There’s been significant press for LSL (Leroy, Saito and Le Squer) so my post isn’t going to re-hash the pedigree of the restaurant with three Michelin chefs at it’s helm. If you’re interested in learning more about these aspects, read Toronto Life, which wrote a very in-depth article.

Even before stepping into the restaurant, I received a text from Matthieu, their maître d’, inquiring about celebrations or food aversions. It’s reminiscent of an Eleven Madison experience, except Matthieu’s message was punctuated with an emoticon so there was a polished but friendly-casual quality to the interaction.

The experience continued at the restaurant, each team member introducing themselves by name as they welcomed, took our jackets, and led us to our seats. The introductions and casual banter put us at east to strike up conversations… the once quiet dining room was soon buzzing by the end of the first course.

Their 9-course tasting menu ($680 per person) started with a trio of small bites that we’re told to eat from the front to back:

• Beginning with a ginger and citrus Campari foam that burst in the mouth. It’s not overpowering but did wake up the palette and cleanse it for the second.
• The hairy crab tart’s briny flavour screamed of ocean (in a good way) so the crustacean was highlighted in the bite. We go from sour to salty.
• Lastly, a sweet bite with a generous portion of foie gras sandwiched between crunchy coffee crisps and topped with passionfruit jelly. Imagine having a really decadent sweet-and-salty candy bar.

LSL doesn’t keep you waiting for their signature dish: a peeled Amela tomato stuffed with finely diced tuna and topped with Kristal caviar. It’s something Chef Didier Leroy created for a dinner with Yo-Yo Ma that made him cry. It looks deceptively simple and features expensive ingredients (an $8 tomato for one) that gets diners excited. Having tried the caviar by itself, the ingredient solo would have been very pungent but once combined with the fruit and fish became amazingly fresh and light.

That natural sweetness continues with the Hokkaido scallop crudo, a dish that sounds Japanese but has a unique European flair. The scallop was meaty and fresh, topped with top-shelf uni flown in from Japan. It makes for a lusciously creamy bite. Yet, what surprised me most were the crunchy bits of dehydrated scallop reduction that gave the dish crunch and an umami touch.

My favourite plate was the crispy scale amadai where the fish was flash fried, so the meat becomes flaky, and the scales create a crunchy topping. It arrived with a warm ball of brioche that was perfect for wiping up every drop of the delicious beurre blanc. Good to the last drop.

The duo of squab was a close second place, the breast cooked beautifully with its tender meat and crispy skin. Sitting on a layer of rich pâté and crispy toast, the fowl becomes a sweet and delicate contrast. I don’t know how I feel about the pâté, it felt like too much. I feel the squab would work better on its own or with something more neutral like fish liver mousse and crispy potato.

I’m glad they brought out moist napkins and welcomed us to eat the squab leg with our hands. The savoury crispy bite was a star, and if I were at home, I’d probably continue nibbling on the bone to get at all the flavours. And not a drop of the citrus red wine jus was wasted given it’s paired with a heavenly crispy baguette.

How did the chefs prepare the rack for the seared lamb? The lollipop was so big that it must have been carefully carved to ensure all the adjacent lamb stayed on one bone. Regardless, LSL knows how to prepare meat well, the lamb was tender, juicy, and perfectly seasoned. I liked that the chefs showed restraint with the salt and allowed the sauces to flavour - mustard, black garlic puree, and a jalapeno sauce. I thoroughly enjoyed the accompanying crunchy relish and had every bite of it.

Some of the refreshing relish would pair nicely with the goat cheese tarte. Other diners were raving about the pastry – all the melted cheese, a buttery tart shell, and the Périgord black truffle shavings didn’t hurt.  Indeed, it’s a rich finish (likely a stand-in for the cheese course), but I felt it lacked something. After all, it’s just cheese. Perhaps a larger portion of salad, a creamy element within the tarte, or maybe more accompaniments. Something more than just melted cheese.

A trilogy of grapefruit didn’t sound like the most interesting dessert but was a great finish… especially following the decadent tarte. Layers of citrusy sugar crisps sandwich grapefruit and other sorbets to create a refreshing, not overly sweet, but satisfying ending. LSL marinates the grapefruit to remove bitter elements, and you’re left with a great winter dessert providing a boost of vitamin C.

The mignardises arrive with glass of tea that’s tempered perfectly so it doesn’t scald but is still hot and flavourful. It’s paired with a just-out-of-the-oven madeleine that’s oh so airy. And after a delicious bite, when you’re disappointed it wasn’t larger, you get a second one – Halleluiah! The raspberry and chocolate tarte was crispy and well balanced, but it’s the last jammy kumquat bite that’s so surprising. A stream of sunshine floods the mouth that finishes savoury. Is summer around the corner?

We each left with a little box of treats: nutty almond cake bites and more madeleines. Great for a late-night snack, a sweet for breakfast, or a nibble to accompany an afternoon tea.

All the wine pairings ($360 per person) balanced out the food, never fighting to be the star but complimenting it well. At one point I was falling behind with four glasses in front of me but was assured not to rush. Saving a taste for the other dishes isn’t a bad idea as it’s always nice to contrast different flavours.

And if you have any questions about the food, Chef Didier Leroy is on hand the entire night taking time to chat one-on-one. He’s like a homeowner welcoming a guest to the table: building a rapport, while doing a huge push to explain why LSL is Michelin worthy. It’s as if there are Michelin inspectors sitting amongst the diners and we’re going to get the hard sell.

At times, it became awkward. It’s one thing to be proud of the team, the luxe ingredients being imported, or even highlight the special touches like always having Didier at the helm and the handwritten affirmations in the bathroom. But, once we get to comparing LSL to other Michelin starred restaurants and always referencing the rating agency, it becomes too much.

Personally, I have no doubt LSL will be presented a star, if not two, in 2025. I would just encourage the team to let it happen naturally and focus on what they’re already doing well: they’re such a welcoming restaurant that makes me want to return; and the food was inventive but approachable, respectful to the ingredients themselves. The star(s) will come, no campaigning required.

Noodle restaurants seem to be springing up along Midland monthly. Seriously, travel along the street between Finch and Steeles and there are dozens of options. Modu Three Brothers is a newcomer to the crowd offering Chongqing specialties, a large region of China that’s located in the south close to Tibet.

It’s an area where sheep are a popular source of protein. The Chongqing lamb skewers ($5.99 for two) are shallow fried slightly crisping up the crevices and dusted with cumin and chili powder. The bite sized morsels are like a flavourful popcorn lamb, tender and tasty without the gaminess.

Modu’s menu is dominated by noodles with so many choices that choosing between the soup base, protein, and noodle types can be dizzying. We settled on their signature braised beef noodles ($15.99), which reminded me of the Taiwanese/Shanghainese version of the noodles except adorned with crispy fried yellow beans and chives… I enjoyed the freshness of the chives but could do without the oily hard mini chickpeas.  

Modu uses a digitized ordering process where diners scan a QR code at the table. It is helpful for customization requests given we wanted the beef noodles to be a mild spicy level. Our instructions were dutifully followed so despite the savoury broth looking fiery red the spiciness was tame.

For those who don’t want an ounce of heat, the signature freshly boiled chicken soup with noodles ($13.99) features a spice less broth that has a rich chicken taste. It was a tad oily for me but goes well with the noodles and garnishes.

At first, it may seem like the kitchen forgot the chicken but dig to the bottom and you’ll find a handful of chopped pieces. There’s not a lot of fowl and it does include the bones, so if you’re in the mood for big morsels of meat, you’ll want an order of the fried chicken on the side. Any chicken used in this dish is more for flavour than sustenance.

Yet, you’ll never leave Modu hungry as they offer free noodle refills. Simply request an order online and in a few minutes a bowl will arrive (about a cup and a half). Personally, I enjoy my noodles with a springy texture, so I did find Modu’s too soft. If you’re like me, I’d recommend requesting the noodles do be cooked less when ordering.

Torontonians are spoiled with the noodle offerings found across the city. If you don’t want to travel extensively, make your way up to Midland in Scarborough and you can easily create a slurplicious noodle crawl.

While Osteria Giulia has been awarded a Michelin star, it’s unlikely they’ll receive a service award anytime soon. Having arrived five minutes early, they weren’t ready to seat tables and we were asked to leave – no option to wait inside or at the bar, what a pain during a windy cold fall evening. Nonetheless, once we were seated, our waitress was warm and welcoming, making up for the poor first impression from the hostess.

Luckily, the food didn’t disappoint. The burrata e caviale ($45), although served a bit cold for my taste, was soft and fluffy, the centre creamy but doesn’t ooze out upon being cut through. The simple starter was a cacophony of flavours mixing briny Italian caviar, sweet Asfodelo honey, and a smoky sourness from the Blackbird bread. That splash of sweetness from the honey was unexpected but absolutely made the dish.

Pull apart the calamari ripieni con tonno ($36) before taking a bite and you’ll find the delicate seafood stuffed with yellowfin tuna paste so there’s a meatiness to each bite. It’s topped with a puntarella and charred pepper salad, giving the calamari a refreshing crispy bite. I’m glad it wasn’t overloaded with too many sauces so that the natural seafood flavours were present.

In retrospect, the lorighittas al mare ($38) was too similar to the calamari. In fact, when the dish was presented, all I could see was a plate of squid rings, only to find many were circles of hand braided pasta. Our waitress explains what makes the dish special is the time intensive nature of creating the pasta, which did have a lovely bite to it. Everything is tossed in a tasty olive oil sauce with a hint of garlic, chilli, and an umami essence from anchovy. I just wish the dish had more of the bay scallops and even some spot prawns thrown in to make it taste more like a seafood pasta.

I’m generally hesitant to order ravioli as it’s usually a scant dish and when they are not adequately filled it can taste like you’re eating pieces of dough. Osteria Giulia’s ravioli doppi ($44) smartly has one side unsealed so they can be overstuffed with silky ricotta and sauce, so you get a gush of filling with each bite. Chunks of lobster and kernels of sweet corn add richness and texture to the dish. It was an impressive dish and the most memorable of the evening.

If you’re visiting the restaurant and expecting to be full after an appetizer and pasta, you’ll be disappointed. Following true Italian traditions, the pasta is just the second course, you’ll need to order a main. We shared the rack of lamb for two ($85) and were presented with eight perfect medium rare lamb chops that were lightly dusted with sea salt. While this would be even better if it was served with a sauce, to give it interest, the meat was prepared beautifully.

The fagioli ($16) went particularly well with the lamb, the crispy beans well coated with a salty spicy meat sauce that added a punch of flavour against the otherwise neutral lamb.

With a selection of delicious sounding desserts, I opted for the millefoglie al cocco ($19), which was beautiful to take in with the thin layers of crispy pastry separating dollops of white chocolate and mango cream. It’s a dessert that could have benefited from being served with a knife, as it was difficult to break through the puff pastry.

Every table needs to order the tiramisu alla Giulia ($19), a rendition of tiramisu that brings it to another level with the ice cream centre and huge dollop of mascarpone and rum zabaglione on top. It was so rich and delicious… how can I have tiramisu any other way?

Osteria Giulia gets mixed reviews online and I can see why: what you order and how much you order can really affect the experience. While it’s a great Michelin option for those who have a smaller appetite or want the flexibility of controlling a budget for the evening, the restaurant should consider making a tasting menu to ensure tables get to really experience all their “best of” dishes – the ravioli, burrata, and tiramisu.  

The restaurant is certainly one of the more inventive Italian restaurants I’ve visited in Toronto and offers some impressive dishes. Still, there’s something about the experience that’s lacking compared to other Michelin restaurants in the city such as the absence of well-rounded service, not serving fully presented mains, and employing annoying nickel-and-diming practices like charging $3 a person for water. Unlike their ravioli, it’s not one experience I’ll be gushing about. 

As I recount my latest experience at Alo, I grapple with the final mark: would I still consider them a 9 or a “top pick”? There were dishes that were incredible, but then some that missed the mark. The tasting menu ($225 per person) was off to a shaky start when the canapés arrived.

We’re instructed to eat the four bites in a particular order. The first, an oyster with compressed cantaloupe and Iberico ham oil had a fishy essence without an acidic element (like the traditional mignonette or lemon) to help cut through the strong taste. It also seemed off that it wasn’t ice cold for something that should be served uber fresh. The first bite was a bust.

Slowly, the redemption started with the beautifully presented uni tart, which was made even creamier with a thick crème fraiche on the bottom. While this wasn’t mind-blowing, it was at least not repulsive.

After the fishy oyster I had doubts about the mackerel tart, but this was unfounded as the meaty fish was very clean tasting and well balanced with bright pops of the daintiest tomatoes and fruit. Indeed, there was an ocean-like essence from the caviar, but it wasn’t overpowering.

The canapés ended with a foie gras and strawberry jelly tart that created a sweet and savoury element. This was surprisingly good and wonderfully rich.

It’s unclear if Alo is pandering to Michelin inspectors as the procession of Japanese dishes just seem out of place at a French restaurant. Sure, I can understand if they want to throw in one dish that’s has a Japanese influence, but to feature a handful was just too much.

Moreover, some dishes just can’t live up to what you’d be served during an omakase meal. Chef Patrick Kriss should drop the madai course, a sea bream paired with chili oil, caviar, and kumquat. Like the oyster, it was fishy and warm. Give me this fish cool with freshly grated wasabi and soy sauce any day.

The kinmedai was better, the red snapper was at least cold and refreshing with the oh so finely julienned radish in the centre. The various oils complimented the fish nicely and this was an improvement over the other sashimi course. If Alo must have a sashimi course (why would it), one is enough.

Having a soft spot for chawanmushi I wouldn’t be opposed to this remaining on the menu. The actual steamed egg was hot and silky, but then enhanced with lovely French and Western elements: smooth foie gras tofu cubes, fragrant truffle paste, crunchy radish, sweet corn, and crispy chicken skin. All this amongst a pool of reduced capon broth. What an incredible dish!

At this point, the meal started having an upward trajectory. The chanterelle mushrooms were so meaty and cooked to the point of perfection – no longer raw and spongy but not too wilted either. Paired with spinach, artichoke, and a luscious whipped egg sauce, it was so delicious that I wanted to lick the bowl.

The seared scallop and roasted mussel continued the ascent with its superb execution. The scallop was seared beautifully and super sweet and the mussel so tender ending with a lovely clean finish that it’s unlike any mussel I’ve ever had. Paired with a savoury foam and parsley sauce, these were the perfect seasoning not overshadowing the seafood’s natural flavours.

At the beginning, we were asked if we’d like to substitute the rice dish for foie gras (supplemental $40). Why anyone would want to miss out on the Koshihikari rice with Dungeness crab is beyond me. Koshihikari is a short grain rice that’s cultivated to be used in many dishes, including risotto so that it has that creaminess but also a more distinct grain that Arborio. The risotto was cheesy and savoury with bits of snap pea added to give it a crunchy pop of freshness that was so good that I longed for more. To elevate the dish, thin slices of wagyu beef topped the dish, so that as it melts the fat seeps into the rice. Do not replace this baby.

A boneless lamb chop follows seared to perfection and having a lovely charbroil taste. As you have a cube of the meat with the garnishes, each bite tastes so different – whether it’s the peel tomato, fried shallots, or patty pan squash. Somewhere down the line you sample the the olive stuffed with sausage, which is good but a bit heavy, so I’d recommend saving it for the last bite.

Alas, the meal bell curves with the last savoury dish being mediocre. The striploin was fine, slightly over cooked, but at least having a nice grilled essence. Yet, it’s the miso sauce that really threw me off and added a weird funk to the steak. Perhaps if we upgraded the dry aged angus to the Japanese A5 wagyu (supplemental $90) it would pair better, but as it stood the sauce was a bust. Moreover, the deep-fried eggplant tempura garnish was too seedy and bitter.

The only saving grace was the pain au lait that gets paired with the striploin. It’s just as fluffy and fragrant as I remembered. I absolutely love Alo’s bread, so much so that they even gave us an order to go, what a sweet and unexpected gesture.

Normally, sorbet palette cleansers can be really tart and pungent. Alo tones it down with their take on strawberries and cream where the layer of cream at the bottom helps balance out the frozen Italian wine with strawberries and the champagne foam.

Dessert progresses with a tasty meringue with peach mousse and vanilla cake. Garnished with a verbena lemon sauce the dessert is a nice balance of sweet and sour. After so many dishes, I’m glad it’s a lighter finish that still has a sweetness that satisfies.

It wouldn’t be a French meal without a box of petit fours, presented in a lovely tree box. I love that they made a mini lemon meringue to pay homage to Aloette downstairs but it’s not nearly as good as the sister restaurant as meringue is so small that the bite was fairly sour. The passion fruit caramel was too sticky and the chocolate caramel too sweet. It was the simple strawberry gelee that was just right, enhanced by the fruit’s natural flavours and a great consistency. I felt like Goldilocks going through the petit fours trying to find the perfect bite.

Save room for their canale as it’s a lovely combination of crispy caramelized shell and fluffy moist interior. Consequently, it also paired perfectly with a cappuccino ($6).

The roller coaster food aside, Alo does excel at service. There’s a lovely chill we-don’t-take-ourselves-too-seriously vibe with the 90s rap playing and the entire staff sporting New Balance kicks. Everyone we encountered was so friendly, professional, and knowledgeable that we knew we were in good hands.

Situated right at the Eivissa Marina, I would have considered Mariner to be a tourist trap if their food wasn’t delicious. The wooden beams and bits of foliage offered a sense of privacy, shielding against the crowds, allowing us to tune them out and focus on our meal.

Amongst the twirling fans, which added more ambiance than breeze, we sipped an amuse bouche of olive oil laced gazpacho that was silky and savoury. While I’m not generally a fan of cold soups, amongst the heat and humidity of an Ibiza summer this was a great start.

Some cool appetizers are also ideal. The plate of Iberian jamon (29€) was expertly cut with an astounding uniformity of each slice. At Mariner, the leg of ham was wonderfully marbled with a melt-in-your-mouth quality that beckoned me to have one more slice.

We generally found many restaurants overly toast (some would say burn) their bread, but Mariner’s pan con tomate (3€) was airy and soft… like having the tomato spread on an English muffin. I love the freshness of the tomato and the simplicity of the bread that went well with the flavourful cured jamon.

Although the cheese in the burrata salad (16€) almost became lost amongst the plump cherry tomatoes, arugula, and dollops of avocado cream, the overall salad was creamy and delicious. Given this was rather rich, I’m happy we had thought to order side salads (6€), which helped balance out the velvety burrata and avocado combination.

Sharing the glazed milk-fed lamb shoulder (36€) is recommended as this main is huge. The meat was tender, easily breaking apart with just a fork, presenting a light lamb that wasn’t gamey. If anything, it could have been more heavily season as I found the glaze, while thick and sticky, was too lacklustre and a more savoury red wine au jus would work better, especially to help cut through the richness of the lamb.

The menu describes the protein as being served with asparagus and baby potatoes – essentially, a full and complete meal. While there were plenty of soft roasted baby potatoes, the asparagus consisted of a small spear cut in two, hardly enough to call out on the menu, let alone counteract the meatiness of the dish. In retrospect, a side salad would work perfectly as I really was yearning for something acidic and refreshing to balance the otherwise tasty lamb.

Mariner reminds me not to be too judgmental about a restaurant’s prime location – just because an establishment is in a sought-after area doesn’t mean it’s a tourist trap. There seems to be plenty of Spaniards dining at Mariner (so the clientele wasn’t touristy) and we found the dishes to be delicioso.