Out & About #852 | Rogues Restaurant

Continuing with the Halloweekend celebrations was dinner at Rouges.

​The booking had been made a few weeks prior, after evaluating several contenders for Italian cuisine in the GTA.

​Another relatively close, longstanding local spot, I had yet to visit despite my numerous years of identifying as "Sauga born and bred". Frankly, I can't recall a time I had ventured into its housing plaza since the odd stopover at The Apricot Tree Cafe.

​The restaurant was utterly empty besides a lone table that hosted the chef and a lady outfitted in a grey blazer and spectacles. It would appear that the pre-Halloween rush had vacated the dining floor, for the hostess informed us of bustling conditions just the previous evening.

​Drink orders were taken by our suspender-donning server, and a bread basket with piped butter was provided shortly afterwards. In response to requests for hot water, one set of wine glasses were removed from the table. The latter set was collected upon confirmation that we would not be consuming wine.
Brought to us instead were individual platters bearing two wedges of lemon and a ceramic teapot and cup duo. The lemon had, thankfully, been placed adjacent to the cup rather than positioned on its rim. Shallow slits in the wedges often lead to eventual plummeting of the wedge into the water, releasing an irrefutable bitterness from the rind.

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​With black cloth napkins laid on our laps, we each retrieved a thick slice of bread and began smearing a generous portion of butter on its porous - yet sturdy - surface. The first bite was met with slight resistance: an initial unyielding in its mildly crunchy crust, followed by eventual submission - teeth sinking into its soft centre. In the meantime, the menu was browsed for items of interest.

Just as we had completed the preliminary review, our server returned to inform us of daily specials. The roster spanned a Lobster Bisque as the Soup of the Day, Mahi Mahi as the Daily Catch, and Grilled Octopus as the off-the-menu starter option.

​After much consideration, we opted for two appetizers to share: Grilled Octopus and Shrimp Rogues.

​Served on a relatively matte, slate-like surface, the Grilled Octopus included two thoroughly charred legs and one smaller leg atop a bed of curried chickpeas. Lightly dressed tomato bits, microgreens, and a swipe of eggplant ragù complemented the dish's overall colour palette.

The octopus was lean, unlike those from 7 Enoteca, yet retained its tenderness within a smoky, gratifying exterior. The segments had been charred to absolute perfection, its ends brittle but avoiding bitterness. Curried chickpeas received a lukewarm response, for we weren't too keen on its spice blend. That said, they had been cooked to evoke a subtle crunch and paired well with the freshness of the undressed greens. Textured and bold was the eggplant ragù, however I wouldn't have been able to decipher its composition had I not been informed of the primary constituent.

​Shrimp Rogues was a fixed item on the menu, and for good reason. While we had questioned the presentation at first, given its contrast to the Grilled Octopus, the dish soon presented itself as the more well-rounded of the two. Sliced lengthwise from the head, the shrimp was encouraged to curl when cooked, enabling greater surface area to be attained. The decision had been executed in good judgement, for each forkful would comprise of an even distribution of protein and sauce. The pool of brandy tomato sauce in which the pieces rested was creamy, yet retained a barely discernible acidic component. Fragrant was the addition of green onion. As our server had noted, the sauce was "not spicy, but flavourful". Furthermore, it had thickened not from the incorporation of starch, but reduction to ensure potency.

​Entrées would be embraced in the forms of Beef Tenderloin and Salmon.

"How would you like your salmon done?" was an inquiry posed to me for the first time.
Wide-eyed with wonder, I replied, "How do you recommend it?"
Our server relayed "Medium" as the proposed degree of doneness, where its centre would radiate traces of pink. The standard level, he clarified for contrast, was a "Medium Well", in which the flesh would emerge a paler pink.
I opted for the restaurant's recommendation, for I had no qualms that the team would succeed in striking the fine balance between "supple" and "cooked".

​The fillet had been depicted as a specimen adorned with crispy skin, and it was, very much so. Wispy thin but shockingly salty, the Salmon was crisp on its surface and unthinkably tender within. Beyond the skin, though, its other three surfaces were merely dry to touch, offering less of a textural contrast than Jake's.

Sides consisted of beets sliced in the style of fries, potatoes, and confit tomatoes. A few pitted olives were also included into the mix. All elements resided on top a sheer yellow liquid, known as lemon balm butter. I found enjoyment in the tomatoes, which exuded sweet, refreshing properties beneath a delicate, wrinkly surface, as well as the subtle edge of the red and golden beets. The potato chunks, while fork-tender and crisp at its edges, were tremendously salty; the olives did not assist in neutralizing this. Lemon butter, while intended as a zing-filled addition, supplied glossiness without much acidity to cut the grease. The overall profile was immensely flavourful, but also quite heavy.

​Beef Tenderloin was requested to a Medium-Medium Well doneness. The 8 oz. round was accompanied by an identical lineup of sliced beets and potatoes, but matched with a gravy-hued peppercorn sauce and poker chip-sized portion of café de Paris butter. The pale yellow coin exhibited herby specks and remained intact for the duration of meal, but melted when subject to direct contact with heat. The sauce, infused with plentiful peppercorns, inducing coughing from its unexpected pepperiness.

A faint trace of pink was found in the Beef Tenderloin's cross-section. The meat was exceptionally tender and beefy in both aroma and taste - a term I utilize to differentiate depth from the veiny likes of discount grocery store cuts.

​Dessert was complimentary: a single square of Tiramisu and barely stabilized whipped cream. A single blueberry, raspberry, and half strawberry were nestled about the Crayola-marked plate.

​It was fairly airy, with layers of ladyfinger so moist it was reminiscent of syrup-soaked sponge. The cream cheese layer was disproportionate to the ratio of cake, though there were no complaints in regards to this. Content from the two preceding courses, we enjoyed the cake as a light finish to the meal.

​Being the only occupants of the restaurant, I had anticipated service levels and food quality to reside at the extreme ends of the spectrum. It is with much glee that I report back with stellar sustenance and prompt, knowledgeable service.
Bathroom stalls were also observed to be pristine during the visit.

​For an upscale experience close to home, I wouldn't hesitate to nominate Rogues again. Exemplary was their execution of dining as an event. From timely delivery of meals, regular check-ins, and culinary expertise, it suffices to say that the evening was enjoyed, and relished.