Weston Winterlicious* #1 - Crab Boil
My first Louisiana boil
Let me introduce you to Crab Boil, Weston’s newest restaurant. A word on its location - in the 13 years I’ve lived here, this less-than-prime piece of real estate on Weston Road within site of the 401 across from the Superstore plaza has been home to Ginger Pho; Charr’d, a Mediterranean grill that served a magnificent fatoosh salad alongside a really good shawarma wrap and lasted less than a year; and now, Crab Boil. People who’ve lived here longer recount other eating establishments that have tried to make a go of it in that building.
Knowing it’s already ill-fated because of its location and as someone who was once prone to skin eruptions, I would have called it something other than Crab Boil! (Crab Boil is marginally better than The Captain’s Boil, a small Toronto-based chain. But only marginally.) For those in the know, though, the ‘boil’ in Crab Boil refers to the Louisianan style of cooking seafood. Now you know too.
Determined to set aside any squeamishness about the name, and undaunted by a 30 minute walk in the cold, I set out on foot to a stretch of Weston where pedestrians are a rarity. Anyone who’s worked with me knows that I want to be sitting at the table by noon, ideally with food ordered. No surprise then that I was alone at the door when the owner drove up and unlocked it at 12.
“How long to wait for a meal?” I inquired, my food alarm dinging loudly in my head.
“No problem.” His people were inside and ready to go. Whew!
I had my pick of booths and started scanning a QR code to get my choices - oh how I long for a proper menu! As I scrolled through options, I was gobsmacked at the prices. Sure, seafood is expensive. But an $83 Crab DOSE (whatever that is). Yikes. I decided on a shrimp sandwich for $16.99. When the owner took my order, he asked why I wasn’t having a boil. I explained it was too rich for my blood. He offered an off-menu eat-in special - 1/2 pound shrimp boil for $20. Deal! Level of spice he asked? Hot! (Go big or go home, is always my view on heat).
As I alternated between reading my book and scrolling my phone, he laid the table. First a plastic sheet, then a pair of black plastic gloves, a napkin, and a fork. He then tied a bib on me, alarming me a little. What exactly was I here for?
A moment later, he brought something that best resembled a can for tapping a maple tree - tall, angled sides, with a lid. He then upturned a yogurt container full of rice onto the plastic sheet and decanted the contents of the bucket - shrimps, two unpeeled potatoes, and a cob of corn cut in two, all luxuriating in a rich red sauce. It smelled divine!
I put my book and phone out of splash range, gloved-up, squeezed the lime he’d provided, and got down to business with a shrimp. I slipped the properly pinked flesh out its protective shell and bit it in two. If it were pasta, I’d described it as al dente -neither the soft mushy of overcooked nor the dangerous rubberiness of nearly raw. Properly cleaned too — none of that poop-line often found in grocery store frozen shrimp. But the sauce - oh god the sauce… The cayenne penetrated my sinuses, clearing my head in the most intensely satisfying way. I looked forward to the misty brow that I knew was coming next. I picked up a half-cob of corn and found it also properly cooked with sauce right down between the kernels and not a corn silk to be found. As I was scooping sauce-soaked rice into my right hand, about to pop it in my mouth, the owner came by to ask how it was going.
He smiled and remarked, “No fork!”
“Nope - when I Rome,” I replied.
“Need anything?”
“Water!”
He smiled again, and before I was into the third shrimp, I had a bottle of water at the ready. (That was my only complaint about the place - while I appreciated he didn’t charge me for it, Weston tap water is the more environmental solution. Next time I’ll tell him.)
I worked away for nearly half an hour, happily scooping and slurping, freed from cleanliness or manners. When I signalled my defeat by removing my gloves (I left a potato and some rice), the owner came back for his well-deserved praise. We chatted for a bit - he’s newly arrived to Mississauga from Montreal where he was a partner in a similar establishment. When he left the partnership, he’d signed a non-compete - meaning he couldn’t open a competing place there - so he headed to the GTA.
I gave him a little feedback. We discussed the price of seafood and how tight the margins are in the business and that his prices points will deter some. I asked about a liquor licence - he’s not planning to pursue one. If he’s going to make a go of it there - which I really hope he does - Westonians are going to have to want to go there for great food and the fun experience.
I will definitely go back!
* Winterlicious debuted in 2003 to promote Toronto’s restaurant industry during the slower winter months. Since then, the event has grown significantly, reportedly serving over 450,000 meals annually. This year, more than 230 places offer three course, fixed price menus at reduced rates. Six of these are within an easy walk of my office on the Danforth.
Zero are available in Weston.
So I’m doing my own Weston Winterlicious. My criteria? walking distance from my house; food cooked onsite; table service; and open for lunch.
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