At first glance, dining at Aburi Hana reminded me of Tokyo. The restaurant’s entrance is tucked amongst an alleyway on Yorkville and situated downstairs in the basement. It was Tokyo all over again – locating the establishment after arriving at the address.

Yet, after checking in with the hostess, it felt like arriving at a spa. We were five minutes early, so they sat us in a small lounge playing tranquil music with a floral scent permeating the air. When we finally sat down at the “chef’s counter”, the L shaped dining area allowed us to see the kitchen but felt removed from the action. It’s the only chef’s counter where the chef didn’t even acknowledge the diners – not as a whole and definitely not intimately.

And so, we settle in for the 8-course tasting menu ($300 per person) and 6-drink pairing ($150 per person) as different staff come and went to present items. Everyone was polite and friendly but also seemed to be regurgitating a well rehearsed script. It’s felt oddly formal even as I tried cracking jokes with them.

Oh well, I’m here for the food. The meal starts with the lobster usuimame a piece of barely cooked lobster wrapped around a delicate fish paste that’s well… fishy. A swig of water helps dissipate the bad taste in my mouth as does drinking the silky sweet pea infused dashi at the bottom of the bowl. I even admire the cute bird carved from an heirloom carrot before popping it into my mouth and enjoying the sweetness.

The meal improves as the otoro and caviar sushi monaka is presented. The crispy mochi wafer is filled with a layer of well vinegared sushi rice and topped with tuna belly, pickled daikon, creamy dollops of uni (?), and of hefty teaspoon of caviar. Each bite is deliciously fresh and flavourful.

It’s then a glass of hot sake is poured for the lamb yuba, a cube of four-hour braised lamb belly topped with silky layers of yuba mixed with Japanese mustard. It’s a dish that goes well with the theme of the “early spring” menu: a reminder that sometimes in the spring, a hit of winter comes back, and you’ll want something hearty.

I’ve never liked flowers, but the maguro flower is one I’d love to get. The rose petals, made from two type of lean tuna, sit on a bed of grated radish. The tender aged tuna goes wonderfully with the thickened daikon soy and scallion oil that surrounds the plate. I can see why this is considered a timeless dish, beautiful to look at and a treat to eat.

Every restaurant seems to be doing the flash fried scale-on amadai. Don’t get me wrong, I love the dish and am not complaining, but it’s such a fan favourite that it’s gracing everyone’s menu. Aburi Hana creates an amadai cauliflower, where the tilefish is charbroiled then flash fried. We’re told that if we want a spoon to enjoy the dashi and cauliflower sauce at the end to just ask. I got it right at the beginning and was glad that I could have a spoon of the savoury sauce with every taste of the fish.

My heart went a flutter seeing the kamo akamiso containing two of my favourite ingredients – roasted duck and maitake mushroom – on one plate. While the fowl is a touch chewy, it’s nonetheless flavourful from being smoked and the skin having lovely crispiness. You really need a strong protein to hold up against the deep rich miso sauce, that gives the dish a savoury taste that’s balanced off by a sweet burst from the honey pearls. My only complaint is the wine pairing, which tasted off and was much too light for the dish.

Aburi Hana ends with what they think is their WOW dish, the wagyu uni. Essentially, a roll of sushi rice topped with tons of uni, wagyu, and black truffle shavings, I can see it’s an expensive dish. But expensive ingredients don’t always make for a delicious dish. Firstly, the seared on “just one side” wagyu needed blowtorching before serving as cold fatty beef is not for me. When something is so fat, I find it best served hot so the blubber melts. After all, bacon is also fat and does anyone want to eat raw bacon?

We’re then told it’s been cut into two to help us eat the roll. If that’s the case, it’d be even better cut into four for more manageable bites. Ever try to shove a Twinkie sized item wrapped with chewy meat and wispy shavings in your mouth? It isn’t pretty or easy. Alas, the dish was a lot of flash, but no wow.

If anything, what I enjoyed most was the shot glass of condensed Kyoto miso soup included as the chaser. The thick umami broth was tasty and special.

How the chocolate Japanese ginger dessert came to be Aburi Hana’s most “timeless” dessert is beyond me. Ultimately, it’s a fluffy flourless chocolate cake topped with ginger crème anglaise and cubes of poached pear. I like to think it’s Chef Nakagawa’s way of leaning into showcasing local Canadian ingredients but then am told that the chocolate comes from Madagascar. It was a weird ending for a kaiseki meal.

I much preferred the yuzu macaron and caramel tuille petit fours that ended the dinner. Certainly, more French than Japanese, but at least better than something I could have ordered at Moxies.   

As much as I’ve pointed out the flaws of some dishes, there were also some incredible ones in the meal (I would love to eat the monaka and maguro flower again). And while there was little chef interaction at the “Chef’s counter”, Aburi Hana offers attentive service – my water glass was never more than two inches empty; chopsticks were replaced if there’s even a drop of sauce left; and they even replaced the toothpick dish for my Manhattan just because it wasn’t shiny enough.

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.

Quetzal has really changed from our first visit. It’s busy and absolutely buzzing on a Thursday evening, likely thanks to their one Michelin star rating. And they started offering a tasting menu ($125 per person) to really increase the dishes each duo can try. They even have an “off menu” version, where you’re presented with some dishes that aren’t available a la carte or adjusted based on seasonal ingredients. You don’t have to ask me twice; off menu we go.

Note: This post contains the prices for dishes that are available a la carte. Portion sizes will likely be larger than what’s pictured.

Almost every table seemed to order the dry aged amberjack aguachile ($32). It’s certainly stunning with the ruby pink rhubarb juice studded with scallion oil, a mild but refreshing accompaniment to the fish. Having been dried aged, the amberjack was denser but still tender and the dollop of pasilla and chickpea miso gave it a bright pop of flavour. While I could have done without the jicama slice (it’s a bit dry and sucks some of the flavour out of the dish), the garnish does add to the dish’s presentation – just enjoy this separately.

Then things get interesting: we’re asked if we’d like to have a drink with the remaining rhubarb juice. Um, yes! Spooned into shot glasses and mixed with mezcal, the flavour profile completely changes from tart to savoury and spicy. It’s like magic.

Our next dish goes off the menu with a flatiron steak tartare. This needs to get on the menu as it was one of the best tartare I’ve had. Diced beef was mixed with olive, chilis, and something slightly crunchy (fried capers or puffed rice?) creating a wonderful varying bite. But it’s the airy hollandaise crowning the tartare that stole the show, adding a creamy element that’s not unlike aioli but much fresher and lighter.

The following memela is available on their menu, but the tasting gives it a different take. The toasted blue masa tortilla was covered with melted cheese, poblano (?) sauce, mushrooms, and pickled cactus, and a host of other ingredients. Together it created what I’ll describe as an amazing deep dish Mexican pizza, without the excess sauce and breading. One of these with a salad would be a great meal for one.

Who would have thought popcorn (albeit in powdered form) would pair well with Newfoundland scallops ($39)? A meaty sweet scallop, salty butter powder, herby garlic butter, and sprinkling of tangy Tajin created a delicious bite. Like Lays tag line goes… they’re so good, you can’t just have one.

While the hulking bone marrow and wild Argentinian shrimp ($52) looked impressive, it doesn’t work with tortillas – the flat bread doesn’t have the capacity to soak up the oily juices and the marrow was too blubbery to spread on the smooth surface. In the end, you have a slightly oily tortilla with a clump of blubber in the centre.

Still, I followed their instructions to scoop a bit of marrow onto a tortilla, add a piece of beautifully grilled shrimp, and top with a squeeze of lime. It’s edible, but I feel like the shrimp paired with slices of lardo it would work even better. Just make sure to scrape some of the honey glaze from the bone marrow as its burst of smoky sweetness brings the taco to a whole new level.

Every course is accompanied with tortilla, so by this time I’m getting full. Hence, if you’re doing the tasting menu, hold off on finishing all the tortillas at the beginning. Another plate arrives with the grilled hanger steak, and they complement this dish perfectly, so you’ll want the room in your stomach. Slathered with the black garlic mole negro and wrapped around steak, shishito pepper, mushroom, and sprinkled with queso fresco, you have yourself a delicious taco.

Still, if you’re too full, each element tastes great solo. The steak was tender and beautifully cooked. Add some of the earthy and slightly sweet mole negro for a deeper flavour.

Grilled maitake mushrooms are such a treat and Quetzal provides a generous portion alongside oyster mushrooms in the mushroom and shishito ($26). Having developed a crust, the mushrooms take on a meatiness with a creamy spiciness from the poblano crema and ancho sauce.

I’m glad it’s all paired with the Clearwater Farm tomato and cucumber salad ($25) as I really needed something light and refreshing to end the meal. A variety of tomatoes and crispy de-skinned cucumber are tossed with pickled garlic scape, queso fresco, fermented anaheim crema, garlic crisps, and shiso so the salad was anything but boring.

Surprisingly, the coconut nicuatole ($17) was the richer dessert of the two presented. The coconut cream was thickened with masa creating a luscious pudding that resembled tapioca or rice counterparts. I just wish there were more pieces of the compressed pineapple soaked in mezcal to go with each bite as it really jazzed up the nicuatole.

The spiced Mexican chocolate ($16) was airy and almost glided across the tongue. Crispy sponge toffee adds crunch while passionfruit provides freshness. I normally hate chocolate and fruit desserts but didn’t mind this one.

Usually, I don’t like eating at the bar, but scoring a last-minute reservation didn’t leave many options. Luckily, the bar seats were the next best thing to the Chef’s table - the bartenders were so friendly and even educated on the dishes.

Of course, they are even more knowledgeable about mezcal, so if you want to sample this spirit, Quetzal is the place to visit. They have an amazing selection and if you provide a price point, they’ll bring forward some options and describe each one in detail. It’s how we settled on the Colores ($57), after finding out the high-end bottle at $150 per oz was too rich for our blood.

It just seemed appropriate to end with a sip of mezcal. After all, it brings our tasting full circle, having started us off when mixed with the rhubarb juice from the amberjack.