I’m not a comic book reader, but I do wonder what captions are used to describe eating scenes… assuming comic books even depict meals. I’m sure there would be noises like SLURP mentioned, but would the artist try to portray the flavour elements with descriptions like POW or BAM?

What attracts me to Korean food is that POW of flavour that hits the taste buds and causes it to beg for more. A slurp of gamjatang or pork bone soup hits the tongue with saltiness giving away to spiciness and finishing off with a whole concoction of umami and garlic. That POW is what I was hoping for when I entered Mapo Gamjatang but was greeted with a KNOCK instead – as in, knock knock, where are you flavour?

I should have clued in when a dipping sauce was brought over with instructions that it was for the pork bones. Unfortunately, since it was given at the beginning of the meal with all the banchan, the dipping sauce was set aside and forgotten.

Why would we need a condiment for gamjatang? The soup is supposed to be powerful on its own. Yet, what I experienced was like a chunkier elevated version of the soup packages you get with ramen. Yes, there’s flavour, but it’s fairly one dimensional – there’s the initial burst but no layers afterwards.

Perhaps it’s because all the flavours were concentrated in the spices topping the pork bones – it provided a snap of tastiness when it hit the tongue but soon was relegated onto the plate or sunk to the bottom of the bowl. Good… if you get to the last drop.

Offering noodles in lieu of rice on their menu is a smart choice with three choices – ramen, Korean noodles, and hand pulled. We opted for the gamjatang kalguksu ($17.99) or the Korean noodles, which was the middle thickness between the other pastas. They were good, silky with a slight chew, but its density definitely needed a more flavourful broth to match.

I suspect the noodles were prepared and portioned into bowls ahead of time, then soup was added into the bowl when we ordered. The room temperature noodle quickly cooled down the broth so by the time the dish arrived, the soup was already lukewarm. The smart thing to do would be to undercook the noodles to allow chefs to re-boil it for a minute before serving. Better yet, invest in a larger stone bowl and serve the gamjatang kalguksu in a heated stone bowl so that it’s bubbling and piping hot like the rice version.  

Even the meat itself wasn’t the greatest. The neck bone was cut in a fashion that made it impossible to break apart to access the meat and gelatinous cartilage that’s wedged between the bones. Also, it just wasn’t tender enough. The only saving grace was the two pieces were fairly large and meaty.

So, the gamjatang didn’t create a POW, surely the bulgogi ($18.99) that’s described as being served on a sizzling plate surely will? Alas, no, it was also a KNOCK. Firstly, the beef was dispersed amongst so many vegetables – carrots, mushrooms, huge pieces of green onion, and bean sprouts – diluting the garlicky sweet soy flavours of the bulgogi. Secondly, the “sizzling” plate was more décor than function as the plate didn’t make a peep of noise. No sizzle, no aroma, no heat.

To be fair, the bulgogi was decent and the mushroom and vegetables does help break down the monotony of an otherwise meaty meal. Mapo Gamjatang should just set better expectations by properly describing it on their menu and drop the sizzling plate if it wasn’t going to be heated and actually sizzling at the table.

It’s a shame because I can see beginning of a great meal. I enjoyed Mapo Gamjantang’s bright clean décor and the friendly attentive service. Their food just needs more heat (both in terms of temperature and spice) and flavour to bring it from a KNOCK to a POW.

Getting into Sushi Masaki Saito is probably the most frustrating part of the experience. Opened five days a week, the restaurant does two seatings nightly – up to five diners starting at 6pm and up to seven people at 8:30pm. Despite the odd number availability, trying to book for a table of three is impossible, and I had to eventually give up.

So, how did I get my reservation? It took weeks of signing onto Tock on Tuesdays at exactly 11am and searching a table for three (fail) and then quickly switching to a table for two (ding ding ding) before finally securing a reservation after several attempts. Reservations open one month in advance and the Tuesday time frame was when the Friday seatings were released. Good luck and may your patience be with you.

Arriving in front of 88 Avenue Road, a flight of stairs led us to their doorway past a set of navy drapes. As soon as I pushed through the cloth, smiling faces greeted me, beckoning me to come up to the warmth of the dining room. Before we were seated, they led us into a sitting area where we could peruse their sake menu while the chefs finished setting up and we waited for the other guests to arrive.

At $680 per person, dining at Masaki Saito is a special occasion affair where you’re paying a premium for these elements:

• Their fish is flown in from Japan twice a week on a direct flight for maximum freshness. It’s interesting a direct flight is required given so much of their ingredients are aged before consumption. Presumably, having the fish aged in kelp or hung is very different than sitting packed in ice.

• Rice, being the cornerstone of sushi, is equally if not more important. Saito buys award winning rice from the Nikka prefecture from a supplier that exclusively sells to them in Canada. You can taste the difference: the rice is sticky but also fluffy so that you can feel each grain as you bite through it.  Mixed with a blend of five red vinegars, the rice takes on a brown hue that’s unlike other sushi I’ve sampled.

• Condiments are also made in-house, their ginger takes a week to develop and uses bamboo ginger so that it’s really crisp, fresh, and not overly pungent. Even the wasabi is enhanced by having the chef chop to the group wasabi root to make a really smooth paste.

• You’re paying for the décor, including the sushi counter made from 200-year old Hinoki wood imported from Japan. Sadly, their roof collapsed during COVID, so parts of the bar are damaged, but it still has a lovely, reclaimed wood look. Their wood cabinetry was also made by craftsmen in Japan to make you feel like you’re dining in Edo.

• Rest assured, despite being over a 2-hour dinner, you’ll be comfortable on the oversized plush bar stools. The design of the sushi bar is well thought out with an under-counter shelf to store purses and a raised marble ledge that acts as a footrest. You don’t even need to reach for the dishes as Chef Saito places them down, a server quickly whisks it from the bar and transfers it in front of you.

• Ultimately, you’re paying for Masaki Saito who is there the whole time, preparing and serving the courses. No step is below him from grinding the wasabi to mixing the vinegar into the sushi rice (a technique that’s taken him ten years to perfect).

Seven appetizers began the meal before the first nigiri made an appearance. Octopus was slowly simmered allowing the outer layer of the tentacle to become gelatinous, almost like pork belly, while the centre remained meaty and tender. Simmered in a roasted green tea, it’s already flavourful but with a dollop of spicy yuzu it morphed into a vibrant bite. With two pieces, I’d recommend having one solo and another with the spice.

The potential gumminess of the raw Botan ebi was minimized by marinating the sweet shrimp in a fermented rice sauce allowing the seafood to soak in flavours and mellow. At Masaki Saito, there’s certainly no shortage of uni, the first topped the shrimp and created a chewy creamy bite with a refreshing finish from the citrusy sisho flowers.

Even though Chef Saito removed the skin off the saba and the mackerel was seared and paired with grated daikon, I still found it tasted fishier than I’d like. Hello taste buds! Let me grab a sip of sake to chase that away.

Another fantastic uni combo followed paired with deep-fried tile fish and its scales. The meatiness of the fish, crunchiness of the scales, and silkiness of the sea urchin was an amazing combination and one of my favourite bites of the evening. We’re told to eat it in one bite… do yourself a favour and give it a minute to cool down as it’s incredibly hot and I would have scorched my tongue if it weren’t for the cold relief of the uni.

Chef Saito derives inspiration from various Japanese cuisine including shabu shabu, which inspired the luscious sesame sauce he coats slices of wild yellowtail into so that the delicate fish was swathed in a fragrant paste made from three types of sesame, soy, and chili oil.

Soaked in the rich sesame, the yellowtail has a tuna-like finish, and the starter feels like eating salad with the fish topped with fine slivers of ginger, green onion and sisho leaf. Be sure to smell the dish before eating. It’s so aromatic and consequently also why the restaurant recommends not wearing strong perfumes to dinner.

Cue the dreaded shirako, a blubbery fish sperm sack I’ve tried in Japan that’s haunted me. They jokingly describe it as a roasted marshmallow… good luck convincing a kid to put this into a smore! Roasted over glowing hot Japanese oak, the milt roe is simply topped with cool caviar.

The shirako is soft and creamy, akin to a silken tofu, and thankfully didn’t have the gross bitter fishiness I experienced in Japan. While this still isn’t my favourite piece, it was nonetheless a good bite and I loved that it brought out Chef Saito’s cheekiness as he described his thought process of pairing the sperm with eggs.

And the last appetizer was a bowl of pickled Japanese cabbage with orange zest, a nice palette cleanser between the shirako and sushi.

We’re advised that Chef Saito prefers to serve his sushi hand-to-hand so that the rice remains at the optimal body temperature and diners can put it directly into their mouth with the fish side down. Consequently, this is why I’m missing some sushi photos and the ones that are shown aren’t the greatest quality … I indulged hand-to-hand prior to sneaking a photo of my neighbour’s bite.

A golden eye snapper that’s aged for a scant four days (compared to some of the other seafood that follows) begins the sushi procession. Having been aged in kelp, the seaweed gives the fish another level of umami creating a lovely taste that lingered on the tongue.

After the first piece, we’re advised that Chef Saito can customize the bites to our tastes, whether we want more or less rice or wasabi. Indeed, this level of precision is certainly a factor that likely helped Sushi Masaki Saito earn a second star.

Another dish that was a miss for me was the ark shell clam. Perhaps it was because I was already traumatized after a staff member told me it was alive as the chef scored it - realizing a living creature was suffering was certainly something I didn’t need to hear. It also doesn’t look the greatest spread out on the cutting board… it looks awfully like it could be part of a women’s anatomy. Ultimately, it just didn’t taste good: the clam needed a stronger glaze or condiment to cover the gaminess of the seafood. In the end, if the clam was dropped from the menu, it wouldn’t be missed.

Chef Saito then takes the skirt of the ark shell clam and creates a maki wrapping it with spices and sisho leaf. Having been marinated and well rinsed, the gaminess of the clam was subdued. Still, the crunchy texture of the mollusk is still an acquired taste.

Luckily, it was followed by a stronger hay-seared Spanish mackerel, which had a lovely meaty smokiness. Unlike the prior mackerel, this was not fishy, despite only being garnished with a rich soy sauce.

As soon the blubbery bits of fish liver were presented, I knew we were in for a treat. Chef Saito sandwiched the liver between a slice a file fish and rice to create an incredible texture combination: as you bite through the fish’s soft flesh, you’re greeted with the silky liver filling.

We’re told not many chefs create this sushi as it takes skill to ensure it all holds together. I love how they are using different parts of the fish, perhaps topping this with a couple of crunchy fish scales would make for an even more fulsome presentation.

Next, a seven-day dry aged toro was served and the blue fin tuna was of course an explosion of flavour. At Saito, theirs was less greasy and the flavour lingered longer on the tongue.

If you like stir-fried ginger and onion lobster, the following needle fish has a flavour reminiscent of the dish thanks to the finely chopped scallion paste topping the fish and the ginger paste inside. It’s a bit surprising these stronger flavours were used on the needle fish, which seems like a more neutral fish. While delicious, this should have been paired with the ark shell clam to mask its gaminess better.

The meaty piece of lightly grilled sea perch would be great on its own. But then, it’s hardly luxurious. Chef Saito amped up the luxe factor by serving the fish on top of whipped uni sushi rice - the combination of sea urchin, spices, and rice created a decadent over-the-top risotto. Dried four-year old fish eggs topped the perch creating a plethora of flavours and textures that made me wish I could sample each separately. It should be eaten all together, the chef says, so I listened and devoured it in two incredible bites.

A pale fish that looked like needle fish followed, except it was actually slow poached sea eel. Chef Saito slathered a thick molasses-like sauce on top and added hint of spice with Sandro pepper. The unagi was unlike others I’ve had; it melted into the rice and tongue flooding my mouth with a sweet umami essence.

On the left of the sushi bar, you’ll notice a trio of brand name chests on display. Chef Saito pulled out the LV one and joked it’s his tuna chest (the others house caviar and truffle as well as a rare whisky). Within the tuna chest, we were treated to a toro and pickled daikon paste. Nori was toasted piece-by-piece and presented to Chef Saito who quickly added rice, spices, and the tuna paste before handed it to me, so the seaweed was still hot and crispy. Yum!

As the tomago arrived, I got ready for the meal to end. And while we had sampled so much, like all great meals, I was still yearning for more. Saito’s egg cake was mixed with Japanese mountain potato and sweet shrimp so while there was a sweetness to the tomago, it also had a rich savouriness.

After the sushi, Chef Saito thanked us and left to clean up before the second seating. There’s a bit of confusion as we thought it was time to settle the bill. No, not quite yet. A bowl of miso soup arrives, made with different types of miso and a broth developed with several fish.

Of course, Saito doesn’t simply boil the broth the day of, it was cooked over seven days to concentrate the flavours. In the end, the miso soup was rich but not overly salty and while I did need to stir the miso into the broth, it also didn’t separate much either. As a finish, pieces of finely chopped seaweed and scallions were added to make the soup more substantial.

Surprisingly, dessert was not a slice of musk melon - this is reserved for birthdays and anniversaries - but rather an actual sweet treat. The matcha blancmange consisted of a silky coconut milk base, topped with smooth thickened matcha and a single red bean that’s oh so creamy. A heavenly way to end the meal.

The meal was exquisite and being in such close proximity to Chef Saito we were able to converse with him. He’s certainly happy with the Michelin recognition but is quick to point out the earning the accolade was a group effort. Still, he will not rest of his laurels and knows he will continue to develop and improve his craft. The life of a true chef.

Note to diners: Tipping isn’t the easiest affair as the pay terminal doesn’t have a % calculation option and you need to add back the prepaid portion when doing your own calculation. Hopefully, Sushi Masaki Saito will eventually just charge the entire meal experience up front on Tock with taxes and gratuities (a practice many other restaurants follow). That way, guests only need to settle the drinks on the day of, making it an easier calculation for all. 

You better enjoy tortilla chips if you’re eating at Planta Cocina as half of their appetizers are served with the crunchy side. Practice makes perfection as the chips are great: thin, crispy, and not overly oily.

Plenty are found in the fully loaded nachos ($17.95) arriving in a tin and poured out table side. For something that’s described as “fully loaded”, the chips were rather bare - I couldn’t find much of the queso crema, avocado crème, black beans, or pico de gallo – let alone the pulled barbeque jackfruit that seemed more like sauce than a protein.

The five-layer dip ($11.95) was equally underwhelming, served in an angular bowl so the layers were non-existent. The kitchen tried to top it with additional ingredients such as chopped olives, which were a start but not nearly a substantial layer. Even a bit more refried pinto beans would have been nice, the spoon-sized amount at the bottom of the bowl was hardly enough.

Get the queso fundido ($16.25) instead as the piping hot cashew cheese dip is gooey, packed with spinach, and absolutely delicious. The Chile de Arbol salsa and cilantro gives the queso a slightly spicy and fresh element, to balance out the otherwise hearty starter. And if the dip isn’t flavourful enough, the side of spicy adobo sauce adds another level of rich spiciness.

For a vegan restaurant, I’m surprised with the lack of salad on the menu… the lettuce shortage must be real. There was the Cocina Caesar ($15.25) a bowl of well-dressed romaine adorned with smoky mushroom bacon and black beans. One small change would be to stick with a traditional vegan parmesan instead of the almond cotija, which I found too sticky on the already wet salad.

The special for the evening was a coctel verde ceviche ($14) made with cucumber and other greens. Strangely, it was just so sweet, making the dish taste more like a fruit salad than ceviche. Adding a splash of adobo sauce gave the dish some spice, but that tangy citrus element was still missing.

I liked where Planta was going with the vegetarian Baja mushroom taco ($6.25), but the slice of king mushroom must be thicker to replace a meaty protein like fish. Currently, it tastes like you’re eating a fried batter taco rather than mushroom. With so little fungi, the taco could have benefited from a slaw to fill out the shell; something to give the pico de gallo, cilantro, and sauces a bit more interest.

The quesabirria ($15.25 for two) combines cashew mozzarella with cremini and oyster mushrooms to create a soft gooey mixture that’s tasty but challenging to dip into the mushroom consommé. In this case, there was enough fungi, but I would have preferred if they were left in larger strips to make it easier to dip and add a meatier texture. The consommé could also benefit from more seasoning.

At least the service at Planta Cocina was impeccable. Carley, our server, was a bright ray of sunshine and had me wanting to try more of their cocktails (all $15.50). The easiest drinking was probably the Casa (pa)loma, which looks prettier than it tastes as we all found it too watery.

While the Mezcal Me Maybe sounds like a tropical drink made with passionfruit and lime, the combination of bitters and ginger liqueur gives it a smoky cigar like finish. If you like an Old Fashion, this is worth a try.

Of the three, I enjoyed the Classic Margarita the most, simply made with tequila, Cointreau and their house made sour blend. I must admit, their freshly made mixer does create a tastier and more refreshing margarita.

The Haidilao Hot Pot experience is unlike others right from the start as diners can make reservations that are honoured. For those who couldn’t secure a reservation, their waiting area is stocked with snacks, games, and even a nail technician on the busy weekend periods. Maybe waiting isn’t so bad if you can have glossy nails afterwards?

Exemplary service is another distinguishing trademark, which starts right when you sit down. Things just kept coming out from drawers at the table: wet naps, hair ties for people with long hair, wipes for those wearing glasses, a plastic bag for mask wearers, and aprons to guard our clothes from any splatters. Discreet drawers also helped stow away jackets and purses to free up bench space and keep them from smelling like food. Chrysanthemum tea and a fruit plate arrived before we even ordered. It’s a frenzy of activity as soon as you arrive at the table.

Ordering is a breeze with the tableside tablet allowing diners to add things on a whim with a cart-style checkout that automatically tabulates the bill. We followed their advice and went with the four quarters soup base keeping one of them as hot water (free), which ended up being a smart choice as the water quadrant allowed us to store the soup and slotted ladles that were cumbersome and bulky to balance on plates while not in use.

The soup bases ranged from $5-$6 each with the three ringing in at $15.85. Their spicy soup base without sediment was great for my hesitant tastebuds as it allowed me to customize the numbness and spiciness levels. The less numb and standard spiciness was perfect so that I could get the heat without that slightly bitter aftertaste that comes from the Sichuan peppers, and I loved that the broth didn’t contain “sediments” that had to be picked out prior to eating.

Bowls of minced pork and diced celery arrived with the tomato soup base allowing us to create a starter soup by adding hot tomato broth into the bowl. It was a bit bland with just the tomato, in retrospect I should have gone with ¾ tomato broth and ¼ spicy broth to create a concoction that has a bit more pizazz.

A gigantic pork bone sits in the pork bone soup base, which by itself is nice and creamy. It does take up a lot of cooking area so be sure to fish out the bone and eat it before everything else arrives.

You will not go hungry at Haidilao. The $3.99 per person sauce charge sauce may seem like a rip off until you visit the station and see what it contains. There are countless number of sauces, herbs, and spices. I loved adding the finely chopped cilantro, green onions, and garlic into the sauces, but there were other interesting condiments like Chinese chive paste as well.

There’s also selection of things to nibble on including fresh fruits, boiled edamame, seaweed (you’ll need to season this yourself), and a great slightly spicy pickled daikon.

While I was way too full to try the desserts, they also have vats of glass jelly soup and a Chinese porridge (seems like the sweet white fungus soup). Needless to say, spring for the $3.99 per person.

This post won’t go through all the ingredients we ordered, but to provide a sense of pricing:

• Finely sliced marbled beef ($10.95)
• Sliced chicken ($8.95)
• Boneless basa fish ($7.95)
• Prawns ($10.95)
• Squid rolls ($8.95)
• Shrimp paste ($11.95)
• Assorted meat balls ($7.95)
• Glutinous rice fish tofu ($5.95)
• Assorted mushrooms ($12.95)
• Lotus root slices ($5.95)
• Wintermelon slices ($3.95)
• Watercress ($6.95 for a full portion)

The above is only a quarter of what Haidilao offers along with “combos” that provide about a 12% discount compared to ordering dishes separately. That is if you like ingredients like spam and seaweed.

Of the cooking ingredients a standout for me was the shrimp paste ($11.95), which arrives in a piping bag that you squeeze into the hot broth. I started doing it myself, only to realize that it’s a thick paste that doesn’t just drop out. Luckily, a server saw my struggle and with flicks of a chopstick created bite-sized shrimp balls in no time.

I also enjoyed the glutinous rice fish tofu ($5.95) where the centre is the soft chewy glutinous paste (like the rice balls served during Lunar New Year). The dish would be even better if they mixed finely chopped scallions and diced mushrooms into the rice paste to give it more flavour. Nonetheless, the combination of springy fish tofu and soft chewy glutinous rice was lovely.

The assorted mushroom fungus bowl ($12.95) was also a good choice. There were loads of different mushrooms (shitake, enoki, matsutake, and shimeji) along with vermicelli and napa cabbage leaves as well.

Except for the watercress - $6.95 for a bundle - Haidilao provides decent portion sizes for the ingredients. Eight large prawns ($10.95) arrive in an order. And if you don’t like peeling shrimp, the servers will do it for you before or after cooking. I found this out as someone asked if we’d like the shrimps peeled as soon as they arrived and someone else asked if they could peel the shrimp for me as I was about to eat it. They even offered me a pair of gloves to use after seeing me peel the prawns myself.

While I love the attentive service, I did find the sheer amount of waste created bothersome. It was thoughtful to provide the disposable gloves, but it’s yet another thing that goes into the garbage along with the wet wipes and other paraphernalia given. So, consider carefully whether you really need everything they are offering.

There to celebrate a birthday, our dinner finished off with the arrival of three servers holding signs and a fruit plate with a candle and ice cream cups to mark the occasion. It’s great that the servers don’t need to sing happy birthday, but the song they play with the Google home device is LONG… like really long so that it becomes almost awkward halfway through. I almost felt sorry for them standing around for three minutes per table waving around signs with fake joy.  As a plus, the birthday girl did get a gift – a handheld manual back massager.

The two hours flew by at Haidilao, great from start to finish. We left uncomfortably full, vowing to order less next time and add-on as necessary. Yet, I will be returning. And while hot pot is normally a once or twice a year festivity during the winter. At this rate, I may even go in the summer.