Before you say, what the hell kind of crap is this, I came here for movie reviews… listen to me carefully. I’m addicted to food. Perhaps to the point where I have an untreatable mental issue. So when I stepped foot in this supermarket, my jaw dropped… I drooled a little, then I walked around like the whitest person this side of Markham, oogling and gawking at every bizarre item on display.

During my adventure through this wonderland of chicken feet, dried squid, and 813 varieties of Pocky, I came to the realization that North Americans know nothing about cuisine. Not in the local sense at least. We have French restaurants, Italian restaurants, Japanese restaurants… the list goes on. When have you seen a sign for ‘Canadian cuisine’ (and I have) and said “Hmm… sounds delicious!”? I sure haven’t.  But I digress!

The supermarket in question, is called T&T Supermarket, and apparently I’m the only one out of my circle of friends who had never heard of it. I will from now on refer to it as Shangri-la.

My voyage throughout its many aisles, with their many, MANY odours, was somewhat hindered by the fact that… well…. I was very hungover. The myriad pungent aromas penetrated my nostrils with the force of a thousand skunks. Not to say, after the nausea subsided, I rather enjoyed some of the bouquets of freshly baked pork buns…. Oh… the pork buns.

Whatever they were, they were the greatest pork dumpling/bun/things I’ve ever eaten in my life. I destroyed a pair of them like they were going out of style, and I’d do it again. Speaking of which, are they open?  BRB!