This tiny two-tiered Kensington eatery makes a great date venue for me and my four-year-old son, a wiggly and high-energy kid who devours anything that can be dunked in ketchup.
As the name suggests, owner Rob Youill’s endeavor focuses on just one kind of grub, but his fare of fancy — grillies — is done up right, rounded out by just two selections of daily soup.
Opening three months ago, The Grilled Cheese follows on the heels of the burger-resto trend, whose success is due in part to society’s addiction to eating out combined with economy-forced pinched pockets. Nothing on the menu here tops a ten bill, and although Youill doesn’t source the highest-end cheeses or breads (he’s firmly planted in rough-around-the-edges Kensington Market, after all), his grilling skills are clearly capable.
We are the first customers of the day, which gives us choice of any of the mismatched wood-topped tables and chairs and plywood banquettes. Wood is definitely a decorative theme — walls, shelves, floor, funky stairs partition made of rustic wooden odds and ends assembled in a modern horizontal pattern — this here is a durable, kid-proof environment.
A wall of windows looks out onto Nassau Street, and despite its dire draftiness, it makes for ideal market madness people-watching as we wait and wait — quite patiently, I might add, especially for my preschooler — for our baskets of food to arrive.
A blackboard menu over the matchbox open kitchen lists ten variations, each available on white, whole-wheat or light rye. From The Hamlet with swiss, cheddar, ham, red onion and tomato to the Grilled Motzy with fiore di latte, basil pesto and sun-dried tomatoes, there’s something for every grillie guru.
Provolone and orange cheddar melt together in The Classic ($6) to form a gooey middle layer that, for the first few bites, creates long, stretchy strings of cheese between mouth and sandwich — much to the delight of my son. A perfect slathering of butter and expert grilling give the whole-wheat slices a lovely, crispy exterior. This is a substantial portion for anyone, but somehow my strong, silent type of a son gets through the whole thing (and manages to put a serious dent in the bottle of Heinz).
The Beast ($10) seems a boorish moniker for such a triumph of a sandwich. Generous portions each of bacon, jalapeno jack, cheddar, turkey, grilled onion and tomato weighted down between rye slices during grilling form a divinely dense assembly that can be easily manhandled and scoffed — even by pudgy digits.
All sandwiches are served in red plastic baskets laid with red-and-white checkered paper alongside a small fistful of Lays chips and Bick’s dill pickle slices — a strange corporate accompaniment considering the mass of visually striking mason jars of all things homemade and pickled that line the west wall of shelves (for decoration only).
Two house-made soups are the only other menu offering and provide a bit of winter warmth. Today, chunky potato leak and thick tomato soups simmer on the stove.
Youill seems master of keeping the formula simple and the costs down. He alone takes orders, cooks and serves sandwiches and soup. There are no fancy ketchups, no expensive dairy-free cheeses, no interesting beverages, no Interac or credit cards here to complicate the procedure.
One step at the front door is manageable by stroller, but stairs to the basement washrooms prove a hurdle.
66 1/2 Nassau Street
647.347.7062
Kelly Jones is a freelance writer and editor of articles, reviews, websites, novels and board games. She teaches Food Writing at George Brown College.