Before sushi became popular, when most people thought California rolls were the real deal, Mitsuhiro Kaji already started serving authentic offerings to those lucky enough for score one of the 30 seats in his quaint Etobicoke restaurant.  

After trying Yasu, Shoushin and Yunaghi, visiting Sushi Kaji, where Japanese fine dining in Toronto arguably began, was a pilgrimage that seemed important. Similar to the later two restaurants, Sushi Kaji’s omakase menus aren’t pure sushi; instead a mixture of small dishes and sushi - for an extra $30, they’ll also prepare a sashimi course.

Since it was our first visit, the takumi ($130) experience was in order. Instead of miso, Kaji presents a bowl of smoky butternut squash soup; a light consistency yet still incorporating a strong powerful flavour. While the broth was fantastic, the chicken meatball was rather neutral and needs to be enjoyed with the soup.

As the salads are presented, we’re advised the dressings are on the side so we can customize the potency of the flavours … of course, I ended up adding everything. Thankfully, the sugary sweetness of typical seaweed salads was missing, instead, Kaji pairs the seaweed with lemon miso that’s enhanced by slightly sweet radish slices.

Meanwhile, the daikon salad pays homage to the legendary Japanese knife skills – impossibly thinly sliced and crispy, so refreshing with a creamy sesame dressing.

The salad was a great cleanser before the sashimi. With a dusting of lemon rind on the sea bream and amberjack, the white neutral fish were refreshing. While both these fish are somewhat soft, the Spanish mackerel has a harder fleshy texture having a crunchiness to it, if fish could be crunchy.

While the satsuma age, a deep fried seafood cake incorporating pieces of octopus and a slight zing from ginger, was tasty, it was the potato salad (yes, you heard right) that was outstanding. Instead of the typical chunks, Kaji shreds the starch into match sticks and mixes the potatoes with micro-fine diced onions, which really makes the side pop.

Lastly, before the sushi, a meaty plate of sautéed wagyu leaking its oily flavours onto the equally meaty oyster mushrooms. In the middle, were large chunks of soft braised short rib, lightened by a splash of chrysanthemum sauce. The dish was hearty and swoon worthy – momentarily silencing everyone at the bar except to sneak glances at how much their fellow guests were enjoying it.

Sitting at the bar allows you to witness Chef Mitsuhiro’s assembling skills. While the entertainment at other sushi bars is watching chefs deftly cut through fish like butter, when it comes to sushi at Kaji, the seafood is pre-sliced… hence why you’re really watching Mitsuhiro assemble the sushi piece-by-piece.

Nonetheless, it’s still an entertaining affair with the Chef’s elaborate gestures – with the salsa music in the background he could have been doing the flamingo with each arm flick. I was so entranced by the dance that I missed photographing the octopus – another slice of the tender flavourful protein, except in this case drizzled with olive oil and sprinkling of salt.

The following raw shrimp, in my opinion one of the worst ways to enjoy this seafood, wasn’t overly gummy as Kaji covered it with a lemony light cream sauce.  Yet, not cooking the shrimp does nothing to enhance its sweetness and the consistency raw shrimp is rather off-putting.

Tuna arrives next with the customary lean (akami) followed by the fatty belly cut (otoro) to highlight how the same fish can offer such different texture and tastes. The akami was a beautiful vibrant hue with a strong wasabi finish, while the otoro served whole (instead of chopped into little pieces) so you can really enjoy the marbling.

After a quick blowtorch to sear the top of the scallop, this piece was covered with melted butter with a strong kick of black pepper. Indeed, it’ll help mask any fishy tastes that the mollusk may have, but also covers up any of the scallop’s mild sweetness.

Surprisingly, after the octopus, Kaji also served calamari as well – in this case raw so there’s a sticky chewy texture, but very clean tasting. With raw ginger and finely sliced shiso leaf, it’s rather refreshing.

The following flounder (hirame) received a similar preparation with crushed shiso leaves topped with warmed olive oil and salt. A good tasting piece on its own, but too similar to the calamari. Sisho is such a strong herb, akin to a citrusy basil, that back-to-back it’s overpowering.

Unlike other high-end sushi establishment, at Sushi Kaji you do get a plate of soy cause and wasabi - rather than the chef swiping on the amount deemed optimal for each piece. Instead, Chef Mitsuhiro coaches diners on what to do (no soy or little soy). Still, some pieces, like the Japanese horse mackerel (aji) could really use a thicker soy and all the toppings makes it difficult to dip so would benefit from having a helpful swish from the chef.

The eel, heated through in the toaster oven with the sweet thick glaze, is absolutely delicious. Kaji tops it with lemon rind adding a great lightness to the otherwise richer sushi.

To end, a piece of spicy tuna maki. I commend the restaurant for trying to elevate such a common roll with chopped otoro … without any of the dreaded tempura bits mixed throughout. It was certainly better, but the seaweed could be crispier (still rather chewy like the common versions) and the spicy mayonnaise also unexceptional.

Chef Mitsuhiro plays with different condiments, marrying Western and Asian elements, so you do get interesting tasting pieces at Sushi Kaji. However, a person can only enjoy so much olive oil and salt. Maybe I prefer sushi traditional, but I found oil and salt tasty with the scallop but really detracted from other items. The entire time I just wanted a swish of condensed sweet soy… where was it?!

So many chefs believe the most important part of sushi is its foundation – rice. Although Sushi Kaji’s rice is soft and creamy, it lacks the hit of vinegar I’ve grown to love. The temperature could also be warmer.    

Interestingly, the restaurant switches the tea before dessert for a lighter smoother blend. The sweets were pleasant but conventional: a scoop of vanilla ice cream on red bean paste and a run-of-the-mill gelatin textured panna cotta with chopped pears and shiso sorbet – someone really loves this herb!  

The restaurant’s bar seating arrangement is strange: despite there being empty chairs, they choose to sit everyone right beside the next couple instead of spacing everyone apart. Yet, for a first visit you need to sit at the bar, to fully immerse yourself in the experience. Just don’t expect any privacy.

While OMAW’s name is not an acronym, for me it summarizes my experience: Oh My! Ah… Well? Let’s start with the “Oh my!”, my initial reaction when I heard Toronto Southern food master, Chef Matt Blondin, was back in a permanent location serving his famed shrimp and grits! Having last eaten the dish almost five years ago during Blondin’s last weeks at Acadia, I still fondly remember the luscious comfort food.

As soon as Omaw’s menu was placed in front of me, I anxiously scanned the one-sheeter, almost missing it as the grits was hidden in the description, rather the dish simply labelled gulf prawns ($15). The grits didn’t arrive until halfway through the meal and when the small bowl was finally presented it looked good, but seemed saucier than I remembered.  

Numerous media outlets report that these are indeed the same shrimp and grits from Acadia. Then why does it taste different? Sadly, dining at Acadia was before I started documenting my food adventures, but this dish didn’t bring back the iconic Blondin cooking I yearned for.  It’s still good with a smooth consistency packed with flavours on account of the pimento cheese, jalapenos and smoky broccoli. It just somehow lacked the hearty grittiness of the grain itself… ah well.

Before our meal began, a bowl of complimentary lightly pickled cucumbers arrived, a refreshing snack to munch on as I marveled over the sabbatical ($15) cocktail. If you’re into not-overly sweet, citrusy (shiso and lime) drinks with a surprising twist (ginger, habanero, and herb saint), do yourself a favour and order the drink. Despite the differing ingredients, they combine together so nicely and the lingering kick from the ginger and habanero leaves me wanting more.

With the restaurant’s small plates menu, sharing is encouraged or you could mix-and-match to create a customized tasting menu. The aged wagyu ($17) is gorgeous and reminiscent to a dish served at Alo. 



Also incorporating tons of tastes - from the creamy aioli, soft pea relish, and not overly heavy beef fat vinaigrette - the dish is decent but I couldn’t help but crave a crispy element. The crumbles of buttered popcorn could have done it but somehow didn’t. The small hot pancakes the chef suggests rolling thin strips of the beef onto is a good idea, but may work better if served thinner with crispy edges.

Two forgettable dishes include the beef shortrib ($15), wonderfully cooked and tender but lacked interest, and the Kentucky fried squid ($13), which were so thin the dish tastes like cornmeal fries slathered with mayonnaise (in this case an Alabama white sauce that’s a mayonnaise based BBQ). The crunchy slivers or melon rind on the squid were noteworthy, something the dish needs more of.

Nonetheless, the dinner wasn’t a complete disappointment. The crispy jambalaya ($9) was fantastic and a must-try if you love arancini (fried risotto balls). The flavourful rice incorporates diced tasso (a fattier cut of smoked lightly cured pork) and is covered with a prawn powder before being deep fried and served sizzling hot. What I wouldn’t give to pop one into my mouth right now.

The turkey & dumplings ($15) was also satisfying, the fowl itself rather sparse but the dumplings lovely and not unlike a pillowy gnocchi. Drink every last drop of the flavourful broth spiked with black truffle oil, it’s salty but oh so satisfying.

OMAW isn’t where you’ll find low key Southern home cooking, but with Chef Blondin you should expect a spark of pizzazz and opulence. Regrettably, the Matt magic didn’t cast a spell on me this time. Ah well.  

Simply put Alinea is inventive and strives to provide a unique experience for their guests. Their reservation “ticketing” system is an economist’s dream – the price varies depending on the day and time you book. This means a table at 5pm or 9pm on Tuesday would be less expensive than a table for Saturday at 7pm.

The spaces are sold online ahead of time with patrons paying for food costs up front by purchasing tickets. We were able to secure the second cheapest table (a weeknight at 5:15pm) and with the mandatory 20% gratuity and taxes it totaled $298 per person. You decide on the drinks later - we opted out of the wine pairing and instead ordered glasses of champagne and wine ($24 each) and my husband added a hefty portion of cognac to end the night ($30).

The intrigue begins the moment you walk in the door. After finding the non-descript doorway (look for some valet gentlemen) you enter a dark hallway. Slowly, as your eyes adjust fuchsia pink lights start to shine and guide you along the way. We weren’t sure where to go; luckily, someone slid open the door to the left and welcomed us into the dining room.

As we were brought to our spacious table, we immediately noted the floating rhubarb suspended above us. Having read plenty of reviews about Alinea, I know everything has a purpose. However, not having read a post about their 2014 summer menu, it was unclear what the rhubarb was for and when we’d find out. Alas readers, you must also wait until later on in this post.

We started with osetra caviar, a delicacy second to only beluga, which was simply presented with complimenting ingredients. The briny caviar was paired with a puff of foam tasting like bread with its yeasty baked properties, a tangy gelee and a smooth savoury cream. It set the mood of things to come – each plate containing lots of intricate ingredients that diners can try separately, in combinations or altogether. Through trial and error we soon realize having everything as one was the tastiest choice. 

When a big nest was placed in front of us, I assumed it would be for another dish to come. But, the waiter advised that two pieces of dehydrated salsify were hidden amongst the twigs and we had to use touch to find them. The long thin root vegetable was dried to the point it blended perfectly into the nest and could only be found by its softer texture. The nest was a dish that puts diners at ease - yes it's fine dining but playing and touching your food is not prohibited. After finding the twisted salsify we happily munched on the salty preserved vegetable jerky which reminded me of Chinese dried mustard greens (“mui choy”).

It may be hard to decipher in the picture, but the next dish was served to us in our palms; the platr resembled a napkin and was designed to be held. So, even though we were seated we felt as if we've entered a dinner party and hors d'oeuvres were being passed around. Tender pieces of skate (a fish) was paired with brown butter crumble, floral & herb stems and lemon oil. The skate was so soft it tasted like crab and contrasted well with the crunch from the brown butter and brightness of the lemon and herbs.

The fourth dish was my favourite of the night. It appeared as roasted corn on the cob sitting on a burnt piece of wood. The smoky aroma were incredible and eating by a campfire was the image that entered my mind. Except Chef Achatz wouldn’t just serve an ear of corn! His version consisted of a bottom layer of creamy manchego grits flavoured with truffles and sherry. Then on top were niblets of perfectly reconstructed corn. Anyone who has cut corn off the cob knows how messy it can get; imagine the skill Alinea’s chefs must possess to be able to do it in a way that it can be reassembled so well.

It’s hard to go wrong with truffles and sweet corn, but when there’s also creamy grits with sharp manchego … it’s just so good! This is one of those dishes I’d want to eat on my death bed – with a lobster and fries on the side.

To follow, another deconstructed mix-and-match dish of sweet barely cooked lobster. It’s paired with curry cream, coconut dots, earl grey cream, crunchy puffed rice, cucumber, lobster bisque cream and what looks like fish roe but ends up being grape fruit. I could go on forever about how everything tastes given the plethora of choices. My husband really liked this dish. Personally, I found it delicious, but a bit of a shame, as the lobster became secondary to the other ingredients.

A centre piece of logs arrived and was lit on fire. As always, there’s no mention of what it’s for and thus our brainstorming begins. 

However, before we could decide, orange “chicken” was served complete with take-out carton and plastic bag. In lieu of chopsticks a split cinnamon stick was given and lit on one end so the essence permeated the air. The meat was actually nuggets of veal sweetbreads which tasted like very tender and juicy chicken. Deep fried and placed on a thick orange sauce with plenty of vegetables on top it was a dish of varying crunchy textures. I loved the fried chive blossoms mixed in to give it a rich grassy taste. Not having had much orange chicken in my life, I would eat it more if it tasted like this.

Our detective skills prevailed when we realized our next dish was likely already in the fire. Our suspicions were confirmed when the server came with a cutting board and picked up the platter of burning “logs”. Inside the fire were hidden pieces of wagyu beef and parsnip.

Served on a charred piece of wood, the smoky essence continued throughout the course. On the side was a squid ink ravioli filed with creamy parsnip puree, some bitter tasting mousse (could be the black trumpet mushrooms) and crunchy pieces of kombu. All the sides were fine but I found really weren’t required. The lightly cooked wagyu was the highlight with its warmed through temperature and delicious marbling. Eating it alone and savouring its rich juices were enough for me.

After such a strong dish, Alinea presented a palate cleanser of lily bulb, flowers, rambutan and tart caviar lime segments. This certainly was a stunning looking dish. The floral and crunchy lily bulb segments were good but became too much after several spoonful. Undeniably, my tastebuds felt amazingly clean afterwards and my breath smelt great. Word to the wise, don't have wine immediately afterwards as it ends up tasting like vinegar.

At last the rhubarb was removed from the ceiling and shaved into the next course. The crunchy tart slices were paired with braised rhubarb, celery root and a celery ribbon (?) flavoured with a creamy mousse on the bottom. A nice lighter dish after all the heavy ones. 

The following two courses became heavier again. First, a crispy fried pig ear accompanied by Asian pear, black garlic puree and black fungus (?).  The condiments, other than the pear, were a bit salty for my taste. But, the pig ear had a delightful chewy texture to it. At other restaurants it often gets fried so long that it’s dried out and resembles pork rind more than anything. 

Our server brought out a vase and added nitrogen so that smoke started billowing out. All this just to add a stir fry aroma while we ate the next dish! The duck sculpture, once opened, contained small steamed foie gras dumplings. They were tender and smooth but due to their richness compounded my already full feeling.

The blueberry dish was whimsical and played on a variety of tastes and textures. Honestly, I found it a bit disjointed and not something I’d want to eat again. The bubble gum flavoured nest in the middle was unique as it was cold and melted in your mouth. But, it had to be eaten quickly as it started turning into a sticky gel otherwise. The violet meringue pieces were also nice on its own but I found didn’t go as well with the other ingredients.

Alinea’s signature dish is their edible balloon. Handed to us by the server, we were advised everything was edible except for the metal pin weighing it down. We followed instructions and pressed our lips against the balloon until the sugar melted and we could suck out the helium. After laughing in a chipmunk voice I ate the sticky green apple balloon and munched on the delicious fruit string.

Alinea is not for everyone. If you prefer simply prepared ingredients left in their natural essence this isn’t the place for you. The flavours are intense with some elements being very sour, sweet, salty or bitter. Indeed, almost every dish had a mixture of textures and some ingredients meticulously prepared to change its normal structure. Certainly, if you’re not up for “playing” with your food and creating your own combinations from the deconstructed dishes you may leave frustrated.

But if you want to eat with all five senses and be entertained with every course along the way than go to Alinea. Their website describes it beautifully, “It’s not a restaurant … at least, not in the conventional sense”. It’s a dinner theatre with the servers, Chef Achatz and the dishes themselves being the actors. It’s an art gallery with each dish painstakingly crafted to please the eyes before the palate. And finally, it’s an experience that forces patrons to pay attention and talk about what’s happening in front of them. In an age where children play with electronic devices and adults are watching mounted tv screens while eating, perhaps it’s this togetherness and being in the present that makes Alinea truly special.

If you want to find out more about Chef Achatz amazing story, read his book 'Life, On the Line'. To try your hand at recreating some of these dishes (or just to look at the pictures), pick up the Alinea cookbook.