There's something about Little Italy that still draws me in after all these years. It has an effortlessly lively energy where everyone seems to be gathered on a patio. During FIFA, the neighbourhood becomes even more animated, even on nights when no one is actually playing.

Tucked just off bustling College Street is Casa Paco, a charming restaurant that feels like you're being welcomed into someone's home. They now offer two tasting menus: a more elaborate chef's menu in the dining room and a shorter experience at the bar.

The five-course chef’s menu ($145 per person) offers plenty of food, enough to leave you fully satisfied. Still, the restaurant also offers a few additions if you want to augment the experience.

We added their signature Rubia Gallega ($28), a labour-intensive dish that Chef Chinery and Chef Bragagnolo have considered removing from the menu more than once, only to keep it because diners love it so much.

Using Ontario wagyu, they cure the beef in house for nine months until it develops an incredible natural sweetness that's unlike anything I've tasted. These paper-thin slices are finished with creamy burrata and fresh truffle for an extra touch of decadence. Layered onto the airy crackers, everything comes together in one cohesive bite that's sweet, savoury, creamy, crunchy, and packed with umami.

Oh, and those darker hues along the edges of the meat? Rest assured, it's not mold. Rather, it's from the truffle wash they use to finish the beef.

The chef's menu begins with a trio of snacks to whet the appetite. The meaty boquerones started to lean a little fishy when eaten on their own, but the tangy sea asparagus balanced everything out, adding a lovely fresh crunch against the white anchovy. It also paired beautifully with the tomato bread, which was exquisite thanks to beautifully ripe tomatoes.

The only bite I didn't really sample was the octopus carpaccio, which I've sadly lost my taste for after learning more about these brilliant, misunderstood creatures. My husband, however, assured me it was delicious.

Seafood reigns supreme on Casa Paco's menu, and we were lucky enough to visit while the last of the B.C. spot prawns were still available. As always, they were wonderfully sweet with that firm yet delicate texture that makes them so sought after. They're served with a well-seasoned chilled baby gem soup that looks like wheatgrass but tastes nothing like it. I only wish there had been more of the smoked cucumber, which added such a wonderful crunch against the silky purée.

Even their heirloom tomato salad gets a kiss of the sea with cubes of bluefin tuna scattered throughout. I'll admit, I never imagined pairing tuna with strawberries, and I'm not sure I'd do it again. It's not that the combination is bad, but the two ingredients don't really complement each other either. Something lighter, like scallops, might have been a better match.

It almost felt like Casa Paco was serving all my favourite ingredients, as my eyes immediately lit up when the zucchini blossom arrived, something I always look forward to eating but would never attempt to make myself. Stuffed with a scallop and lobster mousse, the blossom can be enjoyed on its own or elevated even further with the intensely flavourful lobster emulsion, which tastes like a lobster bisque crossed with hollandaise.

Before we could even finish the dish, a plate of socarrat arrived. The rice cooked in a seafood stock and enhanced with a the flavourful oily sobrassada.

Once it was scraped up, we’re told to take the toasted crispy rice and mix it into the remaining lobster emulsion. What a fantastic idea. It immediately made me regret not leaving more sauce behind. It was so good that it convinced me I need to return for Casa Paco's Sunday paella nights.

For the main course, diners choose between a fish or steak to share. We kept the seafood theme going with the Dover sole, which is carefully deboned, brined, grilled, and filleted for sharing. It arrives with a Basque pil-pil sauce made from the fish bones, cod, and aromatics before being emulsified with olive oil into a silky, almost velvety sauce. Such a shame the dish wasn’t accompanied by a piece of toasted bread for mopping up every last drop.

Having been brined, I found the fish just a touch salty on its own. Thankfully, bites of the accompanying radicchio salad balanced things nicely. Either the vinaigrette or another ingredient lent the salad a subtle licorice flavour that I normally wouldn't enjoy, yet somehow it really worked here.

Before dessert, a simple raspberry ice palate cleanser arrives.

Which leads me to point out that the chef's menu doesn't include dessert. Consequently, if you're craving something sweet, you'll want to add one to finish the meal.

The coffee and cardamom cheesecake ($18) is more than enough for two to share. Casa Paco's Basque cheesecake is lightly burnt, fairly dense, yet wonderfully creamy. The coffee flavour comes through clearly, while the cardamom leaves a subtle warmth that gently tingles on the finish. Very interesting indeed.

For an even richer ending, the chocolate and olive oil truffle ($16) is a solid log of silky dark chocolate ganache that practically melts on the tongue. It's only lightly sweetened, making it surprisingly balanced, and pairs beautifully with the cheesecake if you want to mix and match bites.

Unlike the aperitif selection, the digestif menu isn't printed because their amaro selection of roughly 100 bottles is constantly changing. You'll simply have to trust Gary Danaie, their sommelier, to find the right one for you. After my husband mentioned that he normally enjoys cognac, grappa, and Scotch, Gary recommended the Ximenez Spinola 2018 Battonage ($22). He absolutely nailed it. The spirit carried the richness of cognac, a touch of grappa's bite, and somehow finished with lingering caramel sweetness.

Since joining the restaurant in June 2025, Gary has dramatically expanded the wine program from my previous visit. Focusing on Spanish and Italian wines, he has an infectious passion for explaining every bottle. We sampled several grape varieties we'd never even heard of before and thoroughly enjoyed the experience ($85 for the wine pairing).

Even more impressive is that Gary is the restaurant's only employee. The other four people you'll see working throughout the evening are all owners and founders: Chef Chinery and Chef Bragagnolo in the kitchen, Tommy Conrad behind the bar, and Ailbhe McMahon leading the front of house.

All five jump in wherever needed, serving dishes, clearing plates, checking on guests, and keeping the restaurant running. The downside is that, with only one seating each evening, dinner unfolds at a leisurely pace. Our five-course menu with an add-on and dessert stretched to three-and-a-half hours. Antsy diners who struggle to sit still have been warned.

Restaurants often talk about hospitality, but Casa Paco genuinely lives it. With every owner contributing to the experience and Gary guiding diners through an exceptional wine program, the restaurant feels remarkably personal. It's the sort of place you settle into for the night rather than simply dine at.

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. 

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.

Time seems to fly by while dining at Casa Paco. It’s not that dining there is particularly action packed or their service is slow, if anything the restaurant exudes a calm vibe and their service is a well timed pace. Somehow, amongst the dim lighting and homey décor, hours just pass by without the constant pressure to vacate the table within a two-hour seating limit.

When I see jamon iberico on the menu, it gets ordered. The thin slices of prized Spanish cured ham are all at once sweet, smoky, and savoury. Casa Paco points out that they serve the “pata negra” ($38) variety of the ham, which indicates it’s produced with pure-bred Iberian pigs. Pedigree aside, it’s tasty and the plate contains plenty of slices to go around.

The duck ragû gnocchi ($26) showed promise with its sizeable portion – a lot heftier than my friend’s tendril of octopus – and intoxicating aroma. And while the sauce was hearty and delicious (the shredded duck tender and flavourful), the actual gnocchi was overcooked and bordered on mushy. Perhaps its because the pasta was boiled and then also cooked in the sauce. If so, the chef either needs to boil the gnocchi less or consider pan frying it to form a crust, prior to finishing it within the ragû.

A dessert is a must, and the coffee cardamom cheesecake ($15) is highly recommended. Prepared crustless, the outer edges of the sweet takes on a Basque cheesecake quality so it’s caramelized and dense. Yet, at the centre there’s a lovely coffee cardamom sauce that gives it a lovely hit of cool sweetness that’s almost like a cold molten lava cake. A unique dessert indeed.

I preferred the cheesecake to the brûléed lemon flan ($11) where the sugar was overly toasted and started emitting a bitter taste. The sugar slight slip aside, the dollop of cool cream against the slightly warm flan was a nice touch.  

It wasn’t until after the dinner that I came across a Toronto Life article about Casa Paco. What makes it particularly unique is their four owners - Rob Bragagnolo, Caroline Chinery, Tommy Conrad, Ailbhe McMahon – are also the restaurant’s only staff, giving the establishment a mom and pop feel as customers will continually encounter the same faces.

Maybe that’s why we found dining there so relaxing. We felt taken care of and loved hearing McMahon mention that several of the flora scattered throughout the restaurant was saved from a local resident who had too many at their home and forced by their landlord to dispose of them. If only I lived in Little Italy, I too would become a familiar face amongst Casa Paco.