The Black Hoof

Steph and I decided to meet up for dinner last night, but couldn't decide where to go, so Steph compiled a list of top-rated (but moderately-priced) restaurants in Toronto. We originally wanted to go to Campagnolo (Steph's favourite restaurant in the city), but it turns out that they're closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. So, we decided to go to another highly-praised restaurant neither of us had tried before that just so happens to be down the street from there: The Black Hoof.

Charcuterie: Duck terrine, duck prosciutto, chorizo, bison salami, and sundried tomato paste

Charcuterie: Mortadella, smoked summer sausage, horse sausage, and full-seeded mustard

Obviously, since The Black Hoof is a charcuterie, we had to get the charcuterie platter. I assume that the variety changes daily, but ours included six different types of thinly-sliced meats, a terrine, and two spreads. They're arranged from the most mild flavour to the strongest; my favourites were the duck terrine, chorizo, and salami. It was our first time trying horse meat, and while it's not terrible, we both decided that it would never be our first choice — it tasted like ultra-salty salami for the most part, but there's a strange aftertaste that I can't place. We got an order of bread along with the platter; it's an extra $2, but I would say that it's almost mandatory to get some bread, if not to put the terrine and spreads on, then at least to temper the saltiness of the meats.

Scallops and oxtail

Tongue on brioche

The dishes here are meant to be shared, so we decided on two more items. The scallops and oxtail came next, which was served with balsamic grapes and celery and peanut chutney. The scallops were perfectly seared on the outside and left almost rare in the centre, so it remains soft and fleshy — an amazing textural contrast to the tender flakiness of the oxtail and the light crunchiness of the crust. The crisp tartness of the grapes and the salty-sweet crunch of the chutney offer a nice juxtaposition along with the two meats. Finally, the tongue on brioche came to our table, a sandwich that they tell you to eat open-faced style so it makes for easier sharing. A very generous portion of juicy, ultra-tender, thinly-sliced beef tongue is piled in between two thick slices of fragrant, toasted brioche, and then drizzled with horseradish and tarragon mayo. It reminded me of a fancy Montreal smoked meat sandwich, in which the meat is thinner, juicier, and more tender, and the bread is lighter, fluffier, and perfectly toasted — absolutely glorious. It's served with full-seeded mustard, which we both found unnecessary, as the horseradish and tarragon mayo added more than enough flavour. On the side are cornichon pickles and celery salad, which proved really helpful in aiding our appetite as we were getting ridiculously full by then but refused to leave a single piece of food behind.

Almond polenta cake with blood orange

Finally, after much debate over whether we could fit dessert in, we caved in and ordered it. Last night's offering was an almond polenta cake with blood orange. Surprisingly addictive: light, airy, almond-scented cake with juicy blood orange segments, tart blood orange curd, sweet citrusy cream, and a flurry of crushed almonds on top. The perfect ending to a rich dinner so full of strong flavours. The service was pleasant enough; while the hostess (or, at least, the person who seated us) seemed a little snobby, our actual servers were polite and attentive. The space itself is extremely small, with a tiny open kitchen right next to the bar and then a handful of tables in the back that make up the entire dining space. Basically, your table neighbours can hear everything you say in conversation and vice versa. If you want privacy, this is not the place for it. On that note, though, you can easily make friends with the people dining next to you. There is no food menu here, either; everything is listed on large chalkboards.  The lighting is very dim, too, so you're really seeing everything on your table by candlelight. Some might see it as romantic; I see it as a real pain in the ass when you're trying to photograph your food. But I digress — the food alone makes it entirely worth going.


The Black Hoof
928 Dundas Street West
Toronto, ON M6J 1W3
(416) 551-8854