There’s a certain je ne sais quoi about Lucien that suggests culinary wunderkind Scot Woods (who ran the kitchen at Habitat after stints at Canoe and Avalon) and stylish restaurateur Simon Bower (YYZ, Mercer Street Grill) may have made a deal with the old Prince o’ Darkness himself.
Perhaps it’s the name, “Lucien,” which sounds uncomfortably like “Lucifer,” or reminds us of a certain devilish, one-legged separatist. Or, perhaps it’s the warm, yet eerily gothic, charm of a dining room (designed by Bower) awash in autumnal tones with the incandescent glow of a Dali-esque chandelier and ritualistic-style candles.

But it’s the unrepentant decadence of what’s coming out of Woods’ kitchen that’s truly sinful. One bite of his foie gras ravioli ($19), a trio of plump, pillowy pasta rounds spilling with utterly immoral molten duck liver, is enough to send the most pious novice screaming to the confessional. And it’s paired perfectly with golden beet, fennel, the “forbidden” apple and the true genius of an inspired white chocolate foam.

A Berkshire pork belly ($16) is a holdover from Habitat. Hints of ginger, mirin and soy permeate a glistening, surprisingly unsalty hunk of slow-cooked pig. It’s so perfect the slow-poached egg, earth-hued barley hash and kimchee seem almost redundant. Reeking of the Dark Arts is a bincho (Japanese charcoal) grilled octopus ($13), slivers of tender cephalopod wisely spiced up with Woods’ house-made chorizo.

And these stellar openers are just a preamble to a meal by an exceptional chef in his prime. The sheer artistry he lavishes on the garnishes beats what most chefs do for an entire menu. Like a creamy buttermilk pearl garnish for a “fried” organic hen ($27); or the complex understanding that gives birth to the Quebec porcelait ($33), a succulent slab of pink young pork in a bitter cocoa nib sauce (think mole) accompanied by buttery gigante beans and white truffles; even monkfish ($29), an overexposed ingredient these days, is given an exotic rub with Indian spices and rides atop a swirl of velvety spinach purée, paired with scallops, clams and mussels in a creamy chickpea sauce.
Attention to detail follows right on into desserts. You won’t be tempted to wander to Solferino’s gelato bar if that means missing out on Lucien’s Good Humour ($10), a trio of house-made ice-cream bars that reeks of nostalgia: a chocolate- and nut-coated delight (think Nutty Buddy); a citrus cheesecake (think Creamsicle); and a nut-coated strawberry shortcake. As far as rice-based treats, the crème Catalan ($10) is tops in town, with smooth custard and a crunchy, sugary puffed-rice crisp.

So the evidence suggests Woods has gone down to the crossroads. If only the same sort of effort were put into service, we’d gladly fork over our souls for Lucien. At times overly friendly, the clumsy (having food spilled on you once is bad enough, but three times?), clean-cut servers bark out dish components at us as if dispatching a military roll call. Even worse was being curtly cut off from another helping of Woods’ heavenly mini brioches. Only the devil could be cruel enough to taunt us with such divine decadence, only to whisk it away and offer us crackers instead.

Then again, if we’re correct and the path to hell is paved with Scot Woods’ cuisine, we couldn’t think of a tastier road to follow.