The World in 202 Meals

There’s one thing that embarrasses me a bit about being Canadian, aside from our prime minister and our pathetic film and television industries. Canadian food—or the lack of it. Toronto is a carnival of exotic cuisines, but for a taste of the uniquely Canadian, what can you get besides Timbits, butter tarts and the masses of maple candy in the duty-free shops at Pearson? When British foodie friends ask you about Canadian delicacies, what can you describe besides beaver tails, peameal bacon, Tourtière and poutine?

The above (all delicious, by the way) are possibly the only Canadian foods that exist, or at least that I can think of. So having any sort of Canadian meal in London, let alone finding a restaurant for one, was always going to be a challenge.

Luckily for 202 Meals, there’s the Maple Leaf. I was floored when I heard about it from a Canadian seatmate on my first ever flight over here. Canadians aren’t used to having our identity celebrated in any way—we’re not even sure we have one. So the existence of a Canadian-themed pub in a foreign country is both an honour and a curiosity.

The pub, which sits on a little lane off Covent Garden, is a celebration of Canadian-ness in the most clichéd sense: all framed hockey jerseys and mountie paraphernalia, a portrait of John Molson and a gigantic (dead) stuffed bear. Squeeze through the middle-aged male crowd clogging the entrance, navigating past slightly grimy tables to the back wall by the fireplace, and you’ll be rewarded with the only London pub television that’s ever shown a National Hockey League game.

The typical low-end pub menu gives only a few token nods to the Canadian theme, like the “Full Mountie” burger (made with British beef) and some maple-drenched desserts. And most of what we tried didn’t really impress—MSG-laden nachos topped with cheese and salsa, meat loaf more like a meat mash, and “Buffalo wings” drenched in gloopy sweet barbecue sauce rather than the trademark vinegary spice they’re famous for in North America. But none of that mattered, as we were really here for two things: poutine and Canadian beer.

Our tasting panel had quite a lot of poutine expertise for a bunch of Londoners—fellow Canadians Sarah and Brian, and sceptical Matt, who once bravely downed the mixture of chips, cheese and gravy on a trip to Montreal. Only Karol had never tried it, but he had high expectations. I’d built it up over the past year in a series of drooling descriptions: back home, even Burger King has poutine, but the most authentic Quebec versions are dotted with delicious, mild cheese curds rather than slathered in melted cheddar.

Needless to say, it was the latter here—large, formerly frozen chips lying limply in thick gravy and sprinkled with shreds of cheese so faint as to be almost undetectable. Luckily, chips and gravy are always a comforting food no matter how little thought goes into them. And, as Brian noted, the presentation—on gleaming white plates, with actual cutlery—was an interesting departure from the greasy boxes that normally hold the concoction.

Two Canadian beers were more of a success. Sleemans Honey Brown, available on tap, is a darker than average lager and infused with a honey sweetness bordering on Belgian; and there’s always something comforting about bottles of Moosehead, although the beer itself isn’t that special. (The Sleemans Cream Ale, alas, was not as creamy as I remembered, and we skipped the famous but bland Molson Canadian.)

Soon we were ready for what was meant to be the highlight of the night—dipping into a box of London’s take on Tim Hortons doughnuts, which I’d brought over from the Spar on Haymarket that’s now selling them. Strangely, Tim Hortons has licensed its doughnuts (and coffee and muffins) to just this one London Spar location, which has become a bit legendary for Canadian ex-pats, even though the word is they taste nothing like the real thing. Now that I’ve tried them, I can agree that they don’t, nor do they look it, save for the comforting Canadian doughnut chain logo-covered packaging, which is the same as back home. Really, they’re just the usual flat, misshapen, lying-all-day-in-a-corner shop kind of doughnut. Only two varieties bore any resemblance to true Tim Hortons flavours: the maple glazed and old-fashioned glazed. But instead of the cakey freshness I’ve grown up with, they were dry, and the maple glaze hard and gritty rather than the soft, fudgy topping I’m used to.

Still, it was really fun to sit, armed with Tim Hortons paraphernalia, in a kitschy Canadian pub for the night, attracting a bewildered Montrealer to our table to ask where we’d gotten the doughnuts. And it’s comforting to know that there’s a place to go for yummy, if overpriced, Sleeman’s. Spar’s doughnuts and the Maple Leaf may not be the best Canadian ambassadors, but it’s nice to have them around, especially for an identity-starved Canadian.

In summary

The Maple Leaf
41 Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, London, WC2E 7LJ
020 7240 2843

More Canadian

The Canada/Australia/New Zealand/South Africa shop down the street from the Maple Leaf on Maiden Lane stocks goodies common to Canadian supermarkets, like Kraft Dinner, Kool-Aid and Shake ‘n Bake, Canadian beer, and yes, plenty of maple syrup products.