Deep Cove is such an active community.
I suppose all of the North Shore is active, in the grand scheme, with its daunting network of trails for cycling, hiking, running, and skiing, but Deep Cove in particular, it seems, embraces outdoor fitness in a big way. I feel like every time I go there, there is a group of sporty, slightly flushed-in-the-face athletes sporting race bibs, and the calm, confident visage of people who know they have earned their morning lattes.
As I sat at a table in the bustling new Cafe Orso in Deep Cove recently, I looked down at the giant platter of proteins and condiments on the table before me and wondered what I had done to earn it. I certainly hadn’t been out paddling with the seals in the cove that morning, or tackling the undulating terrain of the nearby Baden Powell Trail.
It occurred to me, however, that I had indeed done some training of a different variety in advance of this meal, training of a more directly related nature.
In one sense, I had been training for this meal for most of my adult life (and much of my youth, for that matter) through a rigorous regimen of fearless consumption of all things edible (and some things not intuitively so).
I have enjoyed charcuterie, you see, not unlike that contained on the nicely arranged board at Orso, in many restaurants, in many countries, over many years and therefore consider myself something of an authority on this style of eating. So while I was not among the ranks of café patrons donning high performance dry fit gear that afternoon, I nevertheless took some grim, ironic solace in the knowledge that my own unique expertise was precisely what precluded me from wearing such apparel.
Cafe Orso has a modern, minimalist esthetic, with tasteful nods to its namesake animal, the bear, including a beautiful, framed photo of a grizzly wading through a river, set between a matching duo of uniquely ornate, rhizomic lighting fixtures. A self-described European café, Orso offers classic fare like Liege-style waffles, open-faced sandwiches, cured meats and cheeses, ice cream, as well as espresso beverages, local beers and wines.
In my opinion, however, the most European thing about Cafe Orso is its approach to assembling foodstuffs, an approach that reminded me of the work of some of the great négociants of Burgundy, France.
France’s Napoleonic law of inheritance, which required the equal division of inherited assets among the recipient children of a family, has resulted, over time, in the extreme fragmentation of land ownership.
The famed vineyard terrain of Burgundy is a classic example of this fragmentation, where many tiny parcels of land, now each under the title of different owners, are home to the most famous vines on the planet, but cannot produce enough fruit independently to create a vintage of wine.
Enter the négociant, who buys the prized fruit from each of these small growers and vinifies it, ages it, and bottles it under a label denoting its revered terroir.
The négociant is a curator, of sorts, who assembles the finest fruit the market has to offer and brings it together in one place.
Cafe Orso is just such a curator, scouring the local market for prized goods to assemble in one place, to the delight and satisfaction of its patrons.
My charcuterie plate, an ambitious undertaking for a solo diner, included dense and delicious bread from Downtown Eastside baker Nelson the Seagull, fig and walnut wine preserve from Vista D’Oro farms in the Fraser Valley, desiccated pineapple rings, crispy okra chips, dried figs and toasted almonds from Central Londsdale’s Ayoub’s Dried Fruit & Nuts, as well as blue cheese and locally cured salami from Two Rivers, one of duck breast and the other bison.
I chose a glass of Blasted Church Big Bang Theory Red to accompany the meal.
Orso’s charcuterie board typically includes one meat and one cheese selected from a list of half a dozen or so available options, for $14.95. I opted to add an additional meat for $5, but would suggest, in retrospect, that this approach is overkill unless you are sharing the dish with someone else.
The condiments were all delicious in their own right, and the crispy sticks of okra were a revelation. It’s a delight to assemble and create your own flavour combinations with such a diverse charcuterie board, and for my money, the duck breast salami, with its fleshy, wild and subtly gamey flavour, paired exceptionally well with a morsel of sweet and fragrant pineapple and a dollop of fig preserve atop a slice of bread.
As a frequent consumer of charcuterie plates, the one suggestion I would offer to Cafe Orso is to include at least one tart or acidic element on the board to help offset the indulgent richness of the other items, perhaps something like a pickled onion, some gherkins, some mustard or preserved lemon.
I spied an order of avocado toast making its way to a neighbouring table and was struck by how elegant it was in its simplicity: a simple slice of toasted bread thickly topped with slices of perfectly ripe looking avocado. I’ll be back for that one day, perhaps sporting a pair of well-worn running shoes.
My charcuterie platter and glass of wine was $28 before gratuity. Cafe Orso is located at 4316 Gallant Ave. cafeorso.ca 778-340-3222
Chris Dagenais served as a manager for several restaurants downtown and on the North Shore. A self-described wine fanatic, he earned his sommelier diploma in 2001. Contact: hungryontheshore@gmail.com.
