Mike Scorgie and Andrew Borley have finally opened the doors to their collaborative endeavour, Woodwork, on 100 Street in Edmonton. I’ve been a fan of Mike’s cuisine since the day he started serving it out of his Nomad food truck.  News of him going brick and mortar with cocktailer extraordinaire, Borley, sent the food community into a drool-induced tizzy. Over the months, pictures slowly emerged on Twitter to reveal, bit by bit, the pair’s developing project — one of meat, fire, and bourbon. My kind of place.

The classic entrepreneurial cocktail of blood, sweat and tears (and probably a few choice words) went in to transforming the withered Japanese Village into a venue fit for a magazine photo shoot. Indeed, even before the restaurant opened its doors and before anyone in Edmonton could sneak a peak through the paper-covered windows, a provocative blurb in the December issue of Flare magazine described Woodwork’s atmosphere as “hipster meets gentlemen’s club”.

How does an Edmonton restaurant garner attention in a national magazine without so much as a morsel thrown to the salivating masses? Whether it was insider information or media telepathy, because of that little mention, my expectations — high as they were before — kicked in to overdrive.

Woodwork’s menu is impressive. It could hold its own against any establishment in food-crazed cities like Portland, Chicago, or Austin, Texas. How about a plate of Toulouse sausage in a pork and onion reduction with Parisienne potatoes? Maybe  some wood-fired bannock with charred leeks, smoked tomato and goat cheese.  Scorgie’s love of southern food appears in the creamy yellow grits bathed in red-eye gravy and the Bar-B-Cue soup chock full of  choucroute, charcuterie, white bean and pork consommé.  Haughty French with southern sass. We done growed up here, folks; step aside, Caesar salad, this here is serious food for serious eaters.

Yellow Grits with Red Eye Gravy

There should be no more patience for mediocrity when it comes to Edmonton restaurants. We are a food-savvy community willing to spend money on good food — real food — cooked by people who know how to cook. We should be so done with restaurant food that needs to be thawed, deep fried and soaked in sauces from five gallon pails.

Praise the lardons, and pass the preserves.

And yes, Woodwork makes their own preserves, their own condiments, their own charcuterie.  Scorgie and his chef de cuisine, Emmanuel Theriault, not only understand how to cook, they have an inherent passion and respect for the ingredients they use. 

In a nutshell: Woodwork delivered on the food front — for the most part. Out of nine dishes four of us tried, only the hanger steak and hickory frites disappointed; the steak being tough, and the hickory frites, although tasty, were a challenge to eat because of their short length.  The Cornish hen was the standout entree with the Peanut Butter Thang being the hands down dessert winner.

While we dined, the bearded ones congregated at the showpiece bar and downed double-digit-dollar artisanal cocktails made with barrel-aged spirits and apple pomegranate foam.  Don’t even think of ordering a rum and coke. Instead, try a “Let’s Stay Friends” or an “I am Jack’s Rosy Molecule”  but try asking for one without sounding pretentious.  Oh, those hipsters. (An aside: read this for a laugh about artisanal cocktails.)

Wall of barrel-aged spirits

Where Woodwork needs to improve is in the service department. Our server, sweet but awkward, was distant at times, interruptive at others, and lacked the required knowledge of ingredients and preparation techniques of dishes.  I have a big beef with servers who don’t know what they’re serving, especially in quality-driven establishments with skilled kitchen staff.

Would I go back?  Despite being the oldest diners in the crowd, and despite our lack of beards, tattoos and ear-hole stretchers, yes.

More details about Woodwork’s food can be found here on the CBC Edmonton AM link.