Out & About #329 | Planta

Keep an open mind, keep an open mind. I reminded myself again and again.

The menu, as viewed online, was needlessly elaborate for the type of fare being served, complicating basic appetizers with supposedly complex condiments and tacking on price tags sufficient enough to rival that of an upscale diner like Momofuku.
Well, it is Yorkville after all.

Ever since our first encounter at Teara Lab, feedthebear and I have attempted two potential meet-ups in the Markham/Scarborough area, both of which emerged unsuccessful due to schedule and logistics conflicts. For the rare weekday she happened to be unoccupied, we contemplated several spots in the GTA before finally settling for a downtown spot upon her recommendation.

Planta, in all its exposed brick and glass panel glory, can be easily spotted upon exiting Bay station at its west exit on Bay Street. Seldom does the opportunity for me to venture to the luxury retail region of the core arise, and even rarer is the chance for a proper sit-down meal as I'm usually hopping from one spot to another with minimal time to spare.

We arrived shortly before noon to find, in the most literal sense possible, a largely empty restaurant.
The establishment boasted high ceilings (with shrubbery peeking out from allotted rectangular spots), plants of varying sizes in almost every nook and cranny, construction materials ranging from sleek lacquered pillars to the same exposed brick formation used for the exterior, and a mindblowing assortment of geometric light fixtures. The black and white base theme was largely minimal, yet the boxy details and splashes of rose gold added sophistication as well as cohesion.

​Additionally, there was a private party room located on the ground floor, separated by sliding doors for added intimacy. The ultimate level of exclusivity was reserved for the upper level dining room - it was half the size of that of the first floor but thrice as intimating in terms of aura, emitting a forceful "You don't belong here" vibe.

Interior design was phenomenal to say in the least - even the washroom stall doors featured rose gold locks! The musty-hued seats could have undergone some degree of hygiene refreshing though.

​We were able to choose a rather quiet table near the tall window panes before the tumultuous lunch rush, and were soon provided menus by the raglan top-clad waitress. She presented us with two options for aqua replenishment: cold tap water infused with lemon and cucumber or bottled water for an additional charge. The former choice was poured into handle-less glass mugs with a textured bubble surface.

I had already reviewed the generic lunch menu in its digital form prior to our arrival, though hadn't been particularly keen on any of their offerings. While exclusive to the dine-in visit, the monthly special and drink menus placed before us did not assist in the decision-making process either.

Before we realized, the atmosphere had become a tad rowdy with lady lunch-goers, making it increasingly urgent to draw to a conclusion.
After much debate (and Insta-research), the Beet & Carrot Tartare, Peas & Rice, Beauty and the Beet were requested. My utterance of the side dish had earned me a subtle eyebrow raise and change of tone, but I wasn't about to doubt my choice until witnessing the dish.

​Beauty and the Beet arrived well-chilled in a lovely, coconut-flake-rimmed cocktail glass and with an unmistakable magenta hue. The vibrancy of the shade was well juxtaposed with a sprinkle of toasted coconut flakes and simple black straw.
While I cannot recall the exact components of the beverage, I recall the inclusion of Planta juice, a housemade cold-pressed juice of beets and mint. The first sip was an overwhelming hit of mouthwash-strength mint.

"This taste is all too familiar" I thought, "Ah, it's toothpaste!"

Beet juice was plenty, but not as abundant as crushed ice. For every sip of flesh-staining liquid, there were three solid spoonfuls of ice. It didn't take me long to discover that eleven dollars had brought me a cup of ice, some mouthwash-like concoction, and a frail amount of discernible gin. Quite a shame really - the coconut flakes were fragrant, despite the fact that they contributed absolutely no impact to the beverage.

​The Beet & Carrot Tartare was the second to arrive. Its multi-toned appearance was reflective of its description: a layered mound of plant-based ingredients topped with buttery smooth avocado (that was further enhanced with a splash of olive oil) and generous sprinkle of tortilla chip dust.

Between the julienned beets and carrots lay sweet marinated mushrooms, lime-enhanced guacamole, and a speckled blend of red and white quinoa. A side of crispy taro chips accompanied the dish.

My initial perception of the dish was a colourful but bland mix of vegetables. However, in actualization, the result was a silky smooth, well-seasoned slice of not-so-compact tartare. Individual flavours of the layers were difficult to distinguish and decipher, but amidst the consolidated medley of sweet, savoury, and sour proved to be both satisfying and versatile in terms of texture of flavour. Eaten in conjunction with taro chips, the dish provided a refreshing, upgraded twist on the well-loved guacamole and nachos combo.
Though, it should be noted that the item leans more towards a "quinoa and avocado" tartare with added toppings as opposed to its original name. Tortilla chip dust was also a rather economic choice for the associated cost of $19.00.

​A side of Peas & Rice was delivered in a medium-sized shallow bowl with a measly dash of thyme. Walking the fine border between packaged instant barley (think packaged Korean rice bowls) and risotto, each spoonful packed a carby punch of unidentifiable seasoning. The coarseness of barley remained, with each grain enveloped in a smooth, savoury coating that neither reminscent of Mediterrean spices nor coconut milk.
For $6.35, I hadn't been anticipating a platter of gold, but sweet red bell peppers ("pimento"), kidney beans, and mushy sweet potato-like "Caribbean pumpkin" definitely do not rank high in terms of value.

​Indeed, the flavours experienced at Planta were unique, but nothing amongst our selection one would not be able to recreate at home with a basic collection of vegetables and a little intuition.

​The concept caters towards lovers of vegetarian and vegan cuisine, with an added dose of exclusivity and heavily marked up prices. Service is a few (indefinite) notches short of friendly and, put simply, rather blunt as well. An immaculate interior design induces a sense of tranquility and comfort, though it simply cannot compensate for the lack in quality, quantity, and value in all other aspects.

Perhaps I'm not just not one to comprehend the merit of eating with the force of nature, which is why I'll happily plant my feet (and wallet) elsewhere.

---