The Wolf In The Fog (Tofino, BC)

It all happened so fast.

One minute my wife Crystal is explaining what “Family Day” is, and the next she’s outlining her plan; two days off together, score a cheap hotel room over on the Pacific Rim, weekend of adventure with our mutual friends Jen and Sean and the kicker… She already nabbed four seats at The Wolf in The Fog, Canada’s best new restaurant.

“Jen and Sean have already gone over and will text us the road conditions,” she explains whiles stuffing a shopping bag full of toiletries, “They’re predicting a hurricane on Friday, but it should all be cleared up before we get there! Adventure right?”

I’m standing there in my bike pants, still soggy from my ride home from work, face squidged up in shock/concentration/confusion.

“Uhhhhhh, okay… I’m in. But ummm… What’s Family Day again?”

So, it was with equal parts trepidation and excitement that we packed into the kiwi and rollercoasted across the island toward the Pacific Rim. The restaurant I (and many of my industry friends, sorry guys!) had been dreaming of eating at was so close, and we were going for it!

Luckily the roads were clear and Ucluelet was still standing. We had a room booked at the Black Rock Resort, which was spec-freakin-tacular in every way a hotel can be: Big room, comfy bed, kitchenette, Jacuzzi and stunning view of the thunderous Pacific. During the off season everywhere in Uke (and Tonfino) is half price, so bonus!

We rambled around the beaches, turning over mussel shells and playing with freshly exposed bull kelp before rolling out to Tofino. I was in a zen state of mind, mildly buzzed and dreamily optimistic about the coming meal. The crowd of excited hipsters clustered inside the bar/lobby kept my beach ball spirit in the air, then hissed their discontent as we were ushered past the mob, up into the restaurant proper. Seriously guys, get a reservation… It’s isn’t hard.

We sprawled on lush couches with mis-matched pillows drinking Cava and delicious cocktails out of mis-matched glassware. The warm, wood interior, birch bark lighting fixtures, driftwood art and antique dinnerware all gave the dining room an inviting feel akin to a neighborhood coffee shop. But the sleek industrial bar design and bronze heat lamps at the kitchen pass let us know that this joint meant sexy business.

This was it; the hype (at least for me!) was all about the menu and what that translated into on my plate. It was just one sheet tacked to an unassuming clipboard. A handful of appys and mains and a little group of platters to share amongst two people… I (and we, because Crystal and I have had so many of these adventures together that we are indivisible, plus I include Sean andJen in this statement) have never, ever had so much trouble deciding what to order for dinner. Everything begged to be eaten.

We finally (two drinks later) settled on two appys and a couple ‘o mains, but still argued and second-guessed, even as our blessedly patient server was leaving with our menus… Except mine, ‘cause I’m a menu nerd and a thief.

The charred Humboldt squid was incredibly tasty and grilled with just enough deference to the cephalopod’s natural bounce that it came out perfectly tender. The surrounding salad of sprouts was the perfect balance of sweet and sour. Crystal usually hates anything with cilantro, but was totally won over after one bite. The church of food has saved another soul!

Speaking of getting religion, the accompanying plate of smoked steelhead trout was a revelation! I personally haven’t had the best results either cooking or eating this particular fish and I’d pretty much written off the whole species as mealy and unpleasant. This dish was certainly not that. The trout was firm and beautifully clean-tasting with just a hint of smoke, a lazer scalpel crispness of flavour and a menagerie of very complimentary Nordic veg to ‘round out the plate. Deft, careful hands had been laid upon this fish.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Deft, careful hands pound metal tables, shouts echo from the kitchen passthrough without warning and everyone in the dining room paused mid-gluttony. “What’s the deal?” We asked our server.

“If you check the menu down here *he gestured to the {Sides} portion of our clipboard* you’ll see.”

“Another table bought the kitchen a sixer, It happens a lot!” he laughed and dropped our mains on the table. I could see why.

Crystal had forsaken her favourite fish (black cod) and sided with Sean on the wine-braised beef cheeks. It was a very good choice! The cheeks are traditionally one of the tenderest parts of any animal and when you slow cook ‘em in wine they become something transcendent. Lightly-springy on the surface, the inside of each cheek melted underneath the slightest push of a fork like velvet confit. The flavours were all perfectly balanced, deep and savoury. When the gods order steaks in Valhalla, this is what they get.

Jen and I split a whole B.C. duck platter featuring a confit’ed duck leg and perfectly seared duck breast each plus a beetroot and blue cheese lasagna and a big mess of crunchy curly kale salad with grapefruit. It was maaaaaaaaargggggh, so much fatty duck goodness! When the platter was laid bare, even of the little bits of kale, Jen stared across the table with a look of stupefied self-horror and hiccupped, “We ate a duck… A whole duck.” It reminded me of that scene from Hard Core Logo:

“I only have one word for this… Blasphemy.”

Desserts were out of the question, so we ordered them anyway. The butterscotch brulee with raspberry gelato was perfectly crisp and not to sweet, while the antler-shaped sticky toffee sundae was over-the-top sweet and creamy… Finally, the food coma took hold and… I don’t remember how we got back down to the car, or much of the ride back to Uke.

Transcendent and blasphemous! It was an incredible meal, one of the best we’ve ever had! Every part of the experience was fun and exciting and cost a fraction of the price that most stuffy, less delicious joints demand. We will return!

If you are a cook, go eat at TWITF. It is the kind of place that will get you excited about your craft again. If you are a foodie, stop calling yourself that and go eat at TWITF. It will show you a no-bullshit good time and you can go brag to your foodie friends about it. If you are living human being that enjoys the simple pleasures of eating perfectly cooked food at a reasonable price… Eat at TWITF.

And while you’re three, be a champ and buy the boys in the kitchen a sixer.