So I recently moved to the Danforth area. No, not the trendoid, yoga-mat-toting, Big Carrot-shopping organo-mom zone between Broadview and Chester. And not the Souvlaki-til-you-drop zone of packed (yet mediocre) Hellenic spots between Chester and Pape either. Nope, this is the Danforth at Jones avenue, east of all that claptrap.
It is a slightly dumpy part of the street that's home to a melange of Greek, Ethiopian and Indo-muslim shops, restaurants, and even a large mosque. It's charm is in its diversity, and in the low key surprises you stumble upon . . .such as the Only Cafe!
You enter to a dark but personality-filled room (actually two if you include the 'One in the Only' cafe next door) jammed with rickety tables, mismatched mugs and cutlery and a whole mess of prints on nearly every square inch of wall.
There is no separate kitchen, just a high bar behind which the staff cook simple breakfast and lunch fare, around the two giant coolers with a better bottled beer selection than you'd find at most LCBOs.
The staff are friendly, and include a fiesty 4'11'' white-haired firebrand, who dances to the 60s soul tunes they pump out there, when she thinks she's hidden behind the counter.
The clientele is always interesting, and includes a good number of what I would describe as "working class boys" from the neighbourhood. Mostly white and ball-capped, they are loud and sometimes drunk at suspiciously early times. But they are harmless and give the place a bit of down to earthiness missing from so many hipster and artist infected joints in this town.
Having only sampled the breakfast I will speak on its behalf: It's damn good! Nothing fancy here (despite references on the Only's outdated website menu to stuffed banana-bread French toast, such an item does not exist) but good, ample without being ridiculous, servings of classics done well.
Belgian waffles are that perfect blend of fluffy and crisp, sprinkled with powdered sugar and surved with a mound of actually quality fruit (kiwi, berries, honeydew among them). The fact that they're made in an antique looking all-cast iron waffle press balanced precariously on the edge of the bar adds to the allure. Thumbs up!
French toast, served with the same fruit as the waffles, includes four wedges of melt-in-you-mouth eggy bread, without the metallic taste that sometimes clings to lesser attempts. The sausage it came with was ordinary but plump and good. Extra points for syrup served in an old pop-top Grolsch beer bottle.
Breakfast burrito (elsewhere panned on this page) was the least impressive of the item I've tried. The burrito is actually not really the focus of the plate, taking up a scant one quarter of the plate. It was tasty though with the spinach and scrambled eggs inside a different experience. And it comes with a big side of tortilla chips, bean dip and a salsa that I thought was quite passable.
Other dishes such as Cowboy and Cowgirl breakfasts are variations on the two eggs, toast, ham or sausage and homefries. I have only eaten this of others plates (I'm terrible at saying no!) but have witnessed properly prepared eggs, and good, well-seasoned and slightly charred homefries. None of that bag to deep fryer crap some places get away with.
Oh how could I forget -- the coffee is good too. The shop next door uses Mercury Coffee beans, and I think the same are used at the Only.
All adds up to a pretty decent place to recover on a Saturday or Sunday morning. read more