Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Between The Shucks

The second last time I had oysters was on a recent trip to Florida. It was a real oyster shack complete with hanging napkin dispensers, metal buckets for serving and the fastest shucker I have ever seen. You order them by the pound and when you are done with each shell you toss them in the trough at the edge of the bar. They are served with soda crackers, cocktail sauce and drawn butter. You can have them either steamed or raw, the latter not being the popular choice for Southerners. There is a big disclaimer on the menu highlighting the potential dangers of eating them raw and that the establishment is not responsible should you fall ill. I was confused. We eat them raw up in the North. And by the way, what’s with the crackers, where’s the crushed ice, fresh horseradish and Tabasco? Yes, they are cheaper but so was the experience.

So I decided to pay a visit to my favourite oyster joint, Big Daddy’s Crab Shack and Oyster Bar on King Street, to relive how we do it. It was happy hour and that week there was a Mardi Gras celebration. At “a buck a shuck” we got down to business. Twenty five oysters later, including a Kumomoto from Asia that was farmed in the West, I was happy.

Now, clearly an oyster is an oyster but what exactly are these molluscs all about? We eat them but know so little about them. I called upon Katie, a veteran server and shucker for some insight. She begins with the basics. The correct and most enjoyable way to eat an oyster is to chew then swallow. Most people just swallow and do not even taste it. She argues that this technique is, “simply a waste of money”. Unless you are in Orlando or it’s happy hour, these little treats are expensive. The Kumomoto was $3.50 for one. The steep pricing of oysters is why they are almost always presented in a thoughtful way i.e. on crushed ice or sea salt and why they are served with fancy sauces. No one would appreciate paying $18 for half a dozen and they bring them to you in a bucket.

She shucked another one for me and began pointing out the layers and the muscle of the oyster. The muscle is the centre and is what holds it together. Detaching it from one side of the shell with the knife is what kills it. Yes, it is alive right up until it is served.

They are either male or female but can change sex more than once in their life span. Some oysters die inside of their shell before they are opened and according to Katie, the smell is extremely rancid. She says that a bad oyster can only be likened to, “the smell of a big, nasty fart” and that your nose could find one even at the bottom of the pile. To help keep prevent them from dying, they should be lying cup side down in their own sea water. North American oysters all have one side (the half shell) that is more concave then the other. It is their bed and they need the salt water to stay alive.

I have to admit that part of the fun of eating oysters is dressing them. At Big Daddy’s they serve them with fresh lemon and horseradish, spiced infused vodka and a carousel of six different sauces ranging from gentle to very spicy. I mix and match, trying different combinations and feel proud when I make a good one. This time and for the first time, I tried one plain. It was the one Katie shucked for me and she made sure not to drain a drop of the water. It was like accidently swallowing salt water while swimming in the ocean. I will stick with the condiments.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Lombardi's Pizzeria, New York City

I recently went to New York City and will admit that besides seeing The Statue of Liberty, I was really only interested in eating. I went with the intention of completing a few key food missions one of which was trying the pizza. Ok, not only did I want to try it, the plan was to eat as much of it as possible. I had only hoped that it would succeed its reputation.

We went to Lombardi’s Pizzeria on Spring Street in Little Italy. Established in 1905 by an Italian immigrant, it is said to be the first pizzeria in America. After 100 years, they are still coveted as one of the best pizzerias in the United States and the best in New York City. Now, New Yorkers put pizza into one of two categories: Neapolitan or Sicilian. The former being a thin crust and the latter being quite thick. Lombardi’s serves the Neapolitan style. Another note: they refer to the whole pizza as a pie.

Well, it was everything I had imagined. Chequered table cloths, New Yorker accents and original ingredients added to its’ authenticity. A “New York” style of pizza is with cheese and meatballs or with pasta baked into the top. Sounds weird, I know but I had to try it. We picked the meatball one. Baked in a coal oven, it came out well done and really thin. With a generous amount of good quality mozzarella, it was gooey and stringy. The meatballs (a mix of beef and pork) were perfectly seasoned and were solid, not the crumbly kind you sometimes see. Even the sauce which was born from San Marzano tomatoes was perfect. It balanced the acidity and the sweetness in such a way as to highlight the pizza not overpower it.

Lombardi's catapulted my pizza mission into high gear and over the next four days, I sampled two other pizzerias. The others were more takeout as opposed to sitdown but were nonetheless, right up there in deliciousness. I knew things were getting out of hand when I statred to wonder if I could bring some home on the plane. I thought of customs and although I once smuggled cheese from the Netherlands, I figured I should not temp fate twice.

Pizzeria Libretto

I’m not going to lie, I absolutely love pizza. I like it thin crust and I eat it with a knife and fork. My preference is to have it well done to the point where the cheese kind of goes a bit brown and with some sort of Italian meat on it. Chicken on pizza? Never. Olives? Always. Oh yeah, and don’t forget the drizzle of a nice extra virgin olive oil. Fantastic.

Pizzeria Libretto, 221 Ossington Avenue, is definitely all about the pizza. Their wood burning oven from Naples turns them out in 90 seconds with a 900 degree temperature. They are thin and slightly burnt from the intense heat. They get points for offering a spelt crust (wheat and I are not big friends) and for creativity with the use of ingredients like duck confit.

Unfortunately, they lose points for so many other things.

My first visit started out with a mediocre bottle of Nero D’Avola while we sampled some antipasti. House made wild boar capicollo ($6) was intriguing yet disappointing. Number one – it was crazy chintzy with an offering of maybe four slices. Number two - having grown up in an Italian famiglia, I have seen my share of hanging, cured meats and this one didn’t resemble any type of capicollo I’ve ever feasted on. Rather wet and greasy, it resembled a pancetta more so than capicollo and it certainly didn’t taste like wild boar. C’mon, do they really have a cantina in the basement?

I chose to set up the pig with some Rochetta ($6), a sharp goat’s cheese – small piece again. Not worth six dollars. I liked the Heirloom tomato and Burrata cheese salad ($9). The cheese was as smooth as butter, the tomatoes reminded me of September and the understated dressing let those flavours and textures shine through.

A good old stand by for me is always a quattro stagione pizza (the four seasons) because sometimes I can’t decide between just a few ingredients. Libretto’s version ($15) disappoints.
The salami quarter (winter) was satisfactory as was the spring and summer portions. The artichokes were nice and the green olives were ok but I really just wanted to skip the fall and go right into the next year. This quarter is always mushrooms and I love mushrooms. I repeat, I love mushrooms. These ones were downright gross. They were grassy and earthy and not in a good way. They tasted like dirt because I don’t think they were soaked enough. I picked them off.

That was back in October so I decided to give them another go. Besides, they have conjured up some serious supporters so perhaps I missed something.

Well, after a second visit, I am still not impressed. What is everyone saying when they claim this is great pizza? I'm really confused.

My prosciutto and mozzarella pizza ($16) was at best, alright. It was so stingy on the cheese that it was more of a red pizza than anything else. The prosciutto tasted like a dead pig - I realize this sounds absurd and so what I mean is that the meat tasted old and expired. I don't know.

My date's sausage pizza with caramelized onions, mozzarella and chilli oil ($15) was better but forget it. Too much oil paired with too many oily onions just equalled a greasy mess. Tasty at first but when you got to the third piece, the stomach ache started to set in.

Libretto, I give up. Skip this place and go straight to Terroni.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Bite Me

This past September, one of this city’s biggest Chefs – Marc Thuet, reopened the former Bistro & Bakery Thuet by the new name of Bite Me, 609 King Street West. Apparently the decision was fuelled by the apparent need for a slightly less expensive menu that would appeal to the 20 and 30 somethings that bombard this popular stretch of town. Don’t get too excited though, you’re still going to pay $12 for a Caeser salad and $39 for his Cassoulet.

A very open space, it is decorated tastefully. Gleaming hardwood, Buddha heads, paper like chandeliers that resemble hydrangeas and paintings done by Chef himself. Well, I have to sadly say that I liked his artwork more than his food.

Service is painfully slow and our waiter must be exhausted after every shift from how “on” he was the entire time. It was straight up annoying. Other irritations include: a ten minute wait for a martini that arrives with olives with pits (big pet peeve), freshly baked artisan style bread arrives with ‘hard as a rock’ cold butter (what?!), empty app plates take about fifteen minutes to clear and when two out of five entrees finally arrived (the butter was soft at this point), they get taken away because there was a “mistake”. They did reappear only two minutes later but with less food on the plate than the first time around. Part owner and Thuet’s wife, Biana came over to personally apologize which was gracious but after awhile her presence got overbearing. She is the front of house but you get tired of seeing her walk past your table a million times and you start to wish she’d go into the office or something.

Anyways, on to the actual food...

I started with what he calls Mosaic ($17). It was different types of carpaccio arranged on the plate to look like a mosaic art piece. It was beautiful. I could identify beef, salmon and red pepper but was stumped by the other slices. Either way, they were paper thin and drizzled with an almost water like dressing that tasted exactly like sushi. Yes, like a whole sushi plate amalgamated into water. It was fresh and thoughtful.

The winner in the first course department was clearly the Tartine ($15). It was a sort of open faced sandwich with Heirloom tomatoes, Sheep’s cheese and Prosciuttini atop a piece of bread that resembled a big, crunchy, greasy, garlicky crouton. It was wonderful.

I almost hated my main, Seabass ($28). It was stuffed with ground oxtail and served with a few mini vegetables and three escargot. I will take full responsibility for assuming it would be Chilean Seabass which is my favourite – yes I know we’re not supposed to eat it – but at that price point why would I assume that it was going to be more like a lake than a sea bass. It tasted like someone fished it out of Lake Simcoe. It had the texture and dryness of overdone salmon, the oxtail chuck was bland and dicey, the vegetables were cute as hell but the escargot tasted like dirt. Really, like dirt.

The Short Ribs ($28) which are supposedly cooked for 72 hours, definitely did not have that fall off the bone texture. You need a knife and Thuet needs a new watch. The Pomme Frites were good but we should hope so at this stage in cuisine.

I was so over it that I didn’t even look at the dessert menu.

Tout Fini.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

The Yellow Griffin, reviewed for Single Men's Magazine

The Yellow Griffin Pub, 2202 Bloor Street West, has the largest selection of burgers that I have ever seen. I’m talking about eight different kinds of patties (beef, bison, pork, lamb, turkey, chicken, salmon and veggie), thirty five different ways of serving them and add to that decision making – a choice of nine different sides. You seriously need about 15 minutes just to wrap your head around this massive menu. We were a little over whelmed but up for some serious burger consumption.

Three selections later, mouths watering over the anticipation of breaded pickles and a small debate over whether or not to go with a side of kraut-slaw or The Village Potato Salad (I won with the potato salad), we settled into the comfortableness of our booth and surveyed the joint. A small, kind of homey pub, it immediately made me think of a great spot for some Sunday festivities i.e. a greasy, “last night is a blur” kind of brunch. For this purpose, I am strangely intrigued by the ‘English Breakfast Burger’ ($11.15). Yup, a burger topped with baked beans, a little HP and a fried egg – rise and shine.

First up was a lamb ‘Greek to Me Burger’ ($10.85) topped with what was a traditional Greek salad. Overjoyed to see that the patty was somewhere between medium and medium well, I languished its’ juiciness. Thank god for a Pub Chef that realizes not all burgers must be cooked to death. Loaded with feta, it was satisfying but I must admit to wishing that the feta was swooped up in a creamy tzatziki instead of its dryness competing with the juice of the lamb.

With catchy little names like ‘Under the Tuscan Bun’, ‘Don Juan’, ‘Skipper Dipper’ and an outrageous array of non conventional toppings – think walnuts, peanut butter, apples, satay sauce, Siberian prawns (get the picture?), you can’t help but feel a tad adventurous.

Our curiosity led us to the ‘New Mexican’ ($11.85). This was a concoction of salsa, Tabasco, guacamole, peanut butter, sweet potato and coriander and sounded like a good match to a chicken burger. Mexicans like their chicken, si? Actually not a burger at all but more of a sandwich with a piece of grilled chicken as opposed to ground meat. I guess I could get over that part but this was straight up a grossly weird emulsion of toppings. The sweet potato mixed with peanut butter just made for a pasty mess.

Skip that one and let’s move onto the bison burger (an additional $2.75 but worth every cent). So meaty, so tender, so lean – this is a man’s burger. I decided to dress it in some ‘Crème Caramel’ ($11.35). Caramelized onions and mushrooms were in abundance and the tangy BBQ sauce was a perfect mate. I would scratch the lettuce (too soggy), add a slice of chedder (extra $1.50), order a big pint (of whatever) and ask for extra napkins (this is a messy one).

Which side do you take? The onion rings get rave reviews, the sweet potato fries come with a tasty red pepper mayo, the fries are fries, the Village Potato Salad is just an explosion of mayo and not much to write to Babka about, the green salad (who orders salad with a burger?). Never tried the kraut-slaw because I won the debate.

The best part of the entire experience was the breaded pickles! Little sticks of dilly, crunchy goodness. They were stupid they were so good.

So, grab a few friends and stop by and if it’s a Sunday, I’m the girl with the blood shot eyes and the egg on her burger so come over say good morning – quietly.


By far one of the best meals I had in 2008 was at Foxley, 207 Ossington Avenue. Executive chef and owner Thom Thai, has created a clean, simple and ever changing menu using exotic ingredients. The idea is tapas based with an Asian and Mediterranean influence.

We waited 45 minutes because there are all of fourteen tables and they don't take reservations. Don't worry; it is well worth the wait.

The side ribs with a caramelized shallot glaze are fall off the bone goodness. The sauce is perfectly sticky and saucy at the same time. My friend was diligently trying to soak up the sauce from the empty plate until the waiter snatched it up and sadness ensued.

The hamachi ceviche with tomato salsa was light and refreshing and although we ordered five dishes at the same time, I was impressed that they brought that one out first. A perfect start and a best friend to the glass of sparkling wine I had ordered.

My favourite dish was the spiced lamb wrapped in a lot leaf. To be honest, I don't know what a lot leaf is but I liked it, a lot.

Skip the avocado and blue crab salad; it's nothing to write home about.

I also wouldn't bother with desserts. He has two: crème brule with black sesame and a rice pudding with fresh mango. The custard of the brule had the consistently of goat cheese which wasn't bad but odd. The rice pudding was very lack luster and extremely el dente.

The wine list is reasonable and extensive for such a small place.

The service was alright but what can I say, being a waitress as made me very critical.

The prices are very reasonable.

The experience was a bouquet of awesome.

The Black Hoof, published on - 2008

After opening to rave reviews, this city’s newest hit is The Black Hoof, 928 Dundas Street West, and I was dying to pay them a visit. So last night with three companions in tow we descended upon the teeny charcuterie joint with empty stomachs and panache for some straight up meat...

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Thursday, March 5, 2009

Le Paradis

I would not have chosen this restaurant but the girls called and I could not miss out on one of our dinners. If you could be a fly on the wall for any one of our nights out then you too would not be able to decline.

The location was a French bistro named Le Paradis, 166 Bedford at Davenport. If the word bistro is beginning to make you shudder, I completely feel you. Sigh. Let’s start with the atmosphere: when you first walk in you are smacked in the face by the big, wooden bar and black and white tiles (quelle surprise). The tiling quickly turns to blue carpet as you make your way up to the second floor. Um, when are owners going to realize that carpet and baguette crumbs are never a smart partnership. The rest was dusty, old, burgundy banquettes, white tables with brown paper and here’s another shocker... Parisienne art i.e. Martini Rossi and Moutard posters.

The menu, which changes daily was equally as lack lustre. The apps were the French typical: a fish soup ($5), mussels in garlic white wine ($8), goat cheese something avec something or other ($7), a verte salade ($5), etc. I could’ve fallen asleep in my glass of Gamay.

I chose the fish soup and apparently chose wrong. Not that the others were any better but at least the goat cheese with ratatouille didn’t taste like dish water. And I am being oh so serious here. The soup tasted like someone had left shrimp skins sitting in a sink of luke warm water and decided to make a soup out of it. Delicious.

Mains were equally as blah. Ok, so some of them sounded good. I was actually confident in my selection of a braised lamb shoulder with artichokes, tomatoes and garlic ($15). Yet, the pictures of fish on the menu next to the ‘Poisson’ category should’ve set off some alarms. It was room temperature, watery, tasteless (are there no herbs du Provence in this so called French kitchen?) The artichokes were either from a can or jar. Don’t know which one but either is wrong. Realizing that a shoulder cut could and would be fatty and stringy, I whole heartedly dug in. First bite – big chunk of fat. Second bite – big chunk of fat. Third bite – “Rita, if you keep eating this you too will be a big chunk of fat”. I didn’t mind the stringy sort of stewy texture but the fat was off the charts. I don’t often do this but I stopped and set my utensils down. It simply wasn’t worth eating.

For dessert, we entertained the small cheese plate ($8). Small in size it was not. Small in variety it was. This was the first ‘one type’ cheese plate I have ever seen. It was Blue and served with toasted bread that was so hard it must have been toasted two weeks ago. We laughed though because with every bite you became deaf while you chewed it.

The service was alright. My friends liked her no nonsense approach but I classify it as French abrasive. She was serious, kind of cold, lacking in eye contact and she kept speaking French to us which annoyed me to pieces. Apparently she started this because our friend started speaking to her in French but whatever the reason, I thought it was kitschy and unnecessary. The white shirt/black pant uniform circa 1989 didn’t help matters either.

The bottom line is, if ‘Restaurant Makeover’ is out there please give this place a call because they are in need of a serious overhaul.


I have to admit that having travelled throughout Spain, my expectations were pretty high for Torito, 276 Augusta Avenue. I mean really, can you compare snacking on tapas in a plaza in Madrid to doing so in Kensington Market in Toronto? I am happy to report that minus the wafts of cigarette smoke and frantic fan waving, yes you can.

I was impressed by the authenticity of both the wine list and the menu. All wines are of the Spanish variety, including your usual offering of Sangria, Cava and San Miguel beer. Ole!

While we started on our pitcher of white Sangria, we began perusing the menu. Although somewhat small, the list is complete with both cold and hot tapas and a couple of desserts.

Excitement ensued, we started ordering and we didn’t stop until we were so stuffed and full of regret after ordering what must have been our eighth dish (keep in mind that there were only two of us).

What I like about tapas is that there is no huge commitment. You can experiment without having to consume an eight ounce portion of something that you just learned you don't like. This is what happened when I ordered the quail ($12). It sounded nice with its pomegranate glaze but no gracias. I felt like I was eating a pigeon, a dirty pigeon, like the kind that fly around the Yonge and Dundas Square. Everything else was delightfully delish.

The ceviche with corn and yams ($10) had a wonderful texture. The chorizo and patatas bravas ($9) was also quite good but then again who in their right mind doesn't like sausage and potatoes? The chorizo was a tad over cooked but had a nice, slightly spicy flavour. The tomato puree that sat in the bottom of the plate was so concentrated that you felt like you were sitting a bushel. I was glad to see that the aioli was light instead of the sickening mayo concoction it usually is. You must try the gazpacho ($8). The only way to describe it is that it tasted like summer. Somehow they put the season in a bowl and that's impressive. But, if I had to insist on one dish it would be the Piquillo peppers stuffed with salted cod ($9). The peppers bursted with flavour and the cod, although salted, had a mild taste and a smooth and velvety consistency.We didn't order dessert but they have three to choose from.

Overall, we ate well, we certainly drank well, we reminisced about our time in Spain, we sang Gypsy Kings songs and when the waiter wasn't around we pretended to order our next dish in Spanish.

Yes, we really did.

Merci Mon Ami, reviewed for Single Men's Magazine

Want a little lunchtime oasis that allows you to relax in an open, airy and sunlit filled space that doesn’t resemble anything close to a cafeteria? Look no further than Merci Mon Ami, 171 East Liberty Street #107. This little cafe style lunch bistro has been serving up some of the freshest lunch fare that this neighbourhood has to offer for about 10 months. Owners Kevin and Cindy (also the Executive Chef) clearly have an affection for the Francais with their fresh baguette style sandwiches, jazzy tunes and Parisian artwork. They also host the crowd, have befriended the regulars and run their catering business out of the same kitchen.

The soup du jour was roasted vegetable puree with seasoned croutons ($5). Not the most exciting of soups but well executed. It tasted fresh unlike most soups of the day that are made from last weeks’ leftovers – trust me I work in the industry.

For the main event, I requested their most popular sandwich and was presented with the pesto chicken supreme ($10). Aw chicken. The good old Canadian stand by. Usually overcooked and dry as a bone. What people order because they are too afraid to try anything different. Well, I have good news. This sandwich beats most with an actually juicy and tender breast, sautéed button mushrooms, caramelized onions, sundried tomato pesto and cheese. The Kaiser was perfectly pressed in the panini maker and the side salad, although over dressed, was unusual. It was comprised of Mesculin greens, dried cranberries, gummy bear like apricots, grape tomatoes, walnuts and onions. The dressing was an interesting mix of sesame oil? Garlic chilli oil? Rice vinegar? I’m stumped. Apparently not even Kevin knows Cindy’s secret recipe.

Tired of processed luncheon meat? Fed up with puny sandwiches that have you starving in a few hours? Try out their Roasted Turkey Sandwich ($11). They carefully carve a house roasted bird and pile it unto a baguette with homemade stuffing and all the trimmings . The result is Thanksgiving dinner on a bun (minus the in-laws).

The salad of the day ($6) was unfortunately just a slight variation of the house without the apricots, cranberries and secret dressing. This time avec bleu cheese and a more recognizable vinaigrette.

All ingredients were bright and colourful. No deep fried, soggy veal panini here. The bread is freshly made by local bakeries. The communal tables stimulate conversation. The large west facing patio in front would be amazing in the warmer months. They are also actively supporting the environment which means that you are too when you dine there. They have gone green with all the takeout containers and utensils being biodegradable and the napkins are made from recycled paper.

And don’t worry, you don’t have to work in the village to eat here because parking is a plenty. You can actually park for free all along East Liberty Street.

When thinking of where to go for a great sandwich, a nice little lunch date or where to hold your next meeting or intimate social gathering, give Kevin and Cindy a ring and if she reveals the secret, you can give me ring.


I have been going to Terroni, 720 Queen Street West, for the past two years and have enjoyed every single meal I have had there. It has been a Toronto institution since 1992 and if you haven’t been then you are seriously missing out. Having been to Italy, I will announce that this is the real deal.

Terroni has been both praised and criticized. I guess this is what happens when you have struck gold and all your friends become jealous. They do not take reservations, changes or substitutions to their menu; they don’t even cut the pizza. Big deal. Are we that impatient that we can’t wait 15 minutes for dinner? So egotistical that we challenge chefs on how a dish should be made? And so lazy that we can’t cut our own food?

A so called Terroni vs. Libretto war has emerged since the latter’s opening last year. Some are divided but Terroni’s pizza is by far superior. The only thing Libretto has going for it is its’ wood burning stove from Naples and the diner’s option of having spelt crust.

I recall my first two visits to Terroni:

The line up was fifteen people deep but no one seemed to care. The place was alive with hustle and bustle, conversation and laughter. The smell of tomato sauce was intoxicating and we were salivating. This is no joke.

Terroni is known for their thinner than thin crust pizza but we were all craving pasta. Clearly, we had a dilemma. The solution? Pizza as an appetizer – I have continued this practice at each return. The Capriciosa pizza in all its’ salami glory really got our stomachs going. Fresh spaghetti tossed in aglio e olio with lemon zest, spinach and capers made my mouth sing. This is exactly the kind of pasta would enjoy in Italy (minus the $1200 plane ticket). Fresh not dried and paired with simple but bright ingredients. Even the wine brought me back to the boot. Served in ceramic jugs and drank out of glass cups. Brava!

That is when my addiction started and I returned a few weeks later. This time the Natalina pizza started things off. Calabrese salami, roasted red peppers and wrinkly black olives makes me think of my father. He immigrated to Toronto from Calabria in 1957. Growing up, he would always end dinner with those salty black olives. I hated them then but have come to love them now.

Moving on with the spaghetti alla Norma, I am content – again. Sautéed eggplant and fresh ricotta dance around the pasta in an authentic tomato sauce. I smothered it Grana Padano because apparently one cheese was just not enough. My date had the linguine al frutti di mare. Its’ aromas were reminiscent of standing by the shore in Bari where you can smell the sea salt in the air so much that you think if you stick out your tongue you could taste it.

Other dishes that get honourable mention are the pappardelle all iosa. Homemade spicy sausage, peas and button mushrooms come together in another nonna style dish. A rich and tender lamb ragu smothers orrechiette and perfectly sticks in the crevices. One time, there was a special of gnocchi tossed with Italian greens that tasted like spring.

This is one kitchen that knows how to appeal to your senses. Your eyes feast on colours and your nose fills with scents. Your tongue, well that’s the best part, it’s so pleased it doesn’t know what to do but to keep eating.

The Harbord Room, published on - 2009

The Harbord Room, 89 Harbord Street, was recently voted ‘the third best new restaurant in Canada’ by Enroute Magazine. Toronto critics have raved and relished and the word on the street is this is the place to see and be seen...

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Welcome to my New Website

I am pleased to launch my new website. On this site you will find all my restaurant reviews along with tagged locations thanks to my unique Mymap tool. So please keep coming back as I will be continually adding new posts. I look forward to your comments.

I want to give a special thanks to Inertia Creative Group for designing my logo and laying out my website. I would also like to thank Clickmycommunity. With their unique mapping tool I am able to tag all the locations I have visited and share a description and photos.