What’s old – er… excuse me, vintage – seems to be in demand lately. The era of a simpler life, less demands, better quality, whatever. We yearn for it. Stepping into Old Avenue Restaurant and Bakery, these vintage elements scream at you from the walls. It’s designed to look like it’s been operating forever, not newly opened in late 2022.

Their menu offers a variety of dishes from the Southern Caucasus region - modern day Armenia, Georgia, and Azerbaijan. It’s a lengthy proposal with so many delicious sounding dishes that it will take several visits for me to try everything I want. That is, if I can stop ordering items I’ve already found tasty.

A post-university trip took me around Europe for a month and it was along the Austrian borders I was introduced to goulash, a fragrant spiced beef and vegetable soup that was so comforting. The goulash in North America is different, usually a thicker stew-like consistency and while stocked with meat and potatoes there’s generally little spice.

Seeing borscht ($8) described on Old Avenue’s menu, the ingredients instantly reminded me of the goulash of Austria: beef, tomatoes, cabbage, onions, potatoes, carrots, greens, and a touch of beets. Served in a covered claypot, the soup arrived piping hot and once the lid was removed, I was greeted with the European aroma. The broth was teeming with umami without the acidy of the tomatoes and filled with chunks of tender beef and finely sliced vegetables that blended wonderfully.

Old Avenue’s blintzes with meat ($10 for 2 pieces) arrived with a spectacular golden crust, adding a bit of crunch to the otherwise soft and delicate crepes. The mixture of finely ground beef and onion inside was perfectly seasoned creating flavour without being overly fussy or salty.

In fact, anything wrapped at Old Avenue is a hit. Their Azerbaijan style lula wrap ($20) reminded me of a burger, donair, and burrito all mixed into one. Ground beef and lamb were formed into kebabs and grilled then combined with thinly sliced tomatoes, pickles, onion, and mayo in a chewy wrap that got a lovely toasting just like the blintzes.

My error was taking the paper off the wrap as the thin creamy sauce simply wanted to gush out of the wrap on the first bite. A bit of messiness aside, the lula wrap was delicious – its heartiness balanced out by the acid of the garlicky pickles. The fries were equally impressive, uber crispy on the outside and fluffy inside. They were also perfect for dipping into the saucy wrap – next time I’ll even stuff a couple inside to create a dish like a gyro.

After all the meaty dishes, we were glad the kitchen sent out some pumpkin manti ($14 for 4 pieces) that were mistakenly mixed with the meat version we had ordered. Personally, I preferred the pumpkin; the squash made into a puree with some strands left in for texture that went nicely with the thin chewy dumpling wrapper. Conversely, the beef and onion version were too dense, the filling forming a meatball rather than loose like the blintzes.

Served with a slightly spicy salsa, the condiment added a pop of flavour and freshness that awoken the manti. Still, I couldn’t help smearing more sauce from the other dishes (like the garlicky humus that comes with the complimentary hot bread or the ricotta-like spread from the khachapuri lobiani) to give the manti even more flavour. My recommendation: don’t give back any of the house-made sauces as they are wonderful across the dishes.

The Georgian khachapuri lobiani ($24) wouldn’t be a dish I’d order again. While I enjoyed the buttery thin bread surrounding the “pie”, the mashed red kidney bean filling was too dry, too dense, and lacked flavour. The menu describes the beans as being mixed with onion, seasoning, and “special” cheese, but all I could taste was beans and maybe a hint of cumin. In the end, there wasn’t much flavour, and the only cheese was the small dollop of the ricotta-like spread that arrived with the gigantic pie.

I tried to salvage the dish by loading it with the salsa, garlic hummus and the mayo from the lula wrap. While it improved the flavours a bit, I still couldn’t get through a full slice of the khachapuri lobiani. Still, don’t let me stop you from trying this Georgian dish, just order it with a large table as one slice is more than enough.

Having had a lovely dinner at Old Avenue, I decided to go back for brunch. The Turkish breakfast ($40 for two people) sounded like an amazing spread but turned out to be a mishmash of cheeses (run of the mill cheddar, smoked gouda, Swiss, cottage, goat cheese, and feta), chopped vegetables, olives, and condiments. It’s not overly exciting and oddly served with a cheese pede when there’s already so much dairy.

The scrambled eggs and Turkish sausage, also meant to serve two people, consisted of literally two eggs and a handful of cut sausage medallions that was hardly enough for a duo. For my tastes, I’d rather Old Avenue should remove some of the cheeses and serve more of the hot items.

Still, the Turkish breakfast was a cost-effective option as it also included a large pot of Turkish tea served in gorgeous ornate cups.

Normally, a restaurant omelette is large and fluffy. The Old Avenue omelet ($15) was thin like a crepe and filled with tons of vegetables and herbs creating a light and refreshing dish. Still, I could have done without the tarte vinegar drizzled over the top and found it needed a richer element to give the eggs interest. Luckily, there was plenty of feta and goat cheese from the Turkish breakfast I could add to the omelette.

So maybe a Southern Caucasus breakfast is not my thing. Nevertheless, I love the atmosphere at Old Avenue Restaurant and Bakery: warm, inviting, and the real tapered candles gives the restaurant an almost romantic feeling if the dining room wasn’t so eccentric. 

After dining in so many minimalist dining rooms, the blast-from-the-past kitschy items adorning the walls is a welcomed change.

Overall mark - 7.5 out of 10

If mom and pop restaurants are your jam, Yunxi Handmade Noodles will have you swooning as it’s an intimate establishment. Technically, Yunxi would be considered a mom restaurant as the female owner acts as the Jill of all trades: hostess, chef, server, and cleaner. She’s a sweet lady describing what was freshly prepared for the day (in my case, the noodles) as she rotates between making noodles and preparing dumplings daily.

The broth of the braised beef noodles ($14.99) was salty and strong, as one should expect from a dish that’s essentially beef braised in soy sauce. I liked that Yunxi finishes the freshly made noodles in the soup to allow it to soak in flavours and develop a brownish tint. While there wasn’t a whole lot of beef, the handful of chunks were lean and tender.

Halfway through the meal, the owner returns with a small bowl of extra noodles, asking if we’d like a complementary top-up. Why of course, and into the bowl they go for round two.

My first choice in dumplings (leek, shrimp, and pork) was sold out so we opted for the chicken and mushroom instead ($10.99 for 12). With a choice of preparation - steamed, boiled, or pan fried – I generally order them steamed as I find this leaves the dumplings the most neutral so you can appreciate the filling’s flavours and the consistency of the wrapper.

Unlike the noodles, the dumplings were made previously (at least a couple of days prior) so the wrapper was too hard and chewy. Consequently, I’d recommend asking the owner when things were prepared and if it isn’t fresh, order the dumplings boiled to give the wrapper some extra hydration.

At least the filling was juicy – use a spoon to ensure the juices aren’t lost as they squirt out – and the dumplings were filled with a decent portion of the well seasoned, finely minced chicken and mushrooms.

Yunxi Handmade Noodles is a bit of a hole-in-the-wall: the décor is sparse and the communal steel spoons housed at each table seem unhygienic. Luckily, larger ladles were given after serving the braised noodles so we didn’t need to rely on the dubious spoons. Yet, what Yunxi lacks was more than made up by the friendly owner and the wonderful noodles, a definite highlight to our meal. 

Aside from soup-based noodles, a comforting dish I crave in the winter is pork bone soup. There’s almost a primal sense of survival in picking up the massive hunk of bone in your hands and trying to get to as many of the meaty bits as possible, dissecting and sucking until it’s picked clean. Kam ja tang is served in most Korean restaurants, but Owl of Minerva introduced the dish to me and it’s where I return for a fix.

As difficult as it is to transport, Owl does delivery and takeout - the kam ja tang ($10.99) is vacuum sealed so that no drop of the fragrant soup is lost. Without the hot stone bowl, it’s warm on arrival, so we always re-heat it in a pot before tucking in. It needs to be enjoyed in its full glory: blistering hot, burning the fingers, and stinging the tongue. No pain, no delicious gain.

While waiting for the pork bone to re-heat, snack on an order of gu man du ($10.99). The deep-fried dumplings still surprisingly crispy and hot despite also being entombed in plastic. Truthfully, I’d much rather Owl switch to a piece of tin foil to wrap the beef dumpling instead of using so much plastic. We can all benefit from less waste and if someone wanted to re-heat the dumplings in the toaster oven, the tin foil will even save the customer a preparation step.

Back to the pork bone. Once it’s bubbling hot and placed into a bowl, here’s how I like to enjoy my kam ja tang: I help cool it slightly by placing a couple of pieces of kimchi into the bowl. I prefer the fermented cabbage hot and enjoy that extra bit of umami spice that the sauce adds to the broth. Then, it’s a hands-on marathon – first picking off the easy bits of meat with chopsticks, before switching to the primal eating ritual described earlier.

In between it all, I place bit-sized pieces of steam rice on a spoon before adding some broth to the utensil and getting a delicious mouthful of the salty garlicky soup. Some like to add all the rice into the broth and mix it with the meat, creating a Korean congee. I like mine separated, bite by bite. To each their own.

Once the pork bone is done, it’s down to the cabbage with rice. And if I’m feeling particularly ravenous, the hunks of soft potatoes will round out the meal. A meal from Owl of Minerva leaves you stuffed and almost uncomfortably full. It’s my quintessential meal during the winter, where a girl needs to eat to survive.