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.

I’m not going to mention The Lunch Lady of Saigon’s affiliation with a chef turned TV travel host in this post. Instead, I’ll focus on Chef Nguyen Thi Thanh, the lunch lady who attracted diners to Saigon for her daily noodle soups. Sadly, she passed away earlier in May 2025 before the opening of her Toronto restaurant, so its kitchen is comprised of a brigade of men instead of a lady.

Normally, a bowl of pho is a single person affair but at The Lunch Lady their wagyu noodle soup ($36) warrants sharing unless it’s the only dish you’re eating. A large stone bowl of rice noodle, fresh herbs, and a slow poached egg arrives with thick slices of tender beef cheek, a couple hunks of ox tail, and a bone marrow protruding that we’re told to scrape into the dish and mix before eating. As if that’s not enough, a plate of thinly sliced raw wagyu accompanies that’s added tableside to make a carnivore’s heart sing.

Since so many items are added to the broth, it really needs to be hotter, ideally sizzling in the bowl is first presented. Maybe the restaurant is worried about liability issues with the tiny tables, not wanting to burn customers, but the soup is barely hot after everything’s put in.

At least the broth is tasty. The first spoon revealed a decent soup that morphs into something even better by the end as the rich oils from the bone marrow & wagyu and herbs permeate the broth. Make sure you have multiple bowls throughout the meal.

What a brilliant idea to separate the shrimp from its shell in the crispy prawns ($24) prior to deep frying. As both cook separately, the shrimp finishes quicker, and the shell becomes brittle enough to eat.

Served six to an order there’s plenty to go around and are fried to perfection so it’s crispy but still juicy. The enlarged surface area does make it a bit difficult to dip into the chili lime sauce, you’ll need to angle and squish to reach the bright condiment.

To counteract the shrimp’s heaviness, the beef carpaccio ($24) was a great companion dish. The plethora of basil, mint, perilla, crispy shallots, and crushed peanuts seemed overwhelming at first sight, but somehow the beef filet held up against the garnishes. Topped with a lime vinaigrette, it does make for a flavourful bite that cuts the greasiness of the oilier fried shrimp.

The Lunch Lady don’t skimp on crustacean in the crab fried rice ($36). A small palm full arrives on top as proof of the abundance and we’re told to mix it in before eating. To ensure the pungent XO sauce doesn’t overpower the crab, only a bit is added to the dish, while more is mixed into a soy sauce that can be used to taste.

Textures are abound in their fried rice as some grains are deep fried along with crunchy fish roe. As a person who doesn’t love having things stick to my teeth, these crispy bits were a tad annoying but the dish delicious enough that I wasn’t annoyed for long. Surprisingly, the fried rice was even better reheated the next day as the flavours meld together and the crispy bits soften.

Since the tables are small, getting the timing of serving right is so important. We visited on the third week of The Lunch Lady’s opening, and they still need to work on pacing. While a complaint during the first two weeks was the meal moved too slowly, the brigade (seriously there were almost twenty people in the kitchen) over corrected with dishes flying out at breakneck speed.

Luckily, our server provided time warnings with military precision. As the pho was presented, she noted the fried rice would arrive shortly, so we slid all the accompaniments into the bowl to clear the plates and make room for the second main.

If you’re there for a leisurely meal, it’s not the greatest. Personally, I’d recommend visiting as a table of three, you’ll get a larger table so you may not need to rush finishing dishes. Or perhaps wait before visiting The Lunch Lady as they get their timing better.

Visiting with three people will also allow you to try more as the portions are sizeable and I couldn’t even think of dessert. At least the cà phê martini ($18) worked as a dessert, an espresso martini made with aromatic Vietnamese coffee and very boozy thanks to vodka, Licor 43, and Bolivar coffee liqueur.

Toto looks like we’re not in Ho Chi Minh City anymore. And through her partners, the Tran family, may the Lunch Lady’s recipes and legacy continue forever. RIP Chef Nguyen Thi Thanh.

Ficoa’s 8-course tasting menu ($120 per person) aims to feature Latin American dishes with an elevated flair.  They also operate under an ethos of achieving “zero waste” in using leftovers from an ingredient within other dishes, such as in a sauce or garnish.

The meal started with a flavour bomb, a celeriac truffle soup where the root vegetable was pureed into a creamy finish and topped with an intense fermented chili that added a delicious kick. Table side, they spoon on a truffle foam that was way too salty but gave it a decadent touch.

Since the soup was so intensely flavoured the trio of small bites that followed seemed tasteless in comparison:

• I would have thought the braised short rib empanada would be rich and hearty topped with queso cotija and crema. Yet, if anything what stood out the most was the corn masa shell, which was crispy, airy, and light.
• If you like arancini you’ll love molote that takes mashed plantain and stuffs it with cheese, then deep fries the ball. It’s sweet and gooey making an interesting bite. It just needed more of the smoky salsa tatemada to bring out the savoury aspect of the canapé.
• The seabass ceviche tostada was nicely balanced, not overly acidic and incorporating creamier elements like cotija cheese and a dollop of salmon roe. In fact, I wish the tasting menu featured more seafood instead of the plethora of fowl.

It starts with the duck confit taco, which I had high hopes for as I love duck confit. Instead, the small palm sized shell made it messy to eat and the actual confit feel flat, seemingly sous vide rather than slow cooked in fat to give it richness. The habanero salsa was a good idea holding up against the fowl, if only the duck was more pronounced.

This is followed by turkey enmolada where its base seems like a rehash of the taco. The sous vide turkey didn’t taste that different from the duck, but the shell was much bigger and smothered in a fiery almendrado mole.  My advice, keep this dish and change the taco into something vegetable (cactus, mushroom, and/or corn) or seafood based instead.

Even the final main features chicken. The mishmash of an individual plate and family style dishes initially threw me off for the last savoury course. We’re each presented with a plate of flat iron wagyu that was a bit overcooked but topped with a vibrant chimichurri. Once again, the seasoning was off as all the elements on the plate were heavily salted. In comparison, the family style dishes were rather neutral; a blessing as the Mexican rice and salad helped pacify any saltiness.

Despite having my fill with fowl, the citrus chicken is a keeper. I liked that they deboned the dark meat to make a rullar. Plus, the citrus, chili, and herb seasoning created a great summery taste. And if you’re hungry, you won’t be after the main as each duo received a sizeable plate of chicken to share.

Up until this point, I haven’t mentioned their wine pairing ($80 per person), which featured a mix of lighter European wines that went nicely with the spiciness of the food. Just don’t expect a sommelier level of expertise with the pairings as the hostess also does triple duty as being a server and drink specialist. Still, despite not always knowing much about the winery itself (we were excited when told a bottle originated from the Maldives, only to find it’s from Italy) her choices for each course were solid. And knowing we weren’t a fan of sweet wines, even the dessert option was tamer having a sweet edge without becoming sugary.

The dessert wine paired particularly well with the mango sorbet palette cleanser that was whimsically made into a lollipop that you can dip into Tajin to add a savoury element.

The tres leches de café dessert was a hit; the moist milky cake incorporated a hit of coffee and chocolate pieces creating a tiramisu-like dessert. Who doesn’t like tres leches and tiramisu? 

And to end, a plate of petit fours featuring a delicious crispy bite of chocolate churro that must be enlarged, a buttery delicate alfajaro, and a moist crumbly classic cocada that’s ideal for those who love coconut.

As tasting menus go, Ficoa’s needs work to create more variety and properly ordering dishes so that intensely flavourful ones aren’t served before more neutral features. The format has already changed a couple of times since their opening in 2024, so who knows if this will be the last rendition.

The middling food aside, I appreciate Ficoa’s dedication to service. Due to miscommunications, I had to increase my reservation at the time of the meal, and they were able to accommodate. They even printed an extra copy of the customized menu for the additional guest, which was a nice touch.

Plus, its one of the first restaurants that builds the wine pairing around a guest’s preferences. A pairing without chardonnay? Muchas gracias!