Eating east

Souvenirs d’Indochine seeks to create
a lasting impression with its
Southeast Asian cuisine

by MATHILDE RABBAT

There’s something sentimental and, dare I say it, a touch romantic about incorporating the term “souvenir” into the name of an eatery. Someone on Mont-Royal thought it a clever idea to combine it with “Indochine” (as in Southeast Asia, not the ’80s French pop band), and, presto! Souvenirs d’Indochine saw the light, overlooking Jeanne-Mance park.

The kitchen focuses on Vietnamese fare according to the resto’s business card, and while this influence is undeniable, items on the extensive menu like chop suey, and sweet and sour and tonkinese soups, put the Chine in Indochine.

À la carte dishes star a variety of creatures from the sea, including shrimp, calamari, mussels, salmon, trout and fish from the far away Tonkin Gulf, which joins North Vietnam and China. Dishes with beef and poultry, including duck, are also available. Selections from a rather complete table d’hôte hover around the $25 mark, and include all the trimmings: two starters, a main dish, a dessert and coffee or tea. À la carte appetizers all figure under $8, while main options will set you back between $10 and $14.50.

If the table d’hôte’s chicken soup with glass noodles were to duke it out with the crab mousse variety, the latter would prevail. Even with its three varieties of mushrooms (button, straw and enoki), the clear broth, complete with chicken strips, didn’t stand a chance when pitted against the spicy tang of the crab concoction with red curry, i.e. chili paste, and just a smidgen of tomato juice.

The crab, reduced to a fluffy foam, vermicelli noodles and a pinch of green onion was laced with flavourful lemongrass, fresh ground black pepper and a welcome fresh coriander topping. Neither soup fell into the over-salting trap, allowing the flavours to occupy centre stage.

As to the table d’hôte’s second course, I relished my grilled squid, served on a bed of lettuce, as much as my fellow diner enjoyed his baked, skinned aubergine resting on a banana leaf mat, though his portion was considerably smaller than mine. A sweetened ginger and soy sauce dressing with a sesame drizzle provided the highlight to these two dishes.

The excitement quickly fizzled post-appetizers, however. The mains sampled, positively wading in sauce, lie in sharp contrast to the aforementioned appetizers, scantily clad in nothing but a sparse and flavoursome dressing.

Both stews appeared in charming casseroles, accompanied by a mound of white sticky rice. Though the historical Buddha was not a strict vegetarian, the “cocotte de Boudha” appears as the single veggie option on the table d’hôte’s mains.

This particular tofu and vegetable stir-fry proved somewhat of a disappointment. There’s no bone to pick with the tofu chunks or the al dente veggies—baby corn, green and red peppers, zucchini, carrot, onion and bamboo—accompanied by Thai basil, kaffir lime leaves and daikon, a radish also used in Japanese cooking, which I happily rediscovered.

One by one, the veggies were rescued from a thick red curry spiked with coconut milk—certainly sounds promising, but it was all a bit uneventful.

The same can be said for the main with mussels, calamari and the aforementioned line-up of veggies, but, in this case, we were dealing with overcooked mussels and artfully chiselled calamari wading in a thinner, though still abundant sauce.

Had we known, like the next table, that it was possible to have chili paste brought over by the not-so-friendly staff, we would have pounced on that jar like a couple of panthers. And perhaps if the ginger, chili, lemongrass—and all of the spicy treats Southeast Asian cuisine is made of, like kaffir lime leaves—had been played up, even just a tad more, it could have roused the taste buds and made of these main dishes a third course to remember.

As for dessert, a slice of chilled tart mango and raspberry mousse cake capped of the meal nicely, a perfect complement to a smooth and rich cup of coffee.