Colonel Mustard’s Canteen
10802-124 St., 780-488-1590

Truth be told, the last thing I wanted to do on Friday night was go out for supper. It was one of those busy catch-as-catch-can weeks for meals — a hot dog here, a bowl of noodles there, a conspicuous lack of vegetables — and dining out for the umpteenth consecutive night rumbled my guts in unhandsome ways.

All the same, I knew this was my best chance to do my dining-by-proxy bit. A friend mentioned that Colonel Mustard’s Canteen, a 124 Street staple and purveyor of unique lunchtime fare had launched a new dinner menu. Given the care I have known the Colonel to take with soups, salads, and sandwiches, I felt confident supper would go well.

In a classic bit of bad timing, my co-diner and I got seated in the Canteen’s colourful, stylish environs just as two customers had a frank and testy discussion of the quality of their meal with a representative of the establishment. It seems they didn’t like their food much, a point the staffer didn’t want to concede.

Eventually I realized this was none of my business — actually, I couldn’t really hear what they were saying, anyhow — so I turned my attention to the storied new menu. There I found an attractive assortment of appetizers, meal-sized salads, and entrées, but I was in the mood for something on the lighter side and settled on the caramelized onion and roasted tomato personal pizza ($12) and a side house salad ($6), while my co-diner was drawn to the pan-seared salmon ($17) and a side spinach salad ($6).

For dishes made from scratch, our orders made a speedy turnaround. The pleasant and attentive server was quick to deliver our salads to start and made with the fresh ground pepper. My house salad featured spears of red pepper and artichoke hearts tossed with romaine, spinach, and crisp shards of toasted pita in tangy red wine vinaigrette. Usually I prefer to add my own dressing to avoid an overdose, but the kitchen had done a nice job with the proportions and the standout flavour of oregano was a pleasing complement to the sweet peppers and the briny artichoke hearts. The spinach salad across the table from me was done up in a slightly sweeter vinaigrette with copious real bacon bits and an entire hardboiled egg, tidily sliced. As usual, my co-diner liked my plate better, so we swapped at the end.

Scarcely were the salad plates cleared when the entrées arrived, also attended with lavishings of fresh ground pepper. I wouldn’t call the serving of pizza overly generous, but it was beautifully constructed — a thin pita-style crust that had been preserved from sogginess, topped with a rich lode of onions and roasted tomatoes, an underlay of the iridescent Macedonian roasted-vegetable condiment called ajvar (aka Gloria spread) and a judicious application of mozzarella melted on top. The onions were candy-sweet, an ideal counterpoint to the dark, garlicky tomatoes, earthy ajvar, and creamy cheese. It was fortuitously commensurate with my appetite.

My co-diner was also pleased with her serving of salmon, seared to perfection, lightly dusted with seasoning and served on a shallow pool of lemon-white wine sauce, which also tasted good with the tender baby potatoes and sautéed nest of spinach and onions on her plate. A forkful of the fish revealed it to be sensitively cooked, moist and substantial, which made my co-diner less eager to swap plates.

I wish we’d been inclined to eat more, as the dessert selection at Colonel Mustard’s is generally quite enticing. For that matter, I could have gone for another glass of the robust nero d’avola ($8.50) from their wine list, but then I would have had to put my head down on the table for a nap.

While it’s nice that I would feel comfortable enough there to do that, I think the Canteen may have some work ahead getting their regular clientele accustomed to a higher-end — and sandwich-free — menu. Judging by our satisfying first encounter, though, the kitchen is up to it.