Sean K
Google
I honestly don’t know how to describe Pears Restaurant other than just…strange. The decor is undeniably nice, which explains why it’s all over Instagram, but the overall experience was bizarre.
We had a 5 PM reservation, and while the space was empty when we arrived, it filled up quickly. The interior is sleek and trendy—clearly designed for the wannabe influencer crowd.
From the start, our waiter pushed the priciest items: Lobster Wontons ($22), Crispy Whole Bass ($65), Lobster Mapo Tofu ($58), and the Char Siu Bone-In Beef Short Rib ($90). He especially hyped the short rib, calling it the best value and pairing it with the best fried rice (Wild Mushroom Fried Rice) he’s ever had—for $32. We passed on the short rib and ordered the Shrimp & Scallop Toast, Chicken Satay, Crispy Whole Bass, Manila Clam Fregola, Mushroom Fried Rice, and a Pera Rosa mocktail.
The best thing I had was the mocktail. Everything else ranged from fine to forgettable. The fried rice was decent but nowhere near worth $32. The Shrimp & Scallop Toast had a nice crunch to the bread, but the filling was mushy. Their interpretation of the satay sauce was weird, I’d rather have the real thing, and the clam fregola did not taste good at all, with a bitter aftertaste throughout. The biggest letdown was the Crispy Whole Bass—bland, difficult to eat, and full of tiny bones. It came with roti and a sauce, but there was no direction on how to eat it. For $65, it was a chore to eat.
Fusion should be about blending flavours in a way that enhances both cuisines, making something better than the sum of its parts. This place somehow did the opposite—combining elements from different cuisines in a way that made everything worse, and then charging absurd prices for it.
Now for the weirdest part: when we first sat down, the waiter asked us if we’d heard of the restaurant before (an odd question since we made a reservation) but assuming he meant if we’d been before, we answered “no”. This launched him into a rehearsed spiel about the chef, his Wasian background, how he’s currently in France representing Team Canada (for what, I have no idea), and the statue—a full-on sculpture of him chiseling himself out of stone, tattoos and all. It was so offputting it was comical. The worst part was having to hear every table around us get the same speech throughout the night and one by one people awkwardly turning to look the statue on cue. Confidence is great, but this was next-level narcissism.
The clientele told me everything I needed to know—mostly 20-30 something yuppies looking for the next trendy spot. We were likely the only table with parents, and they were definitely the oldest in the room.
I can’t recommend Pears Restaurant. The decor is nice, but the food doesn’t match the ego (or price point). Maybe the glowing Google reviews are from influencers at the soft opening, but my experience was entirely different. That said, I did love the wall of metallic fortune cats—right next to the statue, of course. If you’re after aesthetics over substance, this is the place for you.