♥Weezee
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Bummer
My thesis needs to be rewritten, which means this next month is a wash, which means I can't go on any ballin' food adventures, not only because I have loads of academic work, but I can't work as planned, take said money and contribute to the food economy. Bummer. So, for the few of you ghosts that frequent my blog: I'm sorry. And if I take doubly long, I'm doubly sorry.
♥Weezee
♥Weezee
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Tea in the Suburbs
I can appreciate a poorly planned suburb, but only when someone in all that sprawl decides to run a tea shop out of their house. Tea shops in these here parts are not a rare breed. I could count a handful, which, considering the territory is pretty decent. There are the small dives that serve multiple teas as options to their menus, accompanied by fancy teapots to distract you from the ill-prepared brew, the Asian-pop tea shops, better known as bubble tea shops, which cater to the stereotyped infantilized young adults who like to order ridiculously priced oblong cuts of white bread slathered in chocolate spread, prepackaged spring rolls and powdered noodled soups, who all-the-while love having their ears bleed while listening to unnecessarily loud Asian music- from J-pop to mandorap (Chinese rap music)- nursing their taro milk teas with tapioca pearls. And of course, specialty coffee shops which pride themselves on choices of loose leaf teas and chai tea or matcha lattes. Tea is pretty accessible in the global market, and due to its gentrification (something I've bitched about many-a-time on this blog) in the West is a popular sign of a kind of savvy, zen, above everybody else sophistication. Having a tea instead of a coffee today says not only good health, but expresses control, calm and an identity unassociated from that of the work obsessed Westerner. Well that's bunk! It’s nothing more than playing with signs and having people agreeing to buy into them! In the consumer world- in Waterloo at least- tea has no real depth! It's fallen victim to not only poor preparation, but semiotic banter. You may buy loose leaf, but when it boils down to it you get poorly watered, over saturated, bittered tea that tastes like, well tea. That is, a hot liquid prepared in boiled water that more or less tastes the same in any flavour, thanks to the chalky nature of the steeped bag, with beautiful cardboard flavoured undertones. I buy tea on the go too; but when I do, I often ask myself after the first sip why I agreed to the mess in the first place, especially when the torpid teen behind the counter doesn't know how to properly prepare a tea, or the odd adult patron, who may potentially know tea, assumes the customer doesn't and compromises any flavours for convenience and profit. I guess I always assume I can either learn how to better prepare the drink, because those who serve me, I assume, are professionals; or that someone somewhere will finally give me a good brew. It's gotten bad, dear readers. So bad that when I do go out, I depend on either espressos, or asking for a pot of boiled water and my tea on the side, removing the lid and patiently watching the steam until it drifts side to side in order to gauge some semblance of proper temperature. But even that's a difficult task, especially in a public space where people are coming and going, messing with my air flow. I told you. I take tea seriously. It was all up to me in my home before today.
Thankfully, lately I've developed somewhat of a cabin fever when it comes to preparing tea; bored with the flavours I have, and the routines of preparation I commonly go through to prepare a decent cup, I was hoping for something new in the way of tea. And I found it in the most unexpected and apprehensive of places. In a duplex, in a new suburb, beside other kinds of businesses in duplexes in that same suburb supported by nothing more than a flimsy banner over the entrance saying "Tina's Tea" followed by a phone number. Not even a website (Do you see what consumer culture has done to me? Not even the little guy, who in this case has excellent tea kung fu, has a chance at business because I equate simple advertisements or signage as sign of poor quality). Yeah, yeah, I know. Never judge a book by its cover. Well, luckily, a while ago, while perusing forests for morels, I came across this humbling, now coveted tea cul-de-sac.
Tina's Tea, formally known on the shop's business card as Tina Tea Room, is an attempt at giving patrons a proper cup of tea, for a reasonable cost, in my own tea drinking opinion. Because anyone can dunk a bag in boiling water or drench leaves with the same; but it takes a special someone to do it properly- to know the kind of tea, the proper temperature that accompanies its preparation and the proper time it needs to steep. Let's face it, people are lazy. I'm lazy, you're lazy, we're all lazy in our own right, and unless you like doing something as mundane as preparing tea, you're not gonna do it right. But you're gonna let someone do it for you, provided the price is right, and the tea holds its own kind of flavour. Not chalky cardboard bag flavour. That and the fact that unless you were raised by Asians in the desert, or are have some kind of tea aficionado grandfather, or like to read extensively in order to quench your own voluptuous obsessive compulsive perfectionist tea yearnings, you probably don't know how to make a proper cup of tea. Again, probably because you don't care. That's why Tina Tea Room works well for both kinds of consumers: for the kind that appreciates the art of a good cup of tea, and for the other kind that likes tasty things and impressing those they dine with with tasty things (Y'know? Dudes that take out dudettes and try to impress them with "sophisticating" things. That scenario could certainly play out in this case).
With its bashful beige walls and three meager wicker tables, Tina Tea Room is a more than intimate space. It's a testament to the devoted few that still wish for the experience of a proper tea and a residue of what's left of the tea shops that catered to the hundreds that frequented them at a time during China's folkloric past. Yup, I was a regular 孔乙己,making whatever due I could through poor academic work, wearing poor clothes (a symptom of expensive academics), and regaling my drinking compadre with maxims of Confucius. Only instead of booze, I was drinking tea, and instead of peas, I was eating a bowl of dried cranberries and apricots, admiring the mess of old lady Victorian trinkets, porcelain waterfalls, multiple origami cranes, plastic plants and Chinese charms that were placed tenderly around the dining room. A humble attempt at decoration, which not only made the experience seem more intimate, but a sincere expression that our proprietor, Tina herself, was doing her best to make hers a legitimate, serious business. And like I've said many-a-time: I've come to expect the most authentic food establishments to neglect appearance and 'proper design' in favour of putting food first. Of course, that just may be my own cognitive dissonance. But in my experience, interior has never been the thing of any small mom and pop's Chinese/Korean/Vietnamese restaurant in my opinion. Weezee legend holds it's only a cover for mediocre eats- or tea in this case. There's no need to play the association game in a humbling tea shop. If you want to associate a physical space with your taste and cultural capital, save it for some fancy five star restaurant, comrades. You won't get it here. What you will get however, is dedicated service, a woman who doesn't let your cup run empty (which is a feat for the cup sized tea pot you're given), and the experience of feeling like you're being spoiled by an older, babying aunt serving tea- your assuming, attractive, Chinese aunt serving tea. I certainly wasn't complaining, not in this intimate space; not with the 3 Japanese girls giggling sweet nothings about Justin Bieber in Japanese beside me; not with the constant bowls of dried fruit (something Tina gave my party and I on the house- a cheap 2 dollars on the menu).
It wasn't all this simple however; we essentially started our visit tip-toe-ing in, slowly opening the door, asking if it was alright to enter, and taking our shoes off before climbing the stairs to our seats. Tina was more than happy to accompany us; after given a menu, and unwittingly given a pot of Tie Guan Yin (an oolong) tea, we were well on our way to figuring out what kind of teas the place served. This was partly my fault however; I was somewhat dismissive when asked what tea we'd like to drink, assuming the host was fluent in English and would riddle the menu off from memory. Ah, the joys of food and language barriers. I've lost a small fortune through these kinds of misunderstandings; but, they were delicious misunderstandings nonetheless.
Tina Tea Room's tea selection is very limited; however, that may either be a symptom of its newness, or Tina's seriousness in regards to tea, brewing tea, and drinking tea. What is offered for drink is rather high in quality and consisting of the purest kinds of teas. I say pure in respect to teas that aren't made up of filler like fruit and useless herby flavours, but strictly leaves and different levels of fermenting processes. That's why a 1.5 litre pot can run a patron from 10.00 to 20.00 dollars, which equates to 5 small pots of tea in one sitting. That said, it's sufficient between a small group of two or three, or someone who's ready to get their drink on. One can even purchase a single cup of Long Jing (Dragon Well) tea for 2.00 dollars. But only Long Jing. Nothing else. I would have liked to see more options in that regard, but I'm sure there's a particular etiquette and reasoning I'm unaware of. Our own tea had a trace of the bitterness any drinker would hate to find in their brew. Still, being unfamiliar with oolongs, I was unsure if that was a characteristic of the tea itself, or a miscalculation on the brewer's part. If there was one good quality of the tea being served to us it was that it never lost its strength, and that was probably a result of being given fresh brewed tea constantly, which worried my company and me at one point because we were confident we were racking up a large bill. However, our being first time customers, we were pleasantly surprised by our cheap bill of 10.00 dollars, even after all the tea we drank and the excessive amounts of dried fruit we were given to snack on, not to mention the some odd 10 sweet red bean spring rolls we were given to try- another compliment of the place's wonderful host. Tina was the most accommodating gastronome I had ever met, and it did this heart good. She even refused our generous tip by the time we ended our stint. She even left the tea room several times, leaving us alone like two good big boys, while she cooked in her kitchen basement and we listened gingerly to the sounds of her sizzling wok through the floorboards (okay, not floorboards- good, wood paneled flooring. I'm a sucker for metaphor though and literary romance, you all know that). Being left alone as two strangers in an empty tea room in the late afternoon didn't feel strange at all, but rather, like home.
And if you're feeling a bit peckish, no worries. Tina Tea Room plays well to the tea time dynamic by offering snacks for hungry customers. Be forewarned however, these things are not meant as substitutes for meals, though I'm sure you could buy enough to fill you up. But I am a puritan, and believe in a bourgeoisie ethos, and thereby believe (in my own opinion) that one as a frequenter of tea shops should come to converse and appreciate the art of fine tea and merely nibble on the foods offered. The menu is pretty scattershot, but very cheap for the amount of food you're given, and I say take advantage of this before business picks up and portions become smaller. I always assume the worst under the shadow of late capitalism, especially in the food industry where things on average reach a markup of 60%. But that's boring! Let me tell you about the oddities that run the menu of Tina Tea Room; there are the things that one expects in theme with a tea room run by a Chinese woman like dried fruit, fried dumplings, and sweet spring rolls, and the things that makes one turn their head and have a what the *f moment like French fries, chips and cheetos, and chicken nuggets. But, those three options are as weird as the menu gets. These, as the Chinese say, xiao chi 小吃 (lit. small eats, col. snacks) run from a mere .50 cents to 3.50; and ironically the only thing that is 3.50 is the chicken nuggets. All very affordable, all dwarfed under the menu by the tea, which as far as I'm concerned is how it should be. Otherwise, those strange menu options are attempts to gauge an audience and are very liable to change, I just hope more people visit so I have a place to go and drink. You know my history of eating at places that don't last longer than two months, six at most. And Tina Tea Room is definitely a place I wouldn't mind visiting at least once a week. The tea may be limited (for now) but the company certainly isn't.
Bill: One pot of tea (1.5l): 10.00 dollars
Tina Tea Room
F33-619 Wild Ginger Ave.
Waterloo, On
N2V 2X1
Tel: (519) 279-4465
Cell: (519) 573-8368
Email (that's right, email): hym199732@hotmail.com
Thankfully, lately I've developed somewhat of a cabin fever when it comes to preparing tea; bored with the flavours I have, and the routines of preparation I commonly go through to prepare a decent cup, I was hoping for something new in the way of tea. And I found it in the most unexpected and apprehensive of places. In a duplex, in a new suburb, beside other kinds of businesses in duplexes in that same suburb supported by nothing more than a flimsy banner over the entrance saying "Tina's Tea" followed by a phone number. Not even a website (Do you see what consumer culture has done to me? Not even the little guy, who in this case has excellent tea kung fu, has a chance at business because I equate simple advertisements or signage as sign of poor quality). Yeah, yeah, I know. Never judge a book by its cover. Well, luckily, a while ago, while perusing forests for morels, I came across this humbling, now coveted tea cul-de-sac.
Tina's Tea, formally known on the shop's business card as Tina Tea Room, is an attempt at giving patrons a proper cup of tea, for a reasonable cost, in my own tea drinking opinion. Because anyone can dunk a bag in boiling water or drench leaves with the same; but it takes a special someone to do it properly- to know the kind of tea, the proper temperature that accompanies its preparation and the proper time it needs to steep. Let's face it, people are lazy. I'm lazy, you're lazy, we're all lazy in our own right, and unless you like doing something as mundane as preparing tea, you're not gonna do it right. But you're gonna let someone do it for you, provided the price is right, and the tea holds its own kind of flavour. Not chalky cardboard bag flavour. That and the fact that unless you were raised by Asians in the desert, or are have some kind of tea aficionado grandfather, or like to read extensively in order to quench your own voluptuous obsessive compulsive perfectionist tea yearnings, you probably don't know how to make a proper cup of tea. Again, probably because you don't care. That's why Tina Tea Room works well for both kinds of consumers: for the kind that appreciates the art of a good cup of tea, and for the other kind that likes tasty things and impressing those they dine with with tasty things (Y'know? Dudes that take out dudettes and try to impress them with "sophisticating" things. That scenario could certainly play out in this case).
 |
With its bashful beige walls and three meager wicker tables, Tina Tea Room is a more than intimate space. It's a testament to the devoted few that still wish for the experience of a proper tea and a residue of what's left of the tea shops that catered to the hundreds that frequented them at a time during China's folkloric past. Yup, I was a regular 孔乙己,making whatever due I could through poor academic work, wearing poor clothes (a symptom of expensive academics), and regaling my drinking compadre with maxims of Confucius. Only instead of booze, I was drinking tea, and instead of peas, I was eating a bowl of dried cranberries and apricots, admiring the mess of old lady Victorian trinkets, porcelain waterfalls, multiple origami cranes, plastic plants and Chinese charms that were placed tenderly around the dining room. A humble attempt at decoration, which not only made the experience seem more intimate, but a sincere expression that our proprietor, Tina herself, was doing her best to make hers a legitimate, serious business. And like I've said many-a-time: I've come to expect the most authentic food establishments to neglect appearance and 'proper design' in favour of putting food first. Of course, that just may be my own cognitive dissonance. But in my experience, interior has never been the thing of any small mom and pop's Chinese/Korean/Vietnamese restaurant in my opinion. Weezee legend holds it's only a cover for mediocre eats- or tea in this case. There's no need to play the association game in a humbling tea shop. If you want to associate a physical space with your taste and cultural capital, save it for some fancy five star restaurant, comrades. You won't get it here. What you will get however, is dedicated service, a woman who doesn't let your cup run empty (which is a feat for the cup sized tea pot you're given), and the experience of feeling like you're being spoiled by an older, babying aunt serving tea- your assuming, attractive, Chinese aunt serving tea. I certainly wasn't complaining, not in this intimate space; not with the 3 Japanese girls giggling sweet nothings about Justin Bieber in Japanese beside me; not with the constant bowls of dried fruit (something Tina gave my party and I on the house- a cheap 2 dollars on the menu).
It wasn't all this simple however; we essentially started our visit tip-toe-ing in, slowly opening the door, asking if it was alright to enter, and taking our shoes off before climbing the stairs to our seats. Tina was more than happy to accompany us; after given a menu, and unwittingly given a pot of Tie Guan Yin (an oolong) tea, we were well on our way to figuring out what kind of teas the place served. This was partly my fault however; I was somewhat dismissive when asked what tea we'd like to drink, assuming the host was fluent in English and would riddle the menu off from memory. Ah, the joys of food and language barriers. I've lost a small fortune through these kinds of misunderstandings; but, they were delicious misunderstandings nonetheless.
 |
Tina Tea Room's tea selection is very limited; however, that may either be a symptom of its newness, or Tina's seriousness in regards to tea, brewing tea, and drinking tea. What is offered for drink is rather high in quality and consisting of the purest kinds of teas. I say pure in respect to teas that aren't made up of filler like fruit and useless herby flavours, but strictly leaves and different levels of fermenting processes. That's why a 1.5 litre pot can run a patron from 10.00 to 20.00 dollars, which equates to 5 small pots of tea in one sitting. That said, it's sufficient between a small group of two or three, or someone who's ready to get their drink on. One can even purchase a single cup of Long Jing (Dragon Well) tea for 2.00 dollars. But only Long Jing. Nothing else. I would have liked to see more options in that regard, but I'm sure there's a particular etiquette and reasoning I'm unaware of. Our own tea had a trace of the bitterness any drinker would hate to find in their brew. Still, being unfamiliar with oolongs, I was unsure if that was a characteristic of the tea itself, or a miscalculation on the brewer's part. If there was one good quality of the tea being served to us it was that it never lost its strength, and that was probably a result of being given fresh brewed tea constantly, which worried my company and me at one point because we were confident we were racking up a large bill. However, our being first time customers, we were pleasantly surprised by our cheap bill of 10.00 dollars, even after all the tea we drank and the excessive amounts of dried fruit we were given to snack on, not to mention the some odd 10 sweet red bean spring rolls we were given to try- another compliment of the place's wonderful host. Tina was the most accommodating gastronome I had ever met, and it did this heart good. She even refused our generous tip by the time we ended our stint. She even left the tea room several times, leaving us alone like two good big boys, while she cooked in her kitchen basement and we listened gingerly to the sounds of her sizzling wok through the floorboards (okay, not floorboards- good, wood paneled flooring. I'm a sucker for metaphor though and literary romance, you all know that). Being left alone as two strangers in an empty tea room in the late afternoon didn't feel strange at all, but rather, like home.
 |
And if you're feeling a bit peckish, no worries. Tina Tea Room plays well to the tea time dynamic by offering snacks for hungry customers. Be forewarned however, these things are not meant as substitutes for meals, though I'm sure you could buy enough to fill you up. But I am a puritan, and believe in a bourgeoisie ethos, and thereby believe (in my own opinion) that one as a frequenter of tea shops should come to converse and appreciate the art of fine tea and merely nibble on the foods offered. The menu is pretty scattershot, but very cheap for the amount of food you're given, and I say take advantage of this before business picks up and portions become smaller. I always assume the worst under the shadow of late capitalism, especially in the food industry where things on average reach a markup of 60%. But that's boring! Let me tell you about the oddities that run the menu of Tina Tea Room; there are the things that one expects in theme with a tea room run by a Chinese woman like dried fruit, fried dumplings, and sweet spring rolls, and the things that makes one turn their head and have a what the *f moment like French fries, chips and cheetos, and chicken nuggets. But, those three options are as weird as the menu gets. These, as the Chinese say, xiao chi 小吃 (lit. small eats, col. snacks) run from a mere .50 cents to 3.50; and ironically the only thing that is 3.50 is the chicken nuggets. All very affordable, all dwarfed under the menu by the tea, which as far as I'm concerned is how it should be. Otherwise, those strange menu options are attempts to gauge an audience and are very liable to change, I just hope more people visit so I have a place to go and drink. You know my history of eating at places that don't last longer than two months, six at most. And Tina Tea Room is definitely a place I wouldn't mind visiting at least once a week. The tea may be limited (for now) but the company certainly isn't.
Bill: One pot of tea (1.5l): 10.00 dollars
Tina Tea Room
F33-619 Wild Ginger Ave.
Waterloo, On
N2V 2X1
Tel: (519) 279-4465
Cell: (519) 573-8368
Email (that's right, email): hym199732@hotmail.com
Monday, July 19, 2010
Tomu Sushi
Yeah, so what? I caved. You wanna fight about it? I was trained by a kung fu grandmaster; taught meditation by Laos monks; learned to cook from an old Thai woman; learned to eat from a kid from Hong Kong. So if I wanna write about a place 3 times, I'll damn well write about a place three times.
If you haven't already figured it out (assuming you're hopelessly devoted to my blog- which would be pretty stellar) I'm talking about none-other than that place I bitched about not even a month ago: (and if the title of this entry didn't already give it away) Tomu Sushi. Previously, Sushi Nara. Previously (in my mind) place that refused me cold radish soup. But hey, this isn't about my personal vendetta- it's about you, my dear food readers and eaters and everything inbetweeners.
Long story short: me Mam (that's folk talk for 'mother') had a hankerin’ for taking me out for dinner. It was a special occasion, that's all I'm sayin'. And she wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer. This went on for a solid three days, and so, I caved and opted out for Tomu Sushi because (a): I hadn't had sushi in a while, and (b): my damned anal retentive workaholism had a hankerin’ for gastronomically deconstructing the F* out of this place. And deconstruct I will. Why else blog? To legitimize my eating? No way . . .
Typical layout: open concept kitchen with a bar for the more intimate sushi eaters (if you don't know what I mean, go to a sushi bar), a major dining area, and like any other sushi place, booths surrounding the restaurant for those ‘oh so intimate’ dining experiences. Sprinkle that with a typical array of cloth samurai and geisha paintings, some lanterns in place of lights and a kitchen staff of Koreans and you have the clichéd dynamic of a typical North American sushi restaurant, at least in this town anyway. Don't get me wrong, there are one or two restaurants claiming to be Japanese run by Japanese owners; and don't get me wrong even more, race has nothing to do with cooking ability, but do get me wrong when I say this: people do, for whatever reason, expect more authentic dining experiences if the cooks match the 'ethnic' cuisine being prepared, which in its own right is a whole-lot-a-hoopla, because there ain’t no such thing as authenticity in the Western, globalized world, comrades. You can pretend there is and impress a lady friend with your Bourdieuian tastes, but when it boils down to it, you is just kiddin' yo-self. My advice? Throw authenticity out the window, because you'll be pulling hairs otherwise. Just chase the flavours, friend, because though part of the dining experience may be the adventure of the space and the people making the food, Othering ain't even a good indulgent (and if that ain't a noun, it is now).But that's enough white guilt for one entry.
A part of me- a huge part of me- misses the decor of Sushi Nara, which was, more or less, a cold looking dining area with sea green coloured walls and booths, humble steel chairs and wood trims with a strange burnt motif, of which has still remained in the refurnished Tomu Sushi, now coloured with deep reds and dark blues- perhaps an expression of the freshness of sushi and the spiciness of Korean (ha, who am I kidding?). However, the new layout takes itself very seriously and makes it a more appealing dining spot for the contemporary, "oh my God I fear ugly places because that is a reflection of sanitation," diners.
A side note: when I say these next things, I may seem harsh, but at least I'm being honest. The wait staff was a wait staff. Overly accommodating at times, confusing at others; constantly switching servers on us. Confusing at times, and a little condescending with their baby talk comments. Baby talk comments? Whatever do you mean, Weezee? I mean this: when I break a pair of shitty disposable chopsticks and rub them together I am not trying to create fire, I'm filing off the shitty splinters. When I stir the miso soup (a typically overplayed inclusion with any friggin’ dumb meal at a sushi restaurant, which I friggin hate- did I mention that?) with said chopsticks, it is not the equivalent of an ape discovering some giant monolithic black slab in the middle of the desert for the first time. So I don't need overly mom friendly comments of, "that's right, you stir the miso soup with the chopsticks" from some Korean waitress who sees my whiteness as some signification of my ignorance about Japanese dining etiquette, because I'm willing to bet that kid never read Empire of Signs. No, no- me blushing wasn't because I was shy and proud, but because I was pretty damn offended. There are better ways to get tips. But hey, now I just sound like one big fathead. Of which I am. Maybe it was her first day, I dunno. She did seem to confuse requests for spoons with requests for forks. I sympathize, I do. I always do. It's tough manning a dining room full of what? 3 tables? Still, the wait staff wasn't all that bad. Service was rather quick, and when expressing displeasure with the salmon we had received, were immediately offered to choose from something else on the menu, and when refusing, humbly given a discount. A courteous call, not only on the wait staff’s part, but the restaurant as a whole. Though I'm positive the cooks probably heard about it later. And on that note, let's get to the food!
For the most part, Tomu Sushi plays well to the Japanese dining experience: bento dinners, teriyaki dinners, sushi love boats, with only a small sprinkling of Korean influence placed in some meal combinations. But hey, what the masses don't know, don't hurt 'em. And like I said, it's all about the flavour. The pièce de résistance for this place however, though it was pawned off as a sushi restaurant implying Japanese cuisine, was the fact that it offered Korean side dishes with my meal. This was an exceptionally exciting surprise for me. Not because the side dishes were to die for- the seaweed was too fishy, the kimchi, not spicy or sour enough- but because they were offered at all. Period. We did get some pickled soy beans, which had a unique earthy flavour. Somehow, and I don't know how, even after being pickled, they still managed to retain that fresh flavour that often accompanies peas eaten right off the vine. I loved them! Unfortunately, side dishes are random, so when you go, you better hope the ones offered are good. There was also a Korean dinner section on the menu, which aside from the huge menu options, was a welcomed choice. So welcomed in fact, I ditched my original plan for sushi and opted for a hearty Korean meal of Hwae Dup Bap: essentially a salad characterized with hearty vegetebles- slices of carrots, radish, cabbage and iceburg lettuce- sprinkled with pieces of raw fish, accompanied by a nutty, spicy Korean sauce. And of course there was rice. I had my cake, and ate it too and finished it off with a warm bottle of sake. Like drinking hugs. For 12.95 the dish was more than satisfying. I absolutely loved it. The dish complimented the heat of the day very well (I should have opted for some unagi too- if you catch my meaning), especially when one often equates that kind of weather with freshness, and Hwae Dup Bap, with its astounding colour palette communicating freshness and tricking the eye into believing so. For 14.95 however, the salmon teriyaki was less than satisfying. Maybe it was just a bad night. As always, I like to give every cook the benefit of the doubt. Salmon is after all a touchy fish, especially when you commodify it into something that could easily be cooked and readied in a slim 15 minutes. Or maybe, just maybe, the quality is always the same. As me Mam says, the problem with people and dining out is that a lot of people who can't cook go out to eat, so anything is good. Anything goes. Ignorance is bliss and all that jazz. Truer words Mumzie, truer words. (Now you know where I get my harsh food criticisms from) I feel my mother, an Italian woman schooled in the art of domesticity and cooking for a large family knows a thing or two about eating and is justified in her response. The customer IS always right. Sure, if it was a fish she never ate I might have said otherwise. But let's not allow one bad food experience to dampen our palettes (poor metaphor Weezee, poor metaphor). With Tomu Sushi's extensive menu, there is something for everybody (price wise too). My mom just didn't find it yet. And I truly believe dining is in part the responsibility of the gastroneme. If you don't know how something cooks (like, salmon) you run the risk of being unawares of its complicated preparation and increasing your chances for a satisfying meal. Personally, I love being leery when I go out to eat. Maybe because I work hard for what little money I have and want every dish to be worth it. Then again, I also like a little adventure and playing Thai lottery when I can't read a menu, choosing a random number instead. Just be forewarned. Not all cooks are chefs. Not all cooks have Red Seals. Not all cooks have the passion! However, let's not stray too far. I can't talk food theory all day. I mean, I could. But I wouldn't put my dear readers through it. We did what we set out to do: get a solid experience at the replacement Sushi Nara. Tomu Sushi. Not bad. I do not however, have any motivation, like I did for Sushi Nara, of going back. Nothing really stood out that hasn't already been eaten somewhere else. Man, I wish I tried that cold soup.
Bill (for two, including sake, with discount off of displeasing meal): 28. 85.
Tomu Sushi
(519) 746 1566
347 Erb Street West Unit# 4
N2L 1W4
Waterloo, On
Mon: closed
Tues-Sat: 11am-10pm
Sun:12pm-9pm
If you haven't already figured it out (assuming you're hopelessly devoted to my blog- which would be pretty stellar) I'm talking about none-other than that place I bitched about not even a month ago: (and if the title of this entry didn't already give it away) Tomu Sushi. Previously, Sushi Nara. Previously (in my mind) place that refused me cold radish soup. But hey, this isn't about my personal vendetta- it's about you, my dear food readers and eaters and everything inbetweeners.
Long story short: me Mam (that's folk talk for 'mother') had a hankerin’ for taking me out for dinner. It was a special occasion, that's all I'm sayin'. And she wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer. This went on for a solid three days, and so, I caved and opted out for Tomu Sushi because (a): I hadn't had sushi in a while, and (b): my damned anal retentive workaholism had a hankerin’ for gastronomically deconstructing the F* out of this place. And deconstruct I will. Why else blog? To legitimize my eating? No way . . .
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Typical layout: open concept kitchen with a bar for the more intimate sushi eaters (if you don't know what I mean, go to a sushi bar), a major dining area, and like any other sushi place, booths surrounding the restaurant for those ‘oh so intimate’ dining experiences. Sprinkle that with a typical array of cloth samurai and geisha paintings, some lanterns in place of lights and a kitchen staff of Koreans and you have the clichéd dynamic of a typical North American sushi restaurant, at least in this town anyway. Don't get me wrong, there are one or two restaurants claiming to be Japanese run by Japanese owners; and don't get me wrong even more, race has nothing to do with cooking ability, but do get me wrong when I say this: people do, for whatever reason, expect more authentic dining experiences if the cooks match the 'ethnic' cuisine being prepared, which in its own right is a whole-lot-a-hoopla, because there ain’t no such thing as authenticity in the Western, globalized world, comrades. You can pretend there is and impress a lady friend with your Bourdieuian tastes, but when it boils down to it, you is just kiddin' yo-self. My advice? Throw authenticity out the window, because you'll be pulling hairs otherwise. Just chase the flavours, friend, because though part of the dining experience may be the adventure of the space and the people making the food, Othering ain't even a good indulgent (and if that ain't a noun, it is now).But that's enough white guilt for one entry.
A part of me- a huge part of me- misses the decor of Sushi Nara, which was, more or less, a cold looking dining area with sea green coloured walls and booths, humble steel chairs and wood trims with a strange burnt motif, of which has still remained in the refurnished Tomu Sushi, now coloured with deep reds and dark blues- perhaps an expression of the freshness of sushi and the spiciness of Korean (ha, who am I kidding?). However, the new layout takes itself very seriously and makes it a more appealing dining spot for the contemporary, "oh my God I fear ugly places because that is a reflection of sanitation," diners.
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| Side dishes: the pièce de résistance. |
A side note: when I say these next things, I may seem harsh, but at least I'm being honest. The wait staff was a wait staff. Overly accommodating at times, confusing at others; constantly switching servers on us. Confusing at times, and a little condescending with their baby talk comments. Baby talk comments? Whatever do you mean, Weezee? I mean this: when I break a pair of shitty disposable chopsticks and rub them together I am not trying to create fire, I'm filing off the shitty splinters. When I stir the miso soup (a typically overplayed inclusion with any friggin’ dumb meal at a sushi restaurant, which I friggin hate- did I mention that?) with said chopsticks, it is not the equivalent of an ape discovering some giant monolithic black slab in the middle of the desert for the first time. So I don't need overly mom friendly comments of, "that's right, you stir the miso soup with the chopsticks" from some Korean waitress who sees my whiteness as some signification of my ignorance about Japanese dining etiquette, because I'm willing to bet that kid never read Empire of Signs. No, no- me blushing wasn't because I was shy and proud, but because I was pretty damn offended. There are better ways to get tips. But hey, now I just sound like one big fathead. Of which I am. Maybe it was her first day, I dunno. She did seem to confuse requests for spoons with requests for forks. I sympathize, I do. I always do. It's tough manning a dining room full of what? 3 tables? Still, the wait staff wasn't all that bad. Service was rather quick, and when expressing displeasure with the salmon we had received, were immediately offered to choose from something else on the menu, and when refusing, humbly given a discount. A courteous call, not only on the wait staff’s part, but the restaurant as a whole. Though I'm positive the cooks probably heard about it later. And on that note, let's get to the food!
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| Hwae Dup Bap. I think it means 'delicious!' |
For the most part, Tomu Sushi plays well to the Japanese dining experience: bento dinners, teriyaki dinners, sushi love boats, with only a small sprinkling of Korean influence placed in some meal combinations. But hey, what the masses don't know, don't hurt 'em. And like I said, it's all about the flavour. The pièce de résistance for this place however, though it was pawned off as a sushi restaurant implying Japanese cuisine, was the fact that it offered Korean side dishes with my meal. This was an exceptionally exciting surprise for me. Not because the side dishes were to die for- the seaweed was too fishy, the kimchi, not spicy or sour enough- but because they were offered at all. Period. We did get some pickled soy beans, which had a unique earthy flavour. Somehow, and I don't know how, even after being pickled, they still managed to retain that fresh flavour that often accompanies peas eaten right off the vine. I loved them! Unfortunately, side dishes are random, so when you go, you better hope the ones offered are good. There was also a Korean dinner section on the menu, which aside from the huge menu options, was a welcomed choice. So welcomed in fact, I ditched my original plan for sushi and opted for a hearty Korean meal of Hwae Dup Bap: essentially a salad characterized with hearty vegetebles- slices of carrots, radish, cabbage and iceburg lettuce- sprinkled with pieces of raw fish, accompanied by a nutty, spicy Korean sauce. And of course there was rice. I had my cake, and ate it too and finished it off with a warm bottle of sake. Like drinking hugs. For 12.95 the dish was more than satisfying. I absolutely loved it. The dish complimented the heat of the day very well (I should have opted for some unagi too- if you catch my meaning), especially when one often equates that kind of weather with freshness, and Hwae Dup Bap, with its astounding colour palette communicating freshness and tricking the eye into believing so. For 14.95 however, the salmon teriyaki was less than satisfying. Maybe it was just a bad night. As always, I like to give every cook the benefit of the doubt. Salmon is after all a touchy fish, especially when you commodify it into something that could easily be cooked and readied in a slim 15 minutes. Or maybe, just maybe, the quality is always the same. As me Mam says, the problem with people and dining out is that a lot of people who can't cook go out to eat, so anything is good. Anything goes. Ignorance is bliss and all that jazz. Truer words Mumzie, truer words. (Now you know where I get my harsh food criticisms from) I feel my mother, an Italian woman schooled in the art of domesticity and cooking for a large family knows a thing or two about eating and is justified in her response. The customer IS always right. Sure, if it was a fish she never ate I might have said otherwise. But let's not allow one bad food experience to dampen our palettes (poor metaphor Weezee, poor metaphor). With Tomu Sushi's extensive menu, there is something for everybody (price wise too). My mom just didn't find it yet. And I truly believe dining is in part the responsibility of the gastroneme. If you don't know how something cooks (like, salmon) you run the risk of being unawares of its complicated preparation and increasing your chances for a satisfying meal. Personally, I love being leery when I go out to eat. Maybe because I work hard for what little money I have and want every dish to be worth it. Then again, I also like a little adventure and playing Thai lottery when I can't read a menu, choosing a random number instead. Just be forewarned. Not all cooks are chefs. Not all cooks have Red Seals. Not all cooks have the passion! However, let's not stray too far. I can't talk food theory all day. I mean, I could. But I wouldn't put my dear readers through it. We did what we set out to do: get a solid experience at the replacement Sushi Nara. Tomu Sushi. Not bad. I do not however, have any motivation, like I did for Sushi Nara, of going back. Nothing really stood out that hasn't already been eaten somewhere else. Man, I wish I tried that cold soup.
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Bill (for two, including sake, with discount off of displeasing meal): 28. 85.
Tomu Sushi
(519) 746 1566
347 Erb Street West Unit# 4
N2L 1W4
Waterloo, On
Mon: closed
Tues-Sat: 11am-10pm
Sun:12pm-9pm
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Chippy Fishies
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Maybe, I should eat at more Italian places. Or maybe I should stop victimizing myself for the sake of propaganda, like some kid at G20 smashing windows for no apparent reason. Now I KNOW that wasn't too soon. I pay money, I get food. People aren't racist; I've never been kicked out of a restaurant. (Again though, I have been refused dishes based on my whiteness. I rebuke my previous statement.) Maybe if I wore a suit and tie and took a beautiful woman to a place with a room full of uglies I'd get a lot of stares, but why go through the effort of being something I'm not- which is poor, and hungry, and stupid with money when I'm hungry. After all, all I ever want to do is eat. This time, all I wanted to do was eat fish and chips, because A: I never had fish and chips before- that is, I never ordered fish and chips at a fish and chips restaurant (I always imagined in my mind they'd taste tangy and salty and crispy and like newspaper) and B: I was hoping- it was a long shot- I was hoping I'd run into the girl of my dreams- at an empty fish and chips restaurant, sprinkled with old people. It wasn't totally empty. Also, it was 3 in the afternoon. But it definitely felt like it was for old people. Wait, wait. That's too insensitive. The restaurant was geared more towards an older, family oriented demographic. Yellow walls, pastel coloured, fleur upholstered booths, faux wood grained tables and all around trims, IKEAesque paintings of flowers and meadows; did I mention the fake flowers? There was one bonzai tree. That was also fake. It was kinda cool though. I mean, I heard Koreans ran the place, bonzai plants are kind of Korean. Who am I kidding? I'm being totally insensitive again. I feel I can really salvage this word diarrhea by saying that the restaurant that is Fish and Chips- no wait... Golden Fish & Chips- the restaurant I am talking about- really applies smart business strategies when attempting to maintain a customer base and maintaining that same customer loyalty. Not only with good food, but with appealing (to old people) atmospheres. If I may justify this with a little academic referencing . . .
"Without offering these unique selling propositions based on the idea of culinary art many . . . businesses would cease to exist as viable concerns. . . . the art of presentation and overall packaging is one where the product (the restaurant) is imbued with a unique personality and identity . . . for it is not food alone that is important . . . but the complete dining concept which needs to reconcile artistic and business tensions" (Gillespie,Cailein H. "Gastrosophy and Entrepreneurial Fashion and Fiction," British Food Journal, 1994, 96, 10, 19-23).
That's why they pay me the big bucks!
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| The general layout gave me the sudden urge to play BINGO. |
I had dreams for Golden Fish & Chips. Or rather, dreams of Golden Fish & Chips. I imagined that behind those plastic curtains, they'd have tiled floors, cool, florescent lighting, stiff chairs, and tables with plastic mats and a swinging door that gave way to the kitchen, of which I could, as I always do, peer into, happily watching the cooks. Alas, that poor swinging door was in fact, plastic drapes, which I eerily watched just for one glimpse of the kitchen. Instead, I glimpsed the waitress- too many times. And either A: flattered her, or B: made her feel terribly uncomfortable. I opt for neither. She was pretty complacent. It was probably a psychological effect of the boring colour scheme. Her service was good though- and that's all I'll say about that. Oh, and that she was very nice when I, for whatever reason, could not discern baked from deep fried. There was a point where she had to open the menu for me like a child. And THAT is all I will say about that. Again, very nice. Very helpful.
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| Ahoy, Matees! |
So, for the first time in my life, at the tender age of 25, I ordered my first big boy meal of fish and chips. Salmon and chips actually, tenderly accompanied with a side of bland coleslaw (you too can imitate this treat by adding some plane boring mayonnaise and maybe salt and maybe sugar) some pre-packaged tartar sauce (too tangy for my wussy palette), and a cool can of coca cola- an unfortunate 1.50. The fish was good. I say that with as much 'meh' as is expected. Lightly battered, good, but nothing out of the ordinary, which should be considered as a win, assembled into one big chip. Indeed, I expected dainty fingers of little fishies that I could pick up and tuck snuggly in my mouth. I was forced to break that (good) flaky salmon up with a forked and knife. It was okay. I'm being picky is all. It's only aesthetics. Geez, listen to me. Only aesthetics? What's the point of eating out then? Honestly? Phhhhhhh. To be fair though, I received no fish nor any chips wrapped in newsprint, nor any kind of waxy paper- that was reserved for my company's fried clams, crispy on the outside, quite fishy and wet on the inside (maybe it was a bad day- maybe I hate clams- p.s., it was an appetizer and it was 7.49. Hey, whatever! Times are tough! BP man, BP. Killin' the oceans. And I DEFINITELY know that joke's not too soon). Instead, I got some ugly plate reminiscent of 70s dinnerware any friggin' hipster would eat the F* up! damn hipsters . . .
The chips, English slang (i.e., pertaining to those who live in jolly old England) for French fries- slang for potatoes cut into wedges and deep fried (i.e., not pertaining to those who live in fathead, Foucault loving France)- were the favourite part of my meal. Maybe because I biked all over town beforehand, fixed a flat tire, skipped out on breakfast, and needed some heavy carbohydrates to prevent me from going into some kind of shock; but now I'm just being really defeatist. I really liked the fries. I especially liked smothering them in vinegar and salt; they didn't seem to lose too much of their body. Crispy on outside, soft on inside. Is how it should be, I reckon. It was a satisfying meal for 9.99. Still, considering that, I would have liked a little more. Maybe it was the small side of coleslaw that got my attention. Or, OR! Maybe the chips were so delicious, I merely wanted more. Maybe I'm one cheap/poor/stingy son of a bitch. You'll never know. You only know me through my misadventures with food on this blog. Now, I've not much other spots to compare Golden Fish & Chips to (yet), but I'm glad I went (aren’t I always); it's been around for a while, and if it ain't gone, and don't look run down inside, then that must speak volumes for the place. I'm glad though that those fried little fishy cakies called me into that food pond like the sweet melodic sounds of some Sirenic beauty waiting to get the sexual innuendo eaten out of her. Man, I feel like a sailor.
Bill (with tip): a cool 14.98. Ouch, my wallet.
Golden Fish & Chips
(519) 888-6660
Bridgeport Road West,
Waterloo, ON
N2J 2J9
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