If you haven’t heard about Mhel, it’s a restaurant that sources seasonal ingredients that it then uses in daily changing menus. While this is great for freshness and creativity, it does mean dishes featured in this post may not be available during your visit.

Also, the constantly changing menu causes the kitchen to have limited ability to “perfect” a dish. For example, the yuan yaki ($35) sounded good on paper but didn’t have the taste to match. The thick slice of kanpachi needed more seasoning and something stronger than just a yuzu marinade. Its uneven thickness meant the edges were cooked through while the centre to be raw. Ultimately, I had to leave a piece uneaten given it was gross and gummy.  

After all, the dish wasn’t meant to be eaten raw like the ishidai sashimi ($33), a fish flown in from Nagasaki. In lieu of soy sauce, Mhel created a flavourful seaweed salad providing flavour and a chewy garnish that could be wrapped in the fish to create a delicious bite.

In fairness, there’s many dishes that Mhel gets right. The sogogi ($46) was fantastic, a sizeable slice of Australian wagyu cooked to perfection so that it’s juicy and hot. Brushed with galbi sauce, the beef’s Korean flavours reminded me why it could be eaten with chopsticks. Although, I would have loved for a small slice to be put on top of the sushi rice nugget. It’s what Mhel describes as a perilla ssam, so a piece of meat would make the bite complete.

Mhel’s portion sizes are small. Hence, we followed their advice and opted for the heartiest dish for the evening, the dak gaseumsal ($30) with a bowl of steamed Japanese rice ($5), and side of kimchi ($8).

The dak gaseumsal’s buttery miso sauce was great for pouring over the sticky rice and I loved the accompanying sauteed seasonal greens (garlic scape, Swiss chard, and collard greens). Yet, the chicken breast, while juicy, wasn’t overly exciting… perhaps because it was sous vide versus grilled. At least they were true to their word, this dish was much larger than the rest.

Still, you may want to get a side of the potesala ($15), their version of a potato salad. The shallots added a slight bite to the potatoes and the pickled ramps and peas gave the dish a freshness that helped balance off the otherwise rich dish. Yet, it’s the onsen egg that really made the dish, I wished there was more than a half.

If anything, Mhel ensures you have room for dessert. The purin ($10) was a fantastic crème caramel, one of the best I’ve had in a while. The thickened Sheldon Creek cream was rich but perfectly balanced by a maple syrup glaze that had a toasty taste, much better than your regular caramelized sugar. My husband and I immediately regretted getting one to share.

Mhel’s friendly service really adds to the experience and despite serving an array of small dishes, they were very efficient, and we could easily add on another item. The menu’s also not overly large, so even with two people we could order over half of the items and get a taste for the restaurant. In fact, if you come with three people you should just order the entire thing.

You must give it to Mhel: they could easily create one menu and continue to tweak it to perfection. Instead, the chose to challenge everyone by changing the menu daily. What a great restaurant to have in the neighbourhood where you can visit regularly and find something different each time. 

156 Cumberland elicits a sense of mystery. Not in a murder mystery, speak easy, or blind tasting sense. Rather, you’re not quite sure what to expect. It starts with their name… merely repeating their central Yorkville address, good luck figuring out what this restaurant’s about.

Even their menu left me perplexed, a simple one liner printed at the bottom ‘Hanjan, dujan, sejan, floor’ – 156 Cumberland Team. Google translates this for me as ‘One drink, two drink, three drink, floor’. So, there’s a sense of cheekiness and a Korean inspiration to 156 Cumberland.

The beef tartare ($15) are flavourful bundles of joy – for your mouth that is. Sweet, savoury, and spicy elements combine with the minced beef before being stuffed into fried tofu skin. An egg yolk drizzle adds a thick creamy element while the chives a burst of freshness.

If the avocado mousse wasn’t so over salted the hiramasa ($25) would have been perfect. A generous portion of yellowtail incorporated a hint of heat from white kimchi gel and horseradish along with briny bits of oiji (a Korean pickle). While the avocado helps bind everything together, it was overly seasoned, so I ended up scraping most of it off to allow me to taste the fish. The little toasted seaweed chips were a great choice to scoop this up.

The intensely flavoured appetizers did leave the Korean bouillabaisse ($34) tasting flat. Perhaps it’s why the kitchen chose to serve the bouillabaisse with the white kimchi on the side. Ultimately, it lacked the saffron hit that makes the seafood sing. At least there was a decent number of clams, bay scallops, and haddock and the thin circles of rice cake were an interesting chewy texture against the seafood.  

The #AvecJayden’s white kimchi ($8) supports a fellow chef – the sous chef of Richmond Station who began perfecting his recipe during the pandemic and later starting an enterprise to sell it. Given it doesn’t rely heavily on spicy gochujang, Jayden’s version is light and fresh so didn’t detract from the seafood.

Give me an entire dish of sujebi ($37), the slices of silky Korean pasta swimming in a decadent buttery sauce. Chunks of duck leg, meaty maitake mushrooms, sweet corn, and fried sage made this the highlight of the meal.

There wasn’t an ounce of fruit in the banana milk tiramisu ($13), but I don’t mind. My best guess as to where the banana was incorporated may be the cake. Regardless, the dessert satisfied and aptly fit the menu’s description as being not too sweet.

The kitchen’s efficiency seemed to put a strain on the front-of-the-house. Even though service was friendly, they were so busy running food and drinks that switching plates became an after thought. A new plate would be ideal between the starters and the bouillabaisse, at least we managed to get one for the sujebi after waiting a bit.

Dinner also seemed rushed with little time between dishes. I didn’t feel like I could really settle in and relax without letting the mains go cold. Slow down 156 Cumberland and let the diners converse and drink. After all, how can we fulfill ‘Hanjan, dujan, sejan, floor’ if we’re out after two?

Taco trucks and surf towns go together like salt and pepper. So, it’s not surprising to find places like Tacofino, which has grown from a truck located in a parking lot in Tofino to several brick-and-mortar locations across British Columbia.

For my first taste of these handheld treats, I had to go straight to the source… and its long winding line in the corner of a parking lot. The wait will have you summoning your inner Zen master, our Sunday afternoon visit meant it would take us over 30 minutes to order and another 15 minutes of prep time before digging into our food. The only saving grace is the long wait allows space on the communal picnic tables to free up, you’ll find a place to sit by the time you get your food.

Grab yourself a large bottle of water as things are salty at Tacofino. Perhaps it was just a heavy-handed chef making my order, but I found the soy marinade in the tuna-ta taco ($8.50) so prominent that it was all I could taste (my friend, on the other hand, found theirs fine). It could be that the tuna wasn’t seared long enough so that the soy didn’t have a chance to burn off and caramelize, the fish tasted like it was dunked in soy and quickly swished onto the flat top, so it was barely warm.

Along with the heap of pickled ginger and wakame (sweet seaweed salad), this taco is certainly bold in flavours. It’s a shame as the tuna taco would have been outstanding if the condiments weren’t so overpowering. Despite the decent portion of tuna stuffed into the taco, I could barely taste it.

The Baja-style fish taco ($7.50) was better. The batter was thick but helps to soak up the chipotle mayonnaise and keep the shredded cabbage and pico de gallo adhered to the tortilla. Again, it incorporated some good flavours, and the tempura ling cod was flaky and fried to perfection.

Both are sizeable tacos and would have been sufficient to leave me satisfied. Yet, after waiting so long, I was ravenous and added a pork and kimchi gringa ($8). What exactly is a gringa you ask? To me, they are like quesadillas, but according to Taro Sushi Brooklyn there are three differences between the two toasted tacos: gringas are traditionally eaten cold, filled with beans and cheese, thicker and flatter, and made using wheat flour tortillas. Gringas are also from Mexico while quesadillas originate from Spain.

At Tacofino, their pork and kimchi gringa includes a cheese and slow-cooked pork filling (not just beans) and it is hot (not cold) and toasted until there is a lovely golden crust… the ideal first bite after waiting outside in the cold for so long. Out of the three, this was my favourite. The filling so rich as the juices and grease from the pork and cheese mix together with the pickled kimchi to create a messy gooey bite that is a hit of flavours. Gringa or quesadilla? Who cares, just get it.

Having had my fair share of tacos, what makes Tacofino stand out, aside from their flavourful creations and fresh ingredients, is their flour tortillas. They are grilled until toasted air pockets and edges develop and somehow holds together despite being so thin. Don’t get me wrong, you’ll still need at least a napkin per taco to get through the meal, but the tortillas surprisingly hold up quite nicely.

In the end, is Tacofino worth a visit? If I were to return, I’d opt for a location that keeps us out of the elements while we wait – food truck be damned. I’d also ask if they could put less salt and/or sauce on everything, especially on things with seafood so that the proteins can stand out better. But it’s certainly worth waiting - when in the East Coast, eat like the locals.  

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.