Our culture's nascent obsession with food is a funny little phenomenon. Not too many years ago, one would be considered quite an eccentric for knowing the difference between a sous-vide and a ceviche or that a terrine has absolutely nothing in common with a tajine. For whatever reason though, our cultures epicurean underbelly has been exposed and a sort of food mania has taken over the western world. With this has come a commercial explosion of all things food. One area in particular that has caught my interest is the aptly named ‘fine foods store’ industry. These little boutique establishments are easily recognizable by their upscale yet homely appearance meant to give the patron the impression that they are experiencing the bucolic splendor of a bona-fide cottage industry but without being subjected to the rural milieu that the affluent urbanite would otherwise look upon with contempt. They generally pride themselves in being ‘local’. Every overpriced jar of jam or container of soup will have the artisan’s hand-written initials on it and the merchant behind the counter will likely be anxious to dive into whatever pre-scripted back story he’s concocted about the serendipitous circumstances that brought him to find this home-made pesto to end all home-made pestos. They are pretentious, egregiously priced and obnoxiously fabulous.
It goes without saying that I love these kinds of stores and an old faithful just popped up right outside our front door. Petite Thuet already has a very successful incarnation in the heart of Rosedale but this newly opened spot at Yonge and King is primed to take the coveted downtown lunch crowd by storm. I went for the first time just the other day and happened upon their $11 sandwich and salad ‘special’. They offer a range of other prepared take-away style options but, being a devote lover of all things bread, I had to stay true to what I know best. I choose the lobster on a roll with a beet salad and, with great restraint, exited the store without loading my pockets with (and emptying my wallet on) pre-packaged sopressata and foie gras. Once back to my desk, I took that memorable first bite. The roll was so fresh and buttery it was almost desert-like in its mouth feel. I was immediately filled with that wonderful feeling of guilt that seems to take hold when you know the thing your eating tastes far too good not to be doing irreparable damage to your cardiovascular system. The lobster filling was creamy and flavorful but it could have been a plain mayonnaise sandwich for all I cared. The bread was all that mattered to me. As expected, the beet salad was not much more than advertised (in fact, I found the dressing a little on the acidic side) but the roll made it all worth it. Next time I go into Petite Thuet, I’m going to ask the nice fellow behind the counter about the bread and maybe inquire as to whether he’s stumbled across some nice stinky cheese to go with it. Maybe he’s recently been to the eastern townships of Quebec and met some cheese maker down on his luck but with an uncanny eye for fermentation. Maybe he’s a cheese maker himself. Whatever the case may be, I’m sure he’ll undoubtedly have lots to say and, quite frankly, I’ll be all ears.
Fantastic write-up! I too have visited this new place and have enjoyed the pastries as much as the sandwiches. Love the blog.
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