What we do have are neighbourhood institutions for the rest of us. The booths do not need to be replaced because they still work. The spots on this table tell a story of decades of elbows who came here for breakfast or lunch and a server who remembers what everyone wants to eat. There is a reason places like this stand the test of time, and I hope they never go away.

Deerhead Cafe - Greenview Industrial.

There’s nothing fancy here, and I mean that in the most literal way possible. But for what this place lacks in terms of modern decor, a kitschy theme, gourmet coffee, or a slew of PR-fuelled influencer posts, it makes up for in its ability to stay resilient, serve good food, and keep the coffee full.

The menu offers all of the classic diner fare you can cook on a flattop, and today I got a breakfast consisting of 2 sunny side-up eggs, crispy hash browns, sausage, toast, and a slightly charred burger steak.

Blackfoot Diner - Inglewood

When Edna Taylor opened the Royalite in 1956, she was just 23 years old. Her hard work, persistence, and pay-it-forward attitude became the hallmarks of this Calgary institution known today as Blackfoot Diner. Sadly, Edna passed away in 2011, but her legacy lives on in this amazing eatery which has been in its current location since 1983.

Just walk through the dining room and see how many elbows have rubbed the tabletops. Jukeboxes, artwork, collectibles, and even a model train decorate this space, and if it could talk, it could tell you a million stories.

Breakfast here always starts for me with a fresh cup of coffee. The menu features a huge selection of classics for any level of hunger.

Everything is cooked beautifully to order, and there’s nothing better than taking time to enjoy my favourite part of the day. And did I mention the legendary pie? Yes, Blackfoot Diner has these incredible towering lemon meringue and Flapper pies, so be sure to save room.

I could flood my Instagram feed with colour-coordinated photos of carefully laden spreads from the latest brunch spot. I could show you slow-motion close-ups of popping egg yolks spilling their golden jizz on toasted English muffins. Or, I can show you how the rest of us eat breakfast.

This year, I was invited by the Stampede Concessions and Exhibition Committee to be a judge for a few categories of the Best Midway food for 2024. So first of all, I’d like to thank those who reached out to me for such a great time - Wendy Peters, Bernice Hill, Stephanie Shaver, and Janis Isaman. Thank you so much, and I can’t wait til next year.

The Aimless Cook Podcast - Episode 27

The Top 5 Picks:

Special Mention goes to…

And The Bottom 5…

Episode 25 of The Aimless Cook Podcast is now available on your favourite app!

On this episode, my special guest is Calgary Chef and teacher, Erin Boukall. Chef Erin shares the story of her journey from goldsmith, culinary student and apprentice, to educator. We talk about how her experiences have helped her become the teacher she is today. Mentoring the younger generation is no easy task, especially when so many can fall through the cracks of the education system. It takes patience, hard work, and especially faith in these kids to show them that they can do something meaningful in their lives that they can be proud of.

We will also have the privilege of being joined by Maggie, Erin’s lovely Bengal Cat. I hope you enjoy this episode.

Listen Now!

That being said, I recently visited Dragon City Mall to the new Mama Rice Roll on the ground floor. The shop, owned by the same family who owns the popular Mama Dessert a block over, specializes in cheong fun, or rice roll, made to order and served with your choice of fillings. This is the type of cheong fun that is very popular right now with the thin rice sheet that envelops the fillings in intricate folds that hold the sauce and chili oil and resemble satin sheets.

It’s in a class of its own unlike the dim sum style which has a slightly thicker noodle and a more simple roll, or a snack house “chee cheong fun”, which is named for the pig intestines it resembles, cut up and served with hoisin, sesame sauce and chili oil. It’s all about the texture here which can be attributed to the stone mill they use to grind the rice in-house to achieve an ultra-smooth finish that also carries some elasticity and strength. This ensures that when rolled, the sheet takes on the “thousand layer” look you can feel when you take a bite. 

This was the case when I ordered the 3 topping rice roll with shrimp, squid slices, and fish paste. I also got a bowl of congee with the classic pork and pi dan. Yes, this shop is cozy, so take your order to go or be prepared to “daap toi” if it’s busy. 

Mama Rice Roll is located in Chinatown in Dragon City Mall.

The Aimless Cook Podcast Chinatown 2-Part Special

Listen Now!

The latest banger I had, besides Rendezvous’ gamjatang (unbelievable), was the Dirty Fries at The J-Spot. This is a plate of fries that will make you wanna slap your mama. It consists of his fresh house-cut fries, mochiko chicken, pickled red onions, house sauce, spicy aioli, and avocado, finished with chopped scallions. It’s sized for 2 people to share unless you want to have them all to yourself, which is a tempting proposition.

Mochiko chicken is a riff on chicken karaage that uses mochiko instead of potato starch. The mochiko is seasoned and made into the marinade so it coats and sticks to the chicken, the same consistency as a tandoori marinade. Texture-wise, it creates a crispy shell-like coating that preserves the moisture in the chicken as it’s fried. Karaage is lightly dredged in potato starch, so in contrast, it’s a much lighter and thinner type of crispy. The chicken I did at Eats Of Asia was based on karaage that I learned to make at Zipang, so it had a lighter kind of texture.

All technical jibber-jabber aside, his chicken is marvellous. The components in this plate are everything you look forward to in a great dish, proper fries, juicy, crispy chicken, savoury, spicy, tart, creamy, rich…it’s all there. So props to The J-Spot.

My latest visit to Rain Dog Bar. Yes, we returned to Rain Dog Bar for our late Valentine’s dinner date night. It was great because when there’s just the two of us, you can just sit at the bar and enjoy yourself. The other great thing is that you can enjoy the regular and not a special Valentine's menu. Am I anti-romance? No, I’m just practical. By the way, if you want to read my full review of Rain Dog, you can on the substack, or in episode 9 of the podcast.

I’ve gone to some nice places for dinner with some seriously talented chefs, one of them being the visit we made to Salt & Brick, or the omakase at Ryuko. But if you haven’t been here to Rain Dog Bar in Inglewood, you are seriously missing out on some amazing and clever food. Chef Rashad Ali is one talented MF. I just want to give credit where credit is due because Rain Dog Bar is everything a neighbourhood hang-out should be and more. I will be having Chef Rashad on the show soon, as well as the owner, Bill Bonar to talk about his amazing place and about being a cicerone on our upcoming episode about beer.

On this visit, we had to have the pretzels again with the brassica mustard and beer cheese. I wrote about that one before….excellent. Then we wanted to try the roasted carrots with whipped chevre, lovage vinaigrette, toasted bread crumbs, smoked sea salt, and fresh mint. Holy shit. It tasted like carrot raita, but was made with completely regional components and presented in a Canadian context. Mind blown.

The steakhouse burger was also delicious. As you know, I love me a smashed patty, which they also do, but the steakhouse is 6.5 oz of dry-aged steak patty (70/30), Taleggio cheese, white onion, pickles, black pepper, in a sesame seed bun. The course grind of the patty preserved the speckles of fat, giving that medium-cooked burger maximum flavour with little distraction. The Taleggio was a great choice of cheese as its inherent fruity notes complemented the savouriness of the beef and the tang of the pickles. Also, the sweet onion lent a crispness that gave the whole composition a layer of texture that just made each bite fantastic. Insane.

I’ll say it again. The food at Rain Dog Bar is unbelievably clever and tasty as hell. Please go there post haste.

And, oh yeah, I also went to Brooklyn Dumpling Shop. Yup…

Listen to the entire episode right here:

The Aimless Cook Podcast: Episode 17 - Freestyle Friday 5

I’m at Avenida Village at the Fresh and Local Market and Kitchens, and it was during a recent visit that I ventured to the other side of the market, away from the main row of restaurants. It was near the opposite end of the corridor where I ran across this curious little stall with its own little following. The nearby tables were full of happy diners happily engrossed in steaming bowls of something amazing. If that isn’t a good sign, I don’t know what is. It was on closer inspection that I discovered that this tiny kitchen was making gamjatang.

Gamjatang, or pork neck bone soup, consists of simmered meaty pork neck or backbones, potatoes, and greens, in a complex spicy broth. Topped with fresh scallions and perilla seed powder, this is a dish that screams comfort, or should I say, calmly and lovingly assures you that everything is gonna be okay with every spoonful. Gamjatang is a popular hangover soup in South Korea, so you can be sure that its comforting properties are comprehensively substantiated.

I can assure you that there are other great dishes on the menu, like the dolsot bibimbap if you’re in the mood for a tasty bowl of mixed rice with all the traditional accoutrements. Or perhaps your thing is jjampong, that wonderfully spicy noodle soup with your choice of seafood or beef. But today, as is everyone around me, I’m sold on the gamjatang. 

Starting things off was the pork mandu, crispy fried dumplings that hit the spot and were a wonderful way to start things off as I waited for the main event. The texture was delicate with a savoury flavour, simply made to be delicious while showing you that whoever’s hands made them has done this for a very long time.

Prepared and athirst, I was welcomed by a delightful presentation, accompanied by the distinctive scent of spicy gochujang-infused bone broth. Served in an earthenware bowl to preserve the heat and still bubbling, this gamjatang instantly reminded me of the last time I had this dish, which was far too long ago. Gamjatang is one of those meals that tells you, “Hey, I’m going to need your hands to get dirty. I’m also gonna need your undivided attention, so buckle up.”

Included with the bowl is an accompanying serving of rice and 2 banchan, today being some really tasty homemade pickles and a small bit of pasta salad. When tackling dishes like this, it’s important to know and accept that there is no nice way to do it, especially if you want to get every morsel of meat from these bones. You have to get in there, gnaw away, and suck out all the good stuff. The beauty of backbones and neckbones is that the segments come apart easily and can be eaten with little effort. There is a generous amount of meat on the bones and though you can just bite off the easy stuff, the real dining experience comes from getting in deep and tactile. This is a savoury kind of pork that will make your lips sticky. It’s rich with a good ratio of meat and collagen perfectly saturated with that incredibly complex broth that’s spicy, deeply savoury, and a little nutty from the addition of the perilla seed powder.

When you’re finished, you sit up and exhale while you feel the cooling breeze on your face after being in a pork sauna. You reach for a napkin feeling invigorated and satisfied. Beside you, your pile of clean bones is the only evidence of your “Rendezvous”.

Rendezvous is located in Fresh & Local Market and Kitchens at Avenida Village.

Nostalgia is the greatest ingredient in any recipe. Just add a bit of it to a dish and it will mystically transform it into something beyond just components on a plate, or in this case, in your hands. There are many reasons I don’t like visiting newly hyped restaurants, one of them includes the effort it takes to get a seat. The other reason is that new restaurants are rarely good. They take at least a few months to get into a groove, build a culture, and become a cohesive unit. It’s Wednesday, it’s 11 AM, and it’s my day off. What better time than any to follow your recommendations and visit Calgary’s current burger obsession, Class Clown?

Class Clown is a restaurant fuelled by nostalgia. The space is reminiscent of a Filipino uncle’s rec room from 1978, though, it isn’t cluttered like many places that try to replicate a retro vibe by cramming in so much vintage kitsch that it forgets it’s a restaurant. This space has an upholstered bar, wood-panelled walls, and the shelves of era-appropriate knick-knacks. The only thing it doesn’t have that a Filipino uncle’s does is the case lots of Costco purchases that pile up over time like the warehouse at the end of Raiders Of The Lost Ark. I mean, who needs 8 cases of Ensure?

It’s fascinating to see that burger choices on menus these days have evolved from very utilitarian descriptions (single, double, cheese, bacon cheddar) to nostalgia-driven options, reflecting flavour profiles made famous by brands like McDonald's and In-N-Out. I think this is largely because in some cases, we would like to experience brands we don’t have here, like In-N-Out. In other cases, like in the Donald McRonald burger, we’re intrigued by the idea of trying the classic flavour of a McDonald’s Big Mac but with premium ingredients prepared with skill and the utmost care. Though I was expecting a premium burger bar to have a premium-priced menu, I was surprised to see that it was consistent with many other places in the city. I was more surprised and delighted to see that highballs were only $6. 11 AM be damned, I’m having a rum and coke.

On this visit, I opted for the California Classic, a homage to the famous In-And-Out burger featuring 2 mustard grilled smash patties, 2 slices of American cheese, “trillion” island sauce, pickles, shrettuce, tomato, grilled onion, on a toasted and buttered sesame seed bun. What arrives is a neatly wrapped package of the mentioned components, expertly crafted to defy the laws of burger physics and remain intact through every glorious bite. In the case that it does fall apart, the staff was thoughtful enough to include a moist towelette packet.

In addition, I ordered a bowl of Super Fries, crinkle-cut fries covered in a house cheese sauce, topped with crushed Hawkins Cheezies and chives. My doctor would be shaking her head right now, but come on…crinkle-cut fries. What I can say is that as a pairing to the burger, it is a little much, but perfect for sharing. The cheese sauce is wonderfully smooth and delicious, and the chopped fresh chives are a nice touch to bring a little grown-up class to this “cheap and fun” dish.

Overall, Class Clown does deliver on its promise to give diners a fun place to enjoy a good burger and a taste of nostalgia. It offers a nice alternative for people who want a bit of refinement and doesn’t take itself too seriously. In other words, you could have your Royale with Cheese and a glass of beer like your inner Vincent Vega. Class Clown is located in Mission at #106 - 1711 4 St. SW.

Note: Boozy shakes would be great, though. Imagine, a Shamrock shake utilizing creme de menthe with a really good ice cream. Wouldn’t that be epic? Creme de Menthe would redeem itself from its lowly place going from “the only booze you could steal from your parent’s liquor cabinet” to a bonafide drink component.

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Boasting an impressive 4500 sq ft with over 180 seats, the space itself is surprisingly comfortable, offering a variety of intimate and communal seating in a setting that conveys warmth with its signature floral print walls and exposed wood beams throughout. Of course, the place to be for me was the chef’s bar. 

It was clear upon seeing the kitchen team in action that this was a tight-knit group. Movements had a purpose, actions had intention, and the energy was positive. What I’m trying to say is that it’s rare to see a new team work together in such harmony as we just witnessed. The synchronicity with the expediter was simply a pleasure to watch as plates came to the pass, were assembled, finished and sent off to eager diners with precision as the neatly arranged chits were systematically ticked off. To me, this is choreography at its best and one of the greatest perks of chef bar seating.

In close second is watching dishes come together as you peruse the “fresh sheet” menu which is updated weekly. The food is all sharable large plates reminiscent of Chef Bohati’s work at Market with its Canadian undertones, but flourished with personal touches that make the dishes unique, as is the case with the Bison Tartare with allium XO, coffee sourdough, topped with shaved foie gras “snow”. The foie is distributed evenly on every bite of the lean, bison giving it an air of refined richness. The slightly fermented tang of the sourdough completes the dish’s delicate balance.

Of course, it's important to note that a menu that follows such a dynamic and seemingly spontaneous path from conceptualization to launch can be a challenging feat, considering everything involved in the effort to develop, test, and refine a dish. A menu of this nature would have to be a cohesive balance of complexity and simplicity that interplay with one another, taking advantage of ingredients that unleash maximum flavour and complexity with the least amount of excessively intricate techniques.

Case in point, the fresh sashimi selection from the raw bar, the roasted Taiwanese cabbage with yuzu buttermilk and sesame aioli, or the carrots with chimichurri, pepitas, and sweet soy all demonstrate the essence of the ingredient’s natural flavour. They highlight each of their virtues with a little boost here and there from the various flavourful but unobtrusive dressings. Even a classic steak frites is given a new interpretation with the addition of a savoury pork XO and housemade furikake fries.

Don’t let the evening end without a stunning outro by Pastry Chef, Larissa Costella. Her Caramel Apple Quince dessert featured a deceptively light quince mousse, paired with salted caramel ice cream, candied oats and walnut clusters. As most desserts seem to lean on the decadent and cloyingly sweet side of the dessert scale, Chef Costella utilizes this hard, tart, and astringent fruit to make a subtly sweet and fitting finale to our meal.

When I asked Chef Bohati to describe the cuisine, he answered,

“I think I would describe the cuisine and menu as a combination of talents from the team, combined into an ever-changing offering. We are inspired to make new dishes frequently and that gives us the freedom to be as creative as we want and continually refine. 

I want diners to know that no two trips to see us will be the same. We drive forward and have a great time doing it. We cook happy. Thanks again for coming in, man.”

Thank you, Chef.

Now if you’re not already familiar with dim sum, let me give you a little background. The term, “dim sum” means “touch the heart” and it refers to the small servings of food that are offered to diners as a way to just hit the spot, as opposed to a family-style meal of full-sized dishes. Dim sum dishes often steamed for ease and convenience, were offered to travellers in teahouses along the Silk Road in Guangzhou as far back as the Song Dynasty (960 - 1279 AD). 

At this time, dim sum was evolving, becoming a distinct culinary tradition, however, it wasn't until the Ming Dynasty (1368–1644 AD) that Dim Sum’s cultural essence began to bloom truly. Teahouses became vibrant social hubs, attracting a diverse clientele, from scholars and poets to merchants and locals. The Ming Dynasty also saw the formalization of Dim Sum as a culinary art, with chefs experimenting and perfecting recipes.

On that note, dim sum chefs are often the unsung heroes in the story of this culinary cultural phenomenon. As a chef, I give props to those who dedicate so much time and effort to commit to a craft that is so specialized like dim sum. Many chefs who do this undergo training which often involves culinary education in addition to apprenticeships and on-the-job training. Think about it. Specific skills like dough preparation, dumpling folding, creating fillings, and doing all of the many styles as fast, efficiently, and consistently as possible. I see a lot of parallels when it comes to the type of skills and dedication required to pull off a cooking style such as dim sum, and the commitment required and expected for any other fine-dining chef who makes dishes that are often 10 times the price. But that, as I often say, is the topic for another day.

As Dim Sum continued to evolve, it became associated with yum cha (literally "drink tea"), as we heard from Andrea Oh at the beginning of the episode. Yum cha involves gathering for tea and Dim Sum, creating a unique dining experience that emphasizes both the culinary and social aspects of the meal. A lot of fond memories have been made around this tradition, which some say was the origin of brunch.

Some great spots with memorable dim sum in YYC.

On any given weekday around noon, the recently renovated Calton’s Chinese Restaurant is the place for dim sum. Located off McKnight Blvd and 4 Street NE, Calton’s offers 3 great reasons to visit: Chinese grandma-approved food, free ample parking, and a $4.88 special on 16 of the most popular types of dim sum until 2 pm from Monday to Friday. Breakfast staples like classic soy sauce chow mein, cheong fun, jook, and you tiao are all here. Chicken feet? Yes. If you’re still lingering near the end of lunch service strategizing your Asian exit while your siblings keep grandma busy, the servers will sometimes offer up any leftover buns or dan tat for $1.

One of my favourite dishes here is a beautiful stuffed eggplant with shrimp and finished with sweet Thai chili sauce. The crisp shrimp stuffing complements nicely with the silky rich eggplant that is simply delicious.

The offerings are solid, the service is efficient, and the effort-free parking is a plus. Calton’s is located at 5010 4 St NE.

Another spot I went to recently was Edgemont Palace. This restaurant located in Calgary’s Edgemont community at #209 45 Edenwold Drive NW offers another impressive selection of dim sum which sometimes goes on special. On this particular visit, the small, medium, and large dishes were all available for $4.95, which confirms the rumour that there is a dim sum price war of sorts going on with the restaurants in NW Calgary. Note that special prices on the dim sum menus apply to certain hours of the day and usually only on weekdays.

The notable dish from this visit was definitely the XO Sauce Fried Turnip Cake, which boasted an incredible aroma upon arriving at the table. Crispy cubes of lo bak go wok-fried in a wonderfully umami-packed XO sauce. It was clearly the dish that you must order when you come here.

Another banger comes from Golden Sands, located on Centre Street North near the corner of Centre and McKnight Blvd. This place was all the hype when it first opened, and though a lot of folks on Facebook complain that Golden Sands is expensive compared to other spots, their food is very good. My favourite dish here by far is the truffle seafood siu mai. I had mentioned that truffle can be really bad when used in the wrong context, much like when a 10-year-old learns his first curse word and uses it in almost every other sentence. But I feel in this case, the truffle is a wonderful complement to the seafood, especially a thick meaty scallop and crisp shrimp like the one offered here. It teases and coaxes you with that signature perfume when it arrives, and when you have that first taste, the textures interplay with those refined flavours to create a joyous bite.

One of the greatest perks of working in the hospitality industry is that our days off are often on days like Monday and Tuesday, never on the weekends. If you are one of these types of folks who find yourself in the same boat, let’s take a moment to bask in the glory of never knowing what waiting in line for a crowded brunch or leaving your name with the host at a dim sum restaurant feels like. I suppose it's one positive thing we can take away from being in an occupation that often sacrifices our social lives and family time.

I remember when I didn’t work weekends when I was working my corporate job. I recall feeling like a sucker on a Saturday afternoon, waiting for a table at Regency Palace with the hundreds of other lemmings as we bided our time by trying to keep our toddlers from actually going into the koi pond in the lobby. But those days are long gone. My kids are mostly grown, two of them, coincidentally, working in the same industry as me, and I’m enjoying the fact that there are so many great choices in this city for good dim sum without the hassle of finding parking in Chinatown or waiting for a table like I was trying to score the latest Nike drop.

Where to go when you want dim sum in YYC.

U & Me (great late-night spot open til 3 am)

Golden Sands (truffle siu mai)

Calton’s Chinese Restaurant (stuffed eggplant)

Edgemont Palace (XO Fried Lo Bak Go)

Ginger Beef Country Hills (great all around)

Link to the podcast:

The Aimless Cook Podcast - The Dim Sum Episode

Happy New Year once again and I hope you have a healthy and prosperous 2024. If you’d like to reach out with any thoughts or suggestions, you can reach me via Instagram at @theaimlesscook or email me at jay@theaimlesscookpodcast.com.

Be kind to one another, stay hungry, and I’ll see you on the next one.

Peace.

I was invited to Raindog Bar after posting the review I did on Billie’s Smash Burgers. I’m on a YYC burger round-up of sorts as I slowly make my way to Class Clown, and after seeing the initial pics of the Raindog burger, there was no question that I was gonna go and try one.

I had the expectations that on trying their burger, I would be thoroughly impressed and I would write up something along the same lines of, “Wow, I was thoroughly impressed by the way this burger was cooked and put together, with all the care for the ingredients and techniques to making a delicious product that delivers on all its promises.”

Boom. Review done. Let’s move on to the next spot. But NO, I’m sitting at the bar with our friends as we wait for a table in this cozy space that reeks of 80’s grandma nostalgia (that’s a good thing), and I begin to leaf through the menu that looks like a ‘zine from back in the day. So far, the vibe here is flirting with my emotions in a good way, as it doesn’t send off that manufactured hipster essence that so many restaurants seem to want to mass-produce. So after ordering a drink, I look more at the menu and realize that this is no mere bar with a good burger. As I begin to contemplate the things that I want to eat from this menu in addition to the aforementioned burger, I also realize that this is not going to be a burger review.

Raindog Bar, whose namesake is an homage to the Tom Waits album from 1985, is a casual neighbourhood bar in Calgary’s Inglewood with a vast and eclectic beer and wine menu, curated by owner Bill Bonar, Alberta’s first certified cicerone. Located right on 9th Ave in the old W.O.P. Space, its entrance leads you up a narrow staircase that opens up into the welcoming embrace of a thrift store chic bathed in the glow of warm lights. On the long wall of banquettes, a portrait of Alan Alda’s iconic MASH character, Hawkeye Pierce adorns the center, surveying the room.

The menu is a collection of small shareable plates that reflect Canadiana through a European lens, serving as the perfect complement to the selection of beer and wine available. 

Opening with Malpeque Oysters on the half shell, there’s nothing more to say about these tasty briny bites, complete with housemade hot sauce, mignonette, and shredded horseradish. Served on a bed of chilled bottlecaps, the plating is quite creative and clever.

The Rosti is a lightly modern interpretation, with a good textural variety with notes of smokiness, brine, dill, and savoury. Its duality is represented by a crispy, well-executed duck fat potato rosti base, topped with a light and creamy cod mousse, finished with fresh sprigs of dill and jewels of trout roe. 

The Soft Pretzels are fresh, slightly crisp, and fluffy sticks of lightly salted bliss. The Brassica mustard is a wonderful complement to the doughy comfort, and when enveloped with the beer cheese, it’s a complete bite.

Smoked Ham Hock Croquettes are a balanced package of all the wonderful things you love about potatoes. A crispy exterior gives way to a creamy potato filling enhanced with smokiness and savoury notes, rewarding each bite with rich and meaty morsels of smoked ham.

And here we are with the Burger. It’s a classic smash burger, reminiscent of my recent experience at Roy Oh’s Billie’s popup. It has 2 smash patties, Martin’s potato roll, pickles, onions, shrettuce, and special sauce. This is the perfect example of when you take similar components and give them the same level of technique and skill to deliver a product. It was delicious.

Though there are bars that make good, even great burgers, I simply cannot ignore the fact that I had this amazing selection of creative and tasty dishes while we were hanging out with our friends, waiting for our table, and just having a great time. And shouldn’t this be the point of any good concept? Create a nice space where you can hang out, be comfortable with your pals, eat good food, and drink a really good selection of craft beer. It’s a great spot that represents the neighbourhood with that specific kind of vibe you can only experience in Inglewood. Just like Highline Brewing, Swans, Gorilla Whale (RIP), it just reminds me of all the good times I always have in Inglewood, be it after a long day at Crossroads Market, or after a late-night catering event where all I want to do is drink and eat something delicious to satiate my empty stomach. Raindog Bar. Come for the burger, stay for the drinks and the entire menu of delicious food.

Raindog Bar 1214 9 Ave SE

J

It’s that lazy time of the holidays where time seems to stand still. Usually for us it’s a time when all the in-laws and relatives are still in town, just hanging about the house, grazing on leftover turkey, and wondering how we’re gonna fit the giant garbage bag of wrapping paper in the trash bin with the rest of the regular trash. My father in-law is usually lounging on the couch with Momo (one of our Frenchies) watching the news with the volume turned up for the entire house to hear. Since the kids are notorious at sleeping in, the demand for the bathroom won’t begin until about 11. The living room is a maze with precariously piled unwrapped gifts from the day before that one has to carefully navigate around before finding a spot to sit. Usually, it’s at this point where I’m pretty much ready for the world to go back to normal.

But this year that didn’t happen. Everyone stayed in their respective hometowns and had a laid back Christmas at home. I wouldn’t blame them since all of my wife’s family lives up north and being home again after a summer of being stuck in hotels would be the best feeling ever, especially after the constant dread of wondering if your town would still be standing after half the territories and B.C. burned. But we all managed to connect, thanks to the wonders of FaceTime, 1 day shipping, and the assortment of holiday posts, dances, and memes. The living room wasn’t piled with everyone’s presents, the television wasn’t blasting the news from Edmonton, and the house wasn’t filled with turkey grazers and half dead freshly risen teenagers at noon.

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a great holiday. In fact, every few years this is exactly what happens, and just what we need. It’s a recharge of sorts that gives us the opportunity to have some quiet time together. One the things we also don’t have to worry about when there’s no influx of family around is cook a huge dinner, so that means we usually enjoy one of our family traditions: Christmas dinner in Chinatown at Great Taste.

Great Taste has been our favourite family-style Chinese restaurant of choice forever. In my generation, my parents always loved House Of Chan or Ruby Restaurant (both long gone now), but I will always remember all those details that made it special. We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, so eating out was always a special affair, and always Chinese food. Since it was the late 70’s and early 80’s, everything was usually brightly coloured, sweet, glossy, and came with that same fried rice with peas and carrots that was stained so dark with soy sauce. And don’t forget the wonton soup. I loved wonton soup. Frilly dumplings in that powder based soup base with a few scallions tossed in.

Back then, we didn’t enjoy the cuisine that represented the regionality that “foodies” are so adamant to write about in a facebook group post, criticizing its authenticity or some other detail like an omitted spice or technique that would make it like the one they had on their vacation in Chengdu. All I can say is, every restaurant today that has the luxury of showcasing their cuisine or culture to an enraptured diner can owe that ability to create and express themselves to the generations of restauranteurs before them that didn’t have a choice but to make Chinese food catered to a Western palate, often with local ingredients for the sole purpose of making a living in a new country.

That being said, I still have a place in my heart for the glossy Western stuff. Who doesn’t? The bright red sweet and sour pork with chunks of pineapple, or the crispy salt and pepper squid in that nest of chilies and bell pepper strips. But these days, we love to mix it up with some Chongqing style spare ribs, xiao long bao, salted egg tofu, or a huge plate of garlic gai lan. 1978 dad would never consider spending money on a plate of veg if we were at Ruby restaurant. “Save that stomach space for more lemon chicken” would be the mantra.

This year, since it was just the three of us, we invited my kitchen manager and his family to come out as well. He has a young family, chock full of toddlers and a new baby which reminded us of earlier times in the very same restaurant. All our favourite dishes are still there, so it makes for a very easy ordering experience. We got our ribs, our XLB, pan fried pork dumplings, a fried and a steamed rice, salt and pepper squid, a whole sweet and sour fried cod, gai lan, salted egg yolk tofu AND salted egg yolk shrimp, the glossy sweet and sour pork, a cold poached chicken, and tea smoked duck. A glorious Christmas spread, no cooking, no pile of dishes, no watching timers, no problem.

I would say that was a triumphant dinner with new friends and family. We had a great time, talked about raising young kids, the journey of marriage, and compared my Filipino-Canadian experience to the Filipino-Filipino experience. The food brought us together, and isn’t that the best part of any holiday? I had an amazing year, full of ups and downs. I’m sure I will write more about that as we approach the end of 2023 and I get ready to write my New Year post. Thank you for reading, supporting this newsletter and the podcast, coming out to the restaurant, and buying my merch. I hope you all had an amazing holiday and I wish you all the best.

Peace,

J

Now I’ve seen all the photos that people have posted on google maps of the food from Shanghai Classic, and there are definitely some bangers here if you enjoy a nice salt & pepper squid or Singapore fried noodle, but the flavour I’m talking about can be only attained by someone who is a master of the wok. That’s right, I’m talking about wok hei.

Wok hei is also known as the “breath of the wok” and can be best described as that charred smoky essence that envelopes a particular dish that is cooked in the wok under intense heat and flame. Now think of maillard reaction, and add additional dimensions of caramelization of sugars, and smoking oil. Are we done? Not quite. Consider now that the food is cut into smaller pieces, providing a much greater surface area that is exposed to that intense heat and flame, maximizing the flavour potential. Now that I got your mind and tastebuds tingling, let’s take a look at 2 of my favourite dishes.

The first is this Shredded Duck Lai Fan which is a humble looking preparation of shredded duck meat, onion, bean sprout, scallion, and a round rice noodle. This is a dry noodle, which is very lightly sauced and is wok fried to achieve a glorious amount of wok hei. Put simply, I thoroughly enjoyed this dish.

The next dish represents the flavour in a more subtle and complementary way as the star of this dish is clearly the whopping serving of braised beef brisket, tendon, and bok choy on this expertly wok fried bed of chow fun. Though the flavour of wok hei is present, it plays a supporting role that pairs with the tender and savoury braised beef and collagen-laden chunks of tendon. The bok choy is a nice addition that cuts the richness of the toppings and frames the arrangement with a much needed pop of colour. 

Though both dishes have their strengths, they each showcase wok hei in a different and unique way. The duck lai fan, with it’s thinner noodles provides an enormous amount of surface area for maximum shock and awe that carries, most impressively, this unassuming looking plate of noodles from the moment it hits the table. This was definitely the dish that impressed me the most.

But that doesn’t mean that the braised beef chow fun was any less impressive. This was, after all, the first time I’ve had chu hou brisket served on a masterfully wok fried bed of chunky rice noodles and not a bowl of steamed rice. The wok hei in this case added a surprising amount of depth and complexity and didn’t just depend on the showy amount of tender braised beef and tendon piled on top, but hey, it doesn’t hurt, am I right?

If you’d like to try these dishes, they are listed on the “other” menu. Not the big fancy menu with the bound cover and photos, but the little 2 page laminated menu without pictures.

Shanghai Classic in Beddington Village. 

23 carefully and artfully curated and composed bites. 23 meticulously thought out and executed assemblages of premium components, chosen from various locales, sustainably sourced, and made with the utmost skill. It's a narrative of Chef Jun Young Park’s life journey, effort, emotions, and commitment, condensed into 2 and a half hours and 23 bites.

This is omakase. From the Japanese, “omakaseru”, which means, “I leave it up to you”, it commonly refers to a Japanese sushi dining experience, in an intimate setting, with the chef choosing and creating a tasting menu for your dining pleasure. 

It is as much a play as it is a dining experience. As we seat ourselves at the bar, the stage is thoughtfully and carefully set, with all the players making their last-minute adjustments for a performance that will take the audience on a memorable journey. As we wait with baited anticipation, Chef bows and introduces himself and the team, a collective hush follows after polite greetings and seated bows, and a meticulously orchestrated presentation unfolds for us in the form of intricate and complex flavours.

But to describe omakase like a play is to describe it like many have already. The more I think about what I want to describe, the more my mind wanders to places where the real and intangible converge, comparing my experience to some sort of culinary alchemy where real ingredients intertwine with the ephemeral nature of flavour, creating momentary masterpieces that will only live in my memories long after each bite.

As I scratch the surface of bringing scope to this dinner, I think deeper about the comparisons that can bring some justice to this daunting task. As it begins, it’s much like a passionate and unpredictable romance, which has humble beginnings, like the daikon nimono in dashi with shredded bonito flakes and microgreens. This otherwise innocent introduction turns suddenly into a deep and sultry rendezvous with promises of what’s to come with the chawanmushi course, topped with fresh BC uni that is appreciated, but not necessary as it sits seductively atop an impossibly smooth and silky egg custard. A bit of excitement flares as infatuation intensifies in this love story.

As each course is presented to me, lovingly handled, assembled, and expertly seasoned, I’m taken through what amounts to be an epic journey through time. Each fish dry-aged for a specific number of days to bring them to what would be the apex of texture and flavour intensity, complemented by seasonings that could be simple or complex, depending on the type of fish and the direction that Chef Park chooses to take his diners. His journey, as he shares in his words, is shaped by his own experiences bringing together a world of ingredients, inspired by a cuisine from half a world away, but reflect a local nostalgia through the clever use of regional flavour notes such as hay smoke and maple. 

As dinner nears its completion, we are fully immersed and entranced by the performance that seemingly transcends any sort of predictable comparisons that would honour this appropriately. As my blown mind lingers on the absolute pleasure I had just experienced and slowly starts to reassemble itself, we are presented with a bowl of what appears to be a standard post-meal miso soup. The moment I bring the bowl up to sip, the fish-laden aroma tells me that it is no mere utility-grade miso soup that we’ve become accustomed to from any everyday sushi joint. This is a crescendo of pure flavour that encapsulates Chef Park’s mantra of want not waste not, casually mentioned during the service. Though superior ingredients will make a better chef, achieving something as wonderful as those parting sips, only proves that humility sets some of those chefs apart.

Much like love, there are moments of intensity, shared moments of pure joy, and heavenly bliss that make you close your eyes so you can savour the moment. But also like love, it comes to an end, leaving me a little sad, but also so blessed that I had the privilege of being in that space for 2 and a half hours and 23 bites. 

Pho, as you may know, is the ubiquitous Vietnamese rice noodle soup. The most common beef pho is made by the labour intensive process of boiling beef bones and brisket for hours with plenty of love and attention. It is then enhanced with aromatics in the form of roasted onions, ginger, and a blend of spices, each exclusive to one’s shop. What you get is a clear and flavourful broth that is light, savoury, with the subtle nuances of spice and char. The perfect way to start one’s day.

“Dac Biet” means “special”, as in the restaurant’s signature pho. It is often a deluxe South Vietnamese-style beef pho with brisket, beef balls, tendon, tripe, and thinly sliced raw beef that is placed on top and cooked instantly with the addition of the piping hot broth. This is typically served with a plate of fresh mung bean sprouts, lime, a chili or two, and a few sprigs of Thai basil. On the table, as you ready yourself, chopsticks, spoons, and small dishes are neatly stacked in a caddy next to the condiments which include hoisin sauce, sriracha, and fish sauce. 

When Uncle arrives he places this glorious steaming bowl before me. As with every week, I am already prepared. My chopsticks on the right, spoon on the left, and my tiny saucer filled half and half with hoisin and sriracha. Some shops even have a house satay sauce that they like to bring to the table as well, which is more like a modest version of Chinese XO sauce. Everything is arranged in its place (mise en place) and in front of me is a composition forming the epitome of Vietnamese sensibility, creativity, and resourcefulness.

Now I’m not gonna tell you how to eat your pho. Remember the debacle at Bon Appetit? I’m sure you can still find it somewhere on YouTube if you need a refresher. To be honest, as a chef, I couldn’t care less how you eat your food. Once you pay for it, it’s yours to do what you wish. You can squirt in your hoisin and sriracha, mix it all in, and slurp away before you taste anything. I mean, you do you, right? I’m not gonna call you out for enjoying a dish the way you want to. I’ve seen people dip maki rolls in ranch. In fact, when I was 11, I was at a family barbecue (we’re Filipino) and I saw for the first time, someone add ketchup to their pancit. Nothing phases me at this point. 

Now let’s get back to the bowl. The first thing that hits me is the aroma. The fresh steam hits my olfactory sensors and triggers this emotion that stops time, or at least slows down for me to appreciate the visual feast swimming below my eyes. Slices of just-cooked beef, tender simmered brisket, tendrils of chewy tripe, and generous chunks of collagen-rich tendon casually arranged atop a mound of fresh rice noodles (banh pho) and fresh sliced white onions. All of this in a sea of broth that brings all the components to life with its warmth and superb flavour, hours in the making.

As I dip my spoon in, I appreciate its clarity and unhindered honesty. Fine droplets of fat bejewel the surface, adding even more to this impressive feat of cookery. I take the first sip and just enjoy its purity. My cook mind tries to decipher what I’m processing. Star anise, white pepper, coriander. A myriad of tastes and signals bombard my senses in one simple sip of soup. The good shops make very good broth with a delicate balance of flavours, which is not an easy feat. For most, it’s a matter of instinct and muscle memory as a result of years of experience. This is why I’m a purist when it comes to pho. A good broth is the sign of a master chef, a justly deserved moniker, doing masterful techniques. This is pure skill and craftsmanship in a $12 bowl. Yes, I read the comments out there about the folks that swear by Pho Satay. I hear you, and perhaps I’ll write about that one day in the future, but Pho Dac Biet for me is where it’s at.

With my spoon in my left hand, I swirl the hoisin and sriracha together, making an impromptu umami spicy sauce that I carefully dab atop my first bite of noodles and beef. I am careful not to sully the tasty broth as I alternatively switch between a couple bites of noodles, and sips of broth, now accented with hints of herbaceous basil and fresh crunchy sprouts. I break the chilies in half and drop them into the soup, allowing them to gently steep and lend its spicy bite to the bowl. As I enjoy my bites, I listen to the morning banter and read any interesting articles on my phone. I imagine if this is the Vietnamese equivalent of a western diner as folks chat over a morning plate of trucker’s breakfast or a half stack of pancakes with bottomless cups of coffee, complete with servers that call you, “hon”.

By the time I’m halfway through my breakfast, uncle returns with a hot cup of cafe sua nong, a freshly brewed cup of strong Vietnamese coffee, rich, deep, and earthy in flavour and highly caffeinated. It is complemented by condensed milk which sweetens and brings this aggressive morning beverage to a level that can be savoured, capping off the beginning of what I hope will be another fine day.

J

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