Hyperlocal Dining at Vignette

Forget the 100 mile diet. Try the 100 metre diet.

You know those times when you're sifting through your old pics, trying to remember what you had for lunch last Tuesday, and you stumble upon that time you took a detour to the late 2020s? No? Just me? Well, let me spill the beans (home-grown, of course) about my latest find.

Meet Vignette, Toronto's cheeky answer to the hyperlocal dining scene. Forget farm-to-table. We're talking backyard-to-fork vibes here. In a world where the price of an avocado could get you a small island, this community said, "Screw it, we’ll grow our own." And grow they did. Every backyard, balcony, and even some inventive window sills are now brimming with everything from heirloom tomatoes to choicest hops.

The Main Attraction

Walking into Vignette feels like getting a VIP invite to your neighbor's summer BBQ. But like, if your neighbor was a gourmet chef with a penchant for creating dishes after other neighbors’ bounty. If you ever wanted to know what Mrs. Fitzgerald's garden tastes like in soup form, this is your spot. And trust me, it tastes a lot better than that time I tried to sneak a carrot from her plot last summer (Sorry, Mrs. F!).

The mains are a literal meat-and-greet. Rosedale zoo’s lamb? Absolute star of the show. And don't get me started on that barley "risotto" – I mean, young Oliver might be only ten, but that kid can forage mushrooms like a seasoned truffle pig.

Sweeten the Deal

Now, I've eaten my fair share of tarts in the future (don't ask), but the Smiths' Berry Tart at Vignette? It's the kind of dessert that makes you question all your past life choices. Paired with that ice cream? Bud, it's time-travel-worthy.

But it's not just the food. The drinks? Let’s just say I've been sipping on that Lakeside Gin Fizz for what feels like years. I mean, who knew the Andersons had a greenhouse full of citrus? Sneaky.

Thank you for supporting local. Your meal traveled an average of 243 metres.

Vignette isn't just a restaurant. It's a vision of a future where communities band together, where every bite has a backstory, and where Mrs. Fitzgerald's carrots are always soup-bound. And if this is what the future tastes like, sign me up for seconds.