Perched over Bloor Street, Amal’s dining room is an oasis of calm with coastal tones and lattice walls coaxing me to stay for a leisurely lunch. Indeed, if the timing allowed, I could lounge there for an entire afternoon - with no pressure to order and eat quickly, Amal gives you the luxury of time to relax and enjoy.

Everyone seems to start with a cold mezze sampler platter ($27), three large mounds of prettily adorned dips where we opted for baba ghanoush, garlic labneh, and the lesser-known muhammara. The later is a zesty concoction made from a base of fire-roasted red peppers spiked with spices and diced walnuts that creates a bit of texture.

The muhammara a stark contrast against the cool and creamy labneh where toum (a garlic sauce) and mint tones down the acidity of the yoghurt while giving it an extra boost of flavour. Still, I enjoyed the more traditional baba ghanoush the most where the roasted eggplant with thick and pronounced, just lightly seasoned with lemon and tahini.

While their skewer platter arrives with a thick hummus, I found the garlic labneh went perfectly with the chicken tawok ($22 for full platter, pictured in the post is an extra skewer added on for a lesser price). The morsels of grilled chicken breast were juicy with a faint herb and garlic finish, but the creamy labneh just gave it an extra burst of flavour, like a milder and creamier tzatziki.

Yet, what made us swoon was the beef tenderloin skewer ($24), the outer cubes cooked a perfect medium rare that seemed to cut like butter.  They were great on their own, with a sprinkle of the chopped grilled onions and parsley, or even with a smear of baba ghanoush. The kitchen should consider leaving space between the cubes of beef as I did find the inner cubes too rare, likely since they had less contact with the grill.

With a choice of rice or fries, our waiter smartly suggested the spuds since they’d be easier to share. The potato wedges were wonderfully hot and crispy but could use a bit more seasoning. Luckily, we had plenty of dip remaining to dunk the fries into.

I have a feeling that the front-of-the-house and kitchen are in close communications, customizing the experience to the diners. The pace of our meal was timed perfectly, with the main hitting the table just as we had slowed on the mezze and was focused more on wine and conversation instead. Beside us, a group of business diners, who were eating more ferociously, saw the procession of dishes speed up. At Amal, the diners seem to dictate the pace of the meal, which is merely a mark of great hospitality. 

Before COVID, when someone mentions “instant ramen”, a square of hard dried noodles is what comes to mind. That goes into a pot of boiling water for about five minutes and a powdered soup gets prepared, sometimes enhanced with another packet of dried seaweed and vegetables. Many are spicy, but you’ll need to find a delicate balance of the soup base to water… one false move will leave you with a kick at the back of the throat. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I literally cough when too much powder is added.

Then COVID hit and Ramen Raijin reinvented the concept of instant ramen. Theirs is a frozen circular disk that literally incorporates everything – the broth, noodles, and various toppings that are a far cry from the rehydrated vegetable fragments. In about the same time it takes to boil water to create the dried version, the frozen disk goes into a pot until it melts and is heated through.

And there’s no guessing games with Raijin’s spicy tonkotsu ramen ($12). The spicy-miso pork broth has enough chili to flood your mouth with flavours, but the fiery finish is subdued, and the miso adds a lovely creamy finish.

Perhaps it was all the tightly packed vegetables (corn, slivers of cabbage, bean sprouts, and green onions) and the extra minced chicken mixed into the soup base, but the spicy tonkotsu did take a couple minutes longer to prepare than the non-spicy version so the noodles ended up being a less chewy than the other.

The noodles in the Hakata tonkotsu ramen ($10) turned out perfectly and Raijin’s Hakata-style rich pork broth was just as creamy and umami laced as anything you’d find at a restaurant. Something about the freezing process makes me like the pickled ginger more, it’s mellower and melts into the broth nicely. It’s all finished with a rather thin slice of pork belly cha-shu, kikurage mushroom, green onion, and enough sesame to add a nutty finish to the soup.

Will the frozen ramen overtake the delivery and takeout options across the city? While close to the “real deal” they are still missing some of the beloved toppings like a gooey onsen egg and the crispy fresh toppings that can make it sing. The additional garnishes are easy – you can easily get a dried seaweed snack pack and finely chop scallions – but the elusive egg is more difficult. Raijin provides a recipe with the order confirmation to allow home cooks to recreate them at home. But all the work for one or two eggs … let’s just call me lazy.

To augment the meal, as the lone slice of cha shu isn’t the most substantial, Raijin offers extra pork or a host of frozen appetizers, some care of Zakkushi on Carlton just down the street. The yakitori momo ($8.50) goes bag and all into boiling water for five minutes and then you’re presented with four skewers of juicy chicken yakitori. The sauce is waterier than the lovely glaze you’ll normally find at restaurants, but in a pinch these will do.

Before placing an order, ensure your freezer has some room as for deliveries there’s a minimum $50 order size (about five ramen) and a $7 delivery fee. If you create that room if your freezer, the delivery fee is waived for a $100 purchase.

I love and value the ingenuity entrepreneurs have shown during this crisis. Dried instant ramen, you’ve been disrupted. 

• Bangkok Garden
• Golden Thai
• Linda Modern Thai
• Pai Toronto
• Patchmon’s Thai Dessert
• Soi Thai
• Stratford Thai Cuisine
• Thai Noodle

• An interesting Thai beef salad consisting of flank steak marinated with Thai basil coconut syrup, which has a sweet tartness to it not unlike balsamic vinegar.
• Traditional grilled lemongrass chicken is elevated with a seafood sangwa sauce that the chef explains is like a salsa verde with fish sauce and lemongrass. It’s salty and sour against the smoky grilled chicken and the dots of homemade sriracha are spicy without being overpowering.  

If you find it overly rich, dip it into the spicy chili-vinegar on the side that helps cut the grease. The pork hock arrives shredded over steamed jasmine rice and is served with blanched gai lan (Chinese broccoli), pickled mustard greens, and half a hard-boiled egg … you’ll leave full after this dish, so share it!