Out & About #533 | Markham Things Feat. Mi-Ne Sushi + Gui Ling Gao

​Every so often, I make a Markham run. Approximately forty to fifty minutes of a drive, one would consider it within fairly acceptable travel distance as the journey downtown is already an hour and a half via local and regional public transit. That said, not everyone enjoys the 120-kilometre round trip, especially when gas prices have risen so recently.

It's crucial to make the most of a trip, including tending to errands along the way and trying out new establishments in the vicinity.

​Eggette Hut is a destination I've been meaning to revisit, but on a relatively empty stomach. Cheese Explosion had proved insanely satiating in spite of its delectability. Ordering the Coconut Eggette, I had hoped for an afternoon snack that provided just the adequate amount of satisfaction. Truthfully, it was much sweeter than I would have liked. Opting out of the two-dollar milk tea pairing had been an informed decision on my behalf. The chewy consistency of dessicated coconut flakes was present, along with pockets of soft, stretchy mochi in each bubble. One side of the waffle was crisp and uniformly golden brown, but the other (the "flip side") was soft - mushy even - with an overall patchy appearance.

Although not entirely unpleasant, I am unsure whether I'd return for a third trial. The flavours, though pronounced, are quite excessive, overpowering the delicate properties of its foundation - the plain egg waffles and its sheer texture profile. Should you contemplate attempting Eggette Hut, it is highly recommended to have a few friends in tow. Sharing the waffles is less likely to result in sugar/sodium overdose, all while lowering the cost per unit of the pricey little fragments.

I went on to spend a relaxing half hour of reading at Chapters - one of the exceptionally few GTA locations which hasn't been renamed as "Indigo", then engaging in rapid research for nearby dinner options.

​Mi-Ne was close by, and its reviews told a solid story. We set out for the Japanese restaurant.
Locating its coordinates was a simple task: being at the corner of the plaza ensured that patrons traversing north along Woodbine would spot it with ease. I pulled into the utterly horrendous parking lot, immediately furrowing my brows at the wretched scene that lay before me.
For a private lot, one would have assumed the owner(s) to have invested in maintenance procedures in the name of continued business. Sadly, this was not the case; potholes, large, ponding cracks, sporadically depressed sections were dispersed throughout. The sudden jumps in grade were annoying not only to drivers, but created nasty trip hazards to pedestrians as well.

​The restaurant itself did not earn such scorn. Mi-Ne had been thoroughly decorated with various Japanese ornaments, leaving no shred of its predecessor behind. In fact, the interior had been altered in such a manner that it hadn't even occurred to me that this was the exact location where a personal tragedy had taken place nearly six years prior.

​The service staff consisted of young Koreans, which I presumed none to exceed the age of twenty-five. A petite hostess seated us at one of the many partitioned wooden booths. Teetering between each was an array of empty alcohol bottles. The assortment spanned sake, soju, as well as several other unfamiliar names, seemingly aspired to bridge the gap between family diner and izakaya.

​To encourage drinking, they even presented a menu of mix-and-match izakaya combos. At a mere nineteen dollars, patrons had the option of pairing a single appetizer-sized platter with either 16 oz. of draft beer ir 200 ml of sake. Amongst these small servings were deep-fried oysters, salmon sashimi, BBQ unagi, and more.
Rolls and makis were found on a separate, double-sided laminated menu; even more options were nestled within a tattered hardcover menu.

After a lengthy discussion and much contemplation, we settled on one set from the izakaya menu and a Chirashi from the regular menu. Ponzu/soy-dressed side salads and miso soups arrived soon after orders were placed. Green tea brewed with rice grains had been placed before us before that.

All dishes were delivered rapidly, albeit their presentation being a bit lacking. Salad dressing was spotted dribbling off one of the bowls, while the shallow Chirashi bowl featured greasy smears and fingerprints.
​That is not to say that they were dismal orders of sustenance, however they didn't succeed in leaving a strong impression either. The starters were straightforward and very, very typical.

< Pictured above and below: Asahi, Fried Oysters, Chirashi >

The Fried Oysters had been coated in a ridiculously thick batter that assumed just under fifty percent of its overall composition. While this didn't mask the taste of the molluscs, its rigidity failed to contribute any additional depth. Constructed with a somewhat stale exterior, the breading was more suitable for diner-esque Korean-style tonkatsu than seafood. There wasn't sufficient sauce to combat its dryness either. We both agreed that a lighter, airier alternative - preferably something along the lines of tempura batter - would have paired better with its delicate properties.

​Constituents of the Chirashi bowl were not a far stretch from other establishments upon first glance, yet the variety of species was revealed distinctive upon closer examination. Tilapia, lightly torched white tuna, and albacore tuna were three distinct styles not commonly found in chirashi bowls; a single California Roll, along with two strips of its components (imitation crab meat and ripe avocado), also made an appearance.
Salmon was unmistakably the tastiest of the bunch, while the fllimsy shrunken piece of Ebi and tendon-laden seared red tuna were the least commendable.

The rice was devoid of furikake - all the better, should you ask me - yet maintained an addicting sweetness that would prompt continuous mouthfuls.

​Service was prompt and friendly, despite radiating greenness. One crew member in particular (who went by the name of Nathan) made sure to check up on us every so often - in a very sudden and humourous manner, should I add. He was a thoughtful creature, making sure to caution us of piping hot liquids; respect towards customers was also displayed in how his hands were placed behind his body while speaking.

We concluded the meal with fresh orange slices -  a rare offering in modern day Japanese restaurants.

​Of course, one could not escape a bathroom visit. I stepped past the wooden doors, coming face-to-face with two plastic stall doors. It was at this moment that I was reminded of my history with this exact spot.
​
In rolled a tsunami of highly unpleasant memories, an overwhelming, sickening flashback I wished I hadn't recalled.

​I steered clear of the stall that had left behind unpleasant, scarring memories, passing by it with nothing more than a quick glance. The only other stall was larger, but utilized the same dreadful lock mechanism as before.
Nothing had changed. The apparatus was as finicky as before. As the door connecting the hallway to the ladies' room remained propped open, I took extra care in ensuring the stall door was secured, but that the lock was not slid into its groove all the way.
This time, I managed to depart with both dignity and sanity, but past recollections of my horrid experience shall not be obliterated. And with that said, I don't think I'll be giving Mi-Ne another try. Should I find myself in the area, I'll make sure to save bathroom usage for a different destination.

​Our final stop of the dining journey was Pun Cao Tong. Shops retailing herbal jelly aren't common on the west end of the GTA, because, frankly, there isn't much of a demand. The takeout container from Win's Seafood had been scrumptious, but apparently desserts weren't items commonly taken to go. Consequentially, we consulted Google Maps, which led us in the direction of this Times Square establishment instead.

The parking situation was quite obnoxious for a weekday evening, but we ultimately managed to source a single spot by the dumpster. Pun Cao Tong, also known as Sweet Turtle Desserts, was located just outside the rotunda-like portion of the snow-covered asphalt lot. Recent openings in this plaza included Ruelo Patisserie and Song Tea, both of which a handful of fellow feasters have expressed interest towards.

​The interior of the eatery was reminiscent of a traditional Chinese dessert parlour. Not so different Tracy Dessert at First Markham Place, Pun Cao Tong served both sweet and savoury dishes, with the only downside being you'd leave the latter reeking of grease. Service was another off-putting aspect: the part-timers (or long-time minimum wage workers) were far from friendly. They seemed to be grunting and glaring in silence during our entire stay.

A chilled variation of Herbal Essence Jelly (aka tortoise jelly / gui ling gao) was not available at our time of visit, so we were presented with a lukewarm variation that sported a thick layer of film on the surface. This rendered it nearly impossible to pierce. Spoons slipping off its jiggly sides, extreme care was employed to ensure that recovered strips did not fly out of the ceramic container and onto the (questionably clean) table.
Firmness was reduced in comparison to Win's Seafood, but the degree of bitterness was matched. Personally speaking, the syrup that accompanied the Win's was superior.

We took another 龜苓膏 to go. The portion was more compact than the dine-in version, however, its consistency was more workable (read: did not slip off our spoons like penguins on ice). A dark, inky substance was observed to seep out of the jelly over time, which can only indicate a higher moisture content (or lower amounts of stabilizer) than expected.

​Their other offerings were interesting, notably the mango- and squash-based dishes. Its coordinates are quite convenient as well, given its proximity to the 404 exit. But, alas, the pungent oily aromas would prompt me to think twice before dining in. Taking the above into consideration, Pun Cao Tong will probably be registered on the list as a takeout spot. That's something I'm fine with, since relinquishing a mandatory 10% tip to grumps is just plain disheartening.

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