, and entrees from $29 to $41, so you’ll want to budget if you’re planning to visit. We nibbled on a selection of different breads while waiting for our appetizers. My wild mushroom soup ($7) was garnished with a thin slice of “potato tuile” and “chive foam.” It had a light creamy base and was loaded with mushrooms that thankfully didn’t taste too woodsy. My mate’s baby spinach salad ($9) was superb, with whole leaves tossed in a buttermilk sun dried tomato dressing, stacked atop three generous, log–shaped portions of local goat cheese, and sprinkled with Parma proscuitto. For mains, I chose the Scottish Salmon ($29), a “nori wrapped pan–seared fillet served with jasmine rice, sauteed baby bok choy and oyster mushrooms with wasabi paint and a honey coriander glaze.” My mate ordered the hemp and pistachio encrusted Pork Tenderloin ($29), which was served with “potato dumpling, double smoked bacon braised Brussels sprouts and an apple birch syrup demi glaze.” Each dish had a stunning presentation and heavenly, melt–in–your–mouth flavours. Every now and again, it’s nice to dine like a deity. For dessert, we shared Chocolate Molten Cake ($9). On one side of the plate there was a small scoop of chestnut honey ice cream resting on a disk of cake and garnished with a wafer of drizzle chocolate. On the other was a small, hollowed out serving of bittersweet cake filled with a warm, rich, chocolaty valrhona center and dusted with confectioner’s sugar. If there is a God, this is what she’d eat. And just in case we hadn’t had enough chocolate, two minted chocolate truffles arrived a bit later along with the hefty tab. Suddenly, a 15 per cent tip equalled half a tank of gas. The service throughout the meal was very attentive and very formal. The half dozen uniformed servers watched over our table like guardian angels, periodically topping off our water glasses, removing the unneeded silverware, and generally assuring our complete satisfaction. My companion and I joked about how wily it would be if our bill arrived in a collection basket — it didn’t — and agreed this was not the type of place where we’d be inclined to hang around for after dinner drinks. I think I would have felt at ease if the atmosphere had been more restaurant–y and less churchy. But on the basis of the food alone, I think I’d die satisfied if this were my last supper.
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