I’ll be honest with you; this spot I’m going to talk about has been one of my favourite places. I must admit, I’ve been greedy and selfish to hold back on this one, but I’ve finally come to a decision that it is my duty to share it with you… St. Hubert. Yes, the homegrown rotisserie with bottomless bowls of coleslaw, that features a self-serve gravy pump and who’s “unpretentiousness” makes the grocery store reject poultry palatable. Euh… No, not really. What kind of bush-league blogger would I be to go on and write about frozen fries and mutated chickens that can’t make the commercial market, no matter how crispy the skin is?
If you’ve ever had Chinese steamed sticky rice (糯米包), this is the dumpling version of the same dish.
I hit up this spot on the edge of Little Italy that is practically the antithesis of anything related to Italian cuisine… if you don’t count meat-sweats and taking a nap after a big meal. We’re talking about BBQ, and not backyard pits that you nonno tirelessly tends to in between hosing down the driveway and fertilizing tomato plants – but the likes of which will make you question everything you’ve ever known about what you think you know.