While Es Ventall is set within the city limits of Sant Antoni, walk into the restaurant and you’re transported into an idyllic oasis especially while dining al fresco. Sitting in the courtyard is oddly calming, amongst nature and the enormous fig tree, giving the establishment a charm that’s difficult to replicate elsewhere.  

For diners who aren’t familiar with Ibizan cuisine, Es Ventall’s menu is descriptive listing out the individual ingredients and eliciting a sense of excitement to see how things tie together. The Ibizan tomatoes salad (19€) starts with a bed of ripe chopped tomatoes and tops it with a full burrata, which when broken creates a creaminess to the dish. Strawberries and basil add an interesting refreshing element, but I would have skipped the crunchy pistachios that detract from the silkiness of the salad.

I can’t turn down trying a roasted aubergine (17€), which when done well takes the spongy eggplant and turns it into a creamy concoction. Es Ventall whole roasts the vegetable until it’s soft but still holds its shape and smears a sugary praline and fruit mixture on top. The dish is too dessert-like for me, I wish the praline spread was replaced with something savoury that would go better with the basil cream.

Our waiter describes the tomato and grilled prawn salad (26€) as being smaller, which is an understatement as the dish is truly skimpy. To call the crustaceans on the plate as grilled “prawns” is misleading, the thumb sized items are spot prawn sized, which are generally served by the half cup than individually. These Ibiza prawns are equally sweet, but given their petite size, the chef really needs to give more of these on the plate or at least leave them in the shell.

At the very least, serve the “prawns” with more than a scant quartered tomato, crème fraiche, and an oil sorbet that while adds a lovely richness, melts into nothingness. For the price, this dish needs more tomatoes, other vegetables, and a helping of grilled crostini to swipe up the sauces.

We didn’t order the cuttlefish and Ibiza prawns’ paella with aioli (24€ per serving; a three serving portion pictured below), but the kitchen mistakenly mixed up our order with another table, so we ended up having it as our main. While the dish had a lovely aroma, the rice was awfully salty reminding me of the soy sauce tasting concoction I had in Barcelona a decade earlier. Perhaps this is the traditional way of preparing paella, but the saltiness is so pungent that it detracts from the seafood and the rice becomes saturated in sauce that there’s no crispy bottom. This paella was a bust.

It's a shame, as I had really wanted to try the fideua, a dish that’s made paella style but switches out the rice for pasta instead. For one, it’s rarely seen elsewhere, and I love trying new creations. Alas, the humid August heat was getting to us and despite the miniscule starters our hunger simply went away. Sitting al fresco may be idyllic and romantic but give me air conditioning instead. 

While Osteria Giulia has been awarded a Michelin star, it’s unlikely they’ll receive a service award anytime soon. Having arrived five minutes early, they weren’t ready to seat tables and we were asked to leave – no option to wait inside or at the bar, what a pain during a windy cold fall evening. Nonetheless, once we were seated, our waitress was warm and welcoming, making up for the poor first impression from the hostess.

Luckily, the food didn’t disappoint. The burrata e caviale ($45), although served a bit cold for my taste, was soft and fluffy, the centre creamy but doesn’t ooze out upon being cut through. The simple starter was a cacophony of flavours mixing briny Italian caviar, sweet Asfodelo honey, and a smoky sourness from the Blackbird bread. That splash of sweetness from the honey was unexpected but absolutely made the dish.

Pull apart the calamari ripieni con tonno ($36) before taking a bite and you’ll find the delicate seafood stuffed with yellowfin tuna paste so there’s a meatiness to each bite. It’s topped with a puntarella and charred pepper salad, giving the calamari a refreshing crispy bite. I’m glad it wasn’t overloaded with too many sauces so that the natural seafood flavours were present.

In retrospect, the lorighittas al mare ($38) was too similar to the calamari. In fact, when the dish was presented, all I could see was a plate of squid rings, only to find many were circles of hand braided pasta. Our waitress explains what makes the dish special is the time intensive nature of creating the pasta, which did have a lovely bite to it. Everything is tossed in a tasty olive oil sauce with a hint of garlic, chilli, and an umami essence from anchovy. I just wish the dish had more of the bay scallops and even some spot prawns thrown in to make it taste more like a seafood pasta.

I’m generally hesitant to order ravioli as it’s usually a scant dish and when they are not adequately filled it can taste like you’re eating pieces of dough. Osteria Giulia’s ravioli doppi ($44) smartly has one side unsealed so they can be overstuffed with silky ricotta and sauce, so you get a gush of filling with each bite. Chunks of lobster and kernels of sweet corn add richness and texture to the dish. It was an impressive dish and the most memorable of the evening.

If you’re visiting the restaurant and expecting to be full after an appetizer and pasta, you’ll be disappointed. Following true Italian traditions, the pasta is just the second course, you’ll need to order a main. We shared the rack of lamb for two ($85) and were presented with eight perfect medium rare lamb chops that were lightly dusted with sea salt. While this would be even better if it was served with a sauce, to give it interest, the meat was prepared beautifully.

The fagioli ($16) went particularly well with the lamb, the crispy beans well coated with a salty spicy meat sauce that added a punch of flavour against the otherwise neutral lamb.

With a selection of delicious sounding desserts, I opted for the millefoglie al cocco ($19), which was beautiful to take in with the thin layers of crispy pastry separating dollops of white chocolate and mango cream. It’s a dessert that could have benefited from being served with a knife, as it was difficult to break through the puff pastry.

Every table needs to order the tiramisu alla Giulia ($19), a rendition of tiramisu that brings it to another level with the ice cream centre and huge dollop of mascarpone and rum zabaglione on top. It was so rich and delicious… how can I have tiramisu any other way?

Osteria Giulia gets mixed reviews online and I can see why: what you order and how much you order can really affect the experience. While it’s a great Michelin option for those who have a smaller appetite or want the flexibility of controlling a budget for the evening, the restaurant should consider making a tasting menu to ensure tables get to really experience all their “best of” dishes – the ravioli, burrata, and tiramisu.  

The restaurant is certainly one of the more inventive Italian restaurants I’ve visited in Toronto and offers some impressive dishes. Still, there’s something about the experience that’s lacking compared to other Michelin restaurants in the city such as the absence of well-rounded service, not serving fully presented mains, and employing annoying nickel-and-diming practices like charging $3 a person for water. Unlike their ravioli, it’s not one experience I’ll be gushing about. 

Situated right at the Eivissa Marina, I would have considered Mariner to be a tourist trap if their food wasn’t delicious. The wooden beams and bits of foliage offered a sense of privacy, shielding against the crowds, allowing us to tune them out and focus on our meal.

Amongst the twirling fans, which added more ambiance than breeze, we sipped an amuse bouche of olive oil laced gazpacho that was silky and savoury. While I’m not generally a fan of cold soups, amongst the heat and humidity of an Ibiza summer this was a great start.

Some cool appetizers are also ideal. The plate of Iberian jamon (29€) was expertly cut with an astounding uniformity of each slice. At Mariner, the leg of ham was wonderfully marbled with a melt-in-your-mouth quality that beckoned me to have one more slice.

We generally found many restaurants overly toast (some would say burn) their bread, but Mariner’s pan con tomate (3€) was airy and soft… like having the tomato spread on an English muffin. I love the freshness of the tomato and the simplicity of the bread that went well with the flavourful cured jamon.

Although the cheese in the burrata salad (16€) almost became lost amongst the plump cherry tomatoes, arugula, and dollops of avocado cream, the overall salad was creamy and delicious. Given this was rather rich, I’m happy we had thought to order side salads (6€), which helped balance out the velvety burrata and avocado combination.

Sharing the glazed milk-fed lamb shoulder (36€) is recommended as this main is huge. The meat was tender, easily breaking apart with just a fork, presenting a light lamb that wasn’t gamey. If anything, it could have been more heavily season as I found the glaze, while thick and sticky, was too lacklustre and a more savoury red wine au jus would work better, especially to help cut through the richness of the lamb.

The menu describes the protein as being served with asparagus and baby potatoes – essentially, a full and complete meal. While there were plenty of soft roasted baby potatoes, the asparagus consisted of a small spear cut in two, hardly enough to call out on the menu, let alone counteract the meatiness of the dish. In retrospect, a side salad would work perfectly as I really was yearning for something acidic and refreshing to balance the otherwise tasty lamb.

Mariner reminds me not to be too judgmental about a restaurant’s prime location – just because an establishment is in a sought-after area doesn’t mean it’s a tourist trap. There seems to be plenty of Spaniards dining at Mariner (so the clientele wasn’t touristy) and we found the dishes to be delicioso.

Fismuler operates with an efficiency that seems apt for it’s German sounding name. Not long after sitting down, a starter of bread and whipped paté was brought over while we settled in. Just be mindful the nibble costs 2.75€ a person, a fact detailed at the bottom of the menu we had yet to review. Still, we enjoyed the soft crusty bread, silky and light paté, and thin lightly pickled cucumbers that helped tide us over.

The small plates were the more impressive dishes of the evening. Consequently, the crusty bread goes nicely with everything so try not to devour it right away. The sweet tomato salad (13.50€) was simple but deliciously good - ripe sliced tomatoes topped with a fragrant olive oil and flakes of salt.

It complements the burrata (17€), which has an amazing spicy green mole giving the cheese a burst of flavour. In fact, the whole dish was different: the burrata accompanied with roasted broccolini, an unusual green that works. I could have easily had an order to myself.

When our server suggested the chicken wings (18.50€) I had my doubts, but the nuggets of fried deboned chicken tossed in a creamy truffle sauce were addictive. The sauce, of course, became an excuse to have even more bread.

Of the small plates, only the fresh calamari (20.50€) was a bust. The seafood was over cooked, way over salted, and hidden amongst so much unnecessary foam. Give me more of the chicken wings any day.

Still, the calamari was better than the egregiously overdone and tough duck (25.50€), one of the worst renditions of the dish I’ve ever had. Perhaps, it could have been salvaged if the duck was cut thinner… even then, I feel they would still be chewy. The side dishes weren’t any better: the charred corn turned out to be the canned variety and the spring onions left whole and unseasoned. The best part of the dish was the puréed sweet potatoes.

I wish I had heeded the server’s recommendation to order the Viennese schnitzel (29€). Pounded to a cardboard thinness and the size of a pizza, the schnitzel gets a thin coating of raw egg yolk tableside before being jazzed up with shaved truffles and chives. It was perhaps a touch salty, but at least it was crispy and not overdone.

Behind all the scaffolding on Bay, you’ll find Za Cafe Pizzeria and Bar. It’s a bit of a dark horse, the former Gaberdine’s white walls washed with black, although the worn bar seating remains. The place doesn’t scream warm trattoria or even minimalistic pizza joint, it’s more of an emo Italian restaurant that happens to play energetic dance beats. A great place for after work drinks but would be a shame if you left before having a bite.

Because although Za doesn’t feel like a trattoria, their food is nonetheless comforting Italian fare. The beef carpaccio ($17) lays out large slices of raw beef tenderloin that’s liberally seasoned with salt, lemon juice, and very little oil. While it doesn’t have the drizzles of aioli that typically graces a Canadian carpaccio, there’s tons of flavours from pickled bell peppers, brined caper berries, and thick shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano. It’s a rustic carpaccio and would be even better if the salt was toned down a bit.

The burrata pizza ($21) special had a similar vein, the white pizza foundation just lightly brushed with oil, so the paper-thin crust remained wonderfully crispy and light. While the base was sauceless, the pie was still so flavourful from the herb and garlic base, tons of arugula, bright cherry tomatoes, and a ball of cool creamy burrata that went so nicely with the crispy hot dough. How do we get this special to be on the permanent menu?

I’m glad we tried their house made pasta as the curly strands of casarecce were perfectly done, chewy but still soft – almost like a pasta and gnocchi hybrid. The pasta’s crevices helped to scoop up the shrimp cognac’s ($24) creamy cognac rosé sauce, which was rich but refreshing. We were surprised by the generous portion of six tablespoon sized shrimp that topped the dish, more than enough to go around while sharing.

The pesto green ($17) was also large with plenty of the basil sauce so that it seeps into the tubular garganelli. The small dollops of ricotta were a nice touch, but there needed to be more of it. 

While the seafood spaghetti’s ($28) presentation wasn’t the greatest, the dish contained a decent selection of seafood: shrimp, salmon, calamari, mussels, and clams. Like the other pastas, Za didn’t skimp on the ingredients as there was plenty of it. Often, pasta that’s fresh is best, but on the odd occasion I prefer the dried variety. For spaghetti this is the case, as I found the fresh version too doughy and soft.

Interestingly, Za uses a spicy tomato white wine sauce with the seafood spaghetti. The heat was evident but doesn’t necessarily add to the dish. In retrospect, I would have preferred a traditional non-spicy sauce instead.

The Basque cheesecake ($12) is ideal for sharing as it’s sizeable. While it was well caramelized, that slightly toasted taste wasn’t pronounced… it pretty much tasted like any other cheesecake. Perhaps it’s because the mixture was too dense, not the light creamy consistency you’d expect from a Basque.  

Za’s tiramisu ($9) was a let down. It consisted of a lot of whipped cream and cocoa powder and very little lady fingers and mascarpone. At least it was a flavourful dessert, albeit basic and without a zip of zabaglione, which is disappointing compared to their other rustic fares. 

If you can look past all the construction and darkness, Za Café Pizzeria and Bar is an ideal place for an inexpensive meal or a pre-theatre dinner prior to heading to the Ed Mirvish or Elgin theatres, a short walk from the area. Just bring a friend as deciding between pizza or pasta will be terribly unpleasant. The answer is to just have both. 

I keep reading about the staffing shortage in Toronto, especially amongst the hospitality industry, where people have supposedly changed careers to find a role that has better hours, more stable pay, better growth prospects, etc. Vela doesn’t seem to suffer from this problem, three individuals checked in on us throughout dinner service. Their front-of-the-house and open-faced kitchen seemed stacked with individuals, no shortage here!

Firstly, to quickly sum up the experience - the meal was exquisite. The albacore tuna crudo ($21) arrived in huge chunks rather than the 1/3-inch slices generally found at other restaurants… a surprisingly generous portion of fish. Tossed with a dashi soy vinaigrette, crispy shallots, and compressed cucumbers, the dish certainly has Asian influences, which made the fried rice crackers an appropriate pairing with the crudo. Still, the tuna was so fresh and meaty that it tasted equally delicious solo.

The burrata ($24) may look typical, but the pistachio pesto provided such an interesting savory bite against the cool creamy cheese, with the nuts giving it a bit of texture. Plenty of figs and grapes were strewn throughout to add sweetness. If anyone remembers the iconic burrata from Campagnolo, this is in the same realm of deliciousness.

Of all the starters, the beef tartare ($18) was probably the most traditionally prepared. The meat was finely chopped and mixed with mayo, pickled shimeji (a tiny, sweet mushroom), and other spices. I liked that it wasn’t overly salty allowing the umami of the shaved truffles and parmesan to shine through.

We were already off to a good start and then the mains blew me away. Vela doesn’t skimp on the truffles in the truffle rigatoni ($40), the prized fungi mixed with chewy fresh pasta and just enough mushroom duxelles cream sauce for flavour without becoming overly saturated. Having dishes family style is best as the pasta was huge and being so rich would be a lot for one person.

The Nova Scotia halibut ($45) seemingly was poached in an infused broth as even the centre of the thick fish was tasty on its own. The herb beurre blanc is a traditional sauce to pair with the halibut but was augmented with a spicy stewed potato that added a burst of zeal that the meaty fish needed. Who knew, maybe halibut goes better with a chili sauce.

Even the flatiron steak ($35) was impressive, cooked to a calibre I’d expect from a steakhouse. The kitchen likely uses a reverse sear method to prepare the beef, starting off low-and-slow as the inside was cooked evenly and hot throughout. The caramelization of the outside was done ever so lightly allowing the lean cut of beef to remain tender. A bit of finishing salt rounded out the steak and was the ideal saltiness. Oh, and don’t get me started on the French fries, they are so crispy and flavourful rivaling the duck fat French fries from Beer Bistro that I love.

Food aside, what also makes Vela standout is the down-to-earth nature of the restaurant. The posh environment could seem too fancy and stuffy, but the warm greeting from the host and friendliness of other staff members really puts the diner at ease. Even quippy descriptions in the menu such as what was listed with the steaks help, “You all know what you like. Feel free to order blue, rare, medium rare, medium, medium-well, well-done, or burnt to a crisp. Live your best life!”

Vela’s huge dining room with white floors and walls could have become a starkly modern environment. Yet, if felt cozy with the dim lights, warm temperature, and dreamy white ceiling lights that reminded me of hazy clouds. There was even live jazz music playing on Tuesday, which really got me into a chill mood and had me ordering a third cocktail, despite it being the beginning of the work week. Vela just makes you comfortable with its atmosphere and their fabulous food. Live your best life indeed. 

I haven’t ventured far from the Blue Mountain Village while visiting Collingwood, usually because no one wants to be a designated driver and the city’s taxi service isn’t plentiful. Yet, I know I’m doing myself a disservice and missing out on the true experience of the town – a laidback friendly vibe, reliance on fresh produce, and eclectic local flavours that aren’t trying to please a tourist palette. A place like Hearts, located away from the Village in Kimberly.

One look at their chalkboard menu and I knew fresh ingredients would grace our table that night. Things change so quickly that we’re asked to snap a picture of the board before making our way to the table. Do away with printed menus and save the trees!

A platter of freshly shucked oysters ($40 for 12) arrives with the typical vinegar-based garnishes, they’re a nice fresh bite against the other heavier starters we ordered.

Such as the chicken liver parfait ($22) that’s topped with a creamy congealed jelly for an extra shot of flavour. The smooth parfait is slightly sweet and when smeared onto the hot crusty bread creates a sweet and savoury concoction. There’s plenty of pickled zucchini included to cut through the parfait’s richness, but the dish could include more bread to help get through the generous portion.

Luckily, it seemed like everything we ordered included slices of the lovely toasted fresh bread. The steak tartare ($25) was a hefty mound of well-seasoned beef mixed with a savoury relish that had a slightly spicy finish. While I would have liked the beef a little less pulverized, the tartare had such lovely flavours, so much so that the large salty anchovy garnishes were unnecessary and detracted from the meat.

Forgive me while I swoon like a dreamy schoolgirl over the heirloom tomato ($24) salad. I hated raw tomatoes growing up, but after tasting a fresh Ontario heirloom tomato, I was hooked. At their prime they are vibrant and sweet in a cozy warming way. They’re especially delicious paired with a creamy burrata, at Hearts simply seasoned with olive oil and salt. If I still used a notebook, maybe I should draw images of heirlooms on the cover.

The tomato and burrata is a much better option than the salad niçoise ($27). While the niçoise’s dressing was tasty, the canned tuna covered everything casting a fishy tinge over the other ingredients. Personally, I would have like to have a bite of protein separate from the crispy sweet green beans, creamy and soft potatoes, and lovely soft-boiled egg. If someone likes all the flavours combine, they can mix it on their own.

Hearts’ shared plates menu sometimes makes it difficult to determine where the starters end and the mains begin, creating a continuous meal that Hearts orders in a nice procession. The moules and frites ($34) were plentiful, in terms of the mollusk and shallots, sitting in a light white wine broth that’s perfect for dipping bread into. A much better option than the sizzling crinkle cut fries, which are so nice and crispy that they’re best enjoyed solo.

Our server suggested trying the polenta gratin ($25), a thick cube of buttery soft polenta topped with tons of melted cheese and served with roasted bell peppers. It’s an interesting take on polenta that is best enjoyed shared with a lot of people as it’s a rich dish.

The BBQ sticky ribs ($44) were a hit at our table. Tender, sticky, and flavourful with a hint of smokiness, it pulled me in and made me want more and more. The accompanying coleslaw is so finely chopped that you can almost smear it onto the ribs, creating beautiful edible confetti, which has a hefty hit of horseradish – the bite a nice contrast against the sweet and savoury meat. If there was one dish that I wish I didn’t have to share, it’d be these ribs.

Visiting Hearts in the summer was a lovely experience, but I can imagine the heightened appeal after a day of skiing or being outdoors in the winter elements. Hearts’ cozy cabin atmosphere, warm staff, and hearty dishes would sooth any chill. Who needs hot chocolate when there’s sticky ribs.