“Who’s Lovely?” That’s the first thing many customers ask when they walk into LovelyPau. The answer? There’s no one named Lovely behind the counter.
Lovely, it turns out, is the siopao.
What started as a humble recipe shared between cousins has grown into one of the most loved siopao spots in Toronto. But this isn’t just a business story. It’s a story of grit, grace, and finding light after a hip replacement, a lost job, and a landlord threatening eviction.
After her surgery, LovelyPau’s founder found herself staring at four walls. Her savings were running low. She was a single mom with a teenage son and no way to make ends meet. One day, a cousin mentioned she made siopao back home at a sabungan. That sparked something. Flour went on sale. With only $100 in her pocket, she took a risk.
She started small, cooking in her apartment and selling to friends. But then came a complaint. Cooking wasn’t allowed, and her landlord gave her an ultimatum: stop or get evicted. They had to leave. With no place and no money for first and last month’s rent, she turned to faith and found a friend with a small space on Butters and Yorkdale. That became her first shop.
Just like the siopao itself (soft, warm, and filled with heart), the shop began to grow. Seniors asked for mini sizes. She listened. Chicken, pork, bola-bola (each carefully crafted and color-marked) became customer favorites. Eventually, they expanded to supply siopao across Toronto, Barrie, St. Catharines, Ajax, and beyond. To meet the growing demand, the kitchen now starts steaming at 6 a.m.
But the heart of LovelyPau isn’t just in the product. It’s in the people. Seniors make up most of the team: Ate Elvy, Ate Odette, Kuya Sam, and more. They cut, steam, laugh, and even dance in the kitchen. The only rule? Smiles are required. If you’re frowning, step out and reset.
As demand grew, so did the offerings. Customers asked for more, so she added lumpia, mommy, and pandesal. Every bit of feedback (even complaints) was treated as gold. “Our customers are our partners,” she says. “Without them, there is no business.”
And as for the siopao? It’s full. Just like the story behind it. Full of flavor. Full of faith. Full of love.
