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.

Should I blame it on the FIFA match that day, or is that just an excuse for poor inventory management? Either way, what restaurant runs out of prosecco and rosé in the middle of summer? Without bubbly in hand, dinner at Curryish Tavern was already off to a shaky start.

Their tasting menu ($98 per person) revolves around one featured ingredient each month and, for June, it was mango. As someone who loves the fruit, I was intrigued to see how the kitchen would incorporate it into savoury dishes beyond the usual mango salad.

Dinner begins with a foie gras tart topped with mango murabba. The unripe green mangoes are preserved with sugar and spices, creating a sweet-and-tart chutney that is a burst of flavour. In fact, it’s almost too much, overpowering the goose liver mousse beneath it. A lighter hand would have worked better, although the acidity does help cut through the richness of the foie gras.

Next comes the raw mango and smashed cucumber salad, the most recognizable use of mango on the menu. The peanut dressing adds a creamy savoury note, while the spicy oil gives the cucumbers a nice kick. Fresh dill brightens everything and the crunchy pods scattered throughout add a satisfying textural contrast.

The Kesari mango bhel was a little harder to understand. The crunchy rice cake topped with a mango pakora became too starchy and heavy. The dish would have benefited from a protein like grilled shrimp or tuna tartare, or even something lighter like a mango corn salad or paneer topped with grilled mango. Even making the puffed rice crisp thinner would have helped since it was difficult to cut through and properly combine with the other ingredients.

Still, it was far better than the black cod ceviche, which ended up being the weakest dish of the evening. The overly sweet mango sauce completely dominated the plate, the fish was minced rather than diced, and overall, it just didn’t taste especially fresh.

Thankfully, the meal recovered with the coconut mango chicken curry served with a hot crispy flaky parotta. The mango was more restrained, adding a subtle brightness instead of overwhelming the dish. We agreed it was good but still behind other chicken curries we’ve had elsewhere.

What made the evening more frustrating was the pacing. Despite the restaurant being nearly empty - we were one of three tables during Friday dinner service - the meal moved painfully slowly. Many of the dishes also felt like they could have been prepped well ahead of time, making the three-hour meal even more puzzling.

By the time dessert arrived, I was admittedly checked out. The Alphonso mango shrikhand on chirote was forgettable, tasting mostly like yogurt spooned over a firmer puff pastry.

As much as I love mango, this tasting menu simply wasn’t for me. Too many dishes leaned into the same sweet-and-tangy flavour profile, so by the end of the meal everything started to blur together. Curryish Tavern deserves credit for building an entire tasting menu around mangoes, but the execution felt uneven. By the end of the night, I was craving contrast more than another variation of mango.

This is going to sound strange, but Lucie’s hospitality reminds me of an immigrant parents’ love towards their children. The care they show may not be excessively warm, attentive, or frequent, but deep down you can sense they care and will nurture where it matters most.

For example, they ensure you don’t make any rash decisions while hungry. Before you’re even presented with a menu or asked about drink preferences, Lucie ensures you’re hydrated with water and fed.

A structure of canapés is presented that pays tribute to Chef Arnaud Bloquel’s grandfather who tended to the family farm. After his morning tasks, he’d sit under an apricot tree enjoying the fruits of his labor. And hence, our first bites contain ingredients that could be found on a farm:

• A tube made from crispy potato filled with duck terrine and tartare. It’s a bite mixed with flavours and textures, awfully delicate but hearty as well.
• The thumb of toasted brioche with radish and cheese wasn’t as great but offered an earthy rustic flavour that screamed of rural life.
• And lastly, a sweet pea tart that looks light but covers a bed of herring mousse, so you’re greeted with a smoky briny punch. If your interest and taste buds weren’t present, they will be after these first bites.

Now let’s start talking menus. Once I saw the words ‘beef Wellington’, I knew the L’Experience Pithivier tasting menu ($160 per person) was the way to go. We decided against the wine pairing ($80 for half pairing and $130 for full) and treated ourselves to a glass of champagne instead ($45 for a glass of Perrier-Jouet Grand Brut).

The champagne cart was pushed over and the glasses poured with efficiency and without fan fare. Once whisked away, I looked down and was delighted by the procession of bubbles that rose from the specially dimpled glasses. The sommelier didn’t need to point out the feature, like an immigrant parent he allowed us to discover the special touches ourselves.

Not long after ordering an amuse bouche arrives: a dome filled with refreshing trout tartare topped with a vibrant basil sorbet that’s unexpectedly creamy and adds a wonderful element to the dish.

With a choice of two starters, the l’asperge verte offered me a taste of hopefully the first fruits of Ontario asparagus. The tender spears were lightly barbecued and adorned with a rich egg yolk sauce and lemon foam. On the side, a tart that’s described as being hazelnut based and topped with caviar - an atypical combination that works and was flavourful but light.

Before the main, we’re presented with a Campari sorbet that serves as a palette cleanser but also a mini cocktail. It’s a smart format, as I rather liked the drink before moving into a bolder red wine for the rest of the meal.

The whole wheat baguette didn’t seem exciting, just very rustic looking. Yet, as the butter cover was lifted, I could tell we’re in for a treat seeing the shiny golden hue. Sure enough, the butter’s made in-house and has a rich creamy finish, only made better when slathered onto the warm, hot, crusty baguette.

Upon seeing our empty plates, our server asks if we’d like more bread. Exhibiting some self control, I decided against it but did keep the plate in case another hunk of baguette was needed after the main. Thankfully, I didn’t fill up on more carbs as the le pithivier was huge!

Cut tableside, the golden puff pastry revealed two beef slices sandwiching foie gras. Topped with duxelles and a thin spinach layer, it’s a decadent beef Wellington. Because of the various layers and the fat from the foie gras, it was also extremely juicy and so flavourful that it really didn’t need the concentrated beef jus.

The hefty main was paired with a king mushroom salad, pickled shimeji mushrooms, and an herb custard. I really needed these blasts of acid and freshness to cut through the beef Wellington’s richness.

At this point, I was stuffed, even leaving portions of the puff pastry untouched. Yet, as the la griotte arrived, I still took a bite. At first glance, I thought it’d be a sweet I’d leave behind as chocolate and fruit (especially cherry) is detestable. But the light Morello cherry centre complimented the Armagnac foam nicely and the crispy toasted coconut nibs added a nuttiness that made it less cordial cherry and more like a boozy Eton mess.

Not only was the le citron olive oil cake pretty but also tasty with a thin cake base working  to keep the creamy citrus custard together. Lemon desserts can sometimes be too sour or too sweet, Lucie’s was nicely balanced and refreshing. On the side, a frozen lemon adorned with a lemon rosemary gelato, as if the tart wasn’t already enough.

For those who love chocolate the le chocolate noir is a firebomb of Valrhona Guanaja dark chocolate. The spiky flower encapsulating passionfruit and topped with a mango sorbet.  

The last arrival was a jewelry box of mignardises, each one deliciously different. We’re told to pop the entire chocolate ravioli into our mouth, but it doesn’t ooze out like water, rather like a luscious mousse.  The macaron was so delicate that I could hardly grasp it without it starting to crumble creating a bite that’s a cross between cake and macaron, the lightest and moistest one I’ve ever tried. And lastly, a chocolate cookie with a ganache centre and a nutty finish.

Lucie is a hidden gem I’m almost afraid to tell people about. Stumbling in with a last minute, day of reservation on a Saturday, we even saw walk-ins being seated… although the dining room eventually filled. With such delicious dishes I’m surprised it isn’t busier. Oh well, more beef for me.