“This is it?”
“I’ve driven down this street hundreds of times and have never noticed it before!”

The Golden Bird (10544 97 Street) features a storefront so aged that it literally blends with its surroundings, resembling one of those sad ghosts of a business that reflects only a past of prosperity. Of course, even if the exterior didn’t suffer from neglect, the surrounding block of merchants would make it difficult to maintain the sheen expected of a restaurant with a name that conjures up images of phoenixes in flight. Still, the reputation of The Golden Bird precedes itself; coworkers of both Dickson and I have personally recommended their brand of Vietnamese and Chinese cuisine to us.

On Thursday, we made our way to Chinatown, found some parking at the rear of the building, and walked inside. As my colleague had warned me, the interior was in serious need of a Restaurant Makeover. I didn’t mind their penchant for outdated and cheap art (Kim Andersen prints), but I do think that their furniture could use a major overhaul. Dirty from years of use, the chairs were coated with grime. The tables were topped with glass, and underneath, as custom with many ethnic eateries, were copies of outdated reviews from local news media. The articles indicated The Golden Bird does most of its business at lunch (both takeout and dining in), which seemed to be true, as the restaurant had just two patrons as we sat down. But through the course of our meal, other tables filled up with families, groups of friends, and couples, most of them appearing to be regulars.

The menu featured standard Vietnamese and Chinese fare (and interestingly named dishes, such as the 5 Colour on Rice or Vermicelli), but as Dickson and I are both pho enthusiasts, we jumped straight to the noodle soup section. My decision was an easy one – I always opt for the bowl featuring medium rare sliced beef ($7.50), while Dickson typically selects whatever the house special is. In this case, it was the Golden Bird Beef Noodle Soup ($8.50), with all kinds of meat but no egg. For comparison purposes, we also added an order of green onion cakes ($3.95).

Asian restaurants are known for two things: cheap eats and quick kitchen-to-table service. The Golden Bird was no different. Our green onion cakes arrived promptly, still glistening from their deep-fried treatment. I found the cake itself to be quite doughy, and needing just a tad more salt, but they were still a satisfying and promising start to our meal.

Our noodle soup bowls arrived even before we had a chance to finish our appetizer, steaming hot and inviting on a winter’s night. Shredded cilantro, green onion slices and slivers of red onions floated on top in a lovely medley of fragrance and flavour. I was a tad disappointed in the small quantity and toughness of the meat, but the broth, savoury and coming perilously close to matching Pagolac’s perfection, made up for it somewhat.

Neither Dickson nor I were willing to concede the southside Pagolac’s pho crown, but we do believe that The Golden Bird will provide a tasty and pleasing alternative to pho lovers in the downtown core.

Mack suffers from an affliction I’ve termed CAD, or Coupon Aversion Disorder. The idea of saving a couple of bucks is usually enough to entice the would-be diner, but with Mack, the opposite effect is true. So count me as shocked when he took me up on a (God forbid) 2-for-1 offer at the newest franchise to shack up on Bourbon Street in West Edmonton Mall – Mr. Mike’s Steakhouse & Bar (1647, 8882 170 Street).

Open since June, the only thing I had heard about the restaurant was that a decent, reasonably priced meal could be had there, courtesy of James. A quick once-over of the online menu revealed no surprises – the typical mix of share-plate appetizers, burgers, one-off pastas and stir-fry bowls, and of course, steak. Prices, as we would discover, are less than those found at The Keg.

Mr. Mike’s doesn’t take reservations, but early on a Tuesday evening, pre-booking wasn’t necessary. I was promptly seated in the small, dim lounge near the front of the restaurant, and as I waited for Mack, surveyed the decor. Besides a decorative Native carving of some sort, I couldn’t figure out what the slogan, “It’s a West Coast Thing!” was supposed to mean. Based on our seating arrangement, on IKEA-esque chairs more suited for a sitting room than a dining area, and a sectional couch along one wall (pity the poor soul who has to eat meat bending over a low table), I figured those on the coast just don’t know how to use space wisely and practically. That said, we could have requested a booth in the proper dining room, which featured a rather lovely bar and a high ceiling. But with the onslaught of food we were about to receive, in the end, it didn’t matter where we were seated.

Mack arrived shortly after, and I convinced him, as we perused the menu, to come over to the dark side of the great coupon divide. Thus, we both ordered steaks: he the 9oz. New York, supersized into a Classic Combo ($26.99) which included a Caesar salad, sauteed mushrooms, and starch in the form of fries, and I the 6oz Filet Mignon, served with a side of roasted garlic red-skin mashed potatoes ($25.99). We also requested a plate of Calamari ($8.99) to start.

Our server was nice, albeit perhaps not genuinely so. I’m almost certain she is very good at her job, but on that night, she had a shadow of a trainee, which can throw off the best of us. Thus, she ended up forgetting about our appetizer order, and made it up to us by offering the calamari on the house. As with most things fried, I enjoyed the crunchy little morsels, but Mack claimed calamari supremacy still belonged to Earls. Mack’s salad was a meal in and of itself; he even resorted to packing up the last half for (yes) lunch the next day.

The steaks arrived in no time. I thought Mack’s ridged plate would make it difficult for him to cut through the meat, but he didn’t seem to have any trouble with it. We had both asked for medium preparation, and it was perfectly done for both of us; my filet mignon was incredibly juicy and tender, and the peppercorn cream sauce provided some bite and high caloric flavour. The side of onion rings, tasting very similar to those at A & W, were a nice treat as a less common accompaniment.

With our coupon (and our server’s mistake), we ended up with a bill totalling only $33 before tax and tip. The food was great though, and even at regular price, I would have heartily enjoyed the meal. Still, life’s better with a discount, so hopefully this tale will help others with CAD realize that exercising frugality really isn’t so bad.

My (almost) empty plate

A fair food blogger reveals biases. So for the sake of full disclosure: I entered Wildflower Grill (10001 107 Street) hell bent on hating it.

My friends and I used to go to Lazia (10200 102 Avenue), the original of the Lazia Group’s holdings, all the time while we were in high school. We loved the swanky decor (their glass-blown centrepiece sculpture was like nothing we had ever seen before), the generous portions, and the convenient City Centre Mall location. But our affections were eventually depleted by rising prices, inconsistent food quality, and poor service. I haven’t eaten there in years.

When I had heard that the Inn on 7th was being renovated by the people behind the Varscona and Meterra Hotels on Whyte, I was excited, and even more so when I heard they were looking for a tenant to fill their designated restaurant space. However, when it was released that the Lazia Group was the winner of said space, I was only cautiously optimistic that their choice was the right one. Their many construction delays (a likely by-product of the oft-cited “Alberta boom”) that pushed their opening back from Fall 2007 to February 2008 just helped maintain my scepticism about the Wildflower. After my visit last night, however, I am ready to take most of my criticisms back.

Having been open for just three weeks, to much less fanfare than expected in the local media in part due to the lack of a full-time Bistro writer at the Journal, the Wildflower Grill is situated on the ground floor of The Matrix Hotel. My first impressions weren’t wholly positive: the plastic “NOW OPEN!” sign above the door, while understandable given their innumerable opening delays, seemed tacky for a restaurant of this supposed calibre. Upon entry, I immediately noticed the poor couple seated at one of the tables facing the entryway – perhaps they didn’t have a reservation, but as the restaurant was never at capacity during my stay, I didn’t see why such an unfortunate placement had been given to them.

I was greeted by a friendly hostess who opened with what became a standard Wildflower staff line: “Welcome to the Wildflower.” Simple and oh so effective, this was one of the many small details that the restaurant nailed in their attempt to create an atmosphere where dining is a form of theatre. Since returning from New York, this was also the first time I didn’t mind the idea of checking my coat.

The hostess led me to a table near the kitchen, which I at first balked at, given the number of empty booths away from what could have been a disruptive sightline. But I later relished the opportunity to observe the kitchen staff. The owner was literally on top of the line cooks the entire night, pacing around the area to ensure dishes were delivered efficiently and that the servers were taking care of their guests. Because of this, I couldn’t blame the staff for seeming to be slightly on edge, so eager (and needing) to please they were.

As my “Welcome to the Wildflower” server Adam went to retrieve a glass of tap (not sparkling, or bottled still) water for me, I surveyed the decor. I nearly missed the beautiful wine cases on my way in, impressive but not pompously so. Everything was chic and simple: beaded curtains; dark carpeted floor; white booths (which they may come to regret after a year of wear); flower portraits; and lastly, a genuine, stemless orchid in a small hand-blown glass bowl on each table – management were really pulling out all the stops.

Shermie joined me soon after, and we took our time to peruse the page-long menu. I had warned her that the entrees were expensive, with plates ranging from the $26 butternut squash ravioli to the $49 beef tenderloin & lobster pairing. But to be fair, the prices are on par with other boutique hotels in the city, such as Madison’s Grill at the Union Bank Inn. Though the Wildflower claims to offer “New Canadian Cuisine”, their entrees don’t appear to demonstrate a theme of any kind – a token pasta dish complemented by a few requisite beef and game plates “Canadian” does not make.

Shermie opted for the Mesquite Grilled Alberta ‘Prime’ Striploin ($48), while I chose the most foodie-centric dish on the menu: Chef Yoshi’s Bouillabaisse. Knowing that the chef was Japanese, I thought such an entree, prepared with Asian fixings, would allow me to best judge the quality of the restaurant’s offerings. While I intended to hone in on the fish, as shellfish really isn’t my cup of tea, I was excited as well about trying soba noodles, an ingredient I recently read about in Ruth Reichl’s Garlic and Sapphires.

After our orders were taken, Adam brought us amuses bouche. Count me shocked – I thought I had eaten in some fairly “fancy” restaurants in Edmonton, but none before Wildflower had ever served this pre-course. I wish I had written down the name of the amuse bouche, but all I can remember is the nice punch of flavour provided by the aged gouda.

Next, we were treated to a wonderful bread service, which at the Wildflower involved a lovely made-to-order brioche. Tasting just like the egg bread loaves available at T & T Supermarket, the brioche was delivered in the most clever serving vessel since frittatas in mini cast iron skillets – an oversized measuring cup. Two butters were provided, dressed with house-grown micro-greens, but really, the bread was sweet and fresh enough to be happily consumed sans adornment.

Everything was timed perfectly, as our entrees were made available shortly after our bread plates had been cleared and appropriate cutlery provided to us. My dish was artfully constructed, arranged as symmetrically as possible, and served with soy sauce, ginger, and wasabi mayo accompaniments. As expected, the collection of fruits de mer didn’t really appeal to me, though I did my best to finish the scallops and mussels in respect of the chef. The fish pieces were a mixed bag – the teriyaki halibut was the best of the trio – sweet and tangy, and cooked to a buttery soft texture, it put the rather bland sea bass and surprisingly tough salmon to shame. It took me a while to find a frame of reference for the bonito broth (a type of fish stock), but it eventually occurred to me that it tasted like a saltier miso soup – a lovely broth that seems to warm one from the inside. Shermie enjoyed her steak (as well as the quiche side), but said that it wasn’t as good as the Petite Filet at Ruth’s Chris.

The surprise of the evening came when Chef Yoshi actually came out of the kitchen to personally visit with every table! Some may view this as unnecessary pandering, but as someone with a keen interest in food, this was too cool. Of course, when he asked if we had any questions, all I could conjure up was something I immediately wished I could take back – I asked for help identifying the bamboo in my dish. Of course, given that I haven’t had bamboo shoots in recent memory, I can’t be too embarrassed.

We elected to spring for a “sweet ending” to our meal, and that was the best decision we made all night, both opting for the Chocolate Tasting. While what we received was slightly different than the menu advertised, neither of us would have complained as dessert was an absolute masterpiece. The presentation of our dish was like those found in larger metropolitan centres (or Iron Chef America), not in Edmonton, I thought. Although there were a multitude of elements incorporated, I appreciated the flavour sophistication they tried to reach, and if anything else, the variety that $12 bought us. The mango compote & sorbet was deliciously refreshing and the pineapple foam was interestingly paired with the concentrated dense chocolate ‘brownie’, but our favorite was undoubtedly the milk chocolate parfait, velvety smooth and comparable to traditional gelato.

The Wildflower Grill begs for another visit in about six months, when the new car smell has worn off. Still, a restaurant like this can only heighten the bar for others like it, and I really do hope that the Lazia Group doesn’t let it fall away with neglect like its other properties.