Foodservice and Hospitality
February 2007

Franchise Report 2007: Chef’s Corner

King David
Lee’s Splendido makes Good near the student ghetto

By Iris Benaroia

When they wheel out the trolley carrying scales on which to measure the pricey white truffles to be shaved over your octopus risotto, you know this is serious dining. This is the case at Splendido, which, despite its proximity to the University of Toronto and its students with their requisite anemic wallets, has survived on Harbord Street since 1990 – proof that a good kitchen can thrive in the unlikeliest location.

Splendido was taken over by Yannick Bigourdan and David Lee in September 2001 with the purpose of reviving the Frenchy quotient. Tables are spread out in the ample 60-seat dining room, so eavesdropping is out of the question (there’s also a 32-seat room for private parties). An exceptional wine list – famous among the cognoscenti – is as fat as novella with such rare finds as the Château Pétrus 1982 and Herimitage La Chapelle Jaboulet 1990. Service here is butler precise, without seeming silly. The staff, won’t, for instance, scurry to refill your water glass after the tiniest of sips.

Lee, 36, is “le chef executif,” where strictly French cuisine is lovingly fondled over so the presentation is gorgeous, yet simple in terms of ingredients. “I have nothing against fusion,” says Lee, “I just want the flavours to speak for themselves. If you’re eating lamb you should know it’s lamb.”

And if you’re braising your butt off in this perfectionist’s kitchen, you had better know where the ingredients are from. When asked about the octopus’ origin, for instance, Lee unflinchingly launches into its history: “It’s Tunisian and was cooked sous vide for 12 hours – a long, long time to retain the moisture” ($98, part of a table d’hôte). Along with the package comes the lamb – moist mean snoozing in a puddle of pomegranate. “The lamb is purebred Dorset from Cumbrae. The bloodline is so clean. Steve Alexander (from Cumbrae) has incredible lamb and pork.”

Lee is a fan of game. In England, where he’s from, wild meats are common. “A hunter would knock on your door and say, ‘I’ve got 10 pheasants. Want one?’ But in Canada we’re conservative,” he says, sighing. “Oh, to be able to serve grouse in this country.” (It’s forbidden here since it’s too wild.)

Lee is a third-generation chef. His Beijing-born grandfather, who moved to the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean, was terrifically important: he was the first person to brew tea there. “Every summer my grandfather used to grind roughly 500 kg of red chilies with a 19th-century stone mill to be used for chili sauce, which he sold to the locals.” And lee’s dad owned a pub there. Lee remembers him cleaning and drying shark fins for Chinese New Year dinner. But it’s lee’s trips to Rome that make him retreat into nostalgic reverie. “When I was 17 we visited my aunt – a nun – and we made fresh pasta right in the convent. I’ll never forget that.” Sounds like a religious experience. Good food is always like that.