Out & About #546 | Stackt Market, Raku + Trinity Bellwoods

5/7/2019

Working odd hours means never really being able to spend time with the 9-to-5-ers in my life. Or, it leads to super-compact meetups, followed by immediately speeding off to mid-afternoon appointments.

Upon being notified by a friend's weekday availability - and desire for a downtown excursion - I was quick to suggest lunch at one of Queen West's newest eateries.

Prior to assembling in the core, I opted for a brisk detour through the city's first outdoor container market. Known as Stackt, it consisted of black containers with glass windows, with impenetrable ones stacked on top of each other for design purposes.

Each container, or portion that of, was allocated to an individual vendor. Some of these included: Donut Monster from Hamilton, Bean + Pearl from Brampton, and Toronto's very own Reunion Island Coffee Roasters.

At the west end of the market was the Belgian Moon Brewery, along with seating in the form of picnic benches. Plants in milk crates and loose rocks secured in wired blocks (retaining rock walls?) decorated the area.

This market was of little interest to me, for I was neither in the mood for steeply-priced attire nor for lounging on the dampened wooden chairs. However, I did appreciate the frequent placement of garbage bins and spotless indoor bathroom stalls, even if they were on the narrow side.

A small parking lot is present on site - at a fee, of course. Bike racks were available for cyclists to use. Given its ridiculously accessible coordinates though, I'd suggest commuting and enjoying a walk across the rail tracks.

Located just a stretch west of old Nohohon was Raku, an NYC import that didn't quite fit in with the dilapidated textile and costume stores at Queen and Augusta.

The storefront is awfully minimal, with a single wooden window as its only source of illumination. The front entrance is concealed behind a lengthy piece of black (and off-white) linen, while the menu was encased in a frame just next to the entrance. It was - you guessed it - black and off-white and, unsurprisingly, encased within a wooden case.

I had arrived approximately twenty minutes before operating hours, then made do with browsing some independent retail shops. Come 11:55 AM, small groups of eager diners began to accumulate at the entrance. We were ushered in around noon. Other patrons followed, and soon the establishment began to fill up.
Between bar seating with backless stools, booth seats, and small group tables, Raku appeared to serve up to fifty customers at full capacity.

Ultimately, we settled on Yaki Nasu and Ankimo to start, then Gyunan and Zaru Udon as mains.

A microscopic portion of ankimo arrived first. Partially submerged in ponzu sauce and topped generously with scallions, the consistency of the dish flirted with the likes of pâté and tofu. Concluded each forkful was the lingering taste of pig liver congee (豬潤粥). Fine bits of a tomato-like substance contributed a dash of acidity.

Diverging from its description of being "deep fried", the Yaki Nasu exhibited a smoky darkness likely obtained from charring. Spicy miso pork was an element I couldn't quite distinguish, but the quail egg added an undeniable creaminess.

Zaru Udon was served cold and in a format not so dissimilar to zaru soba. A raw quail egg made another appearance. The noodles were thinner than that of the Gyunan.

My own hot udon was served in an obnoxiously large bowl, of which only half was occupied. "Canadian prime beef" and "Tokyo negi" (Tokyo onion?) were listed as the two sole constituents of the bowl, though a few bits of spinach were discovered floating about as well. The supposedly local beef veered not far from blanched shabu shabu strips in taste and fat content. The onions were, well, onions; perhaps the only discernible difference was their softer texture.
In the Gyunan's defense, I did enjoy the dashi broth and delicately springy housemade noodles. Not wishing to waste even a strand, I requested a container to take leftovers home. This demand was partially owed to a desire to finish my order, and partially due to the shocking price tag of seventeen dollars.

The washroom was a clean, narrow stall decorated with dry flowers and similar wooden furnishings. A hook had been installed on the back of the door for customer convenience.

Albeit successful in providing us with satisfying midday meals, I shall profess that Raku will <i> not be receiving a second visit. The reasoning behind this is straightforward: the prices are simply too great for such small portions of sustenance, no matter how tremendous the quality.
Other disappointing aspects included the menu's limited protein-rice selection, the waitstaff's inability to introduce the restaurant's signature offerings, spotty drinking glasses with lemon-lacking water, and additional charges for essentially every single add-on.

While I did find Raku to exude the modern allure of East Village, I cannot acknowledge the same concept to function at maximum potential in the Fashion District.

We later sauntered towards Trinity Bellwoods, away from my original post-lunch proposal of Milkys. Apparently, it was bloom time.

The Queen Street entrance to the park was adorned with two rows of cherry blossom trees: one bearing frosty white buds, while the other demure blush.

We swung by VDL and, upon ochungg's recommendation, also iHalo Krunch. With a nonexistent lineup, one would have predicted more amiable service, however this was not the case. Utterly bitter and sullen was the single member of staff behind the counter. She fetched my requested samples with a visible grimace, and returned curt responses to my inquiries on the sizing and ingredients of the ice cream.

Nonetheless, I placed my order of Vanilla Nut. Curiosity had gotten the best of me.

The six-dollar cup consisted of an Ube Nut (ube and coconut charcoal) swirl atop sweet Vanilla Bean. Small spade-shaped spoons were presented along with it.
This particular combination was tasty: with a prominent presence of coconut and rich smoothness of ube, the vanilla bean only worked to enhance these flavours to the next degree. On the other hand, I wasn't too fond of the extreme frigidty of the formula. Despite atmospheric temperatures hovering about the ten-degree mark, my fingers nearly went numb clinging onto the edge of the plastic cup.