Noodles can satisfy any meal for Chinese individuals. Some may feel like a bowl of carbs is rather heavy and should be restricted to the later meal of the day. But, visit a casual dining spot, cha chan tang, and view their breakfast menu and you’ll find stir fried noodles (often paired with congee), macaroni and ham in soup and instant noodles. With that in mind, it may not seem as strange that Magic Noodle is opened 24 hours a day. Yes, you heard right, a 24 hours a day place serving soupy noodles and other small eats. Luckily, they aren’t by my house or 1am noodles may be a regular occurrence.

At Magic Noodle, they prepare two in-house noodles. The first, hand pulled involves mixing a ball of dough for a long time until it develops an elastic consistency. Then the chef will begin rolling it out, stretching it out arms-length, folding/twisting it over and continuing the stretching and folding process until it gets to the desired thinness. While visiting the restaurant you’ll be able to see the chef prepare it from the open kitchen.

For the first visit, the options seem endless with varying noodle sizes (seven choices) and different protein combinations.  Thinking the house special magic noodle’s ($7.99 for small) picture looked amazing, we order this with the fifth thickness (traditional). Like most food advertising, the actual dish paled in comparison from the menu: the sunny side egg in the picture became an overdone made-ahead-of-time one, while the clear soup base with hints of red chili oil was tinged yellow and tasted of curry instead. But, the bowl was similar sized and had the brisket, beef, turnip, tendon and garnishes pictured.

With fresh pasta it’s hard for it to ever be al dante – after all it has just been made with a ball of soft dough moments from serving. So, it’s natural for the noodles to seem soft and really it’s the delicate silky texture that people enjoy. For me, the noodles were decent but was a tad mushy especially since some sections were stuck together leaving me with spoonfuls of mashed dough. I’d likely go for a thinner size next time as I’d imagine the noodles will cook faster so even if it clumps it wouldn’t be as noticeable.

It was the lightly curried flavour soup that bothered me the most. With past Chinese hand-pulled noodle experiences I’ve become accustomed to beef broth or the hong siu soy sauce version. Both naturally paired better with the beef and doesn’t detract from the noodles as much.    

The second version they serve is the Shanxi knife-sliced noodle. The chef holds a large ball of cold dough, in an angle he uses a sharp knife to directly slice slivers into boiling water. It’s impressive that Magic’s slices are so long it still resembles a noodle. Silky and smooth they were good. But, with the rapid slicing, it’s inevitable that some will be thicker than others, which does lead to uneven cooking consistencies. For this, we went with the simpler sliced beef with noodles ($7.99) which I found is a better choice.

Magic Noodle’s portion sizes are huge (it’s difficult to even finish a small). But, if you have extra room the fried pancake with leek ($2.99) is definitely worth ordering. There’s a great crust that’s not oily, the dough is thin and filled with a substantial portion of what I believe to be chives (although the menu notes leeks), scrambled egg and bean curd thread noodles.

 So after a night of clubbing or if you wake up at 6am with a craving for comfort food, look no further Magic Noodle has you covered. Just bring an appetite as you’ll be satisfied for days.

#Parv and I attended a pre-opening event as part of an Amex Front-of-the-Line deal: $100 afforded us six drinks, ten small bites and chips & dips (in hindsight not really a bargain but did allow for a first look at El Patio before one too many margaritas have been spilt). Plus, the cheerful sombreros looked brand new and may have been used for one too many pictures. 

The Mezcal mule ($9.50 or $48 for a pitcher) continues the ginger beer cocktail trend. Slightly sweet, fizzy with a touch of lime, the cocktail made with Mezcal (an agave distilled spirit) was refreshing; nice summertime choice. 

A tower of salsas (the tangy green tomatillo one my favourite) and pail of chips arrived soon after, followed by a plate of simply adorned guacamole. Given the tortilla chips were heavily salted, I'm glad El Patio left the dips relatively neutral. However, the non-spicy salsas' delicate flavours were somewhat overpowered by the chip: a bit more cilantro could help.                   

  

Rather than ordering off a menu, the food circulated as passed bites in exchange for food tickets. For some, like the spoon of juicy, salty, tender ceviche, it worked as the dish lent itself to sitting around.

But, for the hot items, unless you sat in front of the trailer kitchen, they often arrived lukewarm. The mushroom taco's shell turned cold and hard. Or the arancini, which is best piping hot to enjoy the creamy risotto and crispy exterior in perfect harmony.   

Generally, their food was heavily salted. The pickled cactus tacos, for example, was already salty with it's crispy shell, strong pickled cactus but then further topped with cotija cheese. But then, it's likely a brilliant entrepreneurial move as salty food calls for more drinks. 

In the end, I'd leave the food to Los Colibris, which is conveniently located on the second floor. But, to enjoy the outdoors before (or after) dinner, El Patio is a small hidden oasis.  

You wouldn’t expect to find an Argentinian inspired grill house in a cozy corner house. Blink, especially if you’re driving, and you may miss the conspicuous neon Branca sign in the window. Surprisingly, with all the talk of roasting meats, there wasn’t even a scent in the air to guide our way. But, my dutiful husband looked up its location ahead before heading out and stopped our driver in the nick of time.  

Of course, a nice robust wine is a must with red meat – especially one from Mendoza (there are plenty on the list). But, before the mains, their cocktails sounded so enticing that I had to get a Pisco sour ($12) to start. My first experience with this Chilian brandy, it was light with the lime juice and aromatic bitters… dangerously easy drinking. The dark rum mojito ($12) was packed with fresh mint leaves; another refreshing simple cocktail to enjoy during the summer months.

As soon the order was in, a bowl of chipas, Branca’s version of a bread basket, arrived before us. The Argentine cheese bread is light and airy, like choux pastry except made with tapioca flour. Filled with melted cheese studded with peppers I could have easily eaten all three myself.

Luckily, as my appetite was whet, the empanadas ($6) soon followed. Served piping hot, I was torn – let it cool down or dive in immediately so I can enjoy the molten cheese and corn mixture? In the end, I cut it into smaller pieces as a compromise. Filled with roasted corn, poblano peppers, gruyere and fontina they’re a great way nibble to start on.

The cuttlefish or sepia ($15) perfectly showcased the seafood and all its parts: the pigment from its ink sac helped to colour the cuttlefish such a vibrant reddish-brown hue while its ink acted as a savoury sauce. The saffron fregola, little balls that glide across the tongue, was specked with spicy chorizo and sweet roasted cherry tomatoes.

Branca uses the Argentine grilling method al sador, where meats are splayed and skewered across metal crosses. What looks like a torture device for us ensures the meat has access to the hot wood-burning fire. So, a visit to Branca isn’t complete until you’ve fried something from their grilled section – we tried three.

The first, the entrana ($19) or skirt steak was my favourite. Cooked medium rare at the thinner slices and a touch above rare at the thicker parts, it’s beef the way it’s meant to be enjoyed – cooked, simply seasoned and then left alone. Eaten by itself or topped with a condiment ($1/each), it was equally good:

The tira ($26), a meaty short rib, isn’t the fall-off-the-bone tenderness of the braised variety – after all we’re cooking over fire here. But, it was still easily chewable, despite its leanness, and of all the meats lent itself to pairing with the sauces (since it was rather neutral in taste).

On Friday and Saturdays you can order the chancho ($34) a dish feature four different parts from a suckling pig: pulled pork, belly, tenderloin and chicharrón. Now Magazine writes about the three day process of making the dish – brining it with an aromatic mixture for two days before cooking over the wood-burning fire for an entire third day.

I was a little disappointed that the skin wasn’t left on to get the juicy meat, thin fat layer and crisp skin combination I love so much about pork. Rather, the skin was removed of its fat and fried, served as a chicharrón or pork rind. At first it seemed a tad bland having eaten it right after a chimichurri laden piece of skirt steak, but after a swig of water and retrying it, I found the succulent meat to be quite flavourful – the taste of pork shone through (but not in a gross gamey way). For me, the highlight was the slice of pork belly slice having retained a thin layer of chewy skin and the fat rendered but still evident in the meat.   

A mound of intensely crispy and salty potato strings ($6) arrives with it – very hot but could have been drained a bit more to reduce the oiliness. But, these were addictive, I couldn’t stop snacking on just one more before the dish finally got taken away.

The smoked collards ($6) could be a meal in itself with the creamy sauce, smoked pork pieces and chick peas. With such heavy meats, the side was too decadent as I’d much rather have something plain and light; perhaps the green salad would have been a better option.

Do yourself a favour and save room for the panqueques ($7). Filled with a sweet and salty dulce de leche, the crêpes are rolled and lightly brûléed on top to give it a touch of crunch. The non-sweetened chantilly cream added creaminess without adding another layer of sugariness to the already flavourful dessert. I wonder if Branca would let me return for just a helping of this dessert.

Service is attentive and friendly, although following suggested order sizes (one starter, main and side per person) would leave tables with too much food - two starters, three mains and two sides was more than enough for our table of three.  At Branca, ingredients are left to its own devices. Some diners will appreciate this, allowing them to enjoy the true taste of the protein. Others may find dishes uninteresting, but I guess that’s when all those sauces will save the day. Regardless, bring a carnivore to Branca … I’m sure they’ll thank you as they leave dinner in a blissful meat-filled dream.

Houston’s name is rather misleading as you won’t find the Texa steakhouses of the South. Instead, it’s swathed in black and red with an atmosphere closer to lounge than ranch. It also has prices and food that’s reasonable in an area of downtown Toronto where price points often require expense accounts to satisfy. In particular, their price fixe lunch and dinner menus offer real value. A place where I frequent for drinks, we decided to extend the night away by tucking into their special $35 winter menu.

The beef carpaccio was certainly the table favourite, vibrantly coloured with a slight peppery seared edge. Sliced thinly and topped with truffle aioli, pickled red onions, parmesan shavings and a sweet balsamic reduction there were tons of flavours. The beef could be warmed up more as the middle was fairly icy but washed down with mouthful of wine it mixes into the meat juices so well.

Despite being labelled “Asian” the pan-seared seabass was everything but with the fresh tomato and avocado salsa reminiscent of Latin dishes and the Hungarian/Polish cabbage roll as a side. While a lighter dish paired with cauliflower puree and a tomato sauce, there’s still a significant portion and a satisfying main.  

Carnivores, who don’t care about plate presentation, would lean towards the hefty 12 oz portion of prime rib. It’s decent, well cooked and moist served with traditional mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables.

Houston’s dessert of the day, sticky toffee pudding, was an instant choice for me. The comforting sweet cake didn’t sit in a pool of sauce, rather just soaked enough with the toffee as to not overwhelm the water with sugar. Between the caramel sauce and cake was a layer of frosting which added a creamy tanginess (like a sweet cream cheese frosting) that was a miss for me. But, upon scraping it off and eating the warm cake with the cold toffee ice cream the dessert satisfied me.

Ask for a spot in the dining room if you’d rather carry a conversation; the booth tables at the entrance are great for people watching but difficult to converse given the rowdy bar, echoing entrance and loud music playing in the background. But, that’s what Houston’s all about: not a traditional dark steakhouse, rather a trendy after-work hangout … for those who will be paying their own way.