Hino: Where I Fell in Love with some Mollusks

We decided to check out Hino (1013 Wellington) just down the street from the tragically departed Vino del Mar.  Jon told me that it's a Japanese-esque restaurant, and had heard the owner just kind of opened whenever he felt like it.  We showed up on a Tuesday evening at 6 (happily, it was open that night) and were the first customers.

The place is not a total dive (anyone who has ever eaten in Chinatown has seen worse) though it helped that it was pretty dark; an open kitchen and bar spanned the back wall. 

The menu definitely runs towards Japanese fusion.  There were spicy crab rolls on the specials board but no sushi on the menu, which basically consisted of chicken, beef or seafood done with a variety of sauces - teriyaki, curry, garlic.  Prices were really reasonable (appetizers range from $6-9, mains from $13-19).

We placed our orders, and the server brought out a basket of white grocery store-style bread with a couple pats of butter.  The outside pieces were dried out on one side, and I wondered why they even bothered with bread; they could replace it with something equally inexpensive but tastier.  Japanese rice crackers, maybe?

We shared the scallops in ginger sauce, off the specials board.

They were so good.  I know I will be thinking about them whenever I'm bored.  The scallops were soft and yielding and beautifully cooked, but it was the sauce that really made me swoon - tangy with a bit of a bite.  We nearly had a death match over the last scallop - or possibly just a brief Hungry Hippos duel, pistols at dawn style.  I started trying to lap up the rest of the sauce directly from the dish with my fork.  And that is when I became really thankful for the previously maligned bread. 

Unfortunately, after the mountaintop experience of the scallops, the mains were a bit of a let down.  They were fine, but not transcendent.  I had the miso chicken ($13):

and Jon had the shrimp curry ($14).

The curry didn't have any bite at all, which was surprising.  The miso sauce was sweeter than expected, almost with a teriyaki taste.

We could see the chef/owner cooking in the open kitchen at the back, and chatting with two guys eating at the bar - the four of us were the only customers.  The chef was joking (I hope) about selling the place, and the guys were placing bids - "$50!  $60!"  Jon yelled from our table, "$85!  And all the beer in the fridge!  Except Corona light". 

"I like Corona light," the chef said.

"Then we can totally do business together!"

The chef asked Jon, "Do you prefer Chinese or Japanese?"  After a brief, confused pause, he added, "Beer". 

"No, women," I said drily, and the guys at the bar started laughing.  The chef asked me if I was Japanese (I'm not, I'm Chinese, I said.  All the same, he replied) asked me my name (while hilariously ignoring Jon) and introduced himself as Terry.

"We're not dating, you can have her," Jon said benevolently, and we made our exit.

Ghetto Grub: Installment 1

Before we get into our Burger Fight to the Death, I thought I would share one of our other passions: dodgy eateries.  Because the best food can be had at sketchy roadside restaurants simply entitled “Restaurant”.

Westboro, as we all know, has become a homogenous yuppie enclave.  One of the last holdouts is the Richmond Plaza Motel (it even has those awesome plastic bowl chairs in front of each door) and I dread the day when it will be torn down and replaced with a condo complex.  I prefer a neighborhood that has a bit more of an edge, like Hintonburg, just a little ways east.  It has a Bridgehead, so that we can feel virtuous as we sip our fair trade coffee, but it also still has hookers and one-armed dudes manning dodgy pawn shops....and Vino del Mar.  We first noticed this restaurant because it was completely empty on a Saturday night, and it looked like the kind of place where you'd be the victim of a drive-by.  We ended up eating elsewhere, but later on we thought, we must support the ghetto.  If we don't do it, who will?????

The decor is a bit tired and kitschy.  I love it.

As is the menu, with the ribbon threaded through the binding, like in a cheesy 80's wedding invitation.

The faux-brick adds a klassy touch.

But they did take the time to monogram the napkins!

The owner was really friendly; he told us that this is the only Chilean restaurnat in town (which was a surprise to me, as I thought it was a Portuguese restaurant for some reason. Come to think of it, where does one get Portugese food in Ottawa?) and then we had the following exchange:

Owner:  Do you speak Spanish?  You look like you speak Spanish.

Me:  No.

Owner:  Really?  Are you sure you don't speak Spanish?

Me: ...

Jon (later): You should have said, I didn't when I checked this morning....

I've only met two Chilean people in my life, the owner and my former piano teacher (Mrs. Contreras, who was scary) and neither of them looked particularly Asian, but whatever.

Anyhow, on to the food.  We started with an appetizer of sopaipillas ($4.95, traditional Chilean fried squash bread, as per the beribboned menu):

They were actually quite lovely.  Fresh, hot, crispy on the outside, a bit chewy on the inside, with a spicy dipping sauce.  Unfortunately, they would be the highlight of the meal. For the main, Jon had the perchicaga ($14.95), which was basically a bowl full of meat with fries on top:

Jon chopped it all up and mixed in some of the dipping sauce from the sopaipillas, and said it tasted better then, but was resentful at all the work he had to put in.  I had the special ($11.95), which was kebobs, a salad and an empanada.  

I've only had an empanada once, at the Salvadoran restaurant La Cabana on Merivale (recommended, and Vino del Mar's soul sister in sketch).  The owner told me that Chilean empanadas are made from flour, rather than corn.  Everything on the plate was fine, but nothing special.  Overall, the food was hot and fresh and probably authentic (what do I know) but nothing I'd crave or think about when I'm bored.  Nonetheless, I would encourage you all to go.  Without our support, the relentless tide of gentrification will sweep away any character or interest in this neighborhood and Vino del Mar will become a gastropub.  We can't let this happen, guys.  Case in point: just several doors down, we walked by a shop called "Oresta Organic Skin Care Apothecary", and needless to say, once an Organic Skin Care Apothecary moves in, it's over.  Displayed in the window was some skin care line I had never heard of.

Me:  I have a deep distrust of anything unfamiliar.  Like foreigners.

Jon:  Yeah, but Nazis are OK, we know all about them!

On that note, next up will be the first installment of our Burger Quest: Fight to the Death, featuring Vera's Burger Bar and The Works.