Guu Izakaya opened its doors in Toronto on December 18, 2009. Since then, Ryerson campus dwellers, the work crowd, Toronto foodies, and Vancouver expats have been pouring through its doors non-stop. From the exterior (and from the usual hour-long line-up outside its doors), the restaurant looks more like an exclusive club than a Japanese “pub”. Izakayas in Japan are affordable watering holes that also serve food for salarymen to hit up before going home. However, when I dragged my own crowd of two Vancouver and one Ottawa expats to Guu on a Saturday night1, we were mostly interested in the food.
As soon as I pulled open the massive wooden door to its entrance, I was greeted with a loud and energetic chorus of irashaimase! from all over the restaurant. I was temporarily shell-shocked and froze in the entrance way, literally too dazed to take another step. Was this a restaurant? Was I still in Toronto? The warm, lively, chaotic scene before me seemed a world away from the wet, cold, windy, and empty street I had just left. I spotted my friends at the bar and quickly joined them.
The restaurant was not very large, but they seemed to have somehow fit a hundred people inside. The commotion of the Japanese chefs behind the bar, along with everyone else in the place, made it so loud I found it difficult to hear myself speak. Every few seconds, the entire staff would shout a chorus of Japanese together, and I would again be shocked into a daze. It took us a long time to order as the shouting made it hard to focus on the menus in front of us. Time here also seemed to go at a faster pace than the outside world. Our server came by four times before we were ready to order – it seemed like we were taking a long time when in reality, we took no more than twenty minutes. When we finished our meal (in a rather timely fashion I would say), we realized we had maxed out our two-hour time limit, but it felt like no time at all.
The food arrived very quickly and in no discernible order. This was a pub after all, whatever was made first was immediately served. The serving sizes are rather small (like tapas) and all menu items are under $10. For the four of us, we ordered six items to share, thinking it would be more than enough. We later ordered a second round and a third round, totaling 11 items.
Tonkatsu, a special that’s not on the menu, arrived first. Deep fried pork tenderloin drizzled with wasabi mayo sauce. As far as tonkatsu goes, this was decent, but tonkatsu is a pretty unexciting dish.
Salmon natto yukke was a dish I had been dying to try. Yukke is actually borrowed from Korean cuisine, which basically means raw seafood with seasoning and a raw egg, meant to be mixed together before eating. The salmon natto yukke was mixed with natto (fermented soybeans), shibazuke (pickled eggplant and cucumber in plum vinegar seasoned with ginger), takuan (pickled daikon), wonton chips, diced garlic “chips”, chopped scallions, and raw egg. Wrapped in crisp nori sheets, the mixture was a delicious juxtaposition of sweet and savoury, soft and crispy. The marinade was very aromatic, reminded me of cooking wine. The salmon chunks were fresh, and every ingredient was authentically Japanese. What a treat!
I find it interesting that this was called “hotate carpaccio” when there was a Japanese word readily available: hotate sashimi. Scallop sashimi swam in a creamy wasabi mayo dressing. The scallops were the freshest I had ever tasted. The localvore in me cringed at the thought of shipping these scallops from across the Pacific, but damn, it really was like no scallop I’d ever tasted on this side of the ocean.
The fried Japanese pancakes were not nearly as good as I imagined. The batter of okonomiyaki is supposed to be made of flour, grated yam, water or dashi, eggs and shredded cabbage, and other ingredients such as green onion, meat (generally pork or bacon), octopus, squid, shrimp, vegetables, kimchi, mochi or cheese2. What I tasted was mostly flour and eggs, although I visually identified the green onions. I didn’t taste any seafood, although my companion claims she found a piece of shrimp. For something that is supposed to be the soul food of Osaka, it was rather bland.
Thinly sliced salmon arrived, drizzled in wasabi mayo and ponzu sauce. It was very lightly grilled, so it still tasted raw. The wasabi mayo was a bit overpowering for the pieces on top, but otherwise, delicious.
Kakuni came in a small clay pot with two pieces of braised pork belly and a boiled egg. The braised pork belly was cooked until it was falling apart and extremely tender, practically melting in my mouth, and its savoury juices had dissolved into the sweet miso soup. This dish left me begging for more.
The oden udon came with a boiled egg, daikon radish, and konnyaku. The oden soup was light, and the udon was very chewy, of the highest quality.
Ikapiri was an eatable bowl of deep fried calamari in a spicy red sauce which reminded us a lot of BBQ wings sauce. There was very little batter on the calamari, so it was basically squid with BBQ sauce.
Takoyaki is a favourite of izakayas in Japan. The deep fried octopus balls were a little heavy on the flour, not as crispy as I’d imagined.
For dessert, we opted for banana tempura and almond tofu. The banana tempura was fried to perfection and drizzled in mango and chocolate sauce – unfortunately, I am not a huge fan of banana tempura. I much more enjoyed the coconut ice cream that came with it. But that was nothing compared to the almond tofu. The light, refreshing tofu dessert made me want to burst out in song (which wouldn’t have been so out of place in Guu). The almond tofu alone was worth coming back for.
Guu also serves a wide variety of Japanese drinks, from Asahi to sake to Japanese soju. And even some house specials, like Guu’s own Ramune, and a variety of unique cocktails.
It was hard not to be infected by the boisterous energy of the staff, particularly when sitting at the bar. Halfway through our meal, the entire staff burst into a Happy Birthday song for one of the customers, and soon the entire restaurant joined in. It was adorable to see the chefs and sous chefs raise their hands, clapping and singing.
The total came to about $20 per person, not including drinks and tip. Very reasonable considering the variety and freshness of the food, and the fun atmosphere.
By the time the meal was over, I felt like I was high (a Guuuuud high, as their menu would claim) and as I waved goodbye to the smiling faces of the chefs and servers shouting sayonara!, I couldn’t wait to return.
Rating: 
Author’s Note: Many of my photos from the dinner were rather bad quality due to the low lighting. So, some photos have been supplemented from elsewhere: Sifu Renka, tebpp, and snowpea&bokchoi.
- It seems that weekends are not as busy as weekdays. Guu is open daily from 5 pm to midnight; if you go before 6pm, there usually isn’t a line-up. After 6 pm, on a weekday, the wait can be up to two hours. [↩]
- Source: Wikipedia. [↩]