It was admittedly disappointing that our table at Providence wasn’t ready at the reserved time, something you expect can happen at restaurants, but usually not at a three-Michelin-star establishment. Instead, we were seated in the bar area with menus and water while we waited. Ten minutes later, we were finally brought to our table. Maybe it’s simply California time, because for a major city, people in Los Angeles are awfully relaxed. Eventually, I embraced the slower pace with a glass of champagne. Bubbles make almost anything better.

Providence offers two tasting menus: the classic ($375 for 8 courses) or the chef ($495 for 10 courses). Interestingly, the menus are largely the same. With the classic, diners choose one of three mains, including paying an additional $45 supplement for the wagyu. The chef’s menu includes all three mains and folds the supplement into the price. There are also numerous supplemental dishes available, but the chef’s menu already felt like more than enough.

That’s especially true once the amuse-bouches begin arriving. A trio of tarts kicks off the meal, each using the same delicate shell in different ways. First comes bluefin tuna topped with caviar and sprayed tableside with basil vinegar that instantly perfumes the air. Then a creamy uni tart decorated with edible flowers and microgreens from Providence’s rooftop garden. Finally, a crispy roll filled with crème fraîche and wrapped in salmon. Elegant but playful all at once.

Additional bites continue the Americana theme, including a grilled cheese that takes truffle and sandwiches it between impossibly thin toasted bread. I may never look at grilled cheese the same way again.

A bite-sized taco follows, filled with wagyu and smoked oyster tartare. Despite its delicate appearance, it delivers an incredible amount of richness and flavour.

The official tasting menu begins with kaluga caviar paired with slices of geoduck and a country ham broth. We’re instructed to eat about two-thirds of the dish before adding more broth and shooting the remainder directly from the shell. The geoduck is wonderfully fresh and meaty, elevated by the caviar and bright tomato broth. A layer of silky tofu hidden underneath ties everything together and lends creaminess without relying on dairy. The final “shot” shifts the dish into a more savoury, almost comforting finish.

Before the next course, another off-menu surprise arrives - a miniature lobster roll featuring lobster tartare tucked into thick toasted milk bread and shaved Italian truffle. Delicious, though the lobster itself becomes somewhat overshadowed by the richer additions.

Their sashimi course showcased dry-aged wild cod surrounded by crème fraîche, nori oil, and hibiscus salt. Bite by bite, the fish felt delicate and spring-like, especially swirled through the airy sauce. Still, the final bite, layered with pickled ginger and extra flowers, ended up being the most memorable.

Pressure-cooked abalone followed, incredibly tender yet still satisfyingly meaty beneath a lightly sweet glaze. While I could have done without the puffed rice scattered overtop, I understood the textural contrast they were aiming for. Providence then doubled down on luxury by bringing over a box of spring white truffles and shaving them generously over the dish, which paired beautifully with the thick egg yolk sauce underneath.

Still, I found myself brushing aside the truffles just to admire the largest asparagus spear I’d ever seen. Had the menu not explained it came from Roscoe Zuckerman’s third-generation farm, I might have assumed it was genetically engineered. Somehow, the asparagus tasted almost juicy.

The patty pan squash tortellini arrived plump and surrounded by chunks of crab and uni. Individually, every element was excellent but once combined with the broth and fennel-basil oil, the dish truly came alive. The sweetness of the seafood balanced the broth beautifully.

Anyone worried about leaving hungry can relax once an entire boule of red fife sourdough arrives warm from the oven alongside cultured butter and sea salt. I’d heard about the revival of this heritage grain before but hadn’t realized its California roots. The bread itself had a hearty nuttiness while remaining fluffy and light.

When the black bass arrived and the server described it as “kinki fish” from Japan, I momentarily thought he said “kinky fish,” which certainly grabbed my attention. The fish itself was delicate yet rich, almost like a lighter but fattier version of black cod. Still, the sweet spring peas nearly stole the show.

The menu then transitions into the trio of mains. Ordinarily, I probably wouldn’t have selected the California king salmon, which would have been a shame because the dish came with a story. Due to years of drought, the salmon hadn’t appeared on menus for four years since there wasn’t enough water for migration upstream.

Providence prepares the salmon by sandwiching it between thin milk bread before searing it, allowing the bread to soak up the beurre blanc and herb oil. Paired with porcini mushrooms and grilled ramps, the dish had that coastal feel.

Had I been choosing independently, I likely would have gravitated toward the Liberty Farms duck from Napa Valley. Before serving, the kitchen presents the entire bird tableside in a theatrical “show-and-tell” moment before carving it into beautifully tender slices.

While the duck itself was excellent, the salted cherry sauce wasn’t entirely to my taste. I did, however, love the whimsical “faux” foie gras cherry accompanying the dish, silky and visually stunning enough to make you forget about the real thing entirely.

The final savoury course was A5 wagyu, so intensely rich that after a few bites my palate was completely overwhelmed with buttery fat. As though that weren’t decadent enough, it arrived alongside a morel stuffed with sweetbread, turning the mushroom into a rich protein of its own. By this point in the meal, it was simply too much for me personally.

Before dessert, a cheese cart appears tableside. Completely stuffed, I opted out, though my friend didn’t. Frankly, the restaurant should warn diners that the cheese service ($70) is large enough for a table. Two long slices of 30-month-aged Jura Comté topped with generous summer truffles and rooftop honey arrived first, surprisingly light due to how thinly the cheese was sliced.

The truffle brie, meanwhile, was far richer and funkier than expected, almost approaching blue cheese territory. Providence creates it by splitting a wheel of brie, stuffing it with black truffles, then coating the outside with chopped truffle “frosting.” Truffle lovers would probably lose their minds over it.

Thankfully, the next course was a refreshing red fruit sorbet that acted as the palate cleanser I desperately needed. The combination of berries, shiso, and makrut lime struck a beautiful balance between sweet and citrusy. Shaping it like a Michelin star was a cheeky touch, though I joked they should have served three of them.

One thing that truly sets fine dining apart is the obsessive dedication behind the scenes. During COVID, Providence pastry chef Mac Daniel Dimla apparently spent his downtime learning chocolate making. He now produces chocolate in-house and dessert becomes a showcase for that passion.

The first dessert, using Hawaiian Mauna Kea cacao, resembled a delicate cake layered with thick mousse and a silky ganache disk, paired with a salty Venetian sauce and another tart accompaniment. Individually, the flavours felt bold and distinct, but together they combined beautifully.

Among the petit fours, my favourite was easily the blueberry verbena tart, which cleverly echoed the tart amuse-bouches from the beginning of the meal. There was, naturally, even more chocolate in the form of a Mexican chocolate macaron and a truffle filled with crunchy pistachio centre. The cone-shaped bite, meanwhile, leaned heavily into sesame and citrus flavours that felt more acquired in taste.

What truly fascinated me, however, was the chocolate mint tea. It smells unmistakably like chocolate but drinks like herbal tea. Alongside it came what looked like honey but turned out to be a syrup made from cocoa husks, it’s an example of Chef Dimla’s low-waste philosophy.

Ultimately, Providence feels distinctly Californian. The menu leans heavily into seafood and seasonality without ever becoming overly stiff. There are playful touches everywhere, from animal-shaped zodiac knife rests to rooftop gardens, house-made honey, and in-house chocolate production. And just when you think the experience is over, they send you home with a small bar of Peruvian chocolate as one final reminder of the evening.

Providence somehow balances luxury with personality. One moment you’re eating caviar and white truffles, the next you’re laughing about zodiac knife rests and “kinky fish.” It’s polished fine dining that still knows how to have fun.

Rice and Flame reminds us how rice has been cooked for centuries: grains simmered patiently over an open flame. While most of us now rely on plug-and-go rice cookers, traditional Chinese claypot rice is made in clay or earthenware pots. It requires careful heat control and a bit of oil, but the reward is a pot of rice that’s fluffy and moist on top, with a deeply satisfying crunchy crust on the bottom.

When Instagram started buzzing about Rice and Flame’s “ancient” claypot rice, I was intrigued. It was winter, and a hearty pot of rice sounded exactly right. That said, I was also wary since the social media hype seemed more focused on the restaurant’s aesthetics and décor than the food. And while Rice and Flame is bright, airy, and comfortable, white chairs be damned… I came for the rice.

While many diners gravitate toward the braised pork belly, I knew the richness would be too much for me. Instead, I went with the golden satay beef pot rice ($22.99), which proved more up my alley. The satay flavour is subtle, with the well-marbled brisket tasting closer to Taiwanese braised beef with just a hint of earthiness. The rice itself was deeply flavoured, and the sauce helped form a beautifully caramelized crust, which was exactly what I was hoping for!

That said, the beef cuts were hit-or-miss. Some pieces were tender and flavourful, while others were tough and gristly and really should have been discarded. The surprise standout? Soft, chewy pieces of tendon that were easily my favourite part, and I wished there had been more.

Diners choose a rice base of bok choy with salted pork or mushroom and diced beef. Unfortunately, there doesn’t appear to be a vegetarian option. I stuck with the beef base, which worked overall, though the “diced beef” was really halved beef balls like those you’d find at hot pot restaurants. The mushrooms, meanwhile, were sparse and felt like an afterthought.

Rice and Flame could also rethink the order in which dishes are served. After such a flavourful start, the rainbow braised chicken pot rice ($19.99) felt flat by comparison. Even the theatrical shaving of an herb, resembling a small log of wood, over the rice didn’t help. To this day, I’m not sure what it was or what it contributed.

The chicken and potatoes were tender, but aside from a faint lingering spice, the dish lacked depth. Worse, the rice was overly oily and failed to develop much of a crust - the very thing claypot rice is celebrated for!

Life has a funny way of making you feel old. I soon realized this “ancient” technique is exactly how claypot rice was prepared when I was younger except with modern toppings now instead of preserved meats, chicken, and spareribs. What stood out most at Rice and Flame was an intense charcoal flavour, especially in the chicken dish, which crossed the line into overpowering for me.

Thankfully, we ended on a high note with the brown sugar glutinous rice cake ($6.99). The oozing syrup inside helped wash away that almost butane-like aftertaste. These were excellent - a crisp exterior giving way to a soft, chewy centre with a rich, molasses-like sweetness. I couldn’t finish the chicken rice, but these disappeared in a flash.

Rice and Flame nails the look and the service - it’s bright, welcoming, and clearly designed to impress. But when it comes to claypot rice, that comforting crust and deep, nostalgic flavour just didn’t consistently deliver. I’m going to chalk this one up to social media hype.

I can only imagine how busy Lake House Restaurant gets in the summer. Located at a convenient halfway point between Toronto and Niagara-on-the-Lake, just off the highway, it’s an ideal stop for a meal either before or after a day of wine tasting… especially if you want to avoid the winery crowds.

During our late-winter visit, things were much quieter. The slower pace meant most tables were seated by the large windows, giving diners a clear view of the vast, albeit muddy, Lake Ontario.

If you enjoy condiments the semolina crusted calamari ($26) comes with four dipping sauces: sweet-curried aioli, sweet chili, basil pesto aioli, and sriracha aioli. It would’ve been nice if at least one packed a bit of heat, but they’re all tame, adding flavour without overpowering the squid. Thankfully, the semolina crust was excellent - crunchy, light, and not oily at all. The portion is generous and easily shareable between two or three people.

A newer addition to the menu is the short rib sandwich ($34), and it’s a good one. Large chunks of tender, flavourful beef are topped with sautéed mushrooms, crispy onions, arugula, and brie. The cheese adds a creamy richness that makes the sandwich stand out. The menu notes a horseradish aioli, but any zing from it gets buried under the slightly sweet braising sauce, which was too sugary for my taste. I would’ve preferred it kept more savoury. The sandwich is already quite saucy, and yet more sauce arrives on the side. Good for fries if you choose to switch the salad to spuds.

After hearing plenty about the Great Canadian Burger ($29), I couldn’t resist splitting one, though I ultimately wish I hadn’t. The short rib sandwich is better. The burger is hefty, with a thick beef patty that’s overly dense and heavily mixed, giving it more of a frozen-patty texture than the crumbly tenderness of a good homemade one.

The potato bun also struggled to hold up against the avalanche of toppings: grilled peameal bacon, cheddar, onion, tomato, arugula, pickle, and two sauces. I’m not sure why the kitchen insists on sweetening everything - the burger comes with caramelized onion bacon jam and a maple chipotle aioli, both quite sugary. If you enjoy sweeter savoury dishes, you’ll probably like it. Otherwise, I’d skip the handhelds.

On our weekday lunch visit, the restaurant was well staffed and attentive. Even though we never felt rushed, we were in and out within about an hour. If anything, the service bordered on overly attentive… during that hour we were interrupted six times by four different people checking if everything was okay. My suggestion: let the primary server handle most of the check-ins, and only have others step in if things get busy.

Lake House Restaurant nails the setting and hospitality, but the kitchen’s heavy hand with sweetness doesn’t always work. Still, for a scenic lunch break on the way to Niagara, it’s a comfortable and convenient stop.