Hamilton, Waterloo, and Mississauga are on their way to a more transit-friendly community with the implementation of an LRT system along the suburbs' main corridors. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Markham/Richmond Hill.
The Viva BRT along Highway 7 is revolutionary for northeast GTA, though its kinks still leave much to be desired for regular transit-riders. For weekend travels, and Sundays in particular, it proves insufficient in guaranteeing a stree-free commute with up to thirty-minute transfer gaps; for this very reason, the transition between GO Transit and local YRT would be rendered more troublesome than necessary.
The Viva BRT along Highway 7 is revolutionary for northeast GTA, though its kinks still leave much to be desired for regular transit-riders. For weekend travels, and Sundays in particular, it proves insufficient in guaranteeing a stree-free commute with up to thirty-minute transfer gaps; for this very reason, the transition between GO Transit and local YRT would be rendered more troublesome than necessary.
A ride is required for days like these. However, it remains unknown whether time was actually conserved at all, for cars on Hwy 7 merely creeped along with torpidity
The reverse situation was witnessed at Downtown Markham, the city's attempt at creating a publicly accessible spot for casual get-togethers and potential future night markets. Go For Tea was likely my last visit to the buildings at Enterprise and Birchmount, but even with a year's absence, I can't say I missed out on much.
One would have believed that a stretch of underground and abundance of asphalt would be more than capable of meeting the parking demands of Markham's driver-burdened population. Great disappointment found its way toward me, as this was not the case: frustration was thoroughly felt after making several loops around the underground lot with little luck. Eventually, a lone spot was secured at the edge of the exterior lot and the trek was made in the direction of the air-conditioned building duo. We climbed up the snail-like escalator - actually, I just hiked up the single flight of fifty-or-so stairs - and came face to face with the ridiculous crowd at Kiu.
One would have believed that a stretch of underground and abundance of asphalt would be more than capable of meeting the parking demands of Markham's driver-burdened population. Great disappointment found its way toward me, as this was not the case: frustration was thoroughly felt after making several loops around the underground lot with little luck. Eventually, a lone spot was secured at the edge of the exterior lot and the trek was made in the direction of the air-conditioned building duo. We climbed up the snail-like escalator - actually, I just hiked up the single flight of fifty-or-so stairs - and came face to face with the ridiculous crowd at Kiu.
It wasn't that I hadn't expected a greater volume of customers on Father's Day; a lunch rush had been anticipated, though I had hoped an arrival within forty-five minutes of their opening hours would reduce crowd congestion.
Thankfully, small groups were easy to accomodate. The hostess was pleasant and offered to seat us at the sushi bar to fulfill my request for ample natural lighting. The lower level bar seating was actualy far more superior than the boxy booths and wooden tables: Noise levels were lower along the perimeter of the restaurant, the corner spot permitted plenty of space for storage of belongings, and the seats provided a clear view of the sushi chefs at work.
Thankfully, small groups were easy to accomodate. The hostess was pleasant and offered to seat us at the sushi bar to fulfill my request for ample natural lighting. The lower level bar seating was actualy far more superior than the boxy booths and wooden tables: Noise levels were lower along the perimeter of the restaurant, the corner spot permitted plenty of space for storage of belongings, and the seats provided a clear view of the sushi chefs at work.
Scaled salmon heads, empty hangiri, Styrofoam boxes, and blowtorch flames could be observed from our place of positioning. A myriad of activities were taking place simultaneously. The bustle was exciting; it was exciting to watch, almost alluding to promising final products. I honestly could have done without mounds of butchered fish placed immediately before me though.
The scene tempted me to try their Aburi Sushi. My dining partner, who exclaimed that majority of their offerings were too pricey, took to the White Sesame Shio Ramen. As Kiu operated in partnership with Ramen Isshin on College, half of their menu had been allocated towards ramen bar items.
Orders were collected by a waitress with slicked back copper treads and dusty white complexion. Ice water and a dish of soy sauce followed up shortly after.
The scene tempted me to try their Aburi Sushi. My dining partner, who exclaimed that majority of their offerings were too pricey, took to the White Sesame Shio Ramen. As Kiu operated in partnership with Ramen Isshin on College, half of their menu had been allocated towards ramen bar items.
Orders were collected by a waitress with slicked back copper treads and dusty white complexion. Ice water and a dish of soy sauce followed up shortly after.
The 7-piece platter of flame-torched sushi bore a description that possessed little information besides that nigiri and oshizushi would be included. Neither variety could be confirmed by our waitress, as the choices were "chef's selection", a glorified term commonly denoting items of utmost convenience or those in need of urgent utilization.
Artificial slate would have added points for visual appeal, but instead a rectangular slab of chipped, substandard wood was used to support the seven microscopic pieces of Aburi to our table - er, bar seats. (The lacquered plank made even Sushi Tei's more economic goods appear refined!)
My first reactions comprised of aghast shock and disappointment; these emotions were then overcome by biting bitterness and sheer sadness for my wallet.
Artificial slate would have added points for visual appeal, but instead a rectangular slab of chipped, substandard wood was used to support the seven microscopic pieces of Aburi to our table - er, bar seats. (The lacquered plank made even Sushi Tei's more economic goods appear refined!)
My first reactions comprised of aghast shock and disappointment; these emotions were then overcome by biting bitterness and sheer sadness for my wallet.
The ratio of fish to rice was an abhorrent 4:1 ratio, with four parts adopting the form of crumbly rice featuring untossed spoonfuls of salt/sugar and inadequate ladles of vinegar. Failed to have been seasoned evenly, the frail fragments swirled about the insides of my mouth, much to my misery.
The highlight of Aburi is, without a doubt, the fattiness of the fish. Its technique intends to activate the natural fatty acids embedded within the fish, nixing the need for soy sauce or any other condiments. Jalapeno slices are occasionally used to cut slickness while leaving the remainder of the specimen untouched.
The highlight of Aburi is, without a doubt, the fattiness of the fish. Its technique intends to activate the natural fatty acids embedded within the fish, nixing the need for soy sauce or any other condiments. Jalapeno slices are occasionally used to cut slickness while leaving the remainder of the specimen untouched.
That being said, the shallow dish of soy sauce that had swiftly been presented after collection of our menus took me by complete surprise. The very fact that a hideous splat of grainy wasabi (possibly a powder mix?) and soggy, depressing pile of pungent yellow ginger also found their way onto the chipped plank was appalling.
"Chef's Selection" for the day comprised of: Tuna, Salmon, Ebi, Amaebi, Scallop, and two types of unspecified white fish. My original intention had been to split the dish, as, normally, three pieces of aburi is more than competent in fulfilling the desire for Omega-3-packed dishes.
Kiu's abomination foiled my plans. I was none too happy with that, but attempted to salvage the puny portion anyways.
Kiu's abomination foiled my plans. I was none too happy with that, but attempted to salvage the puny portion anyways.
Regardless of the effort that the team had exerted to transform the dish into something somewhat sophisticated-looking, it was undeniable that the final presentation was a prime example of gustatory, olfactory, and textural imbalance.
A sliver of yuzu adorned the barely-torched, flavourless amaebi, while sodium-packed Jalapeno sauce camouflage most of the ebi oshizushi. Creamy seared toppings shrouded the natural flavours and consistencies of the fish, causing me to believe that it was intentionally added to yield the illusion of depth of flavour and/or mask the lack of freshness in the chosen sea species. Similarly gaudy ornaments decorated the rest of the pieces, all falling short of providing compensation and aggressively offering doses of monosodium glutamate (read: MSG) instead.
A sliver of yuzu adorned the barely-torched, flavourless amaebi, while sodium-packed Jalapeno sauce camouflage most of the ebi oshizushi. Creamy seared toppings shrouded the natural flavours and consistencies of the fish, causing me to believe that it was intentionally added to yield the illusion of depth of flavour and/or mask the lack of freshness in the chosen sea species. Similarly gaudy ornaments decorated the rest of the pieces, all falling short of providing compensation and aggressively offering doses of monosodium glutamate (read: MSG) instead.
"You just paid nineteen dollars for burned sushi" escaped the lips of my companion. And frustratingly enough, I couldn't deny nor disagree with the statement. For the rest of the meal, the snarky remark remained rooted in my mind. I had fallen victim to the numerous misleading positive comments on Yelp, consequently leading to incredibly poor decision-making.
Besides the obvious breach of Aburi preparation, Kiu had taken rupturing standards to an entirely new level by pairing disintegrated rice mounds with inappropriate sauces. I hadn't thought it was possible to re-invent Aburi to such a horrific extent before I had stepped into the second floor establishment. But now I have, and I've experienced quite possibly the lowest level rendition thinkable.
The medium-sized bowl of White Sesame Shio Ramen arrived next, accompanied by a small, ribbed suribachi of toasted white sesame seeds and its surikogi (aka grinding baton). (The duo is the Japanese equivalent of the mortar and pestle.)
In the off-white container sat a pool of beige-toned broth that was neither viscous nor runny, but merely a bit thicker, richer, and cloudier than canned chicken broth. Three slices of chashu-style pork, black fungus, bamboo shoots, scallions, and a ramen egg topped off the mountain of chewy, wavy noodles.
In the off-white container sat a pool of beige-toned broth that was neither viscous nor runny, but merely a bit thicker, richer, and cloudier than canned chicken broth. Three slices of chashu-style pork, black fungus, bamboo shoots, scallions, and a ramen egg topped off the mountain of chewy, wavy noodles.
While I was not provided an opportunity to taste the meager pieces of protein, the non-uniform weave of fat and flesh layers was a solid visual indication of unauthenticity. The wonderfully succulent toroniku exhibited at Hokkaido Santouka seemingly did not exist anywhere else!
The diminutive portion of noodles vanished within minutes of their arrival, although I found it unlikely a result of formidable taste but rather a consequence of unfulfilled hunger.
The diminutive portion of noodles vanished within minutes of their arrival, although I found it unlikely a result of formidable taste but rather a consequence of unfulfilled hunger.
It was relayed that the item far exceeded that of Sansotei's - their GTA outpost anyway. For the spoonful that I managed to sneak from the bowl, it was just average for a price tag of eleven dollars. The addition of toasted white sesame seeds hadn't made a discernible difference either. Overall, Kiu's version was smaller than most ramen establishments - Ramen Isshin's downtown location included! - and honestly subpar in all aspects.
Worth mentioning at this point are the hygienic facilities: individual stalls means added privacy and more counter space. Hand dryers replaced paper towels and push button locks were installed instead of the tradition turn knob. I was satisfied with the view until I approached the depths of the stall for closer inspection: behold, there were dust bunnies. The commercial standard pink soap was also present, successfully tossing whatever positive thoughts I had managed to retain out the window, and onto the barren BRT-exclusive pathway below.
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My observations have amounted to one conclusion: Kiu is ONE COMPLETE MESS.
An objectionable visit with only brief bursts of smiley service to redeem itself, the establishment has earned itself a negative ranking in my books for eternity.
In all honesty, I'm fine with it, since lineups, terrible drivers, and at-capacity parking lots aren't my cup of tea either.
An objectionable visit with only brief bursts of smiley service to redeem itself, the establishment has earned itself a negative ranking in my books for eternity.
In all honesty, I'm fine with it, since lineups, terrible drivers, and at-capacity parking lots aren't my cup of tea either.
Peers were shocked when I informed them that I desperately needed more food. I simply was not full, despite my child-sized appetite and habit of continual fluid ingestion.
Cafe Bene and Yorkdale swapped spots on the itinerary.
Truthfully, The Cups would have been my first choice if it was open. Unfortunately, I am reminded of their Sunday closures every time I attempt to plan a visit on my days off.
Cafe Bene and Yorkdale swapped spots on the itinerary.
Truthfully, The Cups would have been my first choice if it was open. Unfortunately, I am reminded of their Sunday closures every time I attempt to plan a visit on my days off.
A fiery debate over Strawberry versus Mango Bingsoo ensued, the latter emerging triumphant due to the selfless nature of my companion.
Mango jelly, synthetic mango syrup, and rock-hard chunks of frozen mango weren't exactly the most exemplary of toppings for my fellow first-time bingsoo-taster. Thankfully, the snow ice was still fluffy and resisted disintegration until the final few frosty bites.
Mango jelly, synthetic mango syrup, and rock-hard chunks of frozen mango weren't exactly the most exemplary of toppings for my fellow first-time bingsoo-taster. Thankfully, the snow ice was still fluffy and resisted disintegration until the final few frosty bites.
We eventually made it over to Yorkdale by late afternoon, though I would highly suggest to refrain from attempting the parking situation after noon. The scene was migraine-inducing, to say in the least, with pointless traffic direction, an insane amount of illegally parked cars, and camped vehicles in each lane. Four levels of the parking building were traversed until a vacancy was found.
Current Sulley inventory count at Yorkdale: 7 units
I almost snagged a morsel of UNIQLO's new Disney collection, but a series of regrettable circumstances aligned and my preferred hue-size combination had already been sold out.
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The closure of the mall was an implicit call for dinner. With minimal traffic on the 401, the journey back to the southwest suburbs of Mississauga was speedy.
My initial suggestion was Foodie North, as Egg and Chive Pancakes have assumed a spot on my cravings list as of late. Our entrance was met with hoards of famished families and apparently endless wait time. The chaotic atmosphere prompted me to take my business elsewhere within two minutes of standing pressed against the fronts, backs, and sides of others.
The day's adventures wrapped up with a humble supper at Macey's instead.
My initial suggestion was Foodie North, as Egg and Chive Pancakes have assumed a spot on my cravings list as of late. Our entrance was met with hoards of famished families and apparently endless wait time. The chaotic atmosphere prompted me to take my business elsewhere within two minutes of standing pressed against the fronts, backs, and sides of others.
The day's adventures wrapped up with a humble supper at Macey's instead.
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Pictured above are classic Cantonese dishes that I cannot recall the specific names of; not shown is the Red Bean Ice with Ice Cream that was later demolished as late-night dessert.
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