Jim Chai Kee Noodle 270 West Beaver Creek, Unit 18, Richmond Hill 905-881-8778 Meal for two with all taxes and tip: $16

The plain walls, minimal décor, and simple tables may not be the typical way to attract customers into a restaurant. But it is because of these reasons, along with the delicious wonton noodles at Jim Chai Kee Noodle that keeps me returning to this uncomplicated little noodle house.

Looking at the short menu hanging on all four walls, I only need one hand to count all the items on it. There are noodles served with either wontons, beef, or fresh fish balls. By adding another fifty cents, we can also choose to have two of the three items in our noodles. To be “fancier”, there is an option of adding a plate of vegetables with hoisin sauce on the side. There is “serve yourself” tea available or customers can purchase a pop from the counter. This is what it is like eating at side street noodle houses in my hometown, Hong Kong.

Not only is the menu small, it is also only written in Chinese. But because there are few choices, it is still manageable to order in English. The place is packed most of the time and that is because they have the most delicious wontons in town! The size of the wonton served here is probably twice the size of a regular wonton from Chinatown.

I ordered the regular wonton noodle while my friend ordered a wonton and beef slices combo. We also wanted to be healthy so we ordered a side of boiled greens. Inside the wonton is a generous portion of fresh shrimp and pork. The ingredients wrapped in a thin layer of flour dough were cooked to perfection.

To top everything off, I spiced things up by adding the homemade hot sauce and a hint of vinegar to my soup. They say the vinegar brings out the fresh taste of seafood while the hot sauce was just my personal preference. It was perfect! I was quite full after eating my bowl of noodles so I did not have a chance to try the fish balls. I have heard they are quite tasty since they are made with fresh fish. The beef slices were nothing spectacular; my friend only got it because he wanted “real meat” in his noodles. Jim Chai Kee is definitely not a place for people to impress their dates. It is more like a local neighbourhood noodle house where one goes to satisfy their hunger. On top of that, customers have the option of buying pre-made wontons in trays to enjoy at home. Just thinking about them makes my mouth water again.

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California Sandwiches 244 Claremont Street 416-603-3317 Lunch for two with sodas and tax (no tip): $18.50 California Sandwiches spends nothing on advertising. Less is spent on décor. The World Series Poker pinball machine (which replaced the Sopranos pinball which replaced the Elvis pinball) sits mostly unused. Bright orange walls, a cobwebbed espresso machine, and a photo of Italy’s 2006 soccer team do little to inspire romantic conversation. The storefront sits on a short, one-way side street in little Italy. The light bulb in the basement restroom flickers incessantly like set decoration in one of those new horror movies where teenagers get tortured for two hours. No one just strolls past California and decides to get something to eat. They come looking.

The menu, a tribute to simplicity that hasn’t changed since 1967 (except for the removal of baloney) could fit on a sandwich board or ankle tattoo. It is simply: veal sandwich ($6.95), chicken sandwich ($6.95), steak sandwich ($6.95), meatball sandwich ($5.75), eggplant sandwich ($6.50), and sausage sandwich ($5.50). No one’s going to come in here and ask the girl at the counter with the hoop earrings what the specials are tonight. About 8 ounces of veal, chicken, or eggplant are breaded, shallow fried, drenched in tomato sauce, and entombed in a kaiser the size of a Nerf football. All sandwiches come in sweet (which means mild), medium, or hot courtesy of roasted jalapeño peppers that tend to lurk in the centre. Beware the presumption that the outer ring with its perimeter of jalapeno juice represents the spice level of the whole sandwich.

I know some people who say that their bodies tell them what they need throughout the day like ,”eat some greens”, or “you need protein”, or, “it’s time for an energy burst”. But it seems unlikely that a sane body ever whispers a reminder to stuff it with one of California’s veal sandwiches. Most will confess that half a sandwich is sufficient but I’ve never heard of that happening. The first bite of this effrontery to moderation is crunchy and sauce slides across my cheek as I greedily tackle the outer edge. The chicken is still juicy and with the third bite I wish I’d ordered two. I keep wolfing until a cache of jalapenos is excavated by the seventh bite. This slows me down a bit. The eighth bite finishes the first half and dispels the illusion that I want or need two of these. But then the ninth bite brings sadness that I’m closer to the end than the beginning. At bite twelve I’m already going through pre-withdrawal and I regret not savouring bite six more. I can’t even talk about bite 15. An unsauced protrusion of chicken adds crisp nostalgia to the penultimate bite. And the last morsel is bittersweet. It’s criminal what I’ve just done to my body but clearly I couldn’t do this on a regular basis (even though I do) so it doesn’t make me feel guilty (that’s what I tell myself).

Now I’m no friend of baby cows. I have no qualms about taking their tenderloin, poaching it to rare in milk, and rolling it in crushed pistachios. But if you’re going to bread it, fry it, sauce it, and bun it, then it may as well be chicken. The steak and pork sausage are grilled (the steak’s a little chewy) and I haven’t eaten a meatball since I was 10 (my old man made meatballs that were literally just an unseasoned sphere of ground beef with wedges of uncooked onions) so I can’t vouch for it. For a dollar they’ll add provolone, mushrooms, or sweet peppers. But really, it’s such a tower of starch, protein, and fat flavour already. A word about ordering. This place is popular. There are a half-dozen locations throughout the city but the original on Claremont is still choked with loyal hot Italian sandwich fanatics. Expect a lineup of paramedics, cops, plasterers, tow-truck drivers, and firefighters around quittin’ time. Call orders in, especially since the menu selection is unlikely to stump anyone. Last summer I formed a pear-shaped habit of two sandwiches a week. Part way through the summer I started ordering sandwiches under the name Tony or Vince. Corey’s sandwiches were almost always ready when I came to pick them up but Tony’s sandwiches were always ready to go and he got a little smile too. I’m just saying when in Rome you know…

Graceful Vegetarian Restaurant 905-479-8381 4396 Steeles Avenue, East Unit E8

Lunch for two, $40 including tax and tip

In my years as a vegetarian and vegan, fake meats were never a huge part of my diet. Tofu dogs and veggie burgers were usually the extent of my meat analogues. I had been a picky kid anyway, turning up my nose (or rather, making “Gross!” faces) at fish, seafood, anything outside my normal diet. So when I entered Graceful Vegetarian Restaurant up at the northern end of the Pacific Mall-Market Village plaza, I quickly realized I was out of my depth and beyond my range of experience. My first thought had been vague amusement at the implication that other vegetarian restaurants were somehow clumsy. My internal focus was quickly overwhelmed by the bright colours of the Chinese New Year decorations. Two streamer-dragons started at opposite ends of the room and met each other with fierce, cheerful faces almost directly over our table. The incandescent bulbs placed at regular intervals on a high ceiling reminded me of large lecture halls, except not as, you know, dreadful.

Before we even had a chance to sit down, there was a crowding of plates, a clustering of place settings, and a flurry of teapots in front of us. Green tea was promptly poured and soon consumed as we glanced over the dim sum chit-style menu. And really, a glance was all that was needed to realize that this was not going to be my standard “stir-fried veggies” fare. After some squinting and cheek-chewing of indecision, I took a deep breath, and discarded my picky childhood in a rapid succession of check marks. Non-shrimp, not-goose, tofu-kidney - bring on them all!

My enthusiasm transformed into determination as the dishes arrived. We set up a sort of mini-buffet amongst the five of us, sampling and commenting as we went. I hadn’t eaten all morning, so I had thought I was decently hungry for a 12:00pm lunch. Fried dumplings as a first course proved me wrong. My constitution, no matter how prepared, had not been ready for the taste of fried oil that permeated the meal. Which is not to say that the food was bad; I merely had forgotten that “Chinese” is English for “fried.” My chopsticks and I soldiered on to shrimp balls, whose neutral flavour I was told was standard for shrimp. Actually, I had the taste of shrimp described to me as “flavourless but metallic”, and I once again thanked nobody-in-particular for my voluntary dietary restrictions. In any case, the texture was pleasing and next up was a considerable hurdle - fried goose.

Even knowing it was nothing but flavoured and textured tofu, my mind kept calling up images of the semi-tame Canada geese that inhabited my rural Pennsylvanian backyard. Having fed goslings by hand at a younger age, I paused to simply look at the pale yellow chunk. My self-awareness of my strange sentimentality spurred me onwards to tasting. The texture was vaguely chewy, and the flavor was light, and almost sweet. It was filling in a way that the dumplings had not been, substantial in its own right. All around me, more dishes were waiting to be sampled. The bean curd sheet rolls reminded me of collapsed spring rolls, mild and slightly crunchy. The fried taro cake was more like a dumpling or pudding, sticky inside the mouth and with the tiny carrot cubes embedded like bits in a fruitcake. The turnip cake was much more palatable, with a slight aftertaste of capsaicin. It nearly burst in my mouth even as it was bitten, dissolving into the back crevices, the molars and the roof and the inner cheeks. The flavour lingered in the pockets of my cheeks as if I were a chipmunk storing up for winter. The “kidney” was slippery both on my chopsticks and in my mouth. Substantially chewier than the goose, the darker flavour left a strong aftertaste that was distinctive yet difficult to pinpoint.

My favourite by far was the curry pancake. Whether or not it was intended as a dessert, that is how it registered amongst us. The picky part of me reveled in the more familiar “pastry” makeup - fluffy yet crumbly, with small bits flaking off from the destructive force of a bite. A flavourful curry sauce came with the pancake, but it was easily enjoyed with or without this addition. While I am not yet a connoisseur of meat analogues, I felt this was my first step on the road to the appreciation of imitation. Even if you are not so inclined, Graceful Vegetarian makes interesting and varied Chinese dishes in its own right. With a new, “even more inaccessible” location opening up in Richmond Hill, Graceful Vegetarian makes for a memorable meal.