Vancouver Ventures | (Pt. 2) Maruhachi Ramen + Hanlin Tea House

Read Part 1 HERE !

​I was particularly glad for my usually punctual dining companion to admit a delayed arrival. Not yet fully acquainted with city streets led to accidentally crossing the wrong bridge. I'd be required to traverse over Fraser River either way, but had ended up at the familiar intersection witnessed while en route to Cafe de L'Orangerie. A later ETA time and signage reading "Welcome to Vancouver" had further confirmed my suspicions of taking the wrong path.

The tail end of weekday evening rush hour was rather forgiving of my blunder. Looping about SW Marine Drive imposed a delay of fifteen minutes. Even with this navigation mishap, I succeeded in finding parking across the street and entered the premises before my dining partner. Glad was I to discover the absence of parking restrictions during unsigned (non-Night Market) hours.

At my time of arrival, two vacant tables remained. However, Maruhachi's policy was that "All members of the party must be present to be seated.". The notice was posted on the door, then echoed my members of staff in a somewhat frustration-inducing tone, "Do you know what time your friend is coming? What if your friend comes in thirty minutes? We cannot hold a table." Although I could understand the concern if one person was holding space for a party of eight for a ramen shop with limited seating, reserving a table for one versus two were essentially the same.
"Sorry!" another member of staff called out in an obviously unapologetic manner, while closing the door before me and gesturing for me to step outside instead hovering in the waiting area.

My friend would arrive in the next few minutes, but the two previously unoccupied tables would be surrendered. We were eventually slotted at the central bar area.

​Circular, backless stools and an absence of hooks under the table had me rolling my eyes in irritation for the lack of consideration towards bag storage. As if on cue, however, a female member of staff swiftly appeared with a basket, offering for me to place my backpack inside for the duration of our stay. With the restaurant setbacks experienced thus far, the gesture was greatly appreciated.

​Residing before us was a trio of condiments unlike any other establishment: red pepper flakes, fried garlic pieces, and white vinegar. These bottles were smear-free, contrasting against any Chinese diner or pho restaurant.

Also tacked onto the table was a four-dollar Summer Time Special for Maruhachi Draft Beer. Taking advantage of the promotion would have been a breezy decision, had I not been abstaining from alcohol due to permanent Ahgase endeavours.

​Recalling Midori's delectable tori paitan had resulted in my proposal of Maruhachi. For BC's competitive standards, I had expected equal, if not superior, quality and flavour for the price paid.

The egg, served on the side due to confusion and miscommunication, emerged golden, gummy, and glorious. Embracing a thoroughly dashi soy-seasoned white and divine centre of lusciousness, I immediately declared it the best ramen egg in my sampling lifetime. Braised eggs are time-consuming projects that few eateries bother to execute, but well worth the efforts in any scenario.

​Nicely marbled were the Pork Shoulder Chashu. The slices were tender, but lacked the char of Midori. Toppings were tasty, though included in a scarce portion. I enjoyed the herby accent of Aosa, though must admit to a subdued fragrance compared to the North York contender lined up for comparison.

Similarly satisfying was the broth. The formula was creamy, yet by no means satiating. That said, Midori's was more addicting, prompting spoonful after spoonful without monosodium glutamate-induced recoil.

Strictly on the basis of economics and egg supremacy, Maruachi holds the trophy. Meanwhile, Midori excels in producing a memorable bowl of tori paitan, luxurious chashu, and plenty of varied toppings with welcoming service and equivalent speed.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted dessert." My fellow food enthusiast (931) cast a knowing glance in my direction.
"I thought you'd never ask!" I squealed in response.

Our final stop of the evening was Hanlin Tea House.

While a Salted Cheese Foam Watermelon Slush and Earl Grey Chiffon Roll Cake graced the seat before me, I desired nothing more than to deplete the remainder of my Homer Donut. I did exactly this, repressing feelings of guilt with an order of hot Tie Guan Yin Tea Latte to combat the hefty draft overhead.

My drink pick was delicious, but far from revolutionary. Hanlin's menu lineup suggested expertise in brewing of traditional teas, though defining differences from its neighbours in the plaza could not be detected. For proper evaluation of tea potency, I'd need to sample a hot version of Chicha one day.

​The evening would see continued conversations on a vast array of topics. The culinary scenes of Toronto and Vancouver would be compared and contrasted, the latter emerging as the preferable destination for reliable dining experiences. With regard to municipal infrastructure and transit, the nation's largest urban hub would have the upper hand.

​Once Hanlin closed for the evening, we retreated to the car for further discussions on societal matters, ranging from living expenses/quality of life, leisure activities, job happenings, and interpersonal relations. Investment of time was appreciated equally from both parties, which is a rarity to say in the least.

​At midnight, we finally resolved to head back. I returned fatigued from the day's affairs, but wholly fulfilled. Availability of a personal vehicle had enabled journeying to my heart's desire at any time of day - or night.