THE RISE OF BOTTLE SHOPS IN ONTARIO

The Rise of Bottle Shops in Ontario | Christopher Sealy

The first quarter of 2020 was, without exaggeration, a period of doom and gloom for restaurant owners in Toronto.

Pre-pandemic, the city’s restaurant scene was bursting at the seams. New spaces were continually opening, and the city’s diners seemed – if you will forgive the pun – insatiable for new dining experiences. In the blink of an eye, lockdown changed everything. Dining rooms were empty and wine glasses stacked on shelves; the possibility that they might never be filled again painted a depressing picture. Wineheavy restaurants and bars no longer able to sell the wine in their cellars were desperate for a break.

A lifeline came in the form of changed LCBO and Ontario government regulations for the way alcohol could be sold. Bottles of wine could now be purchased alongside a food item, and the bottle shop retail model was born. Restaurants and wine distributors were back in business – sort of.

At the time, wine bars such as Happy, in a busy corner of Parkdale, were just opening. They were able to easily adjust to the new circumstances by opening as a café and bottle shop, designing shelves and investing in wine. Across the city, tables became displays; patrons in window seats were replaced by wine bottles.

The bottle shop model provided access, an opportunity to bypass the lines at the LCBO and its ‘General List.’ The selection of wines at bottle shops was often more diverse, and many championed wines that had been cultivated using biodynamic or more “natural” farming practices.

My local café, Voodoo Child, with an already established business of coffee regulars, now had new patrons who were purchasing a coffee plus one or two bottles of wine. The obligation to sell food items generated the ‘nouveau pantry.’ Everything from chocolate bars to bags of truffle infused potato chips, to canned fish from Spain could be had with a baguette from the local bakery. On the way home or to the park during those long days of lockdown, the bottle shop created choice.

The service team at Paradise Grapevine has emphasized that both guests and venue have grown into the bottle shop experience. Paradise, with its own branded natural wines, has further capitalized on the opportunity to grow their clientele into an immersive wine experience with their “buy a bottle and stay or take it home with you” approach.

Larger operations such as Ascari Enoteca developed their Mercatino i Vini. Oven readymade meals and wine kits were incorporated into a ‘virtual zoom’ for an at-home food preparation and wine experience.

The Grape Witches, already champions of natural wines, made a name for themselves with events and have recently grown into an agency. Having just signed a lease on an event space, they also designed a fully-fledged retail bottle shop. Offerings include monthly virtual education and wine club memberships, which have become the pillars of their new business.

A few sommeliers collaborated on joint virtual wine classes for industry and the larger public. Peter Pantry on Queen St. led the way in this initiative, generating greater client engagement from the comfort of their own homes. The bottle shops were stocked with specific wines as prep for a future virtual wine class.

But what to do as we make the transition back to in-person dining?

Peter Pantry took the leap by opening a stand-alone bottle shop adjacent to their main restaurant, offering a selection of wines across palates and budgets. Not all restaurants have fully committed to a ‘retail space for wine,’ however, and many have preferred the more cautious, wait-and-see approach.

Only time will tell where the new bottle shop in Toronto will go, and whether it will be integrated into a new restaurant model for the city. Either way, the message is clear: there is no going back. The bottle shop format is here to stay.

point does a healthy competitive market full of choice become oversaturated? More likely than the problem of having too many wines to choose from, is that many new agencies won’t have long-term viability. Having spoken with several veteran agents, it is evident that the transition from small scale to financially viable is a tough one.

The growing number of agencies is not without impact on producers. Ontario is a nuanced market to enter and operate in. Agents are key for a producer’s success in navigating both LCBO retail and consignment sales.

Cristiana Tiberio from the eponymous Abruzzese Italian winery talks about logistics challenges: “The method in Canada can be quite complicated, and (there is) a lot of bureaucracy in the countries where there is a monopoly... but honestly, we receive great support from our partner... the relationship is really transparent.”

Mark Cuff emphasizes the importance of maintaining excellent relationships with the wineries he represents, as he estimates 80% of new partnerships come from recommendations by his previous producers.

So, the market has a greater selection of wines to choose from, chosen by a growing and more diverse group of people, which, in my opinion, is a good thing. But there exists the possibility of instability under the surface. I love to say that a rising tide raises all ships, and in many ways that is true here. But like any wave, it will naturally recede, and my hope is that the Ontario market can continue to support a multitude of independent agents and build on the province’s burgeoning wine scene. And that the good agents and the good wines remain.

Brie Dema has a career rooted in hospitality and has worked with several fantastic Canadian wine and culinary programs including Langdon Hall, Fogo Island Inn and the Elora Mill. She has studied with WSET and CMS, holding the Diploma and the Advanced Pin respectively. Brie played the part of a bumblebee in her dance studio’s production of Peter Pan when she was five. She has a lousy sense of direction but can always find her way to the bottom of a glass of wine. Brie’s favorite role and greatest accomplishment is being a mom to her wonderful daughter Una. She wishes she was a better cook, but is glad she married a chef.

VQA: the evolution of a Canadian wine law

By Tod Stewart

The room’s decor was minimalist. White acrylic and whitewashed wood. Stainless steel sinks. Chrome wine glass racks. Chrome cocktail shakers acting as spittoons. On the counter against the far wall there would be a lineup of 40 or so clear carafes filled with wines of various colour and composition - most made from grapes, some from other fruits. Also on the counter were touch-screen tablets that displayed information pertaining to each sample. The only details missing were the producer and the intended price.

I assessed these submissions based on criteria displayed on the tablet’s screen: colour, clarity, aromatic integrity, varietal character, balance, finish, and an overall assessment of quality. If all went well, the wine would (assuming other legal criteria were met) be awarded VQA (Vintners Quality Alliance) status.

Having acted as a VQA panelist for close to 20 years, I’d say the organoleptic testing component of the VQA grading scheme was - and likely remains - an integral part of the overall quality evaluation. And it is probably the most controversial aspect.

As with most other wine laws enacted throughout the vinous world - starting with those conceived by the Reichstag in 1498 - VQA Ontario (and its sister - BC VQA for the wines of British Columbia and operated under a different authority) acts as a consumer guarantee that what the label says is in the bottle, actually is what’s in the bottle.

The Vintners Quality Alliance Act, 1999, proclaimed on June 29, 2000, VQA Ontario as Ontario’s wine authority. Broadly speaking, the mandate of VQA Ontario is to enforce the province’s appellation of origin system, control the use of specific terms, descriptions and designations, and set out mandatory winemaking practices pursuant to each specific VQA region and sub-region. Winemakers have some flexibility when it comes to grape varieties - so long as they are either vitis vinifera or an approved hybrid (eg. Vidal).

There are other checks and balances around things like brix (sugar) levels at harvest for specific types of wines, and the pedigree of fruit for particular regional designations (the requirements for a wine labeled as VQA Ontario, for example, will be more relaxed than for a wine identified as an Estate Grown Chardonnay with the designation VQA Beamsville Bench - a geographical sub-appellation). Labelling terminology is also regulated.

Which is all well and good, but if the middle letter of your acronym stands for “quality,” it begs the question: quality by whose measures or standards?

Brian Schmidt, winemaker for Niagara’s Vineland Estates Winery sees the “quality” aspect as being something inherent to the VQA’s overall intent.

“I see the purpose of VQA to guarantee origin, and to provide a platform for winemaker’s wines to be tasted by a panel of qualified tasters that are considering if any flaws or faults in a wine are considered excessive,” he explains, noting that the majority of the tasting panel must be in agreement that a wine is faulty. “Identifying excessively faulted wine ensures quality as result, but not a defined intent.”

The ongoing evolution of wine laws is both unavoidable and necessary to take in everything from winemaking practices to climate change. When I contacted VQA Ontario headquarters to get a status update - and to ask how the pandemic had affected operations - I was somewhat surprised by the response.

“VQA Ontario has changed its operating name to the Ontario Wine Appellation Authority,” informed Laurie Macdonald, the organization’s Executive Director. “When the pandemic began in March 2020, LCBO suspended all VQA tasting panels. The sensory evaluation has been conducted by the Appellation Authority using its own panelists since then, and this will continue on a permanent basis.”

To backtrack a bit for perspective: for a wine to become VQA certified, it not only has to comply with labelling and packaging standards, and demonstrate geographic origin, it also has to pass laboratory and organoleptic testing described earlier. Up until the change Macdonald refers to, both of these functions were carried out by the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO), the province’s government-controlled beverage alcohol monopoly. This wasn’t a bad thing. The LCBO lab is sophisticated and its technicians are, for the most part, top-notch. (Lab analysis is still carried out by LCBO.) The sensory evaluation panel consisted largely of LCBO product consultants - essentially LCBO retail store employees with superior product knowledge and, in the case of those on the tasting panel, proven knowledge of wine defects and various wine characteristics.

With the new changes, the panel roster is made up of qualified wine professionals, including sommeliers, winemakers, wine educators, Wine & Spirits Education Trust (WSET) diploma and MW holders. Another change is that wines are no longer given scores (out of a possible 20 points, with 13 required for a pass-

ing grade). In the early days VQA actually had a two-tiered scoring system. If memory serves me correctly, a score of over 13 counted as a pass and the wine could carry the VQA medallion on the bottle. Those scoring over 15 points could carry a gold VQA medallion. Whether or not I’m completely accurate on this point is more or less moot, as this system was eliminated early on in the history of VQA.

The move away from any type of numerical scoring apparatus is likely a good thing, at least in the eyes of winemakers. In fact, some have grumbled (in varying levels of volume) that the tasting panel itself should be scrapped. The argument for this stance centres around the possible “subjectiveness” of the panel and the awarding of passing grades to wines that are personally preferred as opposed to those which are technically sound. It also, perhaps in an indirect way, points to an issue with section (c) of the Act’s sensory guidelines that reads: (c) To the extent that an applicant identifies a varietal designation in the application, such wine should exhibit the predominant character of a wine produced from the designated grape variety or varieties.

Simply put, if you submit a Riesling to the panel for evaluation it should smell and taste like Riesling (and, of course, be defect-free - we’ll get back to that). Some winemakers claim that this forces them to conform to some arbitrary “standard” that determines what the “predominant character” of a specific grape variety actually is. The “T word” - typicity - is often bandied about, along with the notion that an emphasis on typicity limits innovation.

In fact, Niagara’s Pearl Morissette winery’s website offers this:

“We’ve all been blackballed. Some more than others. But whether it was not getting selected on the school soccer pitch or having the VQA repeatedly pass over your Niagara Riesling on the basis that it ‘lacked typicity’, getting blackballed has not always been a positive experience.”

“It is important to note that ‘typicity’ is not mentioned anywhere in the VQA regulations or procedural documents,” Macdonald points out. “We do not prescribe any typical presentations of varietals for Ontario and aim to recruit tasters with global exposure to a wide range of styles. Innovation is welcome as it should be for a relatively young region. For example, we have seen oak-aged Rieslings which are certainly not typical but have been approved based on soundness. We do however confirm certain category requirements during the sensory testing, for example, sparkling wines must be carbonated, Icewines must be sweet. In my opinion this discussion is really about what is or is not perceived as an unacceptable flaw. Problems typically arise when the “style” is characterized by unacceptable levels of H2S, volatile acidity, brett[anomyces], etc.”

But surely (it could be argued) a professional winemaker should be able to determine if a wine is of sound quality without some paternal body pointing out when the kid hasn’t lived up to expectations. Granted. But having a professionally-trained panel of experts available to lend guidance can’t be a bad thing. In fact, it may be helping to improve overall wine quality.

Macdonald reports that since 2000, submission failures have declined by 10 per cent to a range of about two per cent over the past five years. She also notes that some failures are not the fault (or the sole fault) of the winemaker. Still, technical and microbiological issues make up the bulk of the reasons for failures. Part of the VQA mandate is to help eliminate these.

“We facilitate winemakers forums to encourage winemakers to share their experiences, challenges and best practices,” she informs. “This is intended to assist in making the best wine possible given any set of parameters – vineyard, varietal, vintage conditions, price point, style, and so on, and it necessarily includes preventing and managing faults.”

Schmidt reports on the many positive changes he has witnessed over the years. “VQA is not static,” he emphasizes. “I have absolutely seen positive changes. Deregulating packaging, introduction of skin-fermented wines as a category, modifying sugar standards to recognize the unique and evolving characteristics of grapes grown in Ontario to name just a few. There are dozens of other examples.”

As Ontario’s (and Canada’s) vinous landscape continues to broaden, the Vintners Quality Alliance Act,1999 will no doubt continue to be modified to reflect changes within the industry. This sort of flexibility ensures that innovation and creativity can thrive, with the Act lending a degree of guidance to winemakers, while ensuring geographical authenticity and, ultimately, consumer confidence and international respect.

Tod Stewart has been a beverage alcohol industry professional for close to 40 years. He is an award-winning journalist and published author who has worked as a consultant, trainer, and educator to the hospitality industry, the Ontario wine industry, and the beverage alcohol trade. He has traveled and written extensively about international food, drink, culture, and history. His book, Where The Spirits Moved Me is currently available on Amazon and Apple. His cocktail of choice is a classic martini and the best concert he ever attended was Jethro Tull in 1978.

Food as Resistance

Chef Reem Assil is reclaiming what it means to be an Arab woman in the west.

By Aman Dosanj

“From my very youngest age, I remember being bombarded with imagery of people like me who were either refugees or terrorists,” explains Reem Assil.

For decades, Assil has devoted her professional career to serving underrepresented communities, and giving them a voice. Now, the multiple James Beard-nominated chef (including finalist for outstanding chef), restauranteur, and social justice activist has most recently added cookbook author to her already impressive resumé, paving the way for other Arab and Palestinian chefs to rewrite the narrative. “To be able to create mediums for telling our own stories is super, super important.”

Assil’s Palestinian-Syrian parents met during the Civil War in Beirut, Lebanon, then immigrated to the U.S. in the early 1980s. Born and raised in Waltham, a small — and very white — suburb just outside of Boston, Massachusetts, her parents were scared their first-generation children would lose their cultural identity. “I lived in this weird paradoxical world where, by the weekend, we had potluck dinners with traditional Arab dishes [but] subsisted off macaroni and cheese, singing Yankee Doodle Dandy in school and doing all these very Americana things [during school days]. It was quite confusing, to say the least,” she recalls from her home in Oakland, California. Growing up amidst rampant racism and xenophobia towards Muslims, which only heightened after 9/11, “It was hard to admit you were Arab, let alone Palestinian.” While those fear-based views were far from the truth, Assil still felt afraid: “I wanted it to be different for the generation after me.”

Years later, as she visited Lebanon and Syria with her father, she fell in love with the “magical” street corner bakeries. Despite the political unrest occurring just steps away, they were a place of refuge for locals. But this wasn’t an isolated case: the living, breathing alchemy of bread not only transcends across cultures, but also acts as a bridge. “I felt like the universe was telling me to be a baker,” says the activist. Leaving behind a tiring career in the non-profit sector as a labour and community organiser, Assil enrolled in a baking and pastry program at a local community college in 2010. Following a seven-year stint as a professional baker, she founded Reem’s California in 2017—an Arab bakery of her own with two nationally-acclaimed locations in Oakland and San Francisco.

Like many living in diaspora can understand, even if one is trying to find home, home is an elusive thing. Assil wanted to recreate a snapshot of how she felt in the Arab world within the communities struggling to find a sense of home in California. For her, that is deeply rooted in how Arabs do hospitality. Jokingly describing it as “sweet torture,” Assil tells me Arab hospitality is all about ensuring your guest’s heart, belly, and mind are chockfull as possible—sometimes with very little. Back in the day, that virtue was essential for the survival of traders, but Assil believes modern-day hospitality is also about a sense of belonging. “It’s not just about the food but how you serve it and what conditions you create for that person to feel at ease.”

While other chefs before Assil may have hidden behind a more palatable guise of Mediterranean cuisine (for the American public, that is), “I made a very intentional choice to call my food what it was,” she says. “This is Arab food. This is Palestinian food. This is Syrian food.” And claiming (or reclaiming) her Arab identity and taking ownership of their recipes (including hummus) is a political act of resistance—and a way to showcase their beautiful presence and everyday existence.

Photo credit: Lara Aburamadan

Orange Turmeric Cake California Fattoush Salad

With the release of her new cookbook, Arabiyya: Recipes from the Life of an Arab in Diaspora, which proudly translates to ‘Arab woman,’ Assil is here to debunk every preconceived image—or misguided trope—readers may have about Arab women. Loaded cover to cover with more than 100 vibrant recipes, expect fresh, seasonal Californian produce mingling with all the orchestrated rhythms of hospitality, a mosaic of vegetables, the unapologetic bold fl avours of slow-cooked meats, and mounds of fresh herbs, as well as a hefty baking section, of course. The book is not only about the recipes but the culture and communities that inform it. “This cookbook is a documentation of my family history. Each chapter is dedicated to a person or people in my family and has [related] themes [spanning from how to host like an Arab and the street corner bakeries with hot-out-of-the-oven mana’eesh to fi nding her vegetable roots],” she shares.

For Assil, food is much more delicious—and alive—when you can understand the context. For example, her take on Musakhan—Palestine’s iconic sumac-scented chicken dish, topped with caramelised onions and remixed into a wrap—refl ects her experience of being Arab in America. “We joke we don’t have a nation-state but we [do] have a national dish,” she says. “There are so few ingredients, but an easy way to connect when I talk about the comfort dishes I grew up eating.” Even though many of us are messy, complicated humans living in multiple identity spaces, food has a way of expressing the various parts that make up that beautiful story—and Arabiyya is a celebration of that.

Much like the ancestors before her, who adapted family recipes through occupation and displacement to new surroundings, the food traditions of Syria and Palestine out west continue to tell a remarkable story of resilience. “This is not a California version,” she says. “I happen to be in California using Californian ingredients, but this is very much Palestinian because the hands that made it is Palestinian, and I come from a lineage of Palestinians. But it’s as much about Oakland—it’s the intersection of all my experiences.”

To Assil’s surprise, her book has touched a broader audience than fi rst anticipated. Travelling down to Texas and Charleston, “White folks are coming up to me and saying, ‘This challenged me and spoke to me,’ so that was eye-opening [to know] the world has changed; people are searching for a different way and want to understand more,” she explains. “I think people have felt the vulnerability, and [they] love the recipes—they’re really working out,” she says with a laugh. “Now I know they’re part of my community: they know my story, and they’ll associate that food with that story. That feels heartening for someone whose whole goal is to build community.”

“If we could build that empathy for people across cultures, we can understand what equity is and what it means. Then we can start to dismantle racism and this misconception that we can have one culture,” says Assil. “Imperialists have been trying that for centuries, and it hasn’t worked, so something has got to give— and I imagine a [multicultural] world [where] everybody is sharing.” Through collaboration, Assil believes our neighbourhoods will be more delicious. Maybe then, we can reverse some of the damage done to people—and the planet. And as a fellow third-culture kid myself, I, for one, am here for it.

Scan the QR code for Reem Assil’s recipe for MUSAKHAN (Sumac-Spiced Chicken Wraps)

Rotterdam:

Cube Houses designed by Piet Blom

Photo credit: Iris van den Broek

The Markthal

from rough harbour to progressive city By Åsa Johansson

Rotterdam was destroyed during World War II, when the city centre burned to the ground.

It was a terrible crime, but the blank slate that was post war Rotterdam became attractive to artists and architects. Holland’s rough harbour put on its fine clothes without losing its working-class soul, and today it is one of Europe’s most exciting destinations.

The first thing that strikes you when arriving in Rotterdam is the energy. The whole city is bubbling with fearless, forward-thinking, alternative and, at the same time, well-organized energy - with an ever-present humorous undertone. In recent decades, a lot has happened in Europe’s largest port. Here, where the church bells still ring every Tuesday at a quarter to two to commemorate the catastrophic bombing in 1940, the presence of history is still quite strong. At the same time, the city has jumped into the future, becoming a vivid hub with an international vibe - and it has gone fast.

For example, in Blaak, an area in central Rotterdam, the architect Piet Blom’s grey and yellow cube-shaped houses from 1984 already feel old. If you turn your back on the shaky-but-actually-straight houses, you look at Rotterdam’s impressive Markthal, the Netherlands’ largest indoor market with restaurants, bars and stalls, designed by the architectural firm MVRDV and inaugurated in 2014. Turn a U-shape upside down, decorate the inside with large colourful fruits and build 240 apartments in the U-shaped building and it feels big. It’s pop. It’s kitsch. But it’s not the latest development.

The most recent architectural contribution to the city’s constantly changing skyline is De Depot, which was also created by MVRDV. De Depot opened in November 2021 and is probably the world’s most beautiful warehouse, which is precisely what it is, a warehouse for the city’s art museum Boijmans Von Beuningen’s permanent collection.

“This is a democratic way to create new bonds with our guests, and show works that would otherwise be inaccessible. It is a tiny part of all art museums’ works shown in exhibitions,” says our guide.

According to many, De Depot is a revolutionary place from several points of view. Not least the architecture. The building is a huge, mirrored dress ball with trees on the top. The closer you get, the stronger the city’s contours become. It is impressive to see the views of skyscrapers and dark water take shape on the building’s facade. The mirror image reminds us of the city’s continuous change and how it has taken on a new form after being destroyed. HOW DID CHANGE HAPPEN?

“When I went to the university in Rotterdam in 1990, the city was not a safe place, and there were many neighbourhoods you should not visit,” says Wilbert Lek, CEO of Rotterdam Partners, the communication agency for Rotterdam.

Lek works closely with local entrepreneurs and the popular mayor Ahmed Aboutaleb, who has been in office since 2009. Mayor Aboutaleb, who came to the Netherlands from Morocco at the age of 15, is the first mayor of a large city in the Netherlands of both immigrant origin and the Muslim faith. Like all port cities, Rotterdam had a lot of domestic migration and then international migration. Today, the city has more than 175 nationalities, representing all of the religions and cultures of the world.

“The real change of the city happened when we developed the infrastructure,” Lek explains. “The central station was rebuilt in 2014 and became a safe place, exactly like other vital spots in the city, that was the base to start to build on.”

Lek says that the unique transformation that Rotterdam has gone through also depends

De Wikkelboats at Rijnhaven

on close collaboration between local government, citizens, and private entrepreneurs. The city has not taken any easy solutions but focused on long term investments, giving space for new creative initiatives.

“We regularly meet and talk together, and I think the unique thing is that so many opportunities are given to new ideas, young persons, and people with different backgrounds,” says Lek. “Rotterdam has decided to develop locally, small, and step by step. Here it is possible to fail without losing everything.”

What Lek is suggesting is that the new Rotterdam is built around its people. That is also the strategy he uses to market (with great success) the city internationally.

“We do not own the product we promote, and therefore we have less control,” he says. “Rotterdam is developing itself, and our job is to feel it, understand it and tell what we do differently.”

WATER: THE NEW CHALLENGE

Rotterdam continues to change, and the focus now lies on the city’s closed ports.

“Today, water is the new challenge,” says Sander Waterval, initiator of the hotel project De Wikkelboats. “What should we do to best use the empty ports and the Maas River’s water?”

De Wikkelboats is one of the ways in which the city’s watery spaces can be used; the small cardboard houseboats can be rented for meetings, accommodation, or other events. He currently has seven, all with solar panels on the roof, high-tech furnishings, and a kitchen. One of the houseboats even has a built-in jacuzzi.

“Here you will, among other things, build beaches, and practice water sports. Young entrepreneurs will have the chance to start new projects, exactly like myself,” he says, pointing to the other side of the empty harbour.

The city’s most popular new restaurant, Putaine, is a stone’s throw away. The eatery, which also swings, makes you feel slightly dizzy when you enter. This is partly because the restaurant is built on a boardwalk, and also because of the Miami Vice-inspired decor that attracts so many beautiful people it is difficult to know where to look. The area had a bad reputation for a long time, with prostitution and crime, hence the name, which translates to “whore” in French. At Putaine, you can eat modern food with an international touch of the highest level. The owner Eva Eekman also runs the city centre restaurant Héroine.

“20 years ago, the city was full of drugs and prostitution,” says Eekman. “It was under-developed and unsafe, and so much has changed in a short time.”

By this she means that the city has become more diverse, attracting not only workers for the harbour, but also curious middle class and high income patrons, as well as young artists.

“One of the problems is that young persons and the lower class cannot afford anymore to stay in the city centre,” Eekman notes. “It is a pity. One of the things I am worried about is that we will become too developed like Dubai. We must remain a working-class city – a city where you live.”

If she had been in Amsterdam, she could have asked five times the price for a tasting menu. “Here in Rotterdam, people will not accept that. Here, people work, are down to earth, do their thing, and want you to deliver good stuff and do not take any shit,” she says with a laugh.

The food and wine scene has changed a lot in the last few years.

“We are a little behind other cities, and we are still developing because you have to prove yourself much more here than in Amsterdam,” Eekman says. “But we are working on it. Cool places are coming, and here in Rotterdam things are possible.”

One of these dreams is OX, a new restaurant and speakeasy that is very difficult to find. There is no sign or street number. The only assistance is the Google maps blue dot, which indicates that we are more or less in the right place. Another sign that you are where you’re meant to be is the other people who look as confused as you do. Once we discover the entrance, we find out that the small restaurant

De Depot a warehouse for the art museum Boijmans Von Beuningen’s permanent collection

Photo credit: Iris van den Broek Photo credit: supplied Photo credit: supplied

The city’s popular new restaurant Putaine Wilbert Lek, CEO Rotterdam Partners

Floating Farm

Photo credit: Iris van den Broek Photo credit: supplied

Eva Eekman, of restaurants Putaine and Héroine

is in a rough house with graffiti on the walls, cigarette butts, and rubbish on the pavement.

Once inside, you go down a dirty dark staircase using your phone’s flashlight to avoid tumbling down the narrow steps. Later, we learn that the concept is that visitors’ expectations should disappear in the dark and that you should come here with an open mind. Inside the room itself possesses a wow-factor. Soft lighting illuminates the small room. A large black bar is in the centre, and tables surround it with white tablecloths and an elegant setting. There’s a rattling sound in one corner where Alexander Wong creates the most delicious dishes. He has a past of three-star restaurants in Europe, including La Pergola in Rome.

“I came back home to Rotterdam because I felt so strongly that I wanted to convey my Chinese culture genuinely and honestly,” says Wong. “My parents’ generation offered an accommodating version in Europe to please unfamiliar taste buds.” Wong felt that this was possible in Rotterdam because it’s an open-minded city and easier to open a new business compared to other places.

His dim sum is an explosion of flavours. Oysters, three kinds of eggs, or the classic Babi Pangang, all are given a new meaning at OX. The dishes are beautiful and so good that you feel like booking another reservation before you’ve even finished your current dinner. Before we leave, we’re tapped on the shoulder by Wong, who follows us out into the street to reiterate his dedication to Chinese tradition.

“And we also want to become the best in Europe,” he says before running back into his little kitchen.

FLOATING FARMS AND BEER BREWERY

Another project on the water is The Floating Farm, which is literally a farm on water. It’s in a small harbour on the outskirts of Rotterdam where a number of homes and meeting places are being renovated, redone, and built. One of the first initiatives is the floating farm, which is entirely self-sufficient and supplies the area as well as some of Rotterdam’s top restaurants with milk, butter, and yoghurt.

“This is a solution for cities with little space but a lot of water,” says Minke van Wingerden, who started the project together with her husband Peter. “The Floating Farm means that we avoid long transport distances, we are close to our customers inside the city, and only use green energy. We show that you must think outside the box in the future to protect the environment and our surroundings. We are good at thinking outside the box in Rotterdam,” she finishes, smiling.

The cows eat grass from the city’s football stadium (where the city’s pride Feyenoord plays) as well as leftovers from the city’s restaurants. Both are mixed with grain used in the adjacent brewery, Stadshaven Brouwerij. In a short time, the brewery has become a new meeting place for Rotterdam’s beer lovers.

“This was one of the city’s most important warehouses for citrus fruits. That is why the area is called the vitamin district,” says the brewery manager Nina Landl.

The former warehouse consists of 5,000 square meters. Many beers have a fruit theme to connect the past with the present. Here you can play shuffleboard, take a a guided tour, or hang out at the bar and immerse yourself in the beer world with the help of the knowledgeable counter staff.

“We have also kept much of the original interior, but we have 1700 solar panels on the roof and reuse the water we need for beer production,” Landl says.

Past and present. Old and new. Sea and land. High and low. In Rotterdam, everything becomes a creative mix without losing its working-class soul.