Chris D.
Yelp
The Terrace Restaurant stands upon its merits to such a degree, it can be reviewed separately from the Mission Hill Winery it resides within. In some alternate reality where cats are dogs, gender roles are reversed, and I'm sporting a goatee and wicked thoughts (well, s'more), the Terrace Restaurant sits alone atop a hill, overlooking a picturesque lake, and I would proclaim it as one of the best restaurants you could ever hope to visit.
In the real world, the Terrace stands as a prominent aspect of a must-see tourist destination. Ignoring the winery, you're still greeted by one of the best views any restaurant could ever hope to have, at least one not facing a thousand-year old work of human ingenuity (although there was that one sushi place overlooking Kowloon bay in Hong Kong where there are nightly laser shows).
This review encompasses a full day, including two meals, lunch and dinner, separated by an insufficient four hours. Also, my position as a food blogger was foretold, like the coming of plagues or the rising of Neo to save Zion. It arose because of an invitation to name-drop in order to receive preferential treatment. Yes, all that flowery mumbo-jumbo can be reduced (like good chicken stock) to the simple truth that I told them I was a blogger. As result, the head chef, Chris Stewart took it upon himself to lead me on a tour of the restaurant's sustainable farming ventures. Herbs and vegetables are grown on site and incorporated into the restaurant's menu, a menu that changes depending on what's in season. An ever-evolving selection is proudly listed at the bottom of the page: asparagus, beets, cattail, chickweed, duck, egg, fennel, hazelnuts, mallow, mint, etc. (since I'm only up to "M" and have a word budget). Edible pansies stood out--partly because I think that sounds funny ("all wimps should line themselves up to be replacement staple for the strong"), as did foraged watercress, which sounded oddly specific. As the waiter ran off the numerous dishes laid out before us, she actually caught herself in an error naming off the specific olives and corrected herself...like that actually mattered.
The restaurant itself is creative in its simplicity, like those exhibits in the Tate Modern of Lego brick stacks. The Terrace has no walls to speak of, veils descend to shield against rain and sun. It's one long stretch of tables, with waiter stations positioned bow, middle, and aft--the boat metaphor is apt. To the left reveals the Mission Hill Amphitheatre and are the best seats in the house. To the right is a drop-off overlooking the lake. The prep area, not unlike those in top bistros, greet guests only a few feet from the maître d' podium. Fresh-baked bread is presented on slabs of stone with novelty butter pats shaped as...well, they don't look exactly like corks but they should look like corks. That preceded a meal that cost only $22, and for that we received peace country carpaccio (with arugula, onion ash, puffed wild rice, and oak barrel vinegar), wise earth gem lettuce salad (with duck confit, raisin glace and pear dressing), hand cut frite (because what kind of meal would it be without French fries apparently), and numerous fresh olives (the aforementioned labeling mistake). The price escalated with the addition of wine, because we obviously needed more after the afternoon tour. It didn't include the aperitifs served before and after the full course--pickled cherries and homemade jellies.
After a quick jaunt to Quail's Gate down the road, we returned for the evening's chef's table. You'll notice if perusing the online menu that there's no option for a chef's table, but it does exist, usually in July. It was June...because the head chef is just that awesome. Once again came the aperitif and homemade bread, the candied rhubarb, and then two sesame chips jutting from a wood clinging onto a dollop of--I kid you not--wine tartrate (I think that's what it's called--basically wine residue/sediment). After that followed the roasted Haida Gwaii octopus with chickpea fritter, yogurt, mint, and I kid you not, squid ink (which I suspect Chris did intentionally due to a conversation about experiencing that in Teatro). And yet after all that, three more courses followed, a risotto, a beef over spinach salad, and smoked beef short rib & frites (with smoked shallot, seared lettuce, beef glace). I actually couldn't finish--dessert had to be cancelled. Gone, but not forgotten. I will be back for that dessert, Chris.
Terrace does nothing by accident, like an oracle, everything is purposeful, from the black weave mats to the artistic knives that stand at rest on their edge. The service is impeccable, the environment romantic and lavish. I can only count a few meals in my life that measure up or supersede the Terrace. And since this is based on two meals, my opinion should count twice, right?
