I wonder if I’m judging aKin harder than similar restaurants because I’m Chinese. You won’t find me complaining about the price of the Lunar New Year tasting menu ($275 per person) or the portion sizes because I agree that Chinese cuisine is just as intricate to prepare as any other country. And it should be given the same level of recognition as other tasting menus.

aKin’s menu isn’t purely Chinese. Dishes also include Japanese, European, and other Asian influences. Yet, there’s also a host of dishes Ihave grow n-up eating and therefore can’t help but compare. Still, after discussing the dilemma with my fellow diner and reflecting on the experience, I feel the mark is justified.

Starting with the auspicious vegetables, where I found the collection of small bites a bit fussy. With five items, there were a lot of dishes so it may be better served as a platter (like a BBQ starter), in keeping with the Cantonese theme. We’re advised it’s a nod to Buddhist traditions, even though they’re dishes monks hardly consume. And while I do appreciate restaurants becoming more plant-forward, aKin’s dishes fell flat:

• Don’t bother smelling the celery martini, it smells like earth. At least it did its job: the light tomato consommé with a drizzle of watercress oil was a refreshing palette awakener.  
• The heirloom carrot was too flaccid to pick up making it awkward to eat. Yes, the black garlic and tempura bits added crunch, but not enough structure to ensure it’s a handheld bite. I see this working as a garnish.
• A similar story with the lettuce cone, the delicate shell was starting to get soggy. So, I quickly popped it in my mouth to get a salty juicy blast.
• Of all the canapes, the scallion tart was my favourite. The XO sauce mushroom centre topped with Emmental foam was flavourful and a nice combination of textures.

The leek crystal bread, aKin’s take on a fried dough stick, was an intriguing canape. It’s certainly the most difficult to make, a clear paper-thin crunchy exterior with a hollow centre. But this is not the same as a yau tew, which has a webbed interior so there are layers. If aKin could add a few layers inside, or better yet something chewy at the centre, it may help give it more textual interest as it’s currently like a cylindrical cracker. Of course, topping the creation with Perigord black truffles adds a decadent touch.

Yet, anything would be 100x better than the oyster. Every bite of it was wrong. From the harshly alcoholic Prosecco foam, the lack of natural brininess, to the extremely fishy finish… from the oyster, caviar, or fat choy, who knows? Regardless, it had us chugging water to get rid of the awful after taste. I understand an oyster is a key ingredient to any Lunar New Year menu, but if an oyster isn’t fresh, it’s better cooked and masked with stronger garnishes.

To signify togetherness, aKin served scallop in sashimi and ceviche form. Other than the two dishes arriving on top of each other, it missed its mark. If I were to create a dish that was going to represent togetherness, they should have made something that is tasted separately and then combined to really wow the palette.

As is stands, the red chili flakes overpowered the sashimi, completely masking the natural sweetness of the shellfish. An ingredient like a surf clam may hold up better against that much heat. The spiciness continued into the ceviche, but at least this was balanced by coconut milk and other Thai flavours, which complimented the ingredient.

After the first three dismal dishes, I was getting worried. And that’s when Chef Eric Chong appeared to present a dish of nostalgia, explaining it reminds him of the slowly steamed chicken soup of his youth. Of course, his version gets a molecular touch encapsulated into a sphere that we’re told should be eaten quickly while at the optimal temperature. And boy was it heavenly. Once my mouth fully closed around the bite and the spoon was removed, the burst of hot but not scalding consommé flooded my mouth with a rich umami essence. The little bites of bean curd noodles gave it some texture. The meal was finally making a comeback.

The chawanmushi continued to impress. The steamed egg studded with diced butter poached abalone, charbroiled kombu, and topped with a red vinegar foam to lighten the rich dish. There’s a silkiness to it that reminded me of a rich fish maw soup and was a wonderful combination of Asian and European elements.

I thoroughly enjoyed the well toasted steamed bao in the bread course. We’re instructed to rip the bun and spread the lap cheung hollandaise sauce onto the bread. The scalding oil made ripping difficult, I somehow managed and was treated to a lovely creamy savoury sauce, which could be balanced by the refreshing kimchi style daikon ribbons.

While the ginger scallion fumet (a concentrated fish stock) was very salty – bordering on bitter when tasted solo – combined with the amadai it was perfect. Flakey with a crispy skin, the thick piece of fish was kept neutral as the fumet was all it required.

I’m glad they picked a stronger ingredient like lobster to go with the powerful laksa. aKin’s interpretation of laksa had the heat but was more restrained and still very creamy. I savoured it by the spoonful.

While I enjoyed the dish, I feel the silver needle noodles were a bad pairing. They probably chose the hand rolled noodles because it’s different and requires effort to prepare, sort of like gnocchi. However, the point of a noodle dish is to signify longevity. Are small stunted, sharp-edged noodles really the greatest representation? A flat hand-pulled noodle would work better, kept as a long strand (i.e., a long life) and would also help the laksa stick.

A piece of deboned and stuffed fowl gets me excited. So, upon seeing the 8-treasure pigeon, the dish had me ready to dig in. Rather than mixing the ingredients, aKin created a paste with chestnut, lotus seed, barley, and salted duck egg to stuff into the leg. It was nicely flavoured, but the softness also meant a lack of texture.

Overall, the pigeon’s skin needed to be crispier, as a textural contrast for the leg and especially with the breast, which is served plain. And while I enjoyed the side of sticky rice, it wasn’t overly exciting. It was a missed opportunity to wrap the grain in lotus leaf or an edible collard green, which would provide the dish colour and extra boost of something aromatic. At least the Jinhua ham au jus was delicious, I swiped up every drop of the sauce.

Being a blind tasting, I couldn’t tell where we were in the dinner. Since the meal is described as 10-courses, I thought the following mango pudding was the last item and our dessert. The rich pudding augmented with coconut cream, pomelo and sago was good but would have been disappointing as a lone dessert. Luckily, this course acted as a palette cleanser as there were plenty of sweets to come.

It wouldn’t be Lunar New Year without a tang yuan or glutinous rice balls. Chef Chong morphed theirs into a stunning fortune bag that’s an inside out version of the dessert. The chewy glutinous rice was found in the handle and the centre... all surrounded by a fluffy black sesame mousse wrapped in fondant. A much more impressive ending.

At this point, we were satisfied but not full. This quickly changed with the platter of lunar treasures. While the egg tart was mediocre, the other items were tasty. The macaron had a crispy exterior and a hawthorn taste reminding me of the pay pa muy candies of my childhood. The chocolate and milk tea canelé screamed of flavours in the airy pastry. And the mandarin jelly a wonderful refreshing finish.

We’re even given a to-go bag containing a Singapore crunch that we’re instructed to add to noodles, rice, vegetables, or even buttered toast. I’ll admit, this had me rethinking my meals for the upcoming week and ended up trying the sweet and crunchy topping on crispy noodles. It’s fine, but I still rather use sambal any day.

After all this, let’s circle back to my mark on the dinner. I really wanted to see if aKin could be an 8. But with the weak opening dishes and the satisfactory but not wonderful final savoury course, I really can’t say it’s an experience I’d recommend. And while my first instinct was to grade it as a 7, I ultimately settled on a 7.5, let’s say it’s a little something to combat my potential bias of being Chinese. 

• Anything under 5 - I really disliked and will never go back
• 6 - decent restaurant but I likely won't return
• 7 - decent restaurant and I will likely return
• 8 - great restaurant that I'd be happy to recommend
• 9 - fantastic restaurant that I would love to visit regularly and highly recommend
• 10 - absolute perfection!

• Artisan Noodle
• Magic Noodle

If you’re lucky enough to live in Toronto, you’re probably experiencing the cold touch from Mother Nature like the rest of the city. Of course, you could complain and hibernate, or rather embrace the Canadian mantra and go out there and have fun! Alas, me and winter activities requiring balance will never align, so I take the opportunity to indulge in hotpot instead.

Potman Hotpot is a new entrant and thanks to a BlogTO video has attracted a host of visitors – arrive before 6pm or make a reservation to avoid standing uncomfortably in their non-existent waiting area. The video showcases the meal to be a feast, which of course is possible, but you’ll pay for it as Potman is not all-you-can-eat.

Take the time to thoroughly go through their two-page menu as there’s a lot to choose from, starting with a choice of nine broths. If you’re indecisive, the split pot allows you to choose two flavours ($5.99 for small or $9.99 for large); financially, the large one doesn’t necessarily save much unless you’re sharing amongst more than two people.

For my first visit, I split the pot between homemade pork bone soup, which surprisingly incorporates a host of Chinese herbs resulting in a smooth creamy finish, and sweet tomato ox bone soup. In the future, I’ll stick with just the tomato broth (by itself $4.99 for small or $8.99 for large) as it adds a lovely flavour to all the ingredients so sauces aren’t even necessarily required.

Nonetheless, each person will be charged $0.49 for condiments, but allows them to mix-and-match from 19 items. Overall, what’s provided is sufficient, but Potman should consider giving the soy sauce in a pourable container (rather than the actual dipping dish) as after a few dunks the broth already starts to dilute everything.

While you can opt for a seafood platter, without a description of what comes with the dish it seemed safer to order the items we enjoy most. The shrimp ($5.99) was relatively good value with six large ones to an order… much better than the jumbo scallop ($2.99), which is essentially one scallop cut in half. Moreover, the small scallop pieces tended to get lost in the broth and became overcooked.

Most diners opted for the meat platter, but being carnivores, we stuck with single orders of the Angus beef ($6.99), pork ($4.99), and ox tongue ($6.99). My first time trying tongue in hotpot, I enjoyed the fattier cut that creates a flavourful bite – perhaps an alternative to the luxurious wagyu that costs $14-$50 a portion.

Where a platter works is for the vegetarian items ($7.49 for choice of 5 items) and the meat balls ($7.99 for a mix of 15) given Potman allows diners to choose what’s included in the mix. For the vegetarian items, you don’t get a lot with the leafy greens since they take up so much space, but for compact ingredients like wintermelon it’s a sizeable portion (these are also great for hotpot since they can be forgotten in the broth without ruining the vegetable’s texture).

For the meat balls there’s a choice of handmade or regular – I went with the regular machine-produced version and they were still very good. The cheese ball was our hands down favourite, very unique and I loved how after biting through the springy crust there’s a creamy molten cheese centre that’s enhanced with a sweet corn flavour. Their shrimp ball is also different holding shrimp roe in the centre – just be careful biting into it given the juices are hot and will squirt out.

Another one of my go-to ingredients is the fish tofu ($2.99), at Potman theirs is smooth while incorporating a rich fish flavour. The fish noodles ($1.49) isn’t the squeeze from a bag version, but rather comparable to wonton noodles with a chewier finish. While still tasty, the fish flavour is mild and somewhat lost if you add broth. Personally, I enjoyed the udon ($1.49), especially with the piece of ox tail accompanying the tomato soup base, it cooks relatively quickly without becoming mushy and goes so well with the tomato broth. On the other hand, the Korean rice cake ($1.49) breaks apart too easily and gets mushy in a matter of minutes.

While ordering a feast can get expensive - our indulgence costed $50 a person including taxes and gratuities (although to be fair we over ordered) - not being all-you-can-eat means staff have more time for service. Our food came out very quick (even add-ons) and our pots were constantly refilled to avoid it drying out. The service was excellent compared to other hotpot establishments. Moreover, there isn’t the pressure to stuff yourself silly, although with all the choices, that can still be difficult. 

Overall mark - 8 out of 10

• Anything under 5 - I really disliked and will never go back
• 6 - decent restaurant but I likely won't return
• 7 - decent restaurant and I will likely return
• 8 - great restaurant that I'd be happy to recommend
• 9 - fantastic restaurant that I would love to visit regularly and highly recommend
• 10 - absolute perfection!

• Morals Village
• Spicy Mafia

• Anything under 5 - I really disliked and will never go back
• 6 - decent restaurant but I likely won't return
• 7 - decent restaurant and I will likely return
• 8 - great restaurant that I'd be happy to recommend
• 9 - fantastic restaurant that I would love to visit regularly and highly recommend
• 10 - absolute perfection!

• Pastizza
• Montecito