#Restaurant Hood Cleaning in Toronto

[torontokitchen]

Commercial Kitchen Exhaust Hood Cleaning Service for Restaurants in Toronto

If you're a restaurant in Toronto looking for professional commercial kitchen exhaust hood cleaning services, you've come to the right place. Our experienced team of experts can provide comprehensive hood cleaning services, from cleaning and sanitizing the hoods, ducts, and filters to removing grease and other buildup. We use state-of-the-art tools and equipment to safely and effectively clean any size kitchen exhaust system. We take pride in our work and guarantee that your kitchen exhaust hoods are left spotless and up to code. We also provide regular maintenance services to keep your kitchen exhaust hoods running smoothly. With our competitive rates, our services provide a great value for your business. Contact us today for all your commercial kitchen exhaust hood cleaning needs in Toronto!

[powerhoodssystems]

Visit experienced Power Hoods Systems Inc. website to schedule your restaurant hood cleaning service in Oakville. We are proud to offer hood cleaning and kitchen exhaust services.

[discounthoodcleaners]

Tips for Cleaning Restaurant’s Hood in Toronto

https://discounthoodcleaners.medium.com/restaurant-hood-cleaning-tips-for-toronto-f5870a1e38ce

A restaurant is a company that prepares food and then provides it to people, so the people only came to eat food when the owner take care of Cleaning Restaurant’s Hood in Toronto to prevent contamination by grease and dirt. There are several different ways to accomplish this, including using compressed air, strong washing with water, or hiring someone to do this for you.

[easyfoodnetwork]

Food, It Turns Out, Has Little to Do With Why I Love to Travel 

It’s the people that make a place — but these days, human interaction is hard to come by

I used to love to travel. I’d wander through new cities for days on end, eating and drinking (but mostly eating) in four-seat izakayas, farm-driven pizzerias, southern seafood halls, and boat noodle cafes, talking to locals and walking for miles. Restaurants have always been my joyous entry point to a place and its people. The food, I thought, was what made me love to explore the world.

That slowly fading memory — what it felt like to discover a new city, stomach first — is what excited me about going out on the road again, which I did a couple months ago, driving from Los Angeles to Corsicana, Texas and back, stopping to eat in places like Albuquerque, Amarillo, El Paso, and Phoenix.

Let me be clear: I absolutely would not and do not recommend frivolous travel. In my case, a looming publishing deadline on The Bludso Family Cookbook is what sent me on the long, not-so-winding road to Texas in the midst of a global pandemic, where I would be staying with my longtime friend, mentor, colleague, and big brother Kevin Bludso. Once there, we would be cooking, writing, recipe testing, interviewing, living together, and, in all likelihood, drinking a fair quantity of brown spirits at the end of each night (please, someone get that man a Hennessy sponsorship).

I’ve spent the better part of the last 15 years working in the food industry in one capacity or another. I’ve been a bartender, server, chef, culinary director, restaurant consultant, cookbook author, and food writer. My plan since last year had been to continue writing and consulting on the side, but also to finally open my own restaurant. Nothing extravagant. Something small and intimate. A humble, comforting place of my own — clean and well-lit, a true neighborhood restaurant where people can get to know each other, where the food and the service is unassuming and genuine, something with no desire for expansion or duplication. I consider myself unbelievably lucky that I didn’t open a restaurant right before the pandemic hit.

Instead, I’ve spent the last several months at home, making a quarantine cooking show with my wife called Don’t Panic Pantry. It’s been a good distraction, but I thought a work-related excuse to drive through the American Southwest and its expansive desert would be a cleansing, meditative, soul-resetting break from what I’d begun to think of as perpetual purgatory.

I took every precaution. A nasal-swab COVID test right before I departed. I also hopefully still had antibodies (my wife and I both had COVID-19 way back in March). It was, at the very least, the polite thing to do: Get tested before joining someone in their home for two weeks.

I had planned on driving straight through Arizona from LA, avoiding anything except gas stations until I made it to New Mexico, surviving on a sturdy mix of cold brew and air conditioning to keep me awake. I’d never been to New Mexico before. I’d pored over Instagram photos of chile-drenched Southwestern Mexican food, enchiladas oozing with melted cheese, their red and green chile sauces popping with Instagram photo-editing exposure. My usual pre-trip Google map was loaded with thoroughly researched restaurants along my route. In earlier times, I’d have peppered each map point with essential info like hours of operation and must-order dishes; now, I was looking up intel like outdoor seating, takeout quality, and, most crucially, whether or not a place had managed to stay open at all.

I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger.

I left with a bullish heart. But each stop to fuel up took away a notch of my optimism-fueled excitement and replaced it with caution. Each person in a mask made me a little more depressed; each person without, a little angrier.

Ten hours in and I had made it to New Laguna, New Mexico. I stopped at Laguna Burger, an iconic mini-chain inside of a gas station. It’s a fast-food place to be sure, but according to old photos online there used to be stools set up against the counter, and even a couple of tables and a few chairs. Those are, of course, gone now — pushed to the side of the room and leaving in their place a vacuous emptiness, even for a gas-station dining room. The staff was nice but appropriately wary. I did not partake in the self-serve Kool-Aid pickle jar. I got my food and then sat in my car, emotionally deflated and no longer very excited to eat my first-ever green chile burger — something I had wanted to try for years.

Ordering a burger at a place like this was supposed to be a tiny gateway into the culture and personality of the place, however small that sampling was going to be. There is an emotional atmosphere, a vibe, that’s specific to each and every restaurant, and I had perhaps never been so truly aware that such a thing existed until I noticed it had been zapped entirely from this one. In its place was a blanket of nervous, sad precaution — added to, I’m sure, by my own nervousness.

So I sat in my car with my sack of food, gloomily disappointed even before the first bite. They forgot to salt the fries and it felt oddly appropriate. In this moment, to no fault of the restaurant itself, the food didn’t matter. It couldn’t have. I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger, wanting it to justify a 12-hour drive and to somehow soothe an anxious mind. But the food, it occurred to me, wasn’t what I was after at all.

Later on, in Albuquerque, I picked up a four-pack of beer from Arrow Point Brewing and received the now familiar and appropriate treatment: measured, cautious polite gratitude. It was a transaction, appreciated by both sides, but with a higher degree of precondition from both sides as well. I followed it up with a takeout bag of enchiladas and a taco from the beloved and iconic Duran’s Pharmacy, taking them back to the motel room I checked myself into earlier. It was 5:30 p.m. The enchiladas had sloshed in the bag. I took a bite and understood: It was comforting, but not nearly enough. Like being single and reconnecting with an ex, only to both immediately discover that there’s nothing there anymore — two empty vessels with no connection beyond a memory.

I took a sip of beer and fell asleep for an hour. When I awoke the city had turned dark and I knew there was no point in going anywhere. The world felt dystopian and deflated. I’d left my redundant, loving, comfortable bubble to experience life alone on the road, and all I wished was that I was right back there with my wife and my dog.

When my wife and I had COVID-19, we lost our sense of smell and taste for a bit. It was, as my wife put it, “a joyless existence.” Now I had my taste back, but somehow the joy of eating was still gone.

The enchiladas, in a box, alone, on the floor of my motel, were just enchiladas. Because here’s a thing I’ve come to understand of late: context really does affect flavor. A place, its atmosphere, the people within it, their mood (and ours) genuinely change the way things taste. A restaurant lasagna has to be twice as good as your mother’s — or that one you had on that trip to Italy — for it to remind you of it even a little. A rack of smoked pork ribs will never taste as good on a ceramic plate atop a tablecloth as it does from within a styrofoam box on the hood of your car, downwind from a roadside smoker. I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

So as it turns out, when it comes to my lifelong love of food and travel, the food might not have mattered — not to the degree I thought it did, anyway. Not without everything that goes along with it. The surly bartender in the dark room who fries your chicken behind the bar at Reel M Inn in Portland while a guy two seats down makes fun of you for being from California is a huge part of why that might be my favorite fried chicken in the world. The friend of a friend who abandoned his family (thanks Marc!) to drive a stranger, me, around Toronto for two days and show off the city’s outstanding versions of goat roti (from Mona’s Roti) and bún riêu cua (from Bong Lua) makes me realize that yes, the food is outstanding, but that it’s the people — excited to show off their hometown, its restaurants, and their community — who make travel worthwhile.

Would Tokyo be my favorite eating city in the world if my now-wife and I hadn’t befriended two total strangers in a six-seat dive bar, knocking back cocktails until we both threw up, only to come through to the other side fully bonded over late-night grilled pork skewers with another stranger who gave me his business card and said that he had been eating in this stall for over a decade? What is a bar without a bartender? It’s just, well, being home.

The restaurant business can be both horrible and wonderful. It pays poorly, it requires incredibly long hours, and in many instances, you are going broke while making food for people who complain that it’s too expensive. But it is, as Anthony Bourdain often said, the Pleasure Business. It has always been a place for camaraderie, human connection, and community. Those were the things that made the nearly unbearable parts of our business worthwhile — and that connection, when you can have a genuine one between staff and customer, is what I think everyone really, truly wants out of the transaction. Those things still exist, I suppose, but all at arm’s length, or across an app.

I still eventually want to open my own restaurant. I think. But maybe I just want to open my memory of what it would have been in a different, earlier world. I don’t want to be a dinosaur, yearning for the good old days. But I also don’t want to live in a world where a third-party tech company stands between the restaurant and its customer. I don’t want someone to visit my city and think that a robot delivering them a sandwich is the best that we have to offer. I don’t want to have to download an app to order a cup of fucking coffee. Human connection, it turns out, is essential too, and we need to find a way to make it a part of our essential businesses again.

So what, in the midst of a health and humanitarian catastrophe, can we do? Well, we can decide where we spend our money. We support human connection and small businesses. We pick up takeout with our own hands from the places and the people that we love (safely, responsibly). We know that it is just gauze pressed against an open, oozing knife wound, but we try anyway.

So we travel because we have to, whether for work or as a needed break from monotony, and we reset our expectations, we open ourselves up to receiving that connection, we seek out the places that are adapting and we smile through our masks, and ask each other how we are doing, if only to show that somebody cares.

When I eventually made it to Corsicana, Texas, hoisting a large bag of dried red New Mexico chiles, I was greeted with an engulfing hug by Kevin Bludso; it was the first truly comforting thing that happened on the whole trip. I melted into the arms of my friend. I was back in a bubble, connected to something.

I spent two glorious weeks in that bubble, taking turns doing Peloton workouts and then drinking vegetable smoothies, before recipe-testing dishes like Fried Whole-Body Crappie and Ham Hock Pinto Beans; researching Kevin’s family history and then, true to form, sipping rye (me) and Hennessy (him) before I had to head home. Kevin’s food was outstanding, but it was made all the better by the time spent together cooking it. So when I readied myself to get out on the road again, my expectations had changed. I knew the food alone could only do so much.

This disease has been a reflection and amplifier of all of our weak points — and the restaurant business is certainly no different. This industry was already ripe with flaws. It has been teetering on the brink of a seismic shift for years — COVID-19 just accelerated it, and all the platitudes, Instagram stories, and false optimism won’t fix anything. But there have always been bad restaurants as well as good restaurants. I suppose it’s no different now. Yet it is maybe just a little bit harder to give and to be open to receiving the human connection that makes the whole experience worthwhile.

I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

I hit the road early, and after about 10 and a half hours, fueled by caffeine, Christopher Cross, and Bonnie Raitt — with one depressing pit stop in El Paso at the famed H&H Car Wash, where an old curmudgeon out front insisted I take off my mask before going inside — I arrived in Las Cruces, at La Nueva Casita Café. I called ahead, hoping not to have to wait so I could just grab my food and get back on the road. My guard was still up, but then the woman on the other end of the phone was so charming and kind that I was immediately disarmed. She graciously steered me toward the chile relleno burrito (“it’ll be the easiest one to eat in the car”). A few minutes later I came inside to pick up my food and the two women behind the counter were, frankly, a delight. I paid, and was promptly handed my food and thanked with genuine, casual appreciation for coming in. The burrito was excellent.

Bolstered by the kindness of strangers, I drove another five and a half hours into Phoenix. As a bit of an obsessive pizza maker (I had the tremendous fortune to train with Frank Pinello of Best Pizza in Williamsburg, and also had a hand in helping to open Prime Pizza in Los Angeles), I was here to try the new 18-inch New York-style fusion pie by the great Chris Bianco at their Pane Bianco outpost on Central.

Just as at La Nueva Casita Café, the staff was friendly, genuine, helpful, and kind. In retrospect, it took so little but it meant so much. When I expressed a need for caffeine, they sent me next door to Lux Central for a large iced coffee, where the barista talked to me from a responsible distance, wished me a safe drive, and gave me a free blueberry muffin. Even eaten in my car, Chris’s pizza was truly outstanding — crisp, thin, and pliable, successfully pulling off the New York-modern Neapolitan (ish) fusion that, in lesser hands, turns into an 18-inch bowl of soup.

I drove the last six hours home, finding myself encouraged by these final two restaurant experiences, excited by what the best in our industry are still somehow capable of in spite of everything. It was, frankly, inspirational to find genuine interaction, care, and kindness in this new reality.

It reminds me of my mother, actually. I remember when I was a kid, she would pick up the phone to call a restaurant, or Blockbuster Video, to ask them a question. I would always hear her say something like: “Hi Randy! How are you today?” and I would say, “Mom! Do you know him?” and she would shake her head no. Then she would say, “Oh that’s great to hear, Randy. Hey listen, what time do you close today?” My brother and I used to make fun of her for that — for forcing this connection with someone she had no real relationship with beyond an exchange of services. Now, I plan to do exactly that, whenever and wherever I can.

Noah Galuten is a chef, James Beard Award-nominated cookbook author, and the co-host of Don’t Panic Pantry. Nhung Le is a Vietnamese freelance illustrator based in Brooklyn, NY.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/34Oc66Q https://ift.tt/34RJ8TD

It’s the people that make a place — but these days, human interaction is hard to come by

I used to love to travel. I’d wander through new cities for days on end, eating and drinking (but mostly eating) in four-seat izakayas, farm-driven pizzerias, southern seafood halls, and boat noodle cafes, talking to locals and walking for miles. Restaurants have always been my joyous entry point to a place and its people. The food, I thought, was what made me love to explore the world.

That slowly fading memory — what it felt like to discover a new city, stomach first — is what excited me about going out on the road again, which I did a couple months ago, driving from Los Angeles to Corsicana, Texas and back, stopping to eat in places like Albuquerque, Amarillo, El Paso, and Phoenix.

Let me be clear: I absolutely would not and do not recommend frivolous travel. In my case, a looming publishing deadline on The Bludso Family Cookbook is what sent me on the long, not-so-winding road to Texas in the midst of a global pandemic, where I would be staying with my longtime friend, mentor, colleague, and big brother Kevin Bludso. Once there, we would be cooking, writing, recipe testing, interviewing, living together, and, in all likelihood, drinking a fair quantity of brown spirits at the end of each night (please, someone get that man a Hennessy sponsorship).

I’ve spent the better part of the last 15 years working in the food industry in one capacity or another. I’ve been a bartender, server, chef, culinary director, restaurant consultant, cookbook author, and food writer. My plan since last year had been to continue writing and consulting on the side, but also to finally open my own restaurant. Nothing extravagant. Something small and intimate. A humble, comforting place of my own — clean and well-lit, a true neighborhood restaurant where people can get to know each other, where the food and the service is unassuming and genuine, something with no desire for expansion or duplication. I consider myself unbelievably lucky that I didn’t open a restaurant right before the pandemic hit.

Instead, I’ve spent the last several months at home, making a quarantine cooking show with my wife called Don’t Panic Pantry. It’s been a good distraction, but I thought a work-related excuse to drive through the American Southwest and its expansive desert would be a cleansing, meditative, soul-resetting break from what I’d begun to think of as perpetual purgatory.

I took every precaution. A nasal-swab COVID test right before I departed. I also hopefully still had antibodies (my wife and I both had COVID-19 way back in March). It was, at the very least, the polite thing to do: Get tested before joining someone in their home for two weeks.

I had planned on driving straight through Arizona from LA, avoiding anything except gas stations until I made it to New Mexico, surviving on a sturdy mix of cold brew and air conditioning to keep me awake. I’d never been to New Mexico before. I’d pored over Instagram photos of chile-drenched Southwestern Mexican food, enchiladas oozing with melted cheese, their red and green chile sauces popping with Instagram photo-editing exposure. My usual pre-trip Google map was loaded with thoroughly researched restaurants along my route. In earlier times, I’d have peppered each map point with essential info like hours of operation and must-order dishes; now, I was looking up intel like outdoor seating, takeout quality, and, most crucially, whether or not a place had managed to stay open at all.

I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger.

I left with a bullish heart. But each stop to fuel up took away a notch of my optimism-fueled excitement and replaced it with caution. Each person in a mask made me a little more depressed; each person without, a little angrier.

Ten hours in and I had made it to New Laguna, New Mexico. I stopped at Laguna Burger, an iconic mini-chain inside of a gas station. It’s a fast-food place to be sure, but according to old photos online there used to be stools set up against the counter, and even a couple of tables and a few chairs. Those are, of course, gone now — pushed to the side of the room and leaving in their place a vacuous emptiness, even for a gas-station dining room. The staff was nice but appropriately wary. I did not partake in the self-serve Kool-Aid pickle jar. I got my food and then sat in my car, emotionally deflated and no longer very excited to eat my first-ever green chile burger — something I had wanted to try for years.

Ordering a burger at a place like this was supposed to be a tiny gateway into the culture and personality of the place, however small that sampling was going to be. There is an emotional atmosphere, a vibe, that’s specific to each and every restaurant, and I had perhaps never been so truly aware that such a thing existed until I noticed it had been zapped entirely from this one. In its place was a blanket of nervous, sad precaution — added to, I’m sure, by my own nervousness.

So I sat in my car with my sack of food, gloomily disappointed even before the first bite. They forgot to salt the fries and it felt oddly appropriate. In this moment, to no fault of the restaurant itself, the food didn’t matter. It couldn’t have. I had slowly but gradually heaped unreasonable expectations on a green chile cheeseburger, wanting it to justify a 12-hour drive and to somehow soothe an anxious mind. But the food, it occurred to me, wasn’t what I was after at all.

Later on, in Albuquerque, I picked up a four-pack of beer from Arrow Point Brewing and received the now familiar and appropriate treatment: measured, cautious polite gratitude. It was a transaction, appreciated by both sides, but with a higher degree of precondition from both sides as well. I followed it up with a takeout bag of enchiladas and a taco from the beloved and iconic Duran’s Pharmacy, taking them back to the motel room I checked myself into earlier. It was 5:30 p.m. The enchiladas had sloshed in the bag. I took a bite and understood: It was comforting, but not nearly enough. Like being single and reconnecting with an ex, only to both immediately discover that there’s nothing there anymore — two empty vessels with no connection beyond a memory.

I took a sip of beer and fell asleep for an hour. When I awoke the city had turned dark and I knew there was no point in going anywhere. The world felt dystopian and deflated. I’d left my redundant, loving, comfortable bubble to experience life alone on the road, and all I wished was that I was right back there with my wife and my dog.

When my wife and I had COVID-19, we lost our sense of smell and taste for a bit. It was, as my wife put it, “a joyless existence.” Now I had my taste back, but somehow the joy of eating was still gone.

The enchiladas, in a box, alone, on the floor of my motel, were just enchiladas. Because here’s a thing I’ve come to understand of late: context really does affect flavor. A place, its atmosphere, the people within it, their mood (and ours) genuinely change the way things taste. A restaurant lasagna has to be twice as good as your mother’s — or that one you had on that trip to Italy — for it to remind you of it even a little. A rack of smoked pork ribs will never taste as good on a ceramic plate atop a tablecloth as it does from within a styrofoam box on the hood of your car, downwind from a roadside smoker. I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

So as it turns out, when it comes to my lifelong love of food and travel, the food might not have mattered — not to the degree I thought it did, anyway. Not without everything that goes along with it. The surly bartender in the dark room who fries your chicken behind the bar at Reel M Inn in Portland while a guy two seats down makes fun of you for being from California is a huge part of why that might be my favorite fried chicken in the world. The friend of a friend who abandoned his family (thanks Marc!) to drive a stranger, me, around Toronto for two days and show off the city’s outstanding versions of goat roti (from Mona’s Roti) and bún riêu cua (from Bong Lua) makes me realize that yes, the food is outstanding, but that it’s the people — excited to show off their hometown, its restaurants, and their community — who make travel worthwhile.

Would Tokyo be my favorite eating city in the world if my now-wife and I hadn’t befriended two total strangers in a six-seat dive bar, knocking back cocktails until we both threw up, only to come through to the other side fully bonded over late-night grilled pork skewers with another stranger who gave me his business card and said that he had been eating in this stall for over a decade? What is a bar without a bartender? It’s just, well, being home.

The restaurant business can be both horrible and wonderful. It pays poorly, it requires incredibly long hours, and in many instances, you are going broke while making food for people who complain that it’s too expensive. But it is, as Anthony Bourdain often said, the Pleasure Business. It has always been a place for camaraderie, human connection, and community. Those were the things that made the nearly unbearable parts of our business worthwhile — and that connection, when you can have a genuine one between staff and customer, is what I think everyone really, truly wants out of the transaction. Those things still exist, I suppose, but all at arm’s length, or across an app.

I still eventually want to open my own restaurant. I think. But maybe I just want to open my memory of what it would have been in a different, earlier world. I don’t want to be a dinosaur, yearning for the good old days. But I also don’t want to live in a world where a third-party tech company stands between the restaurant and its customer. I don’t want someone to visit my city and think that a robot delivering them a sandwich is the best that we have to offer. I don’t want to have to download an app to order a cup of fucking coffee. Human connection, it turns out, is essential too, and we need to find a way to make it a part of our essential businesses again.

So what, in the midst of a health and humanitarian catastrophe, can we do? Well, we can decide where we spend our money. We support human connection and small businesses. We pick up takeout with our own hands from the places and the people that we love (safely, responsibly). We know that it is just gauze pressed against an open, oozing knife wound, but we try anyway.

So we travel because we have to, whether for work or as a needed break from monotony, and we reset our expectations, we open ourselves up to receiving that connection, we seek out the places that are adapting and we smile through our masks, and ask each other how we are doing, if only to show that somebody cares.

When I eventually made it to Corsicana, Texas, hoisting a large bag of dried red New Mexico chiles, I was greeted with an engulfing hug by Kevin Bludso; it was the first truly comforting thing that happened on the whole trip. I melted into the arms of my friend. I was back in a bubble, connected to something.

I spent two glorious weeks in that bubble, taking turns doing Peloton workouts and then drinking vegetable smoothies, before recipe-testing dishes like Fried Whole-Body Crappie and Ham Hock Pinto Beans; researching Kevin’s family history and then, true to form, sipping rye (me) and Hennessy (him) before I had to head home. Kevin’s food was outstanding, but it was made all the better by the time spent together cooking it. So when I readied myself to get out on the road again, my expectations had changed. I knew the food alone could only do so much.

This disease has been a reflection and amplifier of all of our weak points — and the restaurant business is certainly no different. This industry was already ripe with flaws. It has been teetering on the brink of a seismic shift for years — COVID-19 just accelerated it, and all the platitudes, Instagram stories, and false optimism won’t fix anything. But there have always been bad restaurants as well as good restaurants. I suppose it’s no different now. Yet it is maybe just a little bit harder to give and to be open to receiving the human connection that makes the whole experience worthwhile.

I hope that I never find out what Waffle House tastes like while sober, eaten in broad daylight.

I hit the road early, and after about 10 and a half hours, fueled by caffeine, Christopher Cross, and Bonnie Raitt — with one depressing pit stop in El Paso at the famed H&H Car Wash, where an old curmudgeon out front insisted I take off my mask before going inside — I arrived in Las Cruces, at La Nueva Casita Café. I called ahead, hoping not to have to wait so I could just grab my food and get back on the road. My guard was still up, but then the woman on the other end of the phone was so charming and kind that I was immediately disarmed. She graciously steered me toward the chile relleno burrito (“it’ll be the easiest one to eat in the car”). A few minutes later I came inside to pick up my food and the two women behind the counter were, frankly, a delight. I paid, and was promptly handed my food and thanked with genuine, casual appreciation for coming in. The burrito was excellent.

Bolstered by the kindness of strangers, I drove another five and a half hours into Phoenix. As a bit of an obsessive pizza maker (I had the tremendous fortune to train with Frank Pinello of Best Pizza in Williamsburg, and also had a hand in helping to open Prime Pizza in Los Angeles), I was here to try the new 18-inch New York-style fusion pie by the great Chris Bianco at their Pane Bianco outpost on Central.

Just as at La Nueva Casita Café, the staff was friendly, genuine, helpful, and kind. In retrospect, it took so little but it meant so much. When I expressed a need for caffeine, they sent me next door to Lux Central for a large iced coffee, where the barista talked to me from a responsible distance, wished me a safe drive, and gave me a free blueberry muffin. Even eaten in my car, Chris’s pizza was truly outstanding — crisp, thin, and pliable, successfully pulling off the New York-modern Neapolitan (ish) fusion that, in lesser hands, turns into an 18-inch bowl of soup.

I drove the last six hours home, finding myself encouraged by these final two restaurant experiences, excited by what the best in our industry are still somehow capable of in spite of everything. It was, frankly, inspirational to find genuine interaction, care, and kindness in this new reality.

It reminds me of my mother, actually. I remember when I was a kid, she would pick up the phone to call a restaurant, or Blockbuster Video, to ask them a question. I would always hear her say something like: “Hi Randy! How are you today?” and I would say, “Mom! Do you know him?” and she would shake her head no. Then she would say, “Oh that’s great to hear, Randy. Hey listen, what time do you close today?” My brother and I used to make fun of her for that — for forcing this connection with someone she had no real relationship with beyond an exchange of services. Now, I plan to do exactly that, whenever and wherever I can.

Noah Galuten is a chef, James Beard Award-nominated cookbook author, and the co-host of Don’t Panic Pantry. Nhung Le is a Vietnamese freelance illustrator based in Brooklyn, NY.

from Eater - All https://ift.tt/34Oc66Q via Blogger https://ift.tt/314xEef

[alexfraser9030]

Toronto-area Businesses Band Together to offer FREE Disinfection Services to Restaurant Industry

For all construction-related inquiries, please contact GTA General Contractors at 647-341-1030

A Toronto-area commercial maintenance and hygiene company  and local commercial construction company are banding together to offer free disinfection services to a handful of lucky commercial business and restaurant owners in Toronto. Sanitance and GTA General Contractors partnering up to give away free one-time disinfection treatments to a handful of lucky winners in the Toronto / GTA area.

Sanitance is a Toronto-based commercial facility maintenance and hygiene company specializing in commercial, hospitality, retail, and restaurant businesses. Their main areas of service include Commercial Facility Maintenance, Kitchen Hood Cleaning, Kitchen Equipment Restoration, Sanitization, HVAC Maintenance, Electrical Maintenance, Facility System Inspections, and Hygiene Products. 

GTA General Contractors is a leading full-service general construction company in the Toronto / GTA area specializing in commercial, restaurant, hospitality, and industrial construction. Since 1991, GTAGC has been revolutionizing the commercial construction industry with experienced, efficient, turn-key contracting solutions. GTAGC has worked with many well known brands such as Sportsnet Grill, Fjallraven, Gyu-Kaku BBQ, Marriott Hotels, Meltwich Food Co., Darna Restaurant, and F45 Training Facilties.

These free services will provide Toronto / GTA businesses owners that are slated to re-open following months of turmoil due to the COVID-19 pandemic, a much needed boost to their health and safety. Sanitance will be partnering with leading local Toronto Commercial Construction Company, GTA General Contractors to provide the disinfection treatments to local restaurants and retail businesses.

In these difficult times it is so important to band together and give back to those individuals struggling with the pandemic shutdown. The restaurant industry is one of Canada’s most important industries and we want to do our part to strengthen it” said Abe Nafar, CEO of GTA General Contractors.

Sanitance is also planning on providing special discounts to all Toronto restaurant and retail business owners affected by the COVID-19 shutdown such as space sanitization, and commercial maintenance inspections and repair.

“We are committed to keeping our citizens safe in these challenging times which is why we have decided to give 3 lucky winners per week a FREE disinfection treatment for their hospitality or retail business before they officially open their doors to the public.”

The free disinfection treatment will provide businesses up to 5,000 sq.ft in size a one time disinfection spray treatment for the interior of their business to increase public health and safety.

The company says they are well-equipped to sanitize all sizes of commercial properties including hotels, restaurants, retail / shopping centers, offices, schools, commercial and industrial plazas and other general commercial buildings.

Sanitance will determine which of the applicants will benefit the most by winning the free disinfection services - such as restaurants or grocery stores.

“As we continue to face this global crisis, Sanitance and GTA General Contractors recognize that by providing these services to Toronto-area businesses we can soften the damage due to the shutdown and help business owners to open back up the right way.” said Nafar.

To submit your name for consideration, all you have to do is visit sanitance.ca and fill out their contact form to automatically be entered to win one of five disinfection treatment packages.

In collaboration with Sanitance Canada and GTA General Contractors.

For more information, you can contact Sanitance Canada at 416-444-0007.

[vivianrhopper85]

Should You Renovate? Most Outdated Condo Design Tips

Whether you’re looking to update your current space for personal enjoyment, or are thinking about diving into a renovation or redesign to prepare your home for sale it can be difficult to know where start and how to the get the best value for your investment. That’s why we’ve created a list of some of the 10 most common, outdated condo design trends, and what you can do to reinvigorate your space.

Boring Beige and White Overload

White is beautiful, clean, and crisp, but it also shows every flaw, nick, stain or spill. Let’s face it, real life happens, and real life involves kids, pets, red wine and marinara sauce that threaten to leave spots on an impractical all-white or light coloured space. New York based designer Tracy Stern says for light colour alternatives:

People are now embracing rich shades of brown, black, and green. For a seductive yet sophisticated space, incorporate a signature black wall into your home. And if you’re drawn to more earthy tones, forest green and rust brown pops are a must.

While many people were quick to jump on the bright white kitchens a few years ago, remember cooking, eating, and genuinely enjoying your prep space will involve a lot of mess, so lots of white flooring, counters, will also mean hours spent cleaning up errant spills and spots – something potential buyers are wary of.

Move Over Marble

Marble kitchens were once the Rolls Royce of kitchens, but as people have grown accustomed to them, they’ve lost a lot of appeal, as have the dark coloured tiles and accents that often go hand-in- hand with these kitchen designs. Harriet Jones, supervisor of End of Tenancy Cleaning says:

Marble is classy and stylish, but it gets stained easily. This is why many homeowners are starting to choose quartz or soapstone over the marble. They are simply easier to care for, which will save you a lot of time and energy in the long run. History has taught us that omnipresent materials can’t stay trendy forever and marble is running out of time.

Many people have been moving towards quartz countertops thanks to benefits that include more colour options, less care required to maintain its look, and because it’s environmentally friendly. Many Toronto based companies offer reasonably priced options starting at just over 50 dollars per square foot installed for their most popular colours.

Kitchen by Bryan Lee

Traditional Condo Layouts

Once upon a time everyone wanted separate rooms for dining, cooking, and entertaining. Today open concept space is king, as people like to chat with their guests while they cook dinner, and prefer a breakfast bar to walls dividing up space. Removing walls is one of the more costly and time consuming upgrades to undertake for your condo. Check in with your condo board to find out more details on whether or not this can be done, permits, and preferred builders who have had success within the building.

Lighting the Way to the Future

There are certain types of lights that were so popular, that we’re beginning to see a dated oversaturation, which is the case for these two types of light fixtures. Edison style lightbulbs were first seen in trendy restaurants to help break up industrial décor, so people took note and began adapting them to their lofts and living spaces. Today these fixtures are becoming passé, consider other modern chandelier options and leave the Edison bulb for the trendy café down the road instead.

A powder room needs great lighting, which can be a definite highlight for any woman putting on her make-up each day, or getting that close shave, but that doesn’t mean Hollywood Mirror Lights are necessary. This is a trend from the 1990’s, to shine a spotlight on each trip to the bathroom. Instead consider using softer bathroom lighting like lights flanked either side of a mirror, layered lighting, and options that mimic real daylight.

Cold Industrial Kitchens

While loft living is really conducive to a industrial style aesthetic, there can be too much of this, leaving a cold and clinical feel. Trends are moving away from large show-stopping appliances, even if they are the fancy ones. Select your appliances for their function to make your kitchen look clean and modern, and not like the inside of a warehouse.

Today designers are moving towards providing more camouflage for appliances since they really shouldn’t be the focal point of any room. The same goes for hood fans, that were once a staple feature in open-concept kitchens. Ana Cummings, designer says:

Hood fans were never aesthetically pleasing in the first place, just utilitarian.

Modern design has begun to hide hoods in cabinetry to allow for other visual focus in the kitchen.

Popcorn Ceilings

Popcorns ceilings were a standard in a lot of homes built in the time spanning between the 1930’s and the 1990’s, and that’s a lot of popcorn! Since many people don’t like the dated aesthetic of this look, or its presumed association with asbestos (although the use of asbestos in textured ceiling paint was banned in 1977), the stigma is still there. The good news is that with a little elbow grease you can scrape away the popcorn yourself and repaint the surface, or hire a team to do the job in a matter of days.

Removing Popcorn Ceiling by Daniel M Hendricks

Over Upgrading

With all of the options readily available at your fingertips when purchasing a new build it can be tempting to select all of the upgraded options. Here’s the thing, it’s expensive, and the choices you make according to your own particular preference may not be all that common to the masses. If you’re planning on flipping the space in the shorter-term (in the next five to 10 years) consider looking at the recommended suites of popular upgrades made available by builders so your space features some upgrades, but not everything but the kitchen sink.

Damned Damask 

Remember those really cool patterned accent walls that were all the rage in the 1990’s and 2000’s? The name of the pattern is called damask and odds are you or someone you know still has a condo with one of these walls, most common in dining rooms and living rooms. Many designers say that if you’re looking to sell these walls are a no go. If you still must have a pop of pattern and colour consider updating with some big bright blooms and nature based patterns instead.

Dated Bathroom Fixtures

Whether your condo came with the builder’s fixtures (which are often on the lower end, price wise) or you installed your own, gold or brass fixtures that were popular in the 1980’s and 1990’s, these dated pieces will age the appearance of your home. By investing in some more modern hardware, neutral chrome or brushed nickel often appeals to a wide variety of tastes, your home gets an instant update! Consider splurging on a Smart Touchless Faucet for an extra wow factor. Basic modern fixtures will usually start at around 50 to 100 dollars, whereas the smart options will cost a few hundred dollars depending on the model.

Too Much of a Good Thing

There is a fine balance between a space being too cluttered and filled with knickknacks, or mimicking an IKEA showroom. Believe it or not, a space that looks too much like a store makes it as difficult for people to envision themselves in as one filled with photo walls of your loved ones. Opt for a carefully curated space with a few accent pieces you love to really make the space beam with your own personality while combating clutter. Remember, at the end of the day the space is yours, keep your budget and comfort level in mind when making changes to your living space. Don’t be afraid to talk to your real estate agent to have them help you prioritize changes and spending on updates that will help sell your home at the best possible price.

SM00KV

from News And Tip About Real Estate https://jamiesarner.com/toronto-life/2018/07/outdated-condo-design-tips-renovation/

[powerhoodssystems]

At Power Hoods Systems Inc. we provide Restaurant hood cleaning in Oakville, Toronto, Brampton, Mississauga, Waterloo and Milton. Our goal is to keep your hood and exhaust system properly maintained so that your kitchen can operate in a clean and safe manner.

[powerhoodssystems]

Cleaning of your Kitchen Exhaust System at regular intervals reduces the risk of fire accidents and maintains the proper airflow.

Hire Power Hoods Systems Inc. for Kitchen Exhaust Cleaning Services in Toronto, Mississauga, Brampton, Waterloo, Oakville, Milton and surrounding areas. We provide Kitchen Exhaust Cleaning Services for commercial food sector such as Restaurants, Banquet Halls, Pubs, Hotels, Cafeterias, Fast Food Shops, Nursing Homes and hospitals.

Office Address: Power Hoods Systems Inc. 86 Guided Court Unit 23, Toronto, ON M9V 5Hl, Canada

Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems

Phone: 647-382-6490

Email: info@powerhoodssystems.com

Opening Hours Monday to Friday: 10:00 a.m. - 18:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. - 14:00 p.m. Sunday: Closed

[powerhoodssystems]

Remember, customers always notice when a food sector such as Restaurants, Banquet Halls, Pubs, Hotels, Cafeterias, Fast Food Shops, fails to keep its kitchen clean.

But don't worry, we at Power Hoods Systems offer Full Commercial Kitchen Cleaning Services in Toronto, Mississauga, Brampton, Waterloo, Oakville, Milton that ensure every inch of your facility is hygiene.

Contact us today @ 647-382-6490 Email: info@powerhoodssystems.com

Website: https://www.powerhoodssystems.com/full-commercial-kitchen-cleaning.html

Office Address: Power Hoods Systems Inc. 86 Guided Court Unit 23, Toronto, ON M9V 5Hl, Canada

Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems

Opening Hours Monday to Friday: 10:00 a.m. - 18:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. - 14:00 p.m. Sunday: Closed

[powerhoodssystems]

Restaurants, Hospitals, Hotels, Cafeterias and other Food services owners knows that hood cleaning is an absolute necessity. So don't go anywhere, contact Power Hoods Systems Inc. @ 647-382-6490 for Restaurant Hood Cleaning Services in Toronto, Mississauga, Brampton, Waterloo, Oakville, Milton and the surrounding areas.

For more info: https://www.powerhoodssystems.com/restaurant-hood-cleaning.html

Office Address: Power Hoods Systems Inc. 86 Guided Court Unit 23, Toronto, ON M9V 5Hl, Canada

Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems

Email: info@powerhoodssystems.com

Opening Hours Monday to Friday: 10:00 a.m. - 18:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. - 14:00 p.m. Sunday: Closed

[powerhoodssystems]

Looking for Restaurant Hood Cleaning in Toronto, Ontario, contact 'Power Hoods Systems' today at 647-382-6490

Office Address: 86 Guided Court Unit 23, Toronto, ON M9V 5Hl, Canada

Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems

Web: https://www.powerhoodssystems.com/restaurant-hood-cleaning.html

Email: info@powerhoodssystems.com

Opening Hours Monday-Friday: 10:00 a.m. - 18:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. - 14:00 p.m. Sunday: Closed

[powerhoodssystems]

Are you worrying about Restaurant Hood Cleaning in Toronto, Brampton, Mississauga? Don't worry about it, contact 'Power Hoods Systems' today at 647-382-6490

Office Address: 86 Guided Court Unit 23, Toronto, ON M9V 5Hl, Canada

Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems

Web: https://www.powerhoodssystems.com/restaurant-hood-cleaning.html

Email: info@powerhoodssystems.com

Opening Hours Monday-Friday: 10:00 a.m. - 18:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. - 14:00 p.m. Sunday: Closed

[powerhoodssystems]

Get your floor sparkle again as new by our expert Floor Cleaning Services in Milton. We at Power Hoods Systems provide Floor Cleaning Services for hospitals, restaurants, office buildings, grocery and retail stores as well as residential area.

We serve Floor Cleaning Services in Toronto, Mississauga, Brampton, Waterloo, Oakville, Milton and the surrounding areas.

For more info visit: https://www.powerhoodssystems.com/floor-cleaning.html

Office Address: Power Hoods Systems Inc. 86 Guided Court Unit 23, Toronto, ON M9V 5Hl, Canada

Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems

Phone: 647-382-6490

Email: info@powerhoodssystems.com

Opening Hours Monday to Friday: 10:00 a.m. - 18:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. - 14:00 p.m. Sunday: Closed

[powerhoodssystems]

If you are concerned about the Full Commercial Kitchen Cleaning in Toronto, Brampton, Mississauga, then contact Power Hoods Systems @ 647-382-6490

We provide Commercial Kitchen Cleaning of the following: -> Restaurants -> Banquet Halls -> Nursing Homes -> Hospitals

Office Address: 86 Guided Court Unit 23, Toronto, ON M9V 5Hl, Canada

Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems

Web: https://www.powerhoodssystems.com/full-commercial-kitchen-cleaning.html

Email: info@powerhoodssystems.com

Opening Hours Monday-Friday: 10:00 a.m. - 18:00 p.m. Saturday: 10:00 a.m. - 14:00 p.m. Sunday: Closed

[powerhoodssystems]

Power Hoods Systems has been in business for over 10 years. We keep our client's FIRE SAFE in accordance with NFP A 96 fires codes. Our team of highly professional and experienced staff will ensure that you will receive only the highest quality of service on the market. we help you to make your home clean and safe. We also Services Provide: 

✔️ Kitchen Exhaust Cleaning

✔️ Kitchen Equipment Cleaning

✔️ Commercial HVAC Cleaning

✔️ Grout Cleaning

✔️ Floor Cleaning

✔️ Laundry Exhaust Cleaning

✔️ Full Commercial kitchen Cleaning

✔️ Restaurant Hood Cleaning

♀: 86 GUIDED COURT, UNIT 23, TORONTO, ON M9V 5HI

📞: (647) 382-6490

✉: info@powerhoodssystems.com

[powerhoodssystems]

Welcome to Power Hoods Systems Inc. if you are looking for Licensed and Reliable Cleaning and Housekeeping Services Companies in Toronto, Brampton, Mississauga.

We offer - Kitchen Exhaust Cleaning - Kitchen Equipments Cleaning - Laundry Exhaust Cleaning - Commercial HVAC - Floor Cleaning - Grout Cleaning - Full Commercial Kitchen Cleaning - Restaurant Hood Cleaning

Serving Areas: Toronto, Brampton, Mississauga

Website: https://www.powerhoodssystems.com Phone: 647-382-6490 Reach our office via Google Maps: https://g.page/Power-Hoods-Systems