Hubby and myself had reservations here for a romantic Valentine's meal this past February. The venue was fitting as Lucien's interior is stunningly outftted with Art Nouveau flourishes abound. Lots of wrought iron scrolling and stained glass with sprinklings of Toulouse-Lautrec prints for good measure.
Our server was neither callous nor too obliging just neutrally efficient and informative. Maybe it was the dining choices hubby and myself sampled at Lucien, however I was pretty underwhelmed with my meal.
We started with the Bincho Grilled octopus and hubby had the Berkshire pork belly. Our mains were the roast Fenwood farms chicken and Ontario veal Ribeye.
To finish we sampled the "Chocolate Complex" and hubby chased his meal with a single malt Oban.
Overall flavour and texture wise, I wasn't feeling it at all. Hubby expressed his dinner was good but what man is ever unsatisfied when ribs are involved? I felt like the meals were more like minimalist works of interpretive masticative art than satisfying gourmand dining.
Call me a purist but I prefer that foodstuffs like octopus are served up looking like octopus and not as some odd terrine-like concotion, not to mention the "dessert" of some scant chocolate pieces with salt and spices made me feel I was surrendering to some culinary experiment just to make Lucien laugh at my expense for both my idiocy for ordering it and for charging me $16.
I've had the honour and pleasure for the past 20 years to dine on some wonderful, flavourful, and utterly orgasmic meals at both lowbrow and highbrow establishments in Toronto. Lucien to me felt like an insolent exercise in posturing and bravado. Instead of provoking gastronomic inspiration in me, Lucien left a bad taste in my mouth and less $225 from my husband's well intentioned pocket.
Lucien, I will give you credit for trying to assert your own brand of avant garde cuisine but quite frankly, I'd leave the molecular freestyling to Ferran Adria and his rogue El Bulli disciples.