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MAGNIFICENT GAMBLE: WHEN IS A GROCERY STORE NOT A GROCERY STORE?
Mark McEwan's really, really big idea
The star chef wants to revolutionize the supermarket, and he's chosen the controversial Shops at Don Mills as the place to realize his dream. The decision isn't to some locals' taste, reports Jessica Leeder.
JESSICA LEEDER
February 21, 2009
Picture this: You're midway through the daily race home from work, sapped of energy and feeling about as culinarily inspired as Chef Boyardee.
In the old days, you would have outsourced dinner duty to experts in pizza delivery. Instead, you detour out of highway gridlock and nip over to mcewan, a little spot in the heart of Don Mills where the twinned scents of espresso and fresh baked bread rush your nostrils.
The savoury smell of roasts at the hot bar pull you past a sushi counter where the chefs are crafting fresh rolls. You face a quandary: Do you delve into the 50-foot sprawl of prepared offerings, scallion spun potatoes and curry braised short ribs? Or do you move on to the fish and meat counters, weave through the charcuterie and North American cheese, assembling raw ingredients for your dinner, plus a few indulgences - house-jarred foie gras, or luxury Galler chocolates?
You settle on a mélange and move to the checkout, where clean-cut young men pack your things into fully biodegradable paper bags, which do not cost extra. While the bag boys carry the load to your trunk, you whisk back into the store to order a latte from a relaxed barista. You revel in the New York-inspired romance of the place, with its fresh flowers and thoughtful displays, then set off for a bistro-quality meal - at home.
Sound like a dream?
It is, and it belongs to Toronto uber-chef Mark McEwan, the architect of some of this city's finest cuisine. The dream is scheduled to come true later this year, around the time spring blooms into summer.
When the chef-turned-businessman cuts the ribbon on his 22,000-square-foot space, it will mark the realization of a vision half-a-dozen years in the making. But for one cadre of community members, the opening of the up-market grocery and its neighbouring niche vendors represents the coming of a nightmare, one in which they've been priced out of a place to shop.
DREAM THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM
A native of Buffalo, N.Y., Mr. McEwan, 51, has been hiking his way to the pinnacle of chef-dom in Toronto since the late 1970s. After a stint in the early eighties as executive chef at the Sutton Place Hotel, where he cooked for Pope John Paul II, among others, he began assembling the building blocks for a restaurant and catering empire. Anchored by uptown hot spot North 44, it now includes Yorkville restaurant One, the financial district's Bymark and a Food Network series, The Heat.
As the chef's star has risen in this city, so has his grocery-related malaise.
"When you walk in a store today, it's just aisle upon aisle of convenience food. When you go to the fresh section, the tomatoes are lousy and the herbs are lousy and the meat is substandard, and the fish, I can't bring myself to buy. The bread is ... just the same bread everybody else has," he said.
"I don't like to be disparaging about what other people are doing. But I can't find anything that gets me excited."
This is something that does get Mr. McEwan, who says he is never without "a project," excited. "I have been thinking about this forever."
Don Mills 4
Cadillac Fairview's redevelopment of the historic Don Mills Centre presented a unique venue: An open-air hybrid that is part mall, part Main Street, the concept will present elite vendors with enough pull to draw shoppers from all over the city.
After studying the location ("I have many, many maps with circles on them"), Mr. McEwan decided the Shops at Don Mills was perfect for the launch of his $6-million Europe-meets-North America food-retail experiment.
He hired Peter Turcot, a former Loblaw vice-president whom he has dubbed the "grocery guru" of the operation. Together, the pair have developed a strategy that features edible offerings, which will be produced in the second-floor restaurant-style kitchen. They believe this nerve centre will set mcewan far ahead of its competitors in the cut-throat specialty grocery sector.
"There's no expertise in prepared foods at all. That's where everybody really falls down, in having a chef put a pot on the stove and making something worth eating," Mr. McEwan said. He believes that the fresh product, plus his commitment to old-style service and healthy food, will keep clients coming back.
"The basic quality that people eat, from bread to cheese to fish to meat, should be at a higher standard. I'm not saying that you try to go for cult products like Kobe beef or Wagyu beef or things that are ultra-expensive. That's not the concept at all," he said. "You can buy real food. You'll be able to shop here every day."
By his measure, Mr. McEwan will attract neighbourhood residents who will splurge on specialty items, shoppers who live in nearby residential pockets such as the Bridle Path and Rosedale, plus commuters traversing nearby arteries such as Bayview Avenue, Leslie Street, York and Don Mills roads and Highway 401.
"This demographic is massive," he said. "People don't understand how big it is. If you imagine people hopping in their car, which you have to do in Toronto ... it's very convenient for people."
Precisely what Don Mills old-timers are afraid of.
FIGHT FOR THE TOWN SQUARE
The fifties- and sixties-style ranch houses and back splits that ring the winding streets of Don Mills are still filled with many of the original residents, who moved to Canada's first planned community after its construction in 1953, attracted by the contained, small-town feel it offered.
Divided into four quadrants, the 835-hectare neighbourhood was designed to minimize through traffic. Rimmed by industrial zoning on the periphery, the inner residential loops are linked by pedestrian pathways and green space. At the heart of it all, the forefathers of the neighbourhood planned an open-air commercial hub, inspired by the marketplaces of ancient Greece.
"Many people moved here because of this convenience. The mall was the centre of the community," said Simone Gabbay, founder of Don Mills Friends, a community advocacy group that formed in 2006 to lobby against the reformation of the old shopping plaza. "In the summer it was cooling, in the winter it was warming. It served the people who lived here ... it had grown out of the needs for services they had."
By 2001, though, it was becoming evident to plaza owner Cadillac Fairview that the community was poised to outgrow the aging marketplace, which had lost its old department-store anchors and become laden with discount shops.
"The average age of the [mall] consumer was 55, yet the average age of a person in the community was 45," said Anne Morash, vice-president of development for the company. "Basically what we weren't doing was servicing those in the community."
Five years later, the company settled on a plan to restore the shopping plaza to a version of its former self - in its original incarnation, the mall was not fully enclosed - by knocking down the weathered building and replacing it with a new streetscape concept pioneered in middle America.
"It's really meant to be like Bloor West Village, or Bayview and Eglinton ... the only difference being that all the stores are owned by the same landlord," Ms. Morash explained.
In keeping with the community's treatment of the mall as a meeting place, a 60,000-square-foot town square will centre the shops, a mix of service-based businesses and "better-quality retailers, but not necessarily high-end," Ms. Morash said.
The decision to raze the old mall tipped off an uproar in some parts of the community. Ms. Gabbay's group circulated a petition that gained signatures of 5,000 detractors. Their efforts, though, were not enough to save the old mall.
The community's more established residents group, Don Mills Residents Inc., took a different tack. "We basically started working with them to try to improve the plan they put on the table," said Terry West, a 25-year resident and president of the group, which is one of the largest associations of its kind in the city. "They're in the business to make money. You have to acknowledge that."
Mr. West's association was also ready to acknowledge a wave of demographic changes that was beginning to erode Don Mills' aged base. "It's a renaissance taking place, there's no question about it," he said. "Life is changing. We're not living in the fifties and sixties any more."