Whatever, I'm not that hard to please. But I am hard to *impress*, like the way everyone who took me there was impresssed with Salad King.
My sister and her friends (all Ryersonians) were so excited about going that I was accordingly excited about being invited along for what revealed itself to be something of a beloved ritual.
Well, no disrespect meant (it's certainly better than the food I usually have access to when on *my* former campus), but it's really nothing special, as far as I can tell. They do that litter "pepper meter" or whatever they call it, and nobody likes shtick more than this guy right here, but all I remember was that my mango chicken was *far* too watery for it to be on purpose. It was ok, certainly not spectacular. The spring rolls were from the right side of the tracks (ie. good, in springroll town).
Oh, and it was super crowded. Is. Always.