An Ottawa Awakening | DAY 1: (Pt 2) Das Lokal + ByWard Market By Night

Dated: August 30, 2019

Read Part 1 HERE !

One of the most challenging aspects of planning the long weekend getaway was the hunt for unique dining destinations. An all-too-common situation is finding an excess of POIs, then conjuring up routes to hit them all. It was the opposite in the case of Ottawa.

​There weren't many spots that had spoken to me amidst the pre-departure online research portion of the trip, despite our primary area of focus being the downtown neighbourhood of ByWard. The sun was rapidly making its descent once we spilled onto the mural-decked streets of the neighbourhood, and our closest options (from the pre-determined map) were either Jackson or Das Lokal. Since Jackson was renowned not for dinner, but rather brunch, I voted in favour of the closer bistro.

​The dining room had reached capacity on that Friday evening, so the hostess offered us seats at the bar or on the patio. Given the dim conditions of the much louder interior, there were no issues with hopping onto one of the patio tables, especially with its perimeter nicely lined with strings of bulb lights and leafy shrubbery. Despite being roadside, it was a refreshing change from the cigarette and pot fumes back home. The interior possessed an upscale, modern vibe not dissimilar to popular hidden bars around Toronto.

​We seated ourselves at one of the many raised tables by the entrance, one that coincidentally, and inappropriately, happened to be positioned above two uneven concrete slabs (meaning that chair legs had been trimmed to fit the grade difference). The hostess, who also adopted the secondary role of a waitress, examined us with a discerning look as she placed the single sheet menus before us. It was an annoyed almost-glare, as if we appeared to be the types of people to take one look and storm off without placing a single order.
She "warmed" up, if I can depict the progression as so, over the duration of the evening though, with her talktativeness as an indication of the mood change.

​< Pictured above and below: Market Soup, Scallops, and Beef Short Rib >

The restaurant's dinner selection was straightforward, with edibles all listed on a single sheet and drinkables (cocktails, wine, beer, etc.) separately pinned to a clipboard. For an eatery with a relatively casual atmosphere, its prices veered into fine dining territory. Appetizers ranged between ten to twenty-three dollars, while Mains were upwards of twenty-four. Very few greens were spotted and swaps were not permitted.

View the full album HERE !

​Delivered after ordering was a basket of sourdough bread with whipped butter with chives. Although the visual presence was prominent, there was but even a faint hint of the herb in the butter.

​Out of concern for economics, I took to two appetizers instead of one entrée. The Market Soup was a Tomato Basil with Parmesan and fried shallots. Plentiful in portion and divine in its take on blended tomatoes, the tangy yet creamy mixture exhibited an innovative approach to soups. The daily special was filling, and bits of fried shallot provided a savoury accent.
Not one to get soups, this was an interesting combination. They generally tend to taste too runny - or ketchup-like in the case of tomato-based broths - for my preferences, so this was a pleasant surprise. I later ended up polishing off the bowl albeit extreme fullness.

​With a soup that had gained general consensus as being better than expected, one would also expect the Scallops to outshine our predicament. Another table had requested the dish some twenty minutes before us, so our pick couldn't have been far off the grid of gustatory greatness.
It was possible that the scallops had been left to sit for a while prior to serving, for the plate was shiny with moisture when it arrived. Juices naturally expelled from the molluscs began to mix with the bacon and chive cream, which then caused a trickle of magenta to escape the purple cabbage slaw.

Seared on the outside and supple on the inside, the dish's main feature was delicious. They hadn't attained highly-coveted Digby status, but they weren't your typical scallop either. Supposedly, the selection had hailed from Québec.

Dampness aside, the citrus beet puree was stellar: creamy and zesty in all the right departments. The cabbage slaw grew tiring over time due to the heavy use of dill; it was too herby with minimal depth, lending the impression of blatant repetition after a few bites. The bacon and chive cream paired well at first, but also gradually grew heavier to taste with each successive spoonful.

​Last to appear was the Beef Short Rib - the unapologetic star of the show. Its flavours meshed together exceptionally - equally as diverse as the spectrum of hues sported by the white ceramic dish on which it was plated. The short rib bites resembled cubed beef brisket, but possessed a texture totally unforeseeable to even the most well-versed of brisket lovers. A sturdy exterior, extreme tenderness, and robust configuration of flavours joined forces to yield the ultimate of brisket dishes.
One could spear it effortlessly with a fork, as if piercing through semi-firm tofu. Even the flaky/stringy bits of beef embodied unfathomable depth. The same citrus beet paste was used to garnish, though no complaints were uttered.

​Dishes are not meant to be shared, with the exception of the Charcuterie board, which featured anything from salami to gouda. Besides the definitive individual plating, the dishes themselves were difficult to slide across the table.

Unisex bathroom stalls were located within the restaurant building. The spaces were a tad narrow but nonetheless clean and well-stocked with necessary toiletries; bunches of dried lavender were a nice visual touch, even if not much fragrance could be perceived.

​Even though didn't see waitress for most of the meal, service was prompt when we did manage to catch her sauntering by. Towards the termination of our meal, she informed us that the dishes were German-inspired, though not necessarily originating from the European country itself.

We departed from the local eatery after sundown, trekking south to the tourist district under the yellowy glow of the streetlights. Das Lokal had rendered us extremely satisfied, but also extremely parched. One of the aims of our post-supper stroll was to acquire some form of hydration. Along the way, we got distracted. Maybe it was the crowds, and maybe it was the streets that really came alive with lighting.

We chanced across a cute boutique, in it spotting a bright orange fly swatter. At the other end of the handle was none other than the orange oompa-loompah himself, Mr. Trump.

​Along Sussex Drive were a handful of retailers that were wrapping up operations for the day. I scored some discounted accessory pieces, including a graceful pair of blossom earrings from The Zone.
Nearby was a gothic-themed barber shop that, amusingly, featured a wooden Cameron's Brewing placard.

Majority of the stalls in ByWard Market had closed; others such as pubs, gelato parlours, and dessert shops remained open until the late evening hours.
We popped into quelque chose, a super cute macaron store that I noted to revisit at a less satiated point in the future.

An OTTAWA sign was present for photo-taking in ByWard Market, much like the Toronto Sign at Nathan Phillips Square. There, tourists had gathered for their photos in a not-so-single-file arrangement, with locals patiently assisted them in the process. Not a single person battled for their photo-taking opportunity, and instead waited for their turn for an unobstructed view of the sign - a true show of Canadian politeness!

​Nearing the vendors we had passed on our way to dinner, a man muttered a muffled greeting towards us as our paths crossed underneath a scaffolding. It was a brief encounter in the dark, but I could clearly hear that unwelcome phrase - "Ni hao". I didn't think much of it, though the subsequent days in the city will tell the entire tale.

​Though most retail stores had closed, a few souvenir shops remained in operation until 9pm. The doors to Rideau Centre remained open though most stores had closed for the day. The mall operated in a similar fashion to Eaton Centre: it was a substantial, cross-border bus terminal that saw many police officers on duty. The area was flooded with Hamilton-style hoodlums and the smell of a certain herb.

​Our final stop was The Crazy Moose - your stereotypical Canadian souvenir shop that resides in nearly every capital city.

​Maybe it was my accent from the "English" side of the province, but it took the cashier three tries before grasping my complimenting her glittery eyeliner.

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