There’s a certain thrill in walking into a restaurant with no expectations. No reviews read, no menu studied in advance—just the blind trust that something memorable might unfold. That’s exactly how I found myself in an unassuming Cantonese spot in Toronto’s Chinatown, a place that looked more like a school canteen than a celebrated eatery. My friend and I almost walked out. The menu was unfamiliar, our usual go-to dishes nowhere in sight. But then the waiter brought over steaming cups of green tea, and something told us to stay.

Anthony Bourdain once said, “Be open to experience, be willing to try new things, don't have a rigid plan... If you don’t risk the bad meal, you never get the magical one.” It’s a philosophy I’ve always admired, but that night, I truly lived it. We hadn’t even planned on having a proper dinner—we were debating whether to go out to a bar when, at the last minute, we decided to find some food instead. With no plan, no recommendations, we just wandered until we landed here. We hesitantly picked a few dishes at random—one of them, a chicken congee, turned out to be my favourite. A warm, savoury rice porridge, rich with mushrooms and tender chicken. I don’t even like porridge, yet somehow, this was perfect.

When the bill came, we played a guessing game. My friend guessed $55, I guessed $60. The total? Forty dollars, tax included. For a massive meal for two. We stared at the receipt in disbelief. The entire 30-minute walk home, we couldn’t stop laughing, giddy from the sheer joy of it all. The food, the unexpected delight, the kind of experience you can’t plan—only stumble into. And as if the night needed any more significance, this was my last meal of the trip. Two weeks in Toronto, filled with incredible food, yet this unassuming, last-minute dinner was the one that defined it all.

Bourdain had a way of romanticising food, but not in the way most people do. He didn’t care about white tablecloths or Michelin stars. To him, food was a gateway—to culture, to connection, to understanding the world a little better. That night in Toronto, I felt that. It wasn’t just about the food itself, though it was incredible. It was about the risk, the surprise, the sense of adventure—the reminder that if you never risk the bad meal, you’ll never get the magical one.