on the menu, there's no animal products, nothing heated over 118 degrees, and only "biodynamic, organic, and simply sustainable" wines and sake (for an added incentive to imbibe). the website preaches about preserving "vitamins, minerals, and enzymes" (dubious, imo). the kitchen is devoid of stoves and ovens; food is prepared using spiralizers and dehydrators and other fancy gadgets and gizmos. dishes are served cold—lukewarm at most.
it's exactly the kind of place that trendy new york yuppies and the vegan set would adore. it's also the type of place anthony bourdain would probably set aflame before stuffing some sausage and organ meat down the throats of the staff and cackling manically.
though i am decidedly an omnivore, i was quite eager to try this place out—partially because i went through a militant animal rights/vegetarian phase in middle school (embarrassing but true), during which i ate nothing but frosted flakes cereal and bananas for an entire year, but mostly because my friend told me that the first time he ever ate here, orlando bloom and miranda kerr, who live in the neighborhood, were sitting a few tables over. any comestible that might have had even the slightest chance in making them as beautiful as they are, is food i want to eat.
the main restaurant was literally empty when we arrived at 8 p.m., giving the false impression from the street that the place is deserted and quite unpopular. in reality, all the diners are just basking in the summer warmth on the terrace, which is adorned with flowerbeds, red plush seats, and candlelight. even if you hate vegetables, just the garden itself would be reason enough to make you want to come here and hang out—it’s that pretty.
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| like this, but with people |
onto the food, though!
we started with the niwa maki with avocado, enoki mushrooms, and pickled heirloom baby carrots. it tasted very fresh and light, though i remember thinking how it would be ten times better if there were a bit of tuna in there…
for my main, i got their signature lasagna, made with thin strips of zucchini as the noodles and macadamia pumpkin seed “ricotta.” everyone raves about this dish, and i saw it being carried out of the kitchen quite a few times. sun-dried tomato marinara acted as the raw substitute of the bubbling herby tomato sauce to which we are accustomed, and the dish was stuffed with layers of basil pistachio pesto.
it looked stunning—the colours vibrant and alive. it tasted… cold.
it was as difficult to cut as, well, raw zucchini, and with each cold crispy crunchy nutty bite i would think of the béchamel-oozing piping hot versions i had had in rome, whose tender noodles forks could pierce through with ease. perhaps i should have stopped thinking about non-raw food and just savoured the very unique tastes and textures of a raw dish, but i just can’t dissociate the word “lasagna” from images of golden threads of cheese and simmering sausage and beef...
in retrospect, i should have probably come here on a night i wasn’t absolutely famished and craving a burger.
my friend got the sweet corn and cashew tamales with chili spiced portabella, which i stole a few forkfuls of and enjoyed. it was warm!! i love warm food.
the desserts at pure are much hyped, and were definitely what my insatiable sweet tooth was looking forward to the most. i was craving chocolate fondant (as always) but of course there was none of that oven-baked richness here. instead, we opted for the dark chocolate trio of chocolate cardamom coconut ice cream cone, pistachio gelato ice cream sandwich, and chai tea creamsicle, as well as the passionfruit panna cotta.
the chocolate cardamom coconut ice cone was definitely my favourite; the spice added a complex dimension whereas the other pieces just tasted like slabs of very dark chocolate.
the passionfruit panna cotta was, dare i say it, too passionfruity, too tart, too like eating the fruit rather than a dessert derived from it.
throughout the entire meal, i felt like i was not eating real food, but just salads in disguise. the lasagna was a salad with nuts, albeit arranged artistically. the tamales were corn husks stuffed with chopped salad. the desserts were one step removed from cacao, spices, and fruit still dangling from their branches.
for food that isn’t processed or cooked, it’s good. for the challenges and constraints of its category, it’s admirably creative. for a single meal, it’s fun and different.
for my regularly indulged tongue that has developed a taste for full-fat pots de crème and luscious grilled foie gras, however, this meal left me feeling cold and leporine.
forget orlando and miranda. i’ll stick to my impure food and wine, please.
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