Comal y Canela doesn’t need my promo - it already has 29K Instagram followers - but damn, it’s so worthy of that following. In the 6+ years since it opened, it’s become a destination for all Torontonians seeking Mexican food, not just Westonians.

My first meal from the five-booth establishment at the corner of Jane and Lawrence was my birthday in 2018. It was just weeks before my husband, Jack’s, cancer death. His birthday was three days later and I wanted to do something nice for us both. Going out wasn’t an option and my caregiving life had overtaken my cooking life. I suggested I get takeout. Jack wasn’t eating much of anything by then. I ordered a couple of dishes and he picked at them. Not even the fresh limey-ness of the Pico de Gallo sparked interest for him. But I knew this place was going to be a hit. With the Pico, I had fish tacos which have become one of my favourites when I go there. In another state of health, Jack would have loved them too. I can’t imagine anyone NOT.

I’ve been a few times since, often on my birthday, and have been equally impressed. This week I decide to take the short walk over at lunch. I enter at 1 pm (late for me!) and at one table are two men in their 20s speaking Spanish. It’s comforting to walk into a restaurant featuring food from a specific part of the world and see diners for whom the food likely represents home.

A young Mexican server sporting a salmon-covered crop top with Sex and Tacos emblazoned on it and wearing ear-buds seats me at a booth. There’s a real menu waiting - no QR BS here. I begin perusing it, weighing options. Fish tacos of course are on my list of possibilities. I look at the burrito list too. Theirs are monsters - 1.5 kg according to the menu. I’ve ordered them before and a mere mortal, even one with a big capacity like mine, cannot possibly eat one of these babies in one sitting. They’re from an entirely different world than the ones at Bar Burrito or Fat Bastard. These are fresh and sumptuous. I decide to go with the pork - El Michoacano - with a side of Pico de Gallo of course. Drinks are tricky here because they tend to be too sweet for me. I choose the Hibiscus Limeade, advertised as made onsite. It comes quickly with a few house-made taco chips to bridge me to the main event. I demolish the chips while deciding whether I like the limeade. Yes, sweet, but also tart from the lime. Good, I decide after a few sips. And unusual too.

All the other tables fill up and groups are taken through to the back too. For a long time - a year + - there’s been a space two doors over with their signage, yet they are still cramming their eager followers into this space. It’s one of those great Weston mysteries that they haven’t made the move into their bigger digs.

I take a few moments to drink in the sensory busy-ness. Upbeat Mexican music matches the visuals. The concrete block wall across from me is painted hot pink and covered with metal flowers, butterflies, and other assorted do-dads. They bleed onto the ceiling too, providing contrast to the AC and the electrical channels. It always make me feel at home, since colourful chaos is my go-to aesthetic too. There are random sombreros hanging on wooden supports. What looks like an old upright piano hides the cash machine from the tables. The wall beside me is composed of windows. Uncharacteristically boring white sheers help to disguise the plaza parking lot on the other side. A black dial phone hangs from a window frame with a green metal insect, in an open-mouthed grin, hanging below it. He’d look good with the metal frog, Rennie, who sits on my staircase. If/when they do move to the larger space, I am excited to see how they expand on their fun design elements!

My reverie (and surreptitious picture taking) is interrupted by the arrival of The Burrito. Each time I’ve received one of these, I think “it doesn’t really look that big” but it’s deceiving because it’s so packed full of meat. I begin though with a forkful of the fresh accompaniment - the lime and cilantro and the tomato and the onion and the Jalapeño and the lettuce is so beautifully balanced. The memory of that first zap of flavour will stick with me for a day or two.

I pick up half the burrito in both hands - its girth demands it - and wrap my mouth around it. The pork’s been braised for a long time back in that kitchen from where all these wonders emerge. It sorta melts under even the gentlest pressure of the teeth, just as it should. (Occasionally a bit of cartilage resists against your bite, proof it’s really come out of their kitchen.) The pork is nestled in the tortilla shell amid generous hunks of avocado, cheese, refried beans, more Jalapeño, onion, and cream. Mmmmmm, an oozy mess. After a couple of bites, I decant a dollop of each of the hot sauces provided - one’s orange, the other greeny-yellow. I use my fork to drizzle a little of the orange onto the bitten end of the burrito. The smokiness of chipotle melds with the heat amping up an already marvellous experience. Next the other sauce - I think it’s meant to be hot but it’s not as appealing. I revert to the chipotle.

I’m halfway through the half-burrito, nearly done the Pico, and a third into the drink. I’m getting full but I can’t stop. Perhaps if I slow down, but that’s unlikely to happen. Too tasty. I fish the last bits of cilantro and lettuce from the side dish, furtively look to confirm that everyone else is occupied with their own delights, and pick up the bowl to drink the lime juice. I don’t know why I don’t buy more lime juice. Sub-lime. Super-lime? You get the idea.

I look at the second half of the burrito and the remaining third of my drink. There’s no way — I am done. I settle the bill - not cheap for one meal but pretty good for two. I walk home carefully, holding my take-out container steady to ensure the burrito guts stay in their tortilla envelope. Gotta get to work on digesting the first half that so I can have another go at dinnertime.

Haven’t been to Comal y Canela? Well, whaddya waiting for!

* Winterlicious debuted in 2003 to promote Toronto’s restaurant industry during the slower winter months. Since then, the event has grown significantly, reportedly serving over 450,000 meals annually. This year, more than 230 places offer three course, fixed price menus at reduced rates. Six of these are within an easy walk of my office on the Danforth.

Zero are available in Weston.

So I’m doing my own Weston Winterlicious. My criteria? walking distance from my house; food cooked onsite; table service; and open for lunch.

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