I know this sounds counter intuitive, but when a restaurant is plastered all over social media it makes me want to try it less. Too much promotion leads me to think the hype is paid for and I start doubting the restaurant’s ability to attract diners for their flavours.

Dear Saigon’s most photographed item is the Dear Saigon pho ($22.99). The restaurant knows how to draw in the camera: a large tower displaying the dishes’ ingredients, a sizzling stone bowl, and a hulking beef bone that’s protrudes in its full glory. I had my doubts on ordering it, but then felt obligated to see if it really is worth the extra six dollars.

Firstly, the tower: they need to make it more structurally sound. To get the individual layers out, you’ll need to hold onto the wobbly light-as-air tower or otherwise risk having it topple over. Ultimately, it’s a bit kitschy with the only benefits being it takes up less table space and does allow diners to gradually add the raw beef slices to control its doneness.

In terms of the stone bowl, while it arrives rapidly boiling, this starts to lose steam in under 30 seconds. Add in the noodles and half of the bean sprouts and the soup sits as still as a pond on a non-windy day. In fact, I was nervous whether it’d still be hot enough to cook the beef slices, so I jammed them all in at the start. Luckily, the remaining warmth was enough to gradually cook them through, and the beef did stay tender longer, which was a nice touch.

Moreover, the broth stayed hot until the end. Dear Saigon’s soup was just salty enough and was hearty but still fresh. While the noodles started off as a sticky clump, they quickly loosened in the soup and resisted getting soggy. Point goes to the stone bowl.

Lastly, the beef bone. Perhaps the best distinguishing feature as it’s an ingredient not offered with the other pho. For me, this alone was worth the additional $6. Since it arrives in the soup without any sauce, I worried it’d be tasteless. For me, it was flavourful enough solo, but if you need tje extra oomph there’s hoisin and hot sauce available. Meaty and tender, I ended up sharing the beef bone and was still stuffed. If you’re hungry, order the Dear Saigon pho.

If the beef rib doesn’t do it for you, the house special pho ($18.99) was satisfying. While not overly exciting, it contains the requisite favourites – rare beef, brisket, tendon, tripe, and beef balls – with plenty of noodles, herbs, and bean sprouts. The broth wasn’t as beefy but still had a comforting quality. I sense some diners may find it bland, but I found it satisfying and liked that it wasn’t oily.

Dear Saigon’s appetizers were also decent. The chicken wings ($13.50) are covered in a honey glaze that’s best eaten hot while it’s still runny. Very crispy with just a touch of heat and savouriness, it reminds me of a milder honey garlic deep-fried wing.

Wash your hands as the deep-fried spring rolls ($8.99) are extremely difficult to pick-up with chopsticks – even my mom was stumped. Utensil challenge aside, they’re uber crispy, and I enjoyed the combination of vegetables, beans, taro, and little bits of shrimp.  

Despite holding off on trying Dear Saigon because I felt it was over hyped, I’m glad I eventually gave in. Their menu is extensive including a variety of appetizers and even Thai dishes for those not in the mood for pho. But who goes to Dear Saigon for pad Thai? Give me a bowl of noodles with a massive bone any day. 

One thing’s for sure: your meal won’t be bland at NeNe Chicken. There’s sauces and seasonings and anything labeled as spicy really unleashes some searing heat.

Take for instance the spicy fried chicken skin ($8.95), which looks unassuming and has the texture of a tortilla chip mixed with pork find. The dusting of spice starts off tasting like nothing more than a barbeque chip, but slowly builds as it coats the tongue and leaves a lingering sting. It’s an interesting “snack”, but too rich for me. The dish is best ordered amongst a table of six or more, so everyone gets a handful.

It’s a similar story for the tteok bokki ($18.95), which starts off almost sweet until your mouth starts burning after two rice cakes and a mouthful of the shredded vegetables and kimchi. Still, I enjoyed the chewiness of the carbs, and the dish contained a generous portion of fish cake. If anything, it could have used more green onion to provide a pop of freshness.

Thankfully, the boneless soy garlic chicken ($21.99 for a medium) offered some respite. Hot and fresh from the fryer, the chicken was very juicy with a touch of crispiness in its coating. While the soy garlic was a little sugary for me and could use more garlic, it was a welcomed change from the spicy dishes.  

I’d recommend paying the extra $1.95 for pickled radish as it’s an ideal condiment to cool the tongue and cut through the greasiness of the fried dishes. NeNe Chicken is a heavier meal, so sharing is best, especially if you want to try a bunch of different items. And if anyone comes that can’t handle the heat? Well, maybe you just mock them… NeNene booboo. 

If you had to eat one type of dish for the rest of your life, what would it be? Popular choices tend to be pizza, pasta, or tacos. For me, it’s a bowl of soupy noodles. And if I had to stick to one type, then pho would likely feed me to eternity.

Yet, pho wasn’t what I was craving when visiting Bong Lau Vietnamese Restaurant. Instead, it was their famous bún riêu ($13.95) that drew me in. Traditionally, it’s a fragrant seafood, pork, and tomato soup. Bong Lau’s recipe skips the meat and uses tomato, crab, and egg drops (?), which when soaked in broth provides a crumbly texture that almost seems like it could be minced meat.

For a dish that looks so vibrant, the taste was surprisingly timid. There wasn’t that salty umami hit of shrimp paste that I expected. In fact, it wasn’t very salty at all. The most prominent flavours were the tomato, basil, and shallots topping the dish.

Perhaps if the bún riêu was hotter, it’d be more enjoyable. As it stood, the lukewarm texture combined with lacklustre soup and the frozen tasting blue crab really didn’t seem rave worthy.

In retrospect, selection of “light bites” would be more impressive. The bahn dap ($11.95), a steamed rice roll stuffed with a choice of lemongrass pork, beef, chicken, or Vietnamese meat balls, makes for a refreshing but hearty meal. Unlike a salad roll, which uses a rehydrated rice paper wrapper, the steamed roll was thicker and softer, while still having an elasticity that allowed it to be held and dipped.

We opted for the recommended lemongrass pork, which was well seasoned and thinly sliced so the meat layer adds a saltiness throughout the roll. Incorporating tender lettuce leaves, hits of herbs, and bits of crunchy peanuts, the bahn dap had a host of textures and flavours that kept me satisfied.

Bong Lau’s extensive menu does offer a selection of soup-based noodles rarely found elsewhere. Consequently, if I had to subsist on soupy noodles forever, you’d find me at Bong Lau’s all the time. 

If you have a serious food allergy, eating out may feel stressful and require research and planning. Enter Riz: after moving north on Yonge, they morphed their menu into an entirely gluten free offering so there’s no risk of cross contamination. Celiacs, you have found the place to go to for Chinese food.

Their hot and sour soup ($6) contains traditional ingredients such as tofu, black fungus, and green onions, but could also something crunchier to round out the textures - in lieu of julienned bamboo shoots, Riz uses a softer vegetable. Overall, the soup didn’t satisfy my craving, especially since it had a sweet finish that I found strange.

The rice noodles (ho fun) used in the veggies and tofu pad see ewe ($19.75) is much thicker than what you’d find elsewhere. Perhaps, this is also why we found the dish blander and lacking the aromatic wok hay that’s synonymous with the noodles. A bit more soy would have helped and perhaps we should have taken them up on having some chili oil with the dish.

Luckily, the black bean tiger shrimp ($22.50) was flavourful and went nicely with the pad see ewe. The normally pungent black bean was mellowed into a sweet sauce studded with garlic and onions. Incorporating a variety of vegetables, the broccoli really soaks up the sauce so some people may find this too salty… for me it was perfect. Make sure to get an order of steamed rice to pair with the dish.

If you read the description of the purple Saigon eggplant ($17.75), you’d think the hoisin, garlic chili, and soy sauce would create a sweet, spicy, and savoury dish. Instead, there’s a tanginess that while not off-putting is also not expected. The eggplant was cooked perfectly, flash fried to retain its vibrant purple hue and quickly tossed with the rest of the vegetables. Given the chili logo on the menu, I would have liked this spicier.

I love that Riz incorporates so many fresh vegetables in their dishes. If what’s used in the stir fries and noodles aren’t enough, the snow pea and broccoli ($17.75) offer even more greens. During our visit, the recipe also included snap peas, likely used to augment the off-season snow peas that were a bit tough.

What Riz Gluten-Free Asian Kitchen lacks in finish, they make up for with their service. Attentive and friendly, it’s a restaurant where you feel taken care of. Stress be gone. 

Walking into Bread and Butter feels like you’re entering grandma’s house. It’s cozy and old fashioned, the smell of food beckons coyly, and there’s a warmth (in terms of temperature and hospitality) that feels familiar.

And just like my grandma, meal begins with soup. Their goulash ($9) arrives steaming hot and emits a comforting fragrance. I could taste the spices teeming in the broth, creating a rich flavour profile with a hint of heat. Filled with chunks of beef, vegetables, and fluffy teaspoon-sized dumplings, it’s a hearty soup that could become a meal with a side dish. I did find it a tad oily but may work if you’re soaking up the broth with bread.

Bread and Butter’s schnitzel sandwich ($12) is assembled-to-order with a choice of bun (Kaiser, cheese, or onion) and protein (chicken or veal). I dressed mine with mayonnaise, pickles, hot peppers, and lettuce to augment the lightly breaded chicken schnitzel. In retrospect, I’d leave out the pickles as they’re the sweet variety detracting from the savouriness of the sandwich.

If you’re already having soup, it’s a good idea to share the sandwich with another person as it’s huge. If only the chicken cutlet were hot, the dish would be incredible. Still, I understand with the limited staff their ability to freshly fry or even heat up the schnitzel is difficult.

With a display case of cakes and pastries, I opted for a slice of apple strudel ($5; estimated based on bill total) to go. There must be a full apple per slice as the pastry was essentially chopped and sliced apples surrounded by layers of phyllo. While the spices were delicious and the sweetness spot on, the apple’s skin were left on, so the chewy bits took away from the lusciousness of the dessert.

Ultimately, you’re going to Bread and Butter for their warm hospitality and homemade food (all made in house except for maybe the buns). It’s not a place with professional chefs and over-the-top presentation. And if a delicious goulash and hearty sandwich doesn’t impress, then go for the schnitzel benedict. Grandma’s whipping up something new. 

Shakespeare’s famous saying proclaims, “If music be the food of love, play on.”  It aptly reminds me of Bar Poet, a restaurant that blends top 40 tunes from past and present, an eclectic comfort food menu, and arcade games. And by the end, the 2-hour seating limit flies by and all we want to do stay longer.

The arancini ($15) was seriously good. Made with mushroom risotto, there’s an earthiness to the creamy rice ball that’s stronger than the cheese only versions. But add in sambal cream and chili oil and that hit of heat goes so well with the comforting starter.

Somehow, we ordered a lot of dishes incorporating chili. The NYC spicy rigatoni ($18.95), an item so highly recommended in Google reviews, was surprisingly plain: pasta tossed in a spicy rosé cream with a fine dusting of Parmigiano. While it was tasty, a few spoonsful were sufficient, I can’t imagine having an entire dish to myself.

Even the Dovercourt and Queen ‘sweet’ calamari ($19) had a zing. The menu describes the sauce as being tomato based (pomodoro aioli) but tasted like the spicy rigatoni. Regardless, it’s a flavourful dish as goat cheese, chives and pickled peppers mingles with the squid. Even though the ingredients do detract from the calamari’s crispiness.

Bar Poet is known for their pizzas (all $22). If you like pepperoni, you’ll love the Hot Rod, a pie covered with tiny pepperoni with hot honey creating a sweet, salty, and spicy bite. For me, it was a bit greasy and heavy, but likely wouldn’t bother a pepperoni aficionado.

I preferred Rob’s Favourite Pizza, which sounded like a hodgepodge of ingredients, but they work together so nicely. A white pizza made with alfredo bacon sauce, it combines pulled chicken, brie, kale, spinach, caramelized onion, hot honey, chili flakes, and Parmigiano. Despite all the spicy elements, the pizza was the least spicy of the dishes we ordered, likely the chili and hot honey calmed by the creamy ingredients. Rob knows how to create an interesting meaty pie.

The pizza crust stays dry on the bottom despite an ample number of toppings. While it doesn’t have the requisite crispiness I enjoy, there was a lovely chewy consistency and sour dough finish that makes it tasty even without dipping sauce. Additionally, I love the inclusiveness of Bar Poet’s pizza menu with pies available gluten-free as well as vegan.

Everyone raves about the tiramisu ($9). While it wasn’t terrible, it also wasn’t great. It incorporated too much cream (didn’t incorporate enough mascarpone) and not enough of the espresso ladyfingers. While the Skor bits adds a unique element, left in chunks it was too crunchy and would be better in powdered form.

We were intrigued by the peanut butter espresso martini ($19), which emits a faint aroma of peanut butter but none of the taste. A decent rendition of the drink, it’s really sugary given it’s mostly made with Tia Maria and no vodka. Ultimately, one is enough, and I was glad that I switched to their other cocktails like the white negroni ($19).

Amongst the foliage ceiling and twinkling lights, Bar Poet creates a unique environment. Somehow, amongst the blasting music and Skee ball machines, there’s a romantic aspect to makes you want to eat, drink, and play on.