Out & About #728 | Stay Sweet, Terroni Price + Bonne Nouvelle

I awoke to the pitter patter of an early Saturday morning. The digits on the clock read "too early for a weekend", thus I returned to a somewhat restless slumber.

​When I was finally awaken by a bright beam in my face, I jumped out of bed instantly. We were about to be late to see Sunday Baking - er, Stay Sweet. It was the duo's final day of operating out of Dessert Lady, and I had been giddy all week. As we neared, I notified the team of my anticipated arrival time, as discussed when the pre-order period had just closed, only to discover that they had sold out of all macarons.

Regardless, we decided to pay them a visit - we were just a few minutes away anyway. One half of the duo recognized me at first glance, then confirmed the dismal news. "Today is only for pre-order pickups." we were informed. Sunday Baking made her appearance shortly afterwards. Words of appreciation were exchanged, and the duo promised that it wasn't a final farewell, but rather a pause while they settle back into their pre-COVID work routines.
"We'll do pop-ups!" were truly reassuring words to hear.

An adorable pouch of meringue cookies were bestowed upon us, despite not having succeeded at making a purchase. Similar to macarons, I have never cared much for meringue-based desserts previously, however Stay Sweet's edition was sturdy and offered a decent bite. Nevertheless on the sugary side, I appreciated their firmer texture and meticulous tinting.

​Lunch reservations had been arranged at the nearby Terroni Price. The plan had been formed following the decision to undertake the downtown drive, and proceeded as such. While the deactivation of traffic signals and active construction site had made spotting the restaurant a tad tricky, minimal vehicle volumes enabled us to switch between lanes easily. We pulled into the Green P lot across the street and traversed across the uneven patches of Price Street.

​A few parties had begun to cluster about the entrance, as entry into the restaurant was staggered. During our brief wait, a screening questionnaire was to be completed; the QR code was pasted on the door for easy access.

​Due to precipitation, our patio reservation had shifted to a narrow booth in an impossibly dim section. Under the request for outdoor dining, we were escorted upwards to the patio, where table selection was between the bar or two strategically placed tables under patio umbrellas. Opting for the latter, we were able to enjoy unobstructed views of Yonge Street, while remaining completely undisturbed by the sight of construction or noise of fellow (indoor) diners.

​Water was served in a glass pitcher, with hot water in accompaniment for customized temperature control. Atop each of the bulb-shaped glasses was a single wedge of lemon, which would infuse the liquid beneath over time.

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The bartender doubled as our server. His attitude was quite pleasant initially. It was unfortunate that attention levels and amicability dwindled as the meal progressed. A birthday notice was omitted, our bill rushed to us at the 90-minute mark, and plates whisked away without warning.
Delivery of drinks, on the other hand, was unthinkably speedy. An Espressocino was delivered within a matter of seconds, a flawless Rosetta adorning its crema canopy. The beans were relayed to be roasted in-house, Rustica with "bitter, chocolatey" notes.
The same would apply to the Fiori di Pero, a seasonal, lime-centric cocktail with copious amounts of ice and indiscernible buzz.

​A bread basket was delivered while in wait of our orders. Well-risen with supple wheat-lined cavities and a sturdy edge, we proceeded to delve into the starter without reservations.

​The meal commenced with the Insalata di Pesche, a refreshing blend of baby arugula, purple cabbage, and Ontario peaches. Candied macadamia nuts contributed a sweet crunch, while proscuitto a delectable savouriness. The sole flaw: a request for vinaigrette to be placed on the side was neglected, leading to slick greens in each mouthful.

Spaghetti in Canna a Mare was a standout main featuring plump pieces of shrimp, scallop, and a sizable portion of shellfish. The tomato-based sauce was lightly spiced, as the menu had indicated, and harnessed a degree of depth not previously found elsewhere. Depicting the sensation poses difficulty, for the sauce merely coated each strand sufficiently, without excess for sampling on its own. Albeit a carb-heavy order, its components were complementary with a feeling of contentment, rather than the dull abundance expected of pasta dishes.

​Priced at market value was the Branzino. Extraordinary was this entrée in regards to gustastory experience: charred to perfection with tender insides akin to steaming, we enjoyed it tremendously and continuously pried for more despite fullness (me). The accompanying arugula and quinoa salad was delightful as well, for the grains were fluffy, veggies crunchy, and greens fresh without excess dressing.

​A Cappuccino was requested towards the latter part of the lunch appointment, followed by a Tiramisu.

Presented in a plump glass container with a side of shovel-like spoons (or spoon-like shovels), we deemed its contents out of alignment with the ten-dollar price tag. Nevertheless, there was enlightenment to be found in the distinctly delineated layers of luscious sabayon, coffee-infused ladyfingers, and unmistakable dusting of bitter cocoa powder.

​Washrooms were found on the upper floor, just a few steps away from the patio door with a several steps separating the accesses. Within the space were individual stalls, marble tabletops, and even a lounge area - inclusive of a sofa and street view! Hand dryers were affixed along the wall, though the facility was also stocked with paper towels as an alternative.

Rainfall continued throughout the duration of our stay, transforming my once-sleek tresses to uncontrollable waves. Hooded jackets were retrieved for ventures along the patio perimeter, from which an unobstructed perspective of midtown Toronto could be seen. The dampness had done double duty by putting a damper on construction activities; the adjacent work zone had halted operations for the day.

Following the arrows on the floor, we exited onto Yonge Street, finding ourselves at the entrance of Nadège. Intrigued, we poked our heads into the shop. Two part-timers awaited us with masked smiles, and later impatient gazes. After much contemplation, we settled on two of their signature alphabet chocolate bars:
Dark with dehydrated jasmine flowers and Milk with Yuzu and Cashews. The detour resulted in a whopping twenty-four-dollar bill and perky magenta paper bag.

Bonne Nouvelle, featured in Sunday Baking's latest video, was the final destination of the day. Absolutely tragic was the trip along one-way streets. Yet, even more tragic were the price tags adorning each of the pastries.

​I settled on an extravagant selection:

1. Mojito Tart
2. Deux Cheese Tart
3. Paris-Toronto
4. Canele Summer Set

Topped with lime pulp, the Mojito Tart was tangy and light. Specks of silver adorned its surface instead of gold, likely to match the cool tones of the dessert. Its base was Rice Krispie-like ring sprayed with spring green cocoa butter. Beneath a  dome of foamy meringue lay layers adopting the same colour scheme as the teardrops on its circumference. The meringue had appeared almost uncooked, but was stable despite delicate. Minty essences were not identified in the dessert, in spite of its name.
The tart was recommended as the shop assistant's personal favourite. It assumed rank as our conclusive pick of the batch, though nonetheless warranted no further revisits.

Marriage of a berry cheesecake and cheese tart would yield the Deux Cheese Tart. Magenta-tinted jam injected a dose of fruitiness to the otherwise rich confectionery. While not exactly innovative, the overall composition proved scrumptious. Pairing alongside a hot beverage is recommended, given its persistent creaminess.

Paris-Toronto was acquired with lofty anticipations, but was regrettably deemed the most dismal of them all. The bottom layer was rigid (albeit crunchy), followed by a stiff slab of chocolate, then a sticky softness of sorts. Excessively sweet with reminders of storebought pecan pie, the concoction failed to live up to its intricate appearance and luxurious price tag. Topping the tacky twirls on its surface were bitter segments of hazelnut peel and untoasted morsels of the nut, both of which lacked in aroma.

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The Canele Summer Set comprised of Lemon Basil, Ispahan, Black Sesame, Peanut Butter Cassis, and Coffee. When asked about flavours, my understanding was that each would be constructed from a different base/batter. It had only occurred to me later that the caneles adopted a standard base formula, but were filled to order based on the range of seasonal availabilities. Amusingly, the croissants were limited to same assortment of fillings.
Sweet, gummy insides with a fine honeycomb structure were observed in their cross-sections; the outsides were initially crunchy, but not unsusceptible to dampness permeating from the fillings. I was quick to conclude them as inferior to Issho, as they were edible without being incredible. The first bite did not beckon for more, while its texture grew denser with each successive chew.

​The Black Sesame creme filling was shockingly smooth, devoid of even the finest grit. At its peak was a sprinkle of toasted black sesame seeds - they offered a nutty fragrance, though not quite nutty enough to encapsulate the entire creation.
Lemon Basil was more sugary than it was tangy, with minimal notes of lemon. Ispahan bore the familiar presence of raspberry, yet was, once again, less than memorable. Coffee was as expected, adopting a dark, roasted profile. Peanut Butter Cassis could simply not be recalled

A decent amount resided in the box for nearly one week. The urge to consume grew weaker with each passing day, and the aftereffects annihilative on the appetite. Between gritted teeth, remnants of pink box tumbled into the trash. We merely could not bring ourselves to undergo the torturous task.

Bonne Nouvelle was also home to madeleines and cookies exceeding three dollars per piece. The sight of flies landing on the uncovered specimens eliminated all desire to engage in purchase; evaluation of the acquired roster affirms ​antipathy for the pastry shop.