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I Dream of Mi Mi
I do not know how I existed before discovering Mi Mi’s. By all appearances, it’s no different one way or another from all the other Vietnamese or Asian restos in Toronto. But congregants from the gay church around the corner and in the east end are militant regulars, and Sunday lunching is a strict part of local routine. We cannot live without the best BBQ pork in the world, rolled into rice wraps with mint, basil, and sweet fish sauce, or piled atop a bed of bean sprouts and rice noodles. The food gives new meaning to fresh. It’s an odd mix of Vietnamese families and gaggles of gays. The former enjoy all manner of strange intestines in spicy soup. The latter stick with the unforgettable pork and the thick Vietnamese coffee. The place is nothing really to look at, but clean and always bustling. The service is amazing. And the food is practically free.