The Koven
93 Murray St., 613-858-6111, thekoven.ca
Open: Monday 4 p.m. to 2 a.m., Tuesday to Sunday 11 a.m. to 2 a.m.
Prices: Burgers $4.50 to $15
Access: one step to front door
While some food at the Koven can be an unholy mess, I expect regulars wouldn’t have it any other way.
At the six-month-old Murray Street restaurant, the theme, laid on thickly over everything from its decor to its music to its burgers, poutines, hot dogs and more, is heavy metal. It’s a concept that the Koven’s owner, Mehdi Galehdar, believes is unique in Canada.
The blaring sounds of Behemoth or Cryptopsy might greet customers as they sidle past artwork of a hellscape featuring souls writhing in agony and settle in at a table beneath impressive portraits of the members of KISS. The 17 burgers here are categorized as 1/4-pound, Extreme and Sacrilegious. The 17 poutines, from the Cheesus Krist (curds, brie, cheddar, parmesan) to the Cannibal Corpse (roasted red peppers, sautéed onions, curds, spicy havarti) come with a choice of three gravies: Klassik, Veggie or Bloody.
The Koven’s Cannibal Corpse poutine
Yes, most of the menu’s items refer to bands in the metal pantheon. My favourite dish could be the chicken fingers listed as Five Finger Chicken Punch, in tribute to the band Five Finger Death Punch.
Since it opened in December, the Koven has even become Ottawa’s meet-and-greet spot for metal bands. When Judas Priest came to Ottawa in March to play the TD Centre, the metal greats fit in a meal at the Koven. Maybe that is all the endorsement you need.
I can add a few more observations based on my three lunches here. Bear in mind, though, that I am not part of the Koven’s target market. I outgrew hard rock after seeing KISS and Cheap Trick at the Ottawa Civic Centre four decades ago. The idea of eating the Koven’s signature Chaotic Cthulhu (beef patty stuffed with curds, bacon, cheddar, Swiss cheese, topped with barbeque sauce and aioli and sandwiched between two grilled cheese sandwiches, $15) filled me with dread. That the Koven used to be the fine-dining destination Navarra, which closed in March 2017, makes me shudder a little.
The Koven’s signature Chaotic Cthulhu burger.
And yet, I found that the Koven served some pretty good burgers and sides, as well as some more extreme items that you order and eat at your own risk. Also, the prices were more than fair and the servers were friendly.
Perhaps you would want to sit inside, near the TV showing videos of bands with guitars screaming, bass drums thudding and vocalists croaking. On sunny days, however, I’ve preferred to eat on the Koven’s pleasant backyard patio where the space is brighter and quieter.
At my first lunch, we had two hits and a miss. The massive serving of house chili ($8) surprised us with good heat and depth of flavour. The Pyre ($10), a serving of crisp sweet potato fries and gravy-slathered onion rings and curds, was another winner. The Lamb of God ($12), however, was a massive and shockingly over-the-top sandwich of too-dry merguez sausage, havarti, lettuce, tomatoes and a heap of fries on a baguette. (Apparently, these kinds of sandwiches, nicknamed “mitraillettes,” meaning machine guns, are a thing in Beligum, where Galehdar lived for a time.) Perhaps the band of the same name would have thought it a fitting tribute. I could only regard it as a truly daunting hangover cure. Maybe I should have been warned.
Sweet potato fries and onion rings at the Koven
The Koven’s Lamb of God sandwich.
At my next visit, I dialled back my order and asked for the Koven burger ($6.50), which you could also call a quarter-pounder with bacon, cheddar, green pepper and mushrooms. It was a moist and solidly made burger on a good bun. So too was my friend’s meat-stuffed-with-meat Mephisto burger ($10), whose patty also contained sausage and brie, and which was topped with mushrooms, Swiss cheese and a pesto mayo.
Mephisto burger at the Koven
At my last visit to the Koven, I found the courage to order the Leviathan ($14), a beef patty that was stuffed with curds, bacon, salami, pepperoni, cheddar and then rolled in dough before hitting the deep fryer. “Nice. Go big or go home,” our server said. I should have flashed her the sign of the horns.
The Leviathan was a burger that one brags about eating more than one savours. The doughy exterior was actually not bad and while deep-frying had extracted much of the beef’s juiciness, the melted curds and especially the barbecue sauce and chipotle mayo on the side acted as correctives. As the late Anthony Bourdain famously said: “An ounce of sauce covers a multitude of sins.”
Leviathan burger at the Koven
However, those chicken fingers ($12, with fries) were simply too dry to be redeemed by their dip.
Five Finger Chicken Punch at the Koven
At the core of the bacon-and-pulled-pork-bolstered Slipknot poutine ($8 for “punk” size, $10 for “rock” size, $17 for “heavy metal” size) was some pretty good poutine — fine, crisp fries slathered in well-seasoned gravy. However, while the poutine’s bacon garnish was fine, the same was not true of its dry pork from Hell (which I believe is an AC/DC song).
Slipknot poutine at the Koven
You might have guessed that the Koven is less than ideal for vegetarians. However, there are meatless choices, and even a double-tofu-patty-and-spinach creation called the Atheist. I did not try it.
The restaurant is licensed, and stresses local craft brews. At one of our lunches, my friend satisfied a craving for a bloody Caesar and thought his drink, served in a Mason jar, was spicy, punchy and above average.
However, metal fans apparently do not like sweets, as there are no desserts available here. Mind you, there are several premium gelato places nearby on Murray Street, although visiting one of them after the Koven will seem like touching down on a completely different, metal-free planet.
Galehdar, the Koven’s owner, says he loved heavy metal back in his homeland, Iran — “It’s highly forbidden there,” he adds. In Canada for the past dozen years, he previously combined metal and hospitality at the now-closed Gatineau snack bar La Kabane. Galehdar opened the Koven to serve “comfort food at a reasonable price … the metalheads are not necessarily the richest of people” and because “there was nowhere where I could go to listen to the music and just be myself.”
The Koven, he says, is busiest on weekends when Ottawa’s metal fans congregate. The eatery even receives tourists who learned of it through the social media of European metal bands proud to have been immortalized by burgers or poutines.
I must say, even if I’m no heavy metal fan, I admire the Koven’s dedication to it. As Cannibal Corpse sings in Carnivorous Swarm: “Here to devour/Vicious attack/Ferociously savage beyond a primal desire.”