Restaurant Review (I know it might seem weird not to include the name of the restaurant, but my dining experience was very personal, and probably others would have a far different and much better meal).

The wooden soup spoons used at ____ are a triumph of form and function and may well be the perfect utensil. It should have been a pleasure to dine with such a lightweight and delicate wooden instrument, even though I strongly believe that soup, on its own, is not a meal, except in Chinatown where one often discovers half a duck—bones and all—swimming in enormous bowls. Eating such a soup with a pair of chopsticks and a ceramic spoon is no small victory, and well worth it, as it is very filling. My soup at ____ failed to quench my appetite on any level, although the challenge of eating the noodle parts with chopsticks was no less real.

Mr. J's and Mr S’s ____ occupies a large, open, and beautiful space on a trendy section of ____ Street East close to _____. The exposed brick walls of this 19^th century building project an inviting warmth over a floor filled with square tables, perfectly complimented by low cubical lighting fixtures. Sitting in ____ should be a delightful experience, but the backless stools inflicted on the diners are cruel and inhumane and probably contravene even the Geneva Convention. I would have preferred to stand or sit on the floor, without shoes, in the traditional Japanese style.

On the other hand, the staff was very attentive, but that may have had something to do with the fact that the words “Toronto Star” were dropped early. Or, it could have been the knowledge that we were all students in a reviewing class. In any event, only once before has a chef made a trip to my table to inquire about my meal. In St. Lucia, the chef, a sous-chefs, and a waiter crowded around our table, each in turn prodding my fish fillet with various sharp objects in an attempt to determine if the fish was, as I claimed, breaded, and, therefore, not what I had ordered. At ____, when Chef S. made the trek to my table, all I could manage was that it was okay. It was okay, not spectacular, not delicious, far from perfect, but, mercifully, gluten-free.

Prior to the meal, I grew hungrier and hungrier watching others devour appetizers while taking copious notes—careful not to confuse the Tskune ($5.00) with the Negima Yakitori ($5.75) or the delicious-looking Duck Gyoza ($6.50) with the Pork Gyoza ($4.75) or the Shrimp Dumplings ($6.00). I looked forward to the special meal awaiting me. The waiter had already reviewed the menu with me, suggesting the ____ Beef, grilled top sirloin ($13.75), or the Cha Han ($9.25), both quite delicious-sounding. Instead of these meaty dishes, I learned that the chef had taken a keen interest in feeding me a special item, which turned out to be a small bowl of unnamed soup at an unknown price. I decided that it is probably a mistake to serve a dish with no name, for it affords the diner (or the reviewer) an opportunity to assign one. I might apply the name Pond Soba to the dish served to me.

The tepid soup, bland beyond all imagination, achieved only partial salvation by means of a few niblets of corn and three or four snow peas, all crunchy and quite delightful. In contrast to the soup, these bits of vegetables were an explosion of flavour. Soba noodles, gluten-free, but decidedly boring, lurked at the bottom of a concoction of shiitake mushrooms (the plural form of the word mushroom being an extreme exaggeration) and a cloudy stock, tasting what I imagine warmed up pond water would taste like. I wouldn’t have been too surprised to discover a fish hiding in the tangle of noodles. I was still hungry at the end of the meal, and ran out to get something else to eat, something delicious and extremely succulent.

I keep a list of restaurants that can provide a gluten-free meal. I may add ____ to the list, not because the food was great, but simply because they were able to produce a meal that matched my dietary restrictions. But, if I ever go back, it will only be to sneak away one of those awesome spoons.

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