Mar. 04, 2009 - Issue #698: Mind The Gap

Culina Highlands

Swept away: Culina Highlands more than meets lofty expectations

I don’t know what would be worse—the lofty expectations that come with being one of the previous owners of Bacon, a much-loved but now defunct cozy little Edmonton eatery, or the perhaps even higher expectations that surface when you attach the legendary “Culina” to your name. Culina Highlands, now happily ensconced in Bacon’s former stomping grounds, has certainly set the bar high for itself.

 

Culina Highlands had a reputation long before anyone had an inkling of what was transpiring behind the rustic brick facade, and I was more than happy to make the long trek across town to sit in that cozy little room once again.

 

It was late, it was cold, and it was a Tuesday, but I phoned ahead anyways to make sure they had room for my husband and I—tiny rooms can only accommodate so many hungry bodies. On this particular night it proved to be an overly cautious measure—only one lonely table of two, just nursing the final sips of their coffee, greeted us when we pulled open the front door. But I’m guessing this night was a rare exception.

 

Heavenly warmth, gently glowing candles and simple sophistication surrounded us. Blacks, whites and dark browns dominated the room, but bright splashes of colour, courtesy of bold prints by local artist Ian Craig, added bursts of interest. The room was interesting, cozy and elegant (in an off-beat way), but still oh-so-comfortable. Maybe it was because there were only the two of us, but the atmosphere seemed so laid back and engaging that I almost felt like kicking off my shoes.

 

We spent some time chatting with our waiter about the intriguing prints, and then consulted the wine list. Our waiter warned us that they might not have everything listed, as they were in the process of revamping their selections, but the two red wines by the glass we settled on—a Luigi Bosca syrah and a Clos de los Siele malbec ($9 each), both from Argentina—were both available and exceedingly drinkable. 

 

Two little glasses and a wine bottle filled with water were carefully deposited on our table and, feeling settled, we were ready to contemplate the eclectic menu. I couldn’t decide whether to have the borscht with sour cream and then the quinoa salad with fried chickpeas, or the wild spring salmon with spicy dill-beet salsa and sour cream. But then again, how could I go without nachyncka or buttermilk biscuits?

 

In the end, I decided to try one of their vegetarian options, the portobello mushroom baked with brown rice and served with spiced root vegetables and fresh greens ($20). My husband, never one to turn down a traditional Ukrainian meal, still agonized before ordering the kalyna platter ($20). 

 

We sipped our wine and reveled in the room: its muted lighting, its glorious solitude, its peaceful vibe. And we noticed some of the many unique little touches—like the big chalkboard with a map of the world drawn on it, highlighting the origins of some of their beers; the whimsical white paper bags that elevated the battery-operated candles from routine to striking; and the “gratitude” section of the menu, a thank-you to their suppliers. 

 

When our dinners arrived, they proved to be just as comforting as the room itself. My portobello mushroom fiesta, with organic greens scattered over top and to the side, was creamy and soft and crispy and warm, all at the same time. I’m not sure what the hearty sauce the portobello was nestled in was, or which spices accented the sweet roasted carrots, I just know they all worked together to create an extremely satisfying experience.

 

My husband’s kalyna platter was most definitely a platter. A mound of lazy cabbage rolls was topped with two long slices of grilled kubassa and flanked by four plump perogies. Bacon gremolata was scattered over the perogies, as were a few rounds of green onions, and pickled beets crowned the whole affair. No crunch in this but again, creamy and soft and warm and oh-so-soothing. 

 

We both demolished our dinners and, wanting (but not needing) more, we eagerly ordered dessert. Dried apricot and walnut perogies almost found their way to our table, but the chocolate poppyseed cake won out. This particular dessert is not made in-house, although some are. Linda, Queen of Tarts, did the honours because, as our waiter informed us, she is simply the best. And if this particular dark, rich, dense, crunchy creation is any indication, she certainly is.

 

Culina Highlands isn’t just a restaurant, it’s an attitude. An exceptional, passionate, comfortable attitude with an amazing eye for detail. It also happens to be utterly delicious. So take your expectations, but phone first. V

 

 

Tue - Sat (11am-2pm) & (5pm to 10pm)

Culina Highlands

6509 - 112 Avenue, 780.477.2422

More info about Culina (Highlands) →

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