July 15th, 2008 §
Ding Tai Fung has become surprisingly famous considering its unassuming location at First Markham Place, and for good reason. The dim sum here is the most authentic I’ve ever had, and lucky for me, it is Shanghai-style as opposed to Cantonese-style. That means, no carts rolling around and plenty of xiao long bao for all!
Pai gu may have been my favourite dish at home as a child, but xiao long bao were hands down my favourite thing to order when we were eating out. I grew up in Nanjing, which is not far from Shanghai and certainly influenced by Shanghai cuisine. We always went out to eat steamed buns (filled and unfilled) and steamed dumplings because they were cheap and extremely time-consuming to make at home (there were no such things as frozen buns and dumplings in those days so we’d have to make it from scratch). Not to mention, I spent a summer in Shanghai with my grandparents and I made sure to eat enough xiao long bao to last me until the next time I returned to China.
There is an art to eating xiao long bao, one that I don’t care to exercise unless I’m in China. What is this art and why don’t I exercise it? The proper way to eat xiao long bao is to gently lift it out of the long zi (bamboo basket), dip it in vinegar (optional – but if you are a native of the JiangSu province, you will not skip the vinegar), and eat it in one bite so that no soup leaks out. The xiao long bao wrapper is very thin and delicate, and it sticks to surfaces, so it’s easy to break if you set it down. And letting the soup leak out is a blasphemy for all Chinese, so be sure the xiao long bao goes straight from the basket to your mouth if you are eating with “real Chinese.”
The reason I tend not to follow this technique when I eat is because the soup is so hot that I’ll often burn my mouth if I eat the xiao long bao in one bite. However, I am not going to let the soup leak out either, so I’ll put the xiao long bao down in a small bowl or on a soup soon, and then I bite a small hole in the wrapper and suck out the soup before I eat the xiao long bao. Still tastes delicious!
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July 15th, 2008 §
Oliver & Bonacini cafe & grill is a part of a prestigious group of restaurants opened by the same company, including Canoe (rated 4 stars by Toronto Life and the epitome of fine dining in Toronto) and Auberge du Pommier (3 stars, also in Toronto). Located in Bayview Village, its uptown location sets it quite far apart in location and clientèle from its sister restaurants.
Our party of 7 arrived at 7pm without a reservation, but were seated within about 40 minutes. The restaurant was busy but the waiters were nonetheless attentive and quick to take our orders. We ordered off the Summerlicious menu, which was pleasantly varied and a great deal ($25 + tax and tip) for a three-course meal.
I had the Sun Ripened Watermelon & Tomato Gazpacho to start, the Preserved Lemon & Chili Chicken entree, and Warm Strawberry & Rhubarb Buckle to finish. The appetizer was a disappointing start to the meal, as it was too sour for my tastes. The sourness overwhelmed all other flavours so that the watermelon did not come through at all.
I had a taste of my friend’s Potted Tiger Shrimp Pate, which was much better than my sour bowl of questionable yellow contents. Perhaps I just ordered the wrong thing.
The entree was two pieces of chicken breast (skin on), generously rubbed with seasoning, sitting atop two slices of tomato. The seasoning for the chicken was great, but unfortunately, like all chicken breasts I seem to try, they were thick and dry and bland past skin surface. The yogurt sauce was also extremely strange and did not compliment the spelt salad at all.
Is this what all chicken entrees are doomed to be? Why are restaurants so adamant to do a chicken breast entree when they can just as easily use boneless, skinless chicken thighs that are so much more tender and flavourful? And why do they refuse to marinate the white meat? Why must the seasoning be restricted to a superficial layer on the outside? I simply cannot understand.
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July 15th, 2008 §
I’m a huge ice cream lover. There is no denying it. Sometimes, I try to pretend I don’t rely on ice cream to live, but who am I kidding? I go one day without eating ice cream and I feel like I’ve had an organ removed.
The great thing about ice cream is that it doesn’t really need anything else. Great ice cream tastes amazing by itself. That’s why I never really understood the likes of Marble Slab. Sure, their ice cream is good, but what’s with all the stuff on the side? Is that really necessary?
Maybe, maybe not.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m the first one to admit that cookie dough in ice cream is so delicious it should be a sin just to think about, but sometimes adding too much “extra stuff” takes away from the ice cream itself. Because, let’s not forget who the hero in this whole scenario is. It’s the ice cream. The cookie dough or the brownie bits or the M&Ms are just accessories.
But a few days ago, the very rock upon which I stood was shaken by Symposium Cafe’s “East Meets West” ice cream crepe extravaganza. Yes, it was an extravaganza, nothing less. It was a giant plate of vanilla ice cream on the one side and chocolate ice cream on the other, wrapped in a paper-thin crepe and drizzled with chocolate fudge and strawberry sauce. But it was more than that. There were strawberries. There were bananas. There was also whipped cream. It was so good I was afraid I might have an orgasm right there in that plastic lawn chair.
I had to admit that perhaps, on this particular stage, the ice cream wasn’t the main star. Nor the crepe, the strawberries, the bananas, or the whipped cream. In fact, there wasn’t a main star at all. It was only when all the ingredients were taken as one that the explosion of tastes was created, and my ears were ringing with the tune of Symphony No. 5.
My friend was also conducting her own symphony with the mixed fruit medley cheesecake, which I had a taste of and also found to be quite good (though not nearly as explosive as mine).
