Sometimes tipping can be an awkward encounter… what percentage should you leave to allow you to express your gratitude, without leaving a burning hole in your pocket? It’s a custom widely found in North America, where restaurants tend to underpay staff with the promise of gratuities to make up the shortfall. Hence, when a traveller is not accustomed to the 15% - 20% North American expectations, it can create animosity between the diner and staff.

Maiz adopted a stance to alleviate this awkwardness by building in a fair wage (at least $20 an hour, according to their website) into their menu prices and removing the need for diners to tip at the end of their meal. Whether this custom is attractive to their staff, only time will tell.

To begin, Maiz runs rather leanly. During our Monday evening dinner, there were two people – one person cooking and another doing everything else (sitting people, taking orders, finishing up plates, serving, checking in on customers, and ringing check through at the end of the meal). At the same time, there weren’t too many patrons, only three tables when other restaurants in the area were closed or fully booked.

I hadn’t return since their opening years ago, my first experience with arepas and the dinner platters left me underwhelmed. Yet, their menu has really expanded along with a lightened and brightly lit dining room that makes Maiz seem more inviting.

The house made tortilla chips served with guacamole ($14.95) were amazing – thick enough for dunking but still breaks easily creating a satisfying crispiness. It’s also surprisingly un-oily for a chip that gives off such a lovely crunch. There’s enough smooth guacamole to get through most of the chips with a small side of smoky salsa roja to finish off the rest, which consequently goes nicely mixed into the moros cristianos.

Before getting into the mains, I suggest you choose wisely and order something that offers a side of the moros cristianos or soft-fried rice and beans. If it doesn’t come with it, order the side ($3.95) as it was our favourite part of the meal. The spice-laced rice is mixed with black refried beans and heated through creating a flavourful creamy mixture that’s like a thick dairy-free risotto. I liked having it solo or heaped on a crunchy tortilla, give me more!

The rice comes with the quesadillas. While the menu describes the vegetable quesadillas ($19.95) as being stuffed with soft-fried chickpeas… they weren’t soft at all. Maiz should just keep it simple and used a grilled vegetable filling instead. Heck, add in more moros cristianos … anything is better than hard chickpeas. At least it contained a decent amount of cotija cheese creating a lovely gooeyness around the chickpeas and the tortilla was well-toasted creating a crunchy crust.

I’d skip the churros ($11.95 for three), which were overly dense. A restaurant should only attempt making this dessert if they churn out enough daily to warrant creating fresh batter and having hot sizzling oil ready. Otherwise, it’s just an overly sweet chewy concoction that leaves me wanting a Tim Horton’s crueller more than a churro.

Maybe create a creamy Mexican-spiced rice pudding instead. After all, if it’s anything like the moros cristianos, the rice pudding will be fantastic.

Overall mark - 7 out of 10

Tucked in the Japanese Cultural Centre, walking into Kaiseki Yu-Zen Hashimoto transports you to another country. Given their limited seating, their doors may be locked, so give the posted number a call and in no time, someone will greet you at the entrance and lead you through the orange torii gates into the dining room.

There’s so much to take in that the first ten minutes is like sensory overload. Take a deep breath and get ready for the meal; Hashimoto only serves three tables an evening, there’s plenty of time to explore after dinner. So, settle into your private dining room and decompress for the meal to come.   

Hashimoto describes kaiseki as “much of an art form as a style of food preparation” and this is certainly accurate. Each dish was beautiful and like a gift waiting to be unwrapped; a sense of excitement settled over me as I lifted the dome from many of the courses.

The eight-course meal ($350 per person) began with an onjyaku-zen (amuse bouche) consisting of three hearty soups designed to warm-up the stomach. Hashimoto’s saikyo miso soup wasn’t overly salty but rather rich in umami made with white miso, topped with a braised carrot, and a pea-sized amount of mustard to add an expected spice against the broth. Meanwhile, the nutty flavour that burst through the cube of goma (sesame) tofu was incredible, almost bordering bitter if it weren’t balanced out by the thick savoury soup. If anything, I could have done without wasabi on the tofu as the sesame taste was already so pungent.

Of all three bowls, my favourite was also the simplest and what Hashimoto calls “seasoned rice”. It’s like a thick congee studded with cubes of sweet soft squash and topped with slivers of salty dried kelp (?). The bowl was lovely and comforting and had us wanting another taste of it to end the meal.

Paper thin slices of tennen madai (line caught sea bream) was featured in the sashimi course, so delicate that it’s like eating flower petals made of fish. Around the plate were three agar jellies flavoured with ginger, carrot, and seaweed, as well as a washer-sized daikon filled with thinly julienned pickled vegetables. It’s a much lighter dish following the onjyaku-zen and really showcases the knife skills of Chef Masaki Hashimoto.

Diners are asked to refrain from wearing strong scents to ensure they’re able to enjoy the sensory experience of the food. The yuzu aroma that escapes from the owan-mono was so refreshing, although at first whiff, it leaves me wondering if a citrusy soup is something I’d enjoy.

Hashimoto didn’t disappoint, balancing the yuzu in a savoury consommé and pairing it with a host of rich flavours: a silky chawanmushi (egg custard), a thick chewy rice cake, and a soft braised daikon. The slice of amadai (tile fish) was cooked perfectly and I loved that the fish’s scales were deep fried to form a crunchy garnish on top.

The yaki-mono (grilled course) featured a host of ingredients that were in-season during the autumn in Japan. Generally, I only have persimmons raw, yet somehow the fruit tastes so good baked, releasing more of its sweet flavours with chewy pieces of mochi included to soak up some of its juices. The fruit was so inventive that the grilled shima-aji (stripe jack) almost seemed secondary; I found the fish a tad overcooked and in need of a stronger glaze to make it stand out.

To finish the yaki-mono a host of seasonal produce were used as palette cleansers including crisp lotus root, a gooseberry topped with egg yolk (surprisingly, it works), mountain yam, and a lovely mountain peach that’s almost tastes like a cross between a plum and strawberry.

The Spice Girl’s song, When Two Becomes One, is what comes to mind when I think of the taki-awase course. The dish begins with ingredients being stewed separately – in this case, cubes of octopus, vegetables, squash, and daikon – and are then steam together to blend the flavours and aromas without causing the ingredients to become overcooked. After simmering for four hours, the octopus was so tender that if our server didn’t tell us what the protein was, I would have thought we were eating brisket.

Following the softer steamed dish was the shii-zakana (signature course), which provided a textural contrast with different crispy elements:

• Medallions of the most incredible chicken teriyaki encapsulating a soft walnut and wrapped in a thin crispy skin. I could munch on rounds of these in lieu of chicken wings.
• A ball of flavourful mashed Japanese potatoes filled with wagyu beef cubes and rolled into crispy rice grains creating something that rivals arancini with its crunchy and soft elements. Of course, in this case, instead of the traditional ground beef and peas, it’s filled with rich wagyu. Oh boy.
• Even the garnish of popped wheat was edible; a bit fibrous when I took a bite of the entire stalk, but once we started picking out the individual grains from the husk, became almost like a nutty popcorn.

Guilt washed over me as I took my first bite of Chef Hashimoto’s hand carved radish crane… it must have taken so much time to carve its delicate neck and legs! It was the last thing consumed so that I could appreciate its beauty before finally dipping it into the carrot sauce and devouring the refreshing décor.

The last savoury course brought a bowl of sticky rice topped with slices of A5 Hyogo wagyu, the prized beef from the Kobe region. While it was delicious, I do wish the beef was left thicker and cut into cubes so that more of the fatty rich flavours would be locked in and flow onto the tongue.

A bowl of noodles and soup is always a delight. In this case, a cha (tea) soba served in a fragrant dashi broth that was good to the last drop. What a lovely way to end and cleanse the palette before dessert.

Like many Japanese desserts, the mizu-mono was a fruit plate prominently featuring the expensive Shizuoka musk melon. A sizeable melon is upwards of $200 a fruit and commands the premium as supposedly they are raised to only have one melon per plant to ensure all the flavours are concentrated into one fruit and there being less of a chance of the melon having blemishes.

Indeed, every time I’ve had a slice it’s the sweetest melon ever and tastes like a cross between cantaloupe and honeydew. What also makes it different is the texture: when you have a normal melon it tends to be very soft and sweet in the centre, then gets hard and flavourless as you approach the find. The musk melon tends to have a more uniform sweetness and tenderness throughout.

It’s strange when I’m excited to try fruit, at Hashimoto they also provided a white strawberry encapsulated in a light jelly and topped with condensed milk. Truthfully, it just tasted like a lighter Ontario strawberry that you can purchase at a farmer’s market when it’s in season… I don’t think I would pay the ~$40 for a pint. It was my first experience having a shine muscat, which was like a sweeter and juicier globe grape without seeds. Set in gelatin and adorned with a gold leaf it’s crazy to think that a bunch of these grapes can be upwards of $100.

Aside from the fruit, we were treated to a leaf of uber-rich matcha pudding and a dollop of sweet azuki beans topped with a crispy candy. My recommendation is that Chef Hashimoto switches out the rock sugar with pop rocks to really give the diners a surprise.

With an extensive sake menu, if you’re not familiar with the Japanese spirit, they have a “sommelier” to help you choose one based on your preferences for other alcohol. Letting her know that we like a dry crisp wine, she recommended the Okunomatsu Junmai Ginjo Genshu Arabashiri that was offered in a half bottle on weekends ($55), which does have a less sweet finish.

For those who are abstaining from alcohol, they also offer pots of fragrant tea ($9 a person) or water served from a kimono clad Swell bottle ($7 a person).

Incredible surroundings and beautiful unique dishes aside, what makes dining at Kaiseki Yu-Zen Hashimoto an unforgettable experience is their service. With only three tables nightly, we were in good hands – just like in Japan, the hospitality rises to another level.

It evens ends warmly with our server offering to take a picture of us, which they email to us later that evening along with pictures of the dishes sampled. It’s a simple and sweet gesture that sets the restaurant apart, from the moment you enter and after you return home, dining at Kaiseki Yu-Zen Hashimoto is a true sensory experience. 

Canadian celebrity chef Matty Matheson’s larger-than-life attitude is infectious. While watching his cooking program, It’s Suppertime!, I can sense his love and respect for food and developed a belief that I could create his comforting spreads at home. Of course, like many viewers, laziness settled in and that’s when I decided to eat at his restaurant instead.

His latest venture is Prime Seafood Palace, a restaurant that’s unlike his other establishments such as Parts and Labour or Makers Pizza. Firstly, no expense was spared to create a beautiful Zen-like dining room that’s completely encapsulated in blond wood. I almost expected someone to roll out yoga mats if it weren’t for the vintage rock playing in the background. Both elements are bold and unexpected for a steak and seafood restaurant, sort of fitting for a chef who doesn’t blend in with the rest.

Thick pieces of blue fin tuna, kampachi, and king salmon are showcased in the Sicilian crudo ($45 for a small), cut to a sashimi-like thickness. There is no shortage of olive oil used in the crudo, the fish swimming in a plate of it. Yet, despite all the herbs, dish lacked flavour; if only they reduced the oil and added a sprinkle of salt instead.

Cheese and seafood aren’t a popular combination. Despite that, the delicate thinly sliced grilled Humboldt squid ($34) went remarkably well with creamy Stracciatella cheese. Maitake mushrooms, being a lighter fungus, didn’t detract from the squid and dairy’s natural flavours, the combination so tasty heaped onto a piece of well-toasted sourdough. Of all the starters, this was my favourite.

The Palace bacon ($18 for 3 pieces, extra $6 to add the fourth) was also delightful, a char sui flavoured pork belly that’s sticky and sweet. The fat was well-rendered, so the pork belly simply melted in my mouth. Delicious on its own (not overly salty), it could be equally tasty sandwiched in in a soft bao bun.

In hindsight, I should have put a piece of bacon into the molasses bread. For $21, the bread service was rather disappointing. Sure, the molasses bread was fragrant and unique - it was like having gingerbread in a bun form - but the accompaniments were lacklustre… the butter needed salt, the mustard pickles run-of-the-mill, and the kippered mussels weren’t the freshest tasting. If it weren’t for our waitress’ long story about how this was Matheson’s grandmother’s recipe and filled with East Coast charm, we would have skipped the bread service all together.

Perhaps I should have relied on my own instincts as I found her recommendations to be a let down. While the cote de boeuf ($275) was a beautiful cut of beef and cooked well, it was just so bland. Strangely, some Google reviews claim dishes are too salty, I wonder if the kitchen is overcompensating and has simply started under seasoning everything.

At least our waitress warned us that the cote de boeuf was neutral and suggested an order of sauce. The grilled onion chimichurri ($8) seemed like a logical choice but was too fussy - the mustard or wasabi added gave it a bitter after taste and detracted from the beef. Give me a simple chimichurri any day; or better yet, just some salt and pepper on the steak.

At least their sides were good. The Palace potatoes ($21) a potato gratin cut into cubes and deep-fried creating the most awesome hash brown. The carrot tart ($21) was also great and could even work as a starter. Layered on a crispy buttery crust was Grey Owl cheese (think a much creamier and richer goat cheese) and perfectly roasted carrots that were soft but still incorporate a bit of texture. If Prime Seafood Place ever opens for lunch, pairing the carrot tart with a salad would make a great lunch main.

The Yorkshire pudding ($13) comes as a solo pudding that’s the size of a bread plate. Oh, so fluffy and light, I wish we had some gravy to pour onto it as the cote de boeuf’s juices couldn’t do the pastry justice.

Prime Seafood Palace’s dessert menu is a short affair – chocolate cake, key lime pie, or ice cream. Having only tried key lime pie ($14) on a handful of occasions and never being impressed, Prime’s version was fantastic with a crispy buttery crust, creamy custardy key lime filling, and covered with meringue that’s toasted just prior to serving so there’s a warmth to the fluffy sweet topping. If key lime pie was always this good, I’d order it more often.

Our dinner at Prime Seafood Palace was satisfactory, but hardly the masterpiece that some people tout. We were treated to delicious sides and a couple tasty starters, but the lacklustre main was disappointing. If anything, the food was merely decent and what enhanced the experience was the beautiful dining room, attentive service, and personable sommelier. Maybe it’s just Matheson’s reputation, you can’t help but want to love the restaurant, because you like the person.

I keep reading about the staffing shortage in Toronto, especially amongst the hospitality industry, where people have supposedly changed careers to find a role that has better hours, more stable pay, better growth prospects, etc. Vela doesn’t seem to suffer from this problem, three individuals checked in on us throughout dinner service. Their front-of-the-house and open-faced kitchen seemed stacked with individuals, no shortage here!

Firstly, to quickly sum up the experience - the meal was exquisite. The albacore tuna crudo ($21) arrived in huge chunks rather than the 1/3-inch slices generally found at other restaurants… a surprisingly generous portion of fish. Tossed with a dashi soy vinaigrette, crispy shallots, and compressed cucumbers, the dish certainly has Asian influences, which made the fried rice crackers an appropriate pairing with the crudo. Still, the tuna was so fresh and meaty that it tasted equally delicious solo.

The burrata ($24) may look typical, but the pistachio pesto provided such an interesting savory bite against the cool creamy cheese, with the nuts giving it a bit of texture. Plenty of figs and grapes were strewn throughout to add sweetness. If anyone remembers the iconic burrata from Campagnolo, this is in the same realm of deliciousness.

Of all the starters, the beef tartare ($18) was probably the most traditionally prepared. The meat was finely chopped and mixed with mayo, pickled shimeji (a tiny, sweet mushroom), and other spices. I liked that it wasn’t overly salty allowing the umami of the shaved truffles and parmesan to shine through.

We were already off to a good start and then the mains blew me away. Vela doesn’t skimp on the truffles in the truffle rigatoni ($40), the prized fungi mixed with chewy fresh pasta and just enough mushroom duxelles cream sauce for flavour without becoming overly saturated. Having dishes family style is best as the pasta was huge and being so rich would be a lot for one person.

The Nova Scotia halibut ($45) seemingly was poached in an infused broth as even the centre of the thick fish was tasty on its own. The herb beurre blanc is a traditional sauce to pair with the halibut but was augmented with a spicy stewed potato that added a burst of zeal that the meaty fish needed. Who knew, maybe halibut goes better with a chili sauce.

Even the flatiron steak ($35) was impressive, cooked to a calibre I’d expect from a steakhouse. The kitchen likely uses a reverse sear method to prepare the beef, starting off low-and-slow as the inside was cooked evenly and hot throughout. The caramelization of the outside was done ever so lightly allowing the lean cut of beef to remain tender. A bit of finishing salt rounded out the steak and was the ideal saltiness. Oh, and don’t get me started on the French fries, they are so crispy and flavourful rivaling the duck fat French fries from Beer Bistro that I love.

Food aside, what also makes Vela standout is the down-to-earth nature of the restaurant. The posh environment could seem too fancy and stuffy, but the warm greeting from the host and friendliness of other staff members really puts the diner at ease. Even quippy descriptions in the menu such as what was listed with the steaks help, “You all know what you like. Feel free to order blue, rare, medium rare, medium, medium-well, well-done, or burnt to a crisp. Live your best life!”

Vela’s huge dining room with white floors and walls could have become a starkly modern environment. Yet, if felt cozy with the dim lights, warm temperature, and dreamy white ceiling lights that reminded me of hazy clouds. There was even live jazz music playing on Tuesday, which really got me into a chill mood and had me ordering a third cocktail, despite it being the beginning of the work week. Vela just makes you comfortable with its atmosphere and their fabulous food. Live your best life indeed. 

The temperature is rising in Toronto’s entertainment district as Marked enters with a South American menu focused on dishes created on the grill, essentially a host of barbeque and rotisserie style dishes.

There’s a spark of creativity with the corn ribs ($17) where Marked quarters corn cobs allowing the diner to hold a rib of corn and eat the kernels off like a bone. Thinking about it more, I guess it’s how you would normally a cob, in this case cut smaller so it becomes more manageable bites. Dusted with a chipotle lime salt, make sure you slather some of the whipped queso fresco on top, it gives it a lovely cheesy buttery taste.

Another dish that reminds me of ribs is the dates ($14), which are stuffed with pickled pepper and Manchego cheese, wrapped with smoked bacon, and then grilled. The bacon crisps around the edges and after biting through the smoky meat you’re greeted with a soft date that’s all at once sweet, salty, savoury, and spicy. It’s almost like popping a burnt end in your mouth.

The spicy tuna ceviche ($21) is made with big chunks of fish tossed with a spicy soy marinade, cubes of avocado, and refreshing julienned cucumber and radish. Given it’s a little salty, it is best eaten over the tapioca seaweed crackers, an interesting airy crispy chip that’s like a rice cracker but lighter.

We’re told what makes the guasacaca ($12) a Venezuelan avocado dip that’s different from guacamole is the use of vinegar rather than lime. The difference in taste is rather minor, perhaps a little less citrusy. Nonetheless, the guasacaca is just as creamy and goes nicely with the crispy tortillas. If anything, the extra tortillas are perfect for scooping up the leftover ceviche as there aren’t enough tapioca crackers for all the fish.

While it looks plain, the shrimp a la parilla ($29) has a spicy kick held in the huancaina, a Peruvian spicy cheese sauce, sitting on the bottom. The marinated shrimp is quickly grilled so that it remains plump and juicy, going nicely with the grilled pineapple separating each crustacean.  

The shrimp pairs well with the Brazilian coconut rice ($14), especially if you spoon some of the huancaina onto it for an extra pop of flavour. It’s a more al dente rice that’s studded with goji berries then topped with crispy coconut shavings and chives. I can also see this combining nicely with a grilled meat dish where the juices can permeate into the grains.

I’m generally cautious with ordering roasted Brussels sprouts ($14) as many turn out overcooked and saturated in sauce. Marked leaves half of the sprout unroasted with only the bottom thoroughly caramelized so there’s a nice balance to the vegetable. Topped with sofrito, thick coconut milk and garlic aioli, the recipe is a welcomed change from the bacon and balsamic vinegar combo.

Of all the dishes, the most normal is the fried chicken ($24), the main difference being served with a biquinho sauce (it’s like a less vinegary Buffalo sauce) along with a buttermilk ranch. This is the go-to dish for children or picky eaters who may want to stay away from “exotic” flavours, it’s like an elevated chicken finger that’s juicy and light.

Fairly full, we still ordered the Latin mess ($16) to end. It’s a great dessert for sharing and since it is made up of a lot of coconut whipped cream, it’s not overly heavy. Within the “mess” is coconut namelaka, sponge cake, passionfruit curd, and thin almond brittle pieces, everything surrounding a scoop of passionfruit sorbet. The couple of spoons was just what I needed to satisfy the sweet tooth.

On weekends, Marked offers a bottomless brunch with unlimited food items from a special menu ($100 a person) with the option to add unlimited Prosecco for an additional $20. It’s a promise of two hours of excess where you can eat and drink to your heart’s content. Of everything we tried at dinner, only the dates make an appearance on the brunch menu. Perhaps this is my cue to return and delve a little deeper into all the other dishes Marked offers.

If you could get any vanity license plate for your car, what would it say? The owner of Sushi Bar would use “Dr Sushi” as indicated by the plates hung on the wall, it’s a whimsical touch I hadn’t noticed in the past, along with pictures of family and friends that provide a glimpse into their private lives.

The wall is also where they post their specials including black cod sushi and lobster maki. The black cod sushi ($10 for 2 pieces) is an interesting take on the fish, the nigiri torched tableside so the fish’s fat begins to melt forming slight layers in the cod. Being a denser fish, it does need a fair amount of flavour and while the sweet soy was a start, it needed something else for interest. After the experience, I’m still on the fence of whether a nigiri is the best use of this prized fish.

My preference is still for the baked miso marinated black cod ($15) where the fish is hot and flaky and infused with a slightly sweet umami flavour. The palm-sized portion is just enough for sharing amongst two people.

Sushi Bar’s other a-la-carte nigiri is just as good with large pieces of barbeque eel on the unagi and a thick slice of ruby red tuna on the maguro (both $7 for 2 pieces).

Displaying the lobster on top of the lobster roll ($18) was a great idea as it becomes the first thing you taste, and diners can see the full tail in its glory. However, it was already overcooked and blowtorching it at the table made it even more dry and chewy. Ideally, they should undercook it to begin, and the torching will help heat and finish off the doneness at the table. It’s a dish with promise and the thin cucumber lantern a great idea for a beautiful garnish.

Starting every meal is a bowl of rice crackers that arrives with drinks, a pre-pandemic tradition that I’m glad has been kept, providing something to snack on as we peruse the menu. A new addition is an amuse bouche of seafood, squid, and seaweed salads, enough for a bite each to enjoy while the rest of the meal arrives.

As the temperature drops, the complimentary starter is sometimes a rich hot bowl of miso soup with cubes of tofu and seaweed flakes. A welcomed respite after a cool walk to the restaurant.

With a variety of maki available, the black dragon ($17) was an interesting take on the fancier dynamite roll. In this case, sweet-glazed barbeque eel, tempura bits, fish roe, and green onion wrapped around the shrimp tempura. It’s a colourful creation offering a variety of textures and flavours and it’s ideal that the pieces aren’t overly large so that they are enjoyed in one bite.

The red dragon ($17) is just as good, substituting the barbeque eel for salmon instead. If you’re in the mood for shrimp tempura ($8 for 3 pieces), I’d recommend having it in maki-form as the fried shrimp by itself is underwhelming, the batter too thick and the temperature tepid at best.

Upsold to the tuna tartare roll ($10), we should have stuck with the tried-and-true spicy tuna ($8). In the tartare, the tuna too pulverized and the filling including dreaded tempura bits that causes the roll to become gummy. It also needs more heat to be considered spicy tuna.

Despite their name, Sushi Bar also makes a variety of non-sushi dishes. You get a hefty portion of hamachi kama ($19) with the full portion, a meaty cut of the fish’s jaw. A thicker cut, there were parts of the fish that could have been done a touch less but being a bone-in piece, it can be hard to gauge. Nevertheless, the skin was crispy and the fish hot and delicious. Served with a radish ponzu soy sauce, a bit more salt sprinkled onto the fish would help it pop.

Since our past visits, my husband and I noticed an improvement at Sushi Bar: the maki seemingly contains less rice and are cut to the perfect bite-sized pieces and more emphasis is placed on plating the izakaya-type dishes.

There’s also a host of regulars, stopping by the open kitchen to speak to everyone before departing the restaurant. This creates a cozy neighbourhood-feel to Sushi Bar that matches the photos adorning the walls. As Mr. Rogers sang, “A beautiful day for a neighbour. Would you be mine? Could you be mine?”

Overall mark - 7 out of 10