How different could a har gow be? I wondered to myself after hearing about Tim Ho Wan, a dim sum specialist restaurant in Hong Kong, which has long held on to its one Michelin star. After all, in Toronto, most shrimp dumplings are similar, the wrapper sometimes stickier, but otherwise most are filled with crunchy shrimp that have little taste. They’ve become larger throughout my lifetime, some of them reaching golf ball status, but the bland crunchy shrimp has remained constant.

Therefore, to draw comparisons, we stuck with the basics at Tim Ho Wan; I wanted to see what these “specialists” could do! Getting back to the har gow ($28), they indeed differ - smaller in size, the steamed dumplings are delicate so you can taste the shrimp’s sweetness (these are also tinier) with the seafood not packed together. The wrapper is soft, but not gummy, and has an elasticity to its consistency allowing them to be easily picked up. So, I stand corrected, har gows can be different.

Their steamed pork dumpling with shrimp ($28) or sui mai follows a similar recipe for success: big chunks of pork (as opposed to being pulverized) and shrimp combined loosely so there’s a juicy succulence to the dumpling. Oh, how I want more. 

The wrapper for the vermicelli roll stuffed with BBQ pork ($25) is impossibly thin, yet withstands the large pieces of BBQ pork stuffed in it. Personally, I like the bigger pieces of meat and full springs of cilantro placed throughout - you can taste the ingredients.

Tim Ho Wan’s glutinous rice wrapped in lotus leaf is the old-school format arriving as one gigantic package: a thick layer of chewy sticky rice stuffed with chicken, Chinese sausage, and mushrooms. The longer cooking time helps the lotus leaf essence seep into the rice, but having this dish again makes me realize I prefer the new miniature versions. The rice is softer and overall the dish more flavourful because of the gravy minced meat mixture used. Of course, the traditional way of making the dish requires experience (as you need to ensure everything is cooked throughout) and there is more filling, but you end up with one or two pieces of protein and big hunks of rice. 

Forgetting we already ordered the glutinous rice, the steamed rice with spare rib and chicken feet ($27) was too much; sadly, the rice was wasted. Frankly, unless you’re with a large table, this is a forgettable dish, the spare ribs and chicken foot both fairly average.

A dish that graced every table was their signature baked bun with BBQ pork ($21). Fresh from the oven, they are piping hot and the thin bun containing a large piece of BBQ pork. There’s a sweetness from the sauce and pineapple crust you’d expect, but it’s well balanced with the meat’s savouriness. For those who like it sweeter, allow the bun to cool down and the flavours intensify.  

The pan-fried pork and chives dumplings were also delicious, the meat cut into pieces (rather than minced) with enough vegetables to create a lightness to the dim sum. It’s wonton wrapper was so thin that it’s barely there, merely forming a fantastic crispy crust over everything.  

With only four desserts to choose from, we decided against the signature tonic medlar & petal cake, instead going for the tried and true deep-fried sesame dumpling ($18). At Tim Ho Wan, aside from the red bean paste they also add a piece of banana, which when heated turns into a creamy consistency. 

In the end, what makes Tim Ho Wan so good? From my experience: thin wrappers, ingredients left in chunks, and well-balanced flavours. If you don’t want to wait, head their as soon as it opens on a weekday, you’ll walk right in and find a seat at a number of tables. It’s a quick meal with dim sum flying out of the kitchen, which runs like a tasty, dumpling-making, well-oiled machine.

Unlike my normal planned out itinerary, we went to Yat Lok simply because we happened to be in the area. I vaguely recalled the restaurant being notable for an achievement – awarded one Michelin star and a glowing recommendation from Anthony Boudain, as it turns out.

Everyone goes for the roast goose, so you’ll want to do a quarter or half order of it with a bowl of rice or noodles ordered separately. We made the mistake of simply ordering the roast goose with rice ($58) and it arrived with the undesirable upper quarter portion of the bird, the rib portion resulting in mostly skin and bones, since the meaty leg is left for the quarter orders.

Nevertheless, we could sample the glistening skin, as crispy as Peking duck, and taste the well marinated meat (from what little there was). It was good, I wanted more, and jealously eying the plump half orders everyone else had.

While the meat in the BBQ pork with rice ($58) could use more marbling, it was also thoroughly flavoured with a vibrant dark caramelized crust. Even the rice had enough of that lovely BBQ sweet soy sauce on it for interest.

The 1pm weekday visit meant we missed most of the lunch crowd, scoring one of the three empty tables. Regardless, the restaurant is packed with seats that are turned over quickly. Despite their accolades, you’ll get a cheap meal. Moreover, it’s one of the few Michelin starred places I could visit after hiking the Peak, slightly sweaty and with a patch of coffee spilt on my shirt, without feeling out of place.

As much as I love airy opulent dining rooms, there’s something about a small mom-and-pop shop that brings comfort. A feeling that soon I’ll be nourished with something hearty and I’m really supporting someone (not a massive corporation) in the process. Hence, when South China Noodles Delight came on the radar, a two-person team in a 20-seat restaurant, I bee lined there as soon as it opened and found it mercifully had no line.  

Despite furnishing the place with the narrowest tables I’ve ever seen (construction workers may mistake the thing for a work bench), the dishes are substantial – for a table of three we ordered two large bowls with a side of boiled vegetables ($4) and it was enough to satisfy. Small versions are available for $2 less.

The ox tail vermicelli in soup ($13) is the perfect combination of bites of tender beef augmented with bits of sticky chewy tendon. It arrives steaming and with all the bones and cartilage, the soup base was certainly hearty – a bit salty on its own, but goes wonderfully with the neutral noodles.

Without a doubt, the pork chop ($9) vermicelli is a great deal: incorporating at least two large lightly dusted deep fried pork chops, made fresh to order. For this, we tried the dry option, which still uses a layer of soy sauce broth at the bottom but is then also topped with pickled preserved vegetables. For me, it’s a little bland, but with a couple of drops of fragrant chili oil became tastier.

As a warning, the restaurant is small, so leave the strollers outside, refrain from wearing a huge jacket (it’ll reek like food anyways), and there’s nowhere to hang a purse so bringing a compact bag is key.

Nonetheless, South China Noodles Delight makes a great bowl of noodles. Not to the point that it would warrant travelling great distances for – after all, the entire meal lasts under an hour. But, if you’re hungry and in the mood for some hearty “home-cooking”, bring an appetite and your craving will be sedated.

If you’re looking for a filling meal for about $10, fast food restaurants isn’t the best choice. In the corner of a busy Chinese plaza sits Good Taste Casserole Rice. Here their combos are so large that sharing three amongst four people is perfect. Aside from the hefty pot of rice, each also arrives with soup and boiled vegetables.

The soup is piping hot after being steamed in individual pots. Inside the clear broth holds cubes of pork, papaya and white fungus. It’s unsalted so you’ll need a liberal sprinkling from the shaker at the table.

With dozens of casserole rice options to choose from, what to order depends not only on your preference but also the amount of crispy rice crust you prefer - in my opinion, the best part of the dish. Otherwise, you're really just eating baked rice with meat; why wait half an hour for that?

Although the preserved meats is normally not one of my favourite toppings, for casserole rice it's the best option as there’s less moisture resulting in a thick golden crispy crust. The assorted preserved meat ($10.99) contains lap cheung (sweet Chinese cured sausage), preserved duck, pork and fish so you get a bit of everything to sample. Good Taste doesn’t skimp on the ingredients with plenty of each.

With the salted fish and minced pork ($8.99), there's still a layer of crust on the bottom, but the thickness diminishes and isn't quite as crispy. With a fair amount of salted fish chunks, the casserole let’s off a pungent aroma – heavenly if you enjoy the ingredient, like dried sweaty socks if you don’t.

By the time you’re having a casserole rice topped with something like pork spareribs and black bean ($7.99) the crust becomes non-existent and tends to be hard and chewy. Of course, the spareribs is meatier and there’s a decent serving of it for the low price.

Any University student from Toronto’s downtown core has likely visited Salad King – in fact, Ryerson students even get a 20% discount if they go during the off hours of 2-5pm. Their meals cater to price conscious hungry students with affordable price points and fairly large portions.

Take their crispy spring rolls ($4.80), it arrives three to an order and each are a fair size. Even though they were predominantly filled with bean vermicelli, there was still ample flavour from the oyster sauce laced vegetables and bamboo shoots. Since they were freshly out of the fryer, they arrived scorching hot; crispy and satisfying.

The tom yum soup ($3.80) was also a decent sized bowl. Containing little in terms of ingredients (merely sliced white mushrooms and coriander), nonetheless, the broth was nicely spiced without being overly acidic or powerful. It’s a similar base that’s used in the street noodle soup ($9.25), a delicious main I’ve had in the past when I was craving the soup in a heartier meal form.

Having had their chicken phud thai in the past ($9.95) (a decent version although not as “authentic” as places like Pai), the kari noodles ($9.95) proved to be an interesting rendition of the rice noodles – still incorporating egg, vegetables and bean sprout, but the sweet and sour tamarind sauce replaced with curry.

The kari’s only flaw is the curry powder itself, which sticks to the rice noodles making it hard to stir fry evenly. It’s not the most appetizing when you end up with a mouthful of the strong spicy and slightly bitter powder. Perhaps diluting it with a bit of water and making a slurry will help ensure a more even coating on the noodles.

You can really disregard the number of chilies on their menu as they allow you to customize spicy dishes from medium (a little kick) to a range of chilies starting at one (nice) and ending at twenty (may cause stomach upset - at least you’re warned).

I’ve never gotten more than three chilies (start mopping your brow) because that’s spicy enough. I’ve also never left hungry … with $20 you’re bound to be sedated or even leave with doggy bag in tow.