There are some dishes that do better as takeout than others and sadly the items from Café Landwer are best eaten at the restaurant. Landwer recognizes this fact, as their menu has morphed to include more travel-friendly offerings like sandwiches, pastas, and pizza. Luckily, it’s always been an eclectic mix of ethnicities and choices, so these new additions don’t seem out of place.

The sinia kebab ($19) was almost like a hearty pizza anyways, a base of their soft chewy pita that’s slathered with tahini and then topped with a full charbroiled eggplant, large hunks of roasted tomato and red onion, and chickpeas for added texture. Of course, there’s cubes of the namesake beef kebab topping everything - they a bit tougher, but still has the nice balance of spices and flavours. It’s something the rest of the flatbread ingredients lack, relying merely on the tahini, which isn’t powerful enough to flavour the dish. It’s something a crack of salt and pepper at home helps to improve.

With all the juicy vegetable toppings on the flatbread, it does get soggy in the middle. Do yourself a favour and cut it into quarters and give it 8-10 minutes in a hot oven. This really helps make the flatbread handle better and gives the ingredients a chance to heat up. If you’re hungry, just start with the chopped salad it comes with to tide you over (another thing a crack of salt doesn’t hurt).

In fact, 6-8 minutes in the oven is what all their pizzas need. It does melt the cheese on the burrata pizza ($16.95) so that it pools out over everything, but cold tomato sauce isn’t really my thing. Next time, I’m going to remove the cheese from the pie before reheating and add it back afterwards. It’s a dish we’ll certainly re-order - a simple pizza like a margherita but creamier and more decadent thanks to the burrata.  

Even Café Landwer felt something was amiss with the feta and eggplant pizza ($18.95) as I now see it’s been removed, and the feta’s been swapped with mascarpone cheese instead. It’s true, the big cubes of soft feta cheese were a bit jarring to have in one bite and should have been cut into smaller pieces; a spreadable mascarpone would be much easier to combine with everything.

Let’s hope the replacement also takes the black olives and cuts them down a bit. Indeed, Café Landwer doesn’t skimp on ingredients, but adding so many olives simply overpowered everything, including the delicate roasted eggplant. In my mind a ratio of 40% eggplant, 40% cheese, and 20% olives would work the best.

It might seem strange to order a burger ($18) from the restaurant – my poor husband, who must get a weeknight burger from Café Landwer, just so there’s vegetarian options for my flexitarian diet. Needless to say, I didn’t try it. He notes that while the bun could be refresher, the burger isn’t bad. It not as good as a gourmet burger found elsewhere but does remind him of the ones you used to get in the 80s/90s at neighbourhood joints.

In fact, one bite of the fries accompanying the burger and I get what he means. They’re likely the mass frozen variety, but I’m transported back to Van Horne plaza where I’d tuck into an order of these same flour laced spuds at the fish & chips place. Strangely, these lukewarm not fully crispy fries were what we spoke about the most and finished completely. The taste of nostalgia.

If all else fails, the chicken shawarma hummus ($16) is always a safe bet. It’s perhaps a tad waterier than having it at the restaurant, but the chickpea base is just as smooth and luscious and there’s just as many tender pieces of chicken on top. The tightly wrapped flatbread is perhaps the hottest thing in the order and perfect for ripping apart and tucking into while waiting for the other items to reheat.

Like most people, I can’t wait until we can eat out at restaurants again – spring patios, please arrive soon! Café Landwer’s outdoor dining is where you’ll find me, tucking into dishes like the shaksuka that definitely isn’t made for delivery. Until then, kudos to Café Landwer for hustling and creating new options to weather the COVID takeout needs. While it doesn’t live up to your regular menu, I appreciate the tenacity. 

Over February, exclusive 3-course and group specials have made its way onto Kinton Ramen’s menu, just in time to warm us up in this cold weather. The meal for two ($27.99) arrives with two ramen, an order of gyoza, and pop that can be upgraded to beer ($2 a can) – you bet we did the upgrade. I would have liked the ability to choose/upgrade the side dish as the citrusy sweet glaze slathered on the gyoza ($4.50 by itself) is not for me. In general, Kinton’s dumplings aren’t the greatest; after scraping off the sauce what’s left is bland, the filling lacking texture and flavour.

In the mood for some heat, the pork spicy garlic ramen ($12.95 for just the noodles) certainly hit the spot – right to the back of the throat as you sip the flavourful fragrant broth. The thick noodles went perfectly with it and stayed chewy despite not being consumed right away.

In hindsight, the ramen could have used some extra toppings as the base was nothing more than just the garlic, a few slices of pork, and a sprinkling of scallion. I would have like something crunchy, like bean sprouts, and a mound of sweet corn to balance out the spice. Note to self: add-ons are key.

My husband was on the right track elevating his bowl with the karaage pork original (additional $3.50 with the combo; $16.45 for just the noodles). I assumed it would be a soggy bust, but the four thick pieces of crispy pork still had a bit of crunch and was oh so juicy. Even as it sat in the broth and the batter soaked in the creamy pork soup, it still tasted good. Way to go Kinton, this karaage ramen is delicious!

Overall, we were just impressed with how well the ramen held up with delivery. After re-heating the broth (a key step for enjoying ramen at home) and placing everything into a glass bowl, it tasted like we were right there in the restaurant - sitting at a high top or the bar and tucking into the hot noodles with a buzz around us. I sense this will become a favourite of ours during the winter, something to keep us warm and cozy.

Is it me, or is everyone jumping onto the fried chicken sandwich bandwagon lately? It’s a thought that fleeted through my head, while going through Porchetta and Co.’s menu that consists of more fowl than swine.

All the choices did make it difficult to decide what we wanted, finally settling on a glutinous dinner of two sandwich combos with two pieces of fried chicken on the side. Needless to say, there was a lot of food and the fries became the casualties – arriving warm and weren’t overly crispy – relegated to being leftovers and tasting much better the next day when they were made crispy in the toaster oven.

We’re certainly not professionals who participate in eating competitions. So, after a sizeable sandwich, a less sizeable piece of fried chicken, and a handful of fries we were FULL. Yet, there wasn’t a gross disgusting feeling; surprisingly, it was a comfortable “clean” fullness despite the plethora of fried foods we just ingested.

The porchetta “house special” sandwich ($16.95 for the combo; $12.95 for just the sandwich) certainly sounds decadent: a combination of slow roasted pork, crispy pork skin crackling, truffle mayo, and parmesan. But then the soft bun is hit with a grainy mustard laced with Frank’s red hot, which cuts through the greasiness to nicely balance out the sandwich. It’s a delicious flavourful bite with the tangy mustard, soft pork, a sudden crunchy bite of skin, and a mellow truffle finish. I can see why this is the house special.

Even with the number of restaurants now serving crispy chicken sandwiches, Porchetta’s OG fried chicken sandwich ($16.95 for the combo) doesn’t disappoint. They swap the breast for a more flavourful thigh meat that’s fried until the edges are simply crunchy - to the point that if it were any crispier the roof of your mouth better watch out. Once again, the heaviness is balanced out with an herby ranch dressing and thick slices of pickles. There’s of course, Porchetta’s favourite condiment - Frank’s hot sauce – sparingly applied so that it doesn’t turn into an overly hot sandwich.

In fact, if you’re afraid of spicy foods, you won’t face with any demons at Porchetta. Even their Nashville hot chicken ($4.95 for a piece) barely registers a sting despite the oily red sauce pooling at the bottom of the container. As spicy hot fried chicken goes, it’s lighter than most, likely drained well before being dipped in the mildly hot oil.

The only disappointment was the buttermilk fried chicken ($4.95 for a piece) that arrived undercooked. Thankfully, my husband and I were sharing everything and had cut it into two, which allowed us to see the pink juices running from the dark pink bone, saving us from any food-related stomach complications later. Therefore, it’s difficult to really judge the chicken since it came sizzling hot from the oven, perhaps a tad overcooked, but yielding tons of crunch.

Putting the undercooked chicken aside, we agreed Porchetta’s sandwiches are certainly worth ordering again. Big heavenly recipes of greasy meats smartly combined with balance condiments; we’re switching from the fast-food chain variety for sure.

When one thinks of barbeque, images of burgers and hot dogs may come to a North American mind. Across the world, it means so much more. Such as, fragrant jerk chicken or spit-fired whole hogs. Since a young age, I’ve associated barbeque with siu mei, which translates from Cantonese as ‘roasted ends’, an odd description as in reality the animals are prepared and presented in it’s whole form.

Walk inside an establishment like East Court and Mike’s BBQ and you’ll see glistening roasted carcasses hanging from a stainless-steel wall. It’s a sobering moment that reminds you of what you’re eating. If you’re a vegetarian, wait in the car.

Chinese barbeque pork or cha shiu ($8.99 per lb) is probably the most widely known form of siu mei and is the dish I loved as a child. The easiest to eat, since there are no bones, it’s flavoured with a youth-friendly slightly sweet glaze, it’s the dish I must try at every shop.

Requesting a "half fat half lean" piece, the cut is a little oily when eaten on its own, but once mixed with hot rice, is oh so delicious as the fat melts into the grains. Plus, the roasted pork is much moister. I enjoyed East Court’s thicker cuts – when you place a slice in your mouth, you get a lovely meaty bite that's a bit like steak. Their glaze has a balanced sweetness and was applied generously but not so thick that it tastes like it's dipped in corn syrup.

The roasted duck ($11 for half) was cut nicely, each piece roughly the same thickness and so deftly prepared that it easily reforms the animal’s shape in the container. This was also nicely marinated, so it didn’t require plum sauce, the duck juices enough to satisfy providing a wonderful savoury star anise taste.

For a smaller portion of fowl, their barbeque chicken legs ($3 each; two shown in the picture) is a great add on. These are glazed with a thinner version of the cha shiu sauce giving it a little bit of sweetness. Of course, the ginger and green onion oil will completely change the flavours of the dish and is such a great condiment with chicken.  

East Court and Mike’s BBQ is an example of why you should purchase siu mei from a professional roaster and not just some Asian supermarket: the flavours are well-rounded so the meats can be enjoyed solo without any condiments, never too sweet or salty so that it overpowers the protein; and items are cut with a uniform thickness so that each piece is the perfect bite-sized morsel.

Next time you’re in the mood for “barbeque” expand the definition and look beyond burgers and ribs. Check out a siu mei restaurant for a different spin. Plus, professional roasters are set-up as take-out only shops, which bodes well with our current COVID dining restrictions.

In January, an amazing opportunity presented itself, while trying to plan a safe way to celebrate a friend’s birthday. Given she had dietary restrictions and we all lived in different areas of the city, finding a restaurant to all order from would be impossible. That’s when I heard about Urban Acorn Catering’s vegan supper club ($50 per meal; $10 per order for delivery), and as luck would have it, there was going to be a session on my friend’s birthday!

The night would be in celebration of Haiti’s independence, to mark the occasion when the country fought against the French to win their freedom in 1984. At this point, my knowledge of Haiti and its cuisine was limited, which made the meal even more exciting – I love to try new things.

It was a simple ordering process with the meals getting delivered the morning/afternoon of the dinner with detailed preparation instructions. It was simple: each dish either re-heated in the oven, in a pot, or eaten straight out of the container. The only thing you need is a timer to make sure things don’t burn.

And it all began with the black bean and malanga accra – a fluffy fritter made vegan by using black beans instead of the typical white fish. On its own, the accra would be rather plain, but once it was garnished with the red pepper ti malice sauce and topped with the oh so yummy pikliz (imagine a really refreshing non-creamy coleslaw) the starter shone. The dish even arrived with these ultra thin double fried plantain chips, the best I’ve ever had. Urban Acorn needs to sell these by the bag for snacking!

I loved hearing the story about the soup joumou, the dish that’s almost always served as part of the celebration. What does a hearty squash and vegetable soup filled with creamy pinto beans and tons of pasta have to do with Haitian independence? Marie explains that joumou was something slaves had to made for their owners and could never eat. So, when they won their freedom, they were finally able to eat the dish they used to slave away making. It made every clove incensed spoon taste even better.

Maybe Marie was onto something when the email noted the soup could be frozen for later. After having the first two courses, I was getting full. Nonetheless, I soldiered on with the Haitian griot, traditionally a deep-fried pork shoulder, but Urban Acorn recreating its essence as fried beet “pillows”. They were airy and delicate, the beet and rice flour pocket a little chewy with a slightly crispy skin.

These sat on diri ak pwa, a rice and beans medley mixed with herbs and bits of crispy vegetables, which were a great contrast against the softer griot. I only wish the rice were even “wetter” and had more seasoning. Perhaps it was kept neutral to not overpower the delicate beet flavours?

Thankfully, the slice of pain patate wasn’t overly large, the sweet potato rum cake rather refreshing since there was plenty of pineapple incorporated into the batter. The dessert could have used more rum but was nevertheless delicious – like a tropical pumpkin pie topped with coconut cream.

My first virtual supper club was a success. It felt a little awkward at first, but after the first course and a bit of wine, people seemed to loosen up and talk more. Somehow between the eating and having dishes explained to us, the conversation flowed without interruption and it seemed almost normal.

Guests were sometimes a little bit early or behind with each course, but it didn’t matter, you couldn’t really tell what everyone was eating anyways. And since people were serving themselves, it allowed the meal to proceed in a well-timed manner so something that normally could have lasted three hours was thankfully shortened for the Sunday evening affair.

The virtual setting also allowed us to customize the experience: we joined the group until our mains were done then left and started our own Zoom meeting to get a chance to celebrate and catch up over dessert. Under normal conditions, it would be rude to all get up from the table and move into a corner.

Still, we all agreed that we’d love to experience the supper club in-person one day. Even though we learned a fair amount about Haiti cuisine and the day of celebration, it would have been nice to be able to have a private conversation with other guests to get to know them better – this is where Zoom breakout groups could work well. Until then, I look forward to trying another virtual supper club. It’s a great experience to make the most of our time in lock down. 

Having had delivery at least weekly since the start of the lockdown, my first encounter with a messed-up order is with The Sushi Bar. Seafood was what we were craving so we settled on four maki and two grilled fish items. Unfortunately, the more substantial hot items didn’t arrive; what a let down when you’re looking forward to grilled black cod and hamachi kama.

At least the rolls were decent. Sushi Bar’s spicy tuna ($7) was stuffed with big chunks of fish, rather than a pulverized paste. If the sauce were spicier and the cucumber cut julienned thinner, it would have been even better as the maki tasted a bit like cream cheese tuna with a prominent cucumber finish. The salmon tartare ($7) was closer to a traditional spicy roll, where the fish is chopped up and mixed tempura flakes and spicy mayo. I did like the bits of green onion incorporated into the mixture, which gave it a nice hit of freshness.

Of all the maki served that evening, the green dragon roll ($15) was the tastiest. It’s essentially a dynamite roll layered with salmon and topped with rice puffs, salmon roe, and green onion. While it looks like there were a lot of garnishes, everything worked together nicely in terms of textures and tastes.

Had I thought to recall my previous experiences with The Sushi Bar, I would have skipped the plain dynamite roll ($9). The shrimp is pre-cooked from earlier in the day so it’s too soft and cold for my liking. With the green dragon roll, at least it’s topped with other ingredients to hide the lacklustre centre.

Whomever packs up the purchases really needs to work on the condiment/cutlery to food ratio. Our order arrived with a full container of wasabi and ginger, but only half a container of soy sauce, an amount sufficient for one person. Luckily, we had a couple of packages left from another restaurant so that we could skimp together enough for the meal.

Surely, soy sauce would have been the cheapest thing to provide. If anything, they could save money by not providing four pairs of chopsticks with an order of four rolls, especially after a customer requests no cutlery.

Perhaps if the experience started off better, I could have overlooked the lack of soy sauce and wasted chopsticks. But, when you were really looking forward to black cod and grilled fish and it doesn’t arrive, everything after that feels disappointing  

I’ve been listening to a podcast called The Happiness Lab and within an episode, host Laurie Santos explains that people tend to start things during a time of significance – on a Monday, after their birthday, or perhaps the biggest milestone of all… the start of a new year. It’s a time for resolutions and one of the most popular resolves is to eat healthier and lose weight. Inevitably, 2021 won’t be a year of shedding for me, as the first meal we dug into was a midnight feast of fried chicken. To soak up all the alcohol we consumed, of course.

Since we were ordering on a busy night, the soy garlic chicken ($20.99 for small) took a while to be delivered, so it wasn’t as crispy and was warm on arrival. In my heart I knew giving it seven minutes in the toaster oven would really help, but we were really looking forward to the greasy eats so tucked in anyways. While I do enjoy my fried bird plain, the lightness of the sweet soy blended with garlic was delicious and really helped give the chicken flavour without adding a heavy glaze.

In general, Korean fried chicken is lighter to begin with. The batter is just a coating of flour, so it doesn’t soak up as much oil and isn’t as greasy. The Fry cuts up the half bird into smaller pieces so you can pick and choose the cuts to your preference. For me, I like to pick at the bones, which is complimented by my husband who enjoys big nuggets of boneless white meat. I knew I met my perfect match: he leaves the flavourful pieces for me and is opened to indulging in fried chicken late at night.

Little did we know the chicken arrives as a “combo” with a can of Coke and a container of lightly pickled sweet daikon, which really helps cut through the grease.

That light acidity and freshness helped to balance off the side of fries ($5.99 for small), which was surprisingly hotter and crispier than the chicken. Despite being a “small” order, there was a lot of fries and the spuds were also coated with flour to give it that extra crunch – sort of like the ones you’d find at Taco Bell and Costco, excepted jazzed up with a light dusting of green onions.

I loved that The Fry uses paper-based containers for delivery. And if you want a fully plastic-free experience, skip the pickled turnip (with the fried chicken) and the ketchup (with the fries) in your order.

This New Year’s, what I’ve heard the most is good riddance to 2020 and let the good times begin in 2021. So, with that in mind, I skipped on my traditional resolutions of being healthier or more responsible. Instead, this year, I resolve to live it up and enjoy the good things (and people) in life. And it seems I subconsciously knew this already, as this year started off with a greasy bang.

Watch food shows about Asian countries and they will inevitably feature street eats. The compounds may be located outside or indoors, but the common themes are the array of dishes available, the no frills communal dining area, and the unfathomed low prices compared to the hard work that goes into creating the dishes.

In Toronto, our closest comparison is the da pa dongs set in GTA strip malls. Scarborough food courts were once bustling in the late 1980s and 1990s, my parents and I used to regularly visit them in my youth. But once eateries switched to using disposable containers (they previously used real dishes and you could request a takeout container for leftovers), the environmentalist in me steered my parents towards restaurants like Congee Wong instead.

It’s a shame, as having stir-fried dishes at a da pa dong is the epitome of how they should be enjoyed. Within a minute, it’s out of the hot wok, onto a plate, and you’re digging into the fragrant dish in no time.

My favourite item is the stir-fried rice noodles with beef or gon chow gnow ho. Since the pandemic started, it’s also a dish that I’ve been getting from various Chinese restaurants around the city, always disappointed with the outcomes. Hence, after seeing it featured on Great Fountain’s Instagram feed, I worked in a visit to the eatery after dropping off provisions to my mom, who lives in the area.

The stir-fried noodles with beef ($7.50) was exactly what I had been craving - the noodles cooked long enough so there are bits of caramelization on the ends and to give the dish wok hay. There was enough soy sauce and condiments to flavour everything giving the noodles a lovely deep brown hue, yet they remained dry and not clumped together. I could even do without the beef, to be honest, as what makes the dish are the chewy aromatic noodles, sweet onions and chives, and crunchy bean sprouts. If it is this good after a 20-minute commute, I can only imagine how delicious it would be dining there.

Perhaps there was a bit too much bean sprouts in the Singapore stir-fried vermicelli ($7.50) as the noodles were a little soft for my liking. My hypothesis is the water from the bean sprouts soaked into the thin noodles as it sat in the container. Slivers of green bell peppers would have been a nice addition to substitute for some of the sprouts and add a pop of colour. Regardless, the dish a lovely curry flavour and was a nice balance of noodles, barbeque pork and vegetables.

Each dish is served with a complimentary drink (I skipped to cut down on plastic waste) as well as a free soup. Great Fountain’s hot and sour soup was still surprisingly warm after the drive home and while it’s not the greatest, it’s also not terrible for a free addition. It could be a touch spicier, but where it lacked in the “hot” there was enough of the “sour” element to give it flavour. It reminds me of the hot and sour soup found at Chinese buffets, and even comes packed with big cubes of tofu.

The popcorn squid ($5.99) was the sole disappointing dish; another item I’ve ordered regularly during the pandemic, and once again reminded why it must be eaten in a restaurant. Of course, it was no longer crispy, which is such a pivotal part to making the squid delicious, but Great Fountain’s also lacked seasoning, despite the slightly fiery red tinge.

During the lockdown, when we’re forced to take out from restaurants anyways, it’s the opportune time to visit da pa dongs again - the guilt of relying on plastic and Styrofoam containers dissipates slightly. So far, the meal from Great Fountain has been the tastiest alternative to eating stir-fried noodles at a restaurant. Long live “street eats”.