Sparrow? Swallow? Spit? Your Choice, Really.

Dinner last night at The Sparrow on Ossington. Sheena has a bizarre mental block about this place, because she always wants to call it The Swallow. In fact, googling a picture of it this morning, she was perplexed and confused when no hit came up because again, she typed the wrong word.

It's an odd location, nestled in a block chock full of auto parts shops, Vietnamese Karaoke and bleak concrete multi-family dwellings. I've wanted to love this place since I found out that 1) It's owned by the same people who brought Sweaty Betty's into the world and 2) It's a BYOW place with FREE CORKAGE on Thursday nights.

The wine list was a joy to behold. Though I wondered why if they had the Stratus White, they didn't bother with the even stunninglier Red. (Sheena was compelled to race home and pet her stashed bottles later that evening).

The bathrooms were reminiscent of a recurring childhood nightmare. Cold dark concrete steps down into a church basement where elders nattered on in unfamiliar languages.

Sheena had the flank steak, and the companion asked for the Pickerel. Out of Pickerel. So he had the Phyllo Wrapped Chicken. Both mains came out with beautiful spring seasonal baby veggies. Including BEETS! Yay Beets! and Yay that the dining companion doesn't like them so more sweet pink delights for Sheena. Baby carrots the size of a first-graders little finger. But not as dirty.

Unfortunately, the meats came out pretty dry. Flank steak IS a known tougher cut, but Sheena likes to marinate hers overnight in lime and ginger and soya sauce for fajitas or stirfry. Not so this one. The wrapped chicken was kind of disappointing. I had to lend El Chaperone my steak knife for him to make further progress.

But, cocktail and wine list will likely compel a second visit. That and the background music that put a smile on Sheena's face.