Wonderful Yamoto or Fuzzy Chicken Slippers

There are many places where the food is good, other places where the food is great even more places where the food is blah, but it's rare that you can find a place where the food is... comforting. The kind of food that wraps you in its arm and make you feel safe and warm and happy. I would say almost like when you are still an unborn baby in your mother's uterus but, first, I don't remember the feeling and second well uterus and food shouldn't really be mentionned in the same paragraph (oups my bad) Anyway, I do tend to digress but I never stray away from what's important, THE FOOD.
The place where I (by I i mean we, but for expediary reasons it is I, plus I do like thinking I am responsible for finding such a gem. Of course it totally wasn't me, but you don't need to knwo that) found such marvel was Yamoto Japanese restaurant in Yorkville. Usually we would order sushi à la carte but as we weren't feeling so well, we kind of craved something homier. I ordered Katsu-don Don-buri, for those who don't know japanese it means, in my words of course, breaded meat on omelette over rice. ALso known as flavourful yummies. Not only was it exactly what I wanted but it was more then that. It was like coming home at night after a hard day at work, taking a bubble bath and then wrapping yourslef in your blankie (the ones we say kids carry around, but let's face it, alot of us adults have one too) slowly sipping either a nice glass of wine or a large cup of honey green tea.
As you all figured out by now, I am somewhat gluttonous and I like to try everything that finds itself on the table. Fortunately for me, the handsome man that was seating in front of me had ordered something that added the big fuzzy chicken slippers to the previous visual. He had in front of him something called Tempura Udon, desbribed (by me and him) as a broth with a taste that is similar to what ocean water would taste like was it unspoiled and boiled (warm and wonderfully seafood-y) add to that thick noodles and shrimp tempura and you get.. well you get something that makes you smile and love life despite your runny nose and sore throat. (Not an easy feat).
So, I will conclude this by saying, if you like comfortable, comforting wonderfully tasty food, try Yamoto, I guarantee you, you will come out with a smile and who knows, maybe with fuzzy chicken slippers!

Tokyo Kitchen, Toronto

I thought I'd write a quick note about Tokyo Kitchen; my absolute favorite spot for sushi in and around the Yonge/Bloor area. Located at 20 Charles Street, this little spot nestled underneath a parking garage has been a mainstay since I started working in the neighborhood. The lunch sushi special has some of the freshest and tastiest cuts of fish I have ever tasted at that kind of price. For a little more than $15 after tax and tip you get 10 pieces of amazing sushi, 6 rolls, and a bowl of homemmade miso soup. And unlike most other places that only give you the most basic fish, Tokyo Kitchen likes to include such specialities like butterfish, BBQ eel, or mackerel.

If you're ever in the neighborhood and want some quality sushi at bargain prices, I would highly recommend Tokyo Kitchen to you.

Terroni, Toronto

Just around the corner from my lady friend's apartment is a little spot called Terroni that I've been meaning to check out for the longest time. It has always caught my eye because of its simple but home-y decor and because it always seems to be packed to the brim with people lined up out the door.

We were lucky to get a seat quickly and ordered our food right away since we were both starving. The list of specials looked promising and I settled on a pasta with jumbo shrimp, asparagus tips, and a fresh tomato sauce. The pasta tasted was done al dente as I prefer it and the texture and of the flat, wide noodles was perfect. The standout on the plate however were the jumbo shrimp which were cooked with care and verily exploded with juiciness and sweet, delicate flavour. It's rare that I'm impressed with the way shrimp are prepared at a busy restaurant but I don't think I could have done any better with these if I had cooked them myself.

I had no room for dessert afterwards but I settled for a coffee just as a matter of course. The coffee, however, was a surprising delight. A single shot americano with a beautiful creme on top. Much better than the usual coffee I put up with at Starbucks or Second Cup or any of the other small places I stop at out of convenience rather than choice.

If there was a complaint about my experience at Terroni it would only be that there was not enough space in the small dining room. Although some might see this as pleasant and cozy, I found it to be a wee bit claustrophobic. I always felt a little hunched over and cramped even though we had the window seat and spare room on the side. I would say though that I'm reaching for complaints in this case. I don't think it will be a big concern for anyone else that decides to dine there.

You can find Terroni at 720 Queen Street West.

Brasserie Frisco, Toronto

Stopped into this place after getting a gift certificate for my birthday for a selection of restaurants. I hadn't even heard of Brasserie Frisco before and thought it was the most interesting of the choices. I would soon find out that my choice was not in vain.

Walking in, the atmosphere impressed me immediately. It certainly did not look like the kind of place you would expect to see in the middle of Toronto's dance club district to be sure. Rich wood and dark colors surrounded the place and quickly brought you into the illusion that you were stepping out of the city and into an authentic French brasserie.

Perusing the menu again I decided on coq au vin. It's a dish I regret to say I hadn't tried before today. When it appeared in front of me I had an instant smile appear on my face. The rich aroma of the jus wafting up from the chicken just made me breathe in deeply and savor every scent. The taste did not leave anythihng to be desired either with the flavours penetrating deep into the chicken.

I completed the meal with a creme brulée. Maybe I'm a little short on imagination but I always like to try it because it's always different wherever you go. In this case the crust on top was done prefectly. Not too thick, not too charred. And the creme was fantastic. It was one of the best I'd had in a long time, and after being dissapointed so many times it was a nice change to be pleasantly surprised.

I'd recommend Brasserie Frisco to anyone looking for relatively inexpensive brasserie food downtown.

Jumbo Enchelada

Kensington, one of my favourite place in the city of Toronto, became even better on saturday when my sister introduced me to this small place called Jumbo Enchelada. I probably walked in front of it dozens of time without ever really noticing it. We had skipped breakfast in our eagerness to go outside one of the first nice days since winter started, but soon stomachs were growling and conversation quickly went to food. We walked in front of this store with the paint looking chipped and old, a place that is not noticeable. It fits into Kensington well though, and I should have tried it a long time before now, I feel like I have been missing something now. So much wasted time.
When we entered the latin music was fun and although not quite noon yet I felt like dancing. The menu was on a board on the wall, a very small menu but, in this case, size did NOT matter. I had never heard of most things, i read there, but luckily there were descriptions beneath each items. I chose humitas. I don't really know how to describe it, it was a mixture of mush corn and herbs wrapped in corn leaves. It sound simple and it was but it was also wonderfully tasty, especially when paired with their home made salsa.
On the way out, I saw some funny looking flat bread made of flour and squash and thought sounds strange and intersting enough. It was definetly worth the 50 cents, i woudl have paid more for the tasty snack, and i can't wait for my next forray into Kensington, I think a stop at Jumbo Enchelada will be a most! Every time.

Warre's Vintage Port 1977

I picked up a bottle of this beauty about a year ago when I saw it for a reasonable price at the LCBO. I've been waiting all this time until I had the perfect chance to try it. I figured it would be great to have it with my lady friend's parents while we ate a home -cooked gourmet meal which was going to end with a chocolate fondue. As you may well know, port and chocolate go very well together and this, I thought, was my chance.

The color was of a light red with a slightly amber hue to it. The scent reminiscent of dark berries. But it's the taste that I was waiting for. The first impression was that of honey with sweet fruits. The second note being old cognac. The third note was more like a symphony of different fruits with lingering flavors of dark cherry, strawberries and blackberry finishing on the palate. I'm well-aware that I am most likely not doing this beverage justice but the words escape me.

I would recommend that if you can find a bottle of this for sale anywhere, to pick it up immediately and open it up and drink it with some dark chocolate and dark fruits and some camembert. You won't regret it.

The cake

She could barely see over the countertops, yet she was still determined to bake a cake. Many times, she had watched her mother whip one together and she was certain she could retrace the steps and make one that would be as tasty. She got out a bowl, eggs, butter and some milk. Surely that was all that was needed, and since her mother never used a recipe, neither would she. After all she had baker's genes in her. She looked at what was in front of her and had doubts, something seemed to be missing. Oh yes of course, flour. She smiled at her forgetfulness and went to the pantry to get it out. Carrying the flour was an event in itself; in fact it was a non-event since she was unable to move the huge bag. She crinkled her forehead in thoughts for a moment and then grabbed a cup to carry flour back and forth to the bowl. Once she had reached what she thought was an acceptable level of flour, she broke eggs into it until the white substance was covered in gooey yellow and white;then she climbed on a chair, took a wooden spoon and started mixing it. When the eggs had all but disappeared, she put 2 sticks of butter and stabbed them into the flour, and finally poured milk in. Still with the wooden spoon, she tried to ensure the flour would absorb all the milk, she stirred and stirred and stirred some more until she had to accept the fact that maybe she had put maybe a tad too much milk in the mixture, but that could easily be remedied. She went back to the pantry and carried and extra cup of flour to the bowl. Much better. There were still some hard butter clusters but she figured the heat of the oven would melt them, so why bother making sure it was evenly distributed now, when it would be done automatically later. She smiled, turned the oven dial to 425, and slid in the cake mixture. She couldn't wait for her family to be impressed with her culinary skills.
She frowned a little when she removed the cake from the oven. It seemed a little flat. Oh well, it probably was because she hadn't made as much mixture as her mother usually did.

That little girl was me; my first baking experience when I was 8. As you can imagine the cake didn't turn out quite as well as I had err hoped. In fact, not even the birds or the chicken would eat it. It was quite a blow to my pride, and is still often brought up by my siblings, especially if I am baking or cooking something. Luckily, I didn't let that experience, or the one after, where my carrot cake turned out green (I still blame it on my sister, she was helping me with it.) stop me from trying again and again. I still am not a great baker or chef, but cooking for me has now become a great part of my life. I find nothing as fun or relaxing as cooking with a certain someone or cooking for people I care for. A lot of us have, at one point or another, fallen in the whole fast food, frozen meal or canned soup meals, so much easier and faster. But I have recently found, so much less satisfying, and all together less healthy.

From that little pigtailed girl to the woman I am today, the pleasure of making something and seeing it turn out great hasn't changed. I still jump up and down clapping my hands in delight (so I'm a little childish, but eh it makes me happy). My goal, make something so good that even the more mature, sedate person will be like me and do a little jig of happiness. Hmmm foood!