Nov. 16, 2005 - Issue #526: Sex, Lust & Love
Grill of my dreams
The prose goes from purple to blue in Vue's special Sex Issue review of
the River House Grill
“This place is beautiful,” she whispered, awestruck. The warm contralto of her voice caressed my libido and I felt a shiver of desire. She turned to me and murmured, “Poor thing—you must be cold!” She wrapped her arms around me from behind as we walked up to St. Albert’s River House Grill on a chilly November evening.
With some difficulty, I ignored her playful hands as she tried to warm me up. She was right, though: the restaurant was beautiful. This enormous Victorian mansion boasted two turrets lined with white-trimmed, mullioned windows jutting out of burgundy walls. Old-fashioned carriage lights picked out spots of brightness in the gathering dusk. To one side, the Sturgeon trickled merrily and behind us, busy St. Albert Trail faded into background urban noise as we climbed the front steps together.
Passing through the ornate wooden doors, we gazed in wonder at the majestic cranberry-hued foyer and exquisite cut glass chandelier under a pressed tin ceiling. My bride dashed up the sweeping staircase to peer into the upstairs spa and I followed her with my eyes. She came back down more slowly; her curve-hugging khakis and tight black sweater gave Vivien Leigh’s staircase descents a run for her money. I pretended to be studying the menu posted outside the restaurant when she returned and slid her hand into mine.
My wife loves my enthusiasm for locally sourced ingredients and smiled when I started raving about the lusciously described dishes that included produce from the chef’s morning visit to the Farmers’ Market. Despite the Grill’s grand appearance, the prices were reasonable: entrées began at $17 and none broke the $30 mark. Soup and salad options gathered on either side of $10 and included exotic combinations such as wild prairie mushrooms and tarragon, or peppered bison carpaccio with asiago cheese. My attention returned to my frisky bride, however, who was trying quite successfully to distract me with a slow fingernail up and down the back of my neck. I remembered something about fire-grilled AAA Alberta beef, and that the menu seriously needed a skilled editor, but then nothing more as I swept her into my arms.
I stole a quick kiss that she turned into something lingering and altogether more tempting before we pushed through another door into the River House Grill. We confirmed our reservation—don’t even try to get in without one on a Saturday night—and took our booth by the door. Goldenrod walls stretched up from dark hardwood floors to complement the burgundy floral draperies. Sixteen tables filled the room, with the longer ones curved into sine waves: faux-stone finishes and dark leather seats lent a modern rustic motif. Dried flower arrangements, local art on the walls and Tiffany light fixtures completed the eccentric and luxuriously comfortable environment. I watched my wife instead of my menu in the dim illumination of our table’s linen-shrouded bulb.
I tried to pass it off as intentional when the waiter returned and I was reading the wine list, so I casually considered the vintages. While the offerings were surprisingly extensive, a bottle of Rosemount Shiraz at home meant that I wouldn’t order here. Bottles ranged from $29 to $300, and a number were available by the glass. I shrugged as though I had made a decision and requested a coffee ($2.50). My wife, not fooled for a moment, giggled and asked for an herbal tea ($2.50). She was ready to order, too: she asked the market price on the salmon ($21) and smiled happily. I pointed randomly at one of the beef dishes and our server left to seek our drinks. “Very smooth,” she congratulated me and I grinned.
The River House Grill was a far cry from the starched white linens and daunting atmosphere favoured in many fine dining establishments, so we felt comfortable relaxing and holding each others’ hands. Our server returned quickly and I poured liberally from the pitcher of heavy cream to lighten my rich, dark coffee. I looked around for a basket of bread as my wife’s tea steeped, but realized that the $2 menu item wasn’t actually included with our $50 meal. A little while later, I was pointing out the door to the riverside veranda and stretching my stocking foot towards my bride’s calf when our long-anticipated dishes arrived.
I only briefly regretted postponing footsie while I savoured both the aroma of my beef tenderloin ($29) and the sight of my beloved inhaling slowly over her dish. I took pieces of asparagus and yellow beet from her fork as my tastebuds celebrated their ginger-infused parsley oil drizzle. She was thrilled with the huge slab of soft, moist salmon under a “mango orange citrus garlic mojo.” The tangy, yellowish sauce brought out the best in the salmon, and I watched her lick it slowly from her full lips. I shifted slightly in my seat and ignored the flash of amusement in her eyes as I busied myself with my own meal.
My dish was built upwards rather than out. The thick, tender ball of centre cut, medium-rare Alberta Angus rested on silky whipped potatoes and sautéed vegetables. Sweet, five-spice apple compote and a thin layer of goat cheese crowned the succulent steak. The result? Each slice was a multilayered symphony of flavours that stormed every part of my tongue. Peppercorns and a red wine, shallot and thyme reduction combined to an outstanding effect.
Thankfully, the portions weren’t as staggering as the flavours and we had room to consider dessert after cleaning our plates like hedonists-in-training. I leaned towards the local Edelweiss Brie plate for $9, while my bride pointed out a chocoholic’s option for $7. We settled on the Sharp Lemon Tart ($7) to share.
I made a significant dent in my second cup of coffee and my wife was looking around for a hot water refill by the time the thick wedge of tart arrived. An accompanying ball of raspberry sorbet perfectly cleansed our palates between bites of the rich, creamy lemon filling. The moist, delectable crust had nothing in common with the dry, anemic shortbread sticks of grocery store holiday gift-giving, either. I surreptitiously swept the last bite of tart onto my beloved’s questing spoon: I would be well rewarded for that later. She took the garnishing strawberry, bit it in half and fed me the other.
We waited impatiently for the bill and happily signed away $75 including tax and tip. We raced back to our toddler-free home, a bottle of wine and a surprise treat of Barefoot Venus Nutmeg & Ginger body lotion for her. (Get some immediately and thank me later.) For Part Two of our story, published anonymously, you will have to check out a different magazine’s Letters to the Editor. It will be the one that begins, “I never thought it would happen to me, but….” V
River House Grill
8 Mission Avenue • 458-2232
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