In the midst of the ceaseless commotion that is Chinatown, there’s a new hidden nugget of zen where you can ensconce yourself in a plush beanbag chair, crack open a novel (or a laptop, if you must) and dig into a steaming bowl of noodle soup for under $7 (taxes included).
Sure, cheap soup practically drips from the eaves on Spadina, but One Hour’s lofty exposed brick walls, recessed floor lighting and sleek wooden communal tables lined with inviting black tuffets aren’t the neighbourhood’s aesthetic norm.
Owner, designer and trained architect Han Shao has created a space of impeccable contradictions: One Hour is a cozy minimalist student haven.
Rather than pigeonhole his business as a tea shop — the majority of One Hour’s offerings consist of hot, cold and bubble teas, along with assorted fruit slushies, ranging from $3.99 to $6.99 — Shao understatedly describes his space as a “student cafeteria,” a hangout where friends can huddle around cups of warm tea or linger over bowls brimming with hearty noodles.
There’s no disputing that this is the most cutting-edge “student cafeteria” in the city, and if one shred of knowledge is universal, it’s this: students need nourishment on a budget.
Shao’s entire vision rests on a "less is more" philosophy and, true to form, the menu’s headliners are modest eats, "things that remind you of your childhood … simple, like your mother would make," Shao says.
One Hour offers three substantial lunch soups ($5.49 for a small, $6.49 for a large) in addition to a couple of small plates ($4.49) including edamame and tang yuan (fermented sweet rice with glutinous rice balls). All edibles are made in-house.
First up is the beef noodle soup: a hefty tangle of al dente rice noodles topped with savoury scraps of well-done beef, diced tomato, tender baby bok choy, chopped onion and parsley, all bathed in a lightly salted beef broth.
Served in snow-white, conical ceramic (equipped with chopstick holsters), the soup is finished with cracked black pepper. The broth plays backup to the more flavourful elements — the beef, tomato and green onion — leading me to believe that MSG has no place here, a fact that Shao confirms.
“It’s all healthy and home made,” he says.
The beef noodles are clearly a winner. My lunch buddy predatorily eyes my bowl until it’s shoved in her direction and she happily polishes it off. A stealthy glance around the room reveals at least two other patrons enjoying the same dish.
Next on the menu are the sweet and spicy rice noodles, topped with ground pork, onion and sesame seeds. The slippery noodles are texturally complemented by the addition of a marinated egg of pleasant rubberiness ($0.80).
The sweet and sour liquid lurking in the bottom of the bowl delivers on its promise; its vinegar base is slightly tongue-numbing unless eaten slowly (maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me to slow down and smell the noodles).
By the dish’s end, I’m greedily guiding sunken bits of subtly-gingered pork into my mouth with streamlined wooden chopsticks (thankfully, not the splinter-rife disposable breed). I’m vaguely conscious that my brutish behaviour contrasts against the serene backdrop of One Hour’s classy minimalism, but I keep eating anyways.
The sweet and spicy wontons (pictured at top) are traditional southern Chinese-style packages of delight stuffed with a variety of fillings like pork and coriander, chicken, and pork and watercress; they come nestled in the same piquant liquid as the rice noodles, topped with identical accoutrements.
Two types are sampled — the pork and leek and the shrimp and pork — both of which are melt-in-my-maw scrumptious. My doubt at 15 delicate pieces of wonton being able to sate my raucous midday hunger is quickly abated: One Hour’s got the goods to fill a belly on a blustery fall afternoon.
In addition to treating the taste buds, One Hour impresses by cultivating a pretension-free vibe in a remarkably well-designed space. It’s hard to beat the value and atmosphere of Spadina’s spot-du-jour.
One Hour, 435 Spadina Ave., 647-346-2172
