Weston Winterlicious* #5 - Jolly Italian Ristorante
Jolly’s generous Pizza Villagio
Jollys, on the Crossroads Plaza, was the first restaurant we ate when my then partner, Jack, and I were house hunting in Weston, nearly 14 years ago. Decades of living south of St. Clair made me dubious about dining al fresco on a plaza listening to the noise of 401 traffic and airliners enroute to Pearson not that far overhead. Choices, however, were limited and Jack, who’d lived in Rexdale just north of the 401, knew this place. I relented and was pleasantly surprised. A decent Italian-Canadian meal for a reasonable price.
Not surprising, then, that I headed over on a Friday in February on my Weston Winterlicious tour hungry for pizza. I entered at the peak of lunch hour, passed through the empty bar at the front and had my pick of the high backed booths on either side of a wide marble-floored aisle under a very large chandelier. Only two other tables were occupied, both by white middle-aged couples. A waitress, older than I am by a few years, passed me a placemat-sized cardboard menu, black with white text, contrasted by the red flesh of tomatoes - pastas and pizzas on one side, appetizers, salads, and mains on the other. Not overwhelming, and (thankfully) no QR code! Before long, a glass of ice water and a side plate, napkin, and cutlery appeared. This is old school dining, for which I was grateful.
I made a quick decision and pulled out my book to read. The waitress was busy taking orders from the others so I had a few moments. She came to me last and I requested a small Caesar salad and a Pizza Villagio - tomato sauce, spiced sausage, sweet peppers, Kalamata olives, and goats cheese. I wasn’t too far into my chapter before the Caesar arrived. It was piled up pleasingly on a side plate, not the monster salads that sometimes arrived, but enough lettuce to justify the large amount of carb, dairy, and fat that the pizza would provide. The first forkful proved they know their way around a decent Caesar. None of that creamy dressing that is billed as Caesar from a bottle - no, this one had seen a fresh lemon in the last few minutes, had lots of parmesan scattered through it with croutons small enough to be handled in one bite. Nothing bugs me more than croutons that I have to take in two bites. That’s not a crouton - that’s toast. It was the lettuce pieces that were a little oversized - a minor inconvenience requiring me to put my book down and pick up a knife. Small complaint only.
With the salad plate cleared away, I resumed reading and watching other tables receiving large bowls of soup. Next time, I thought. I do love a good minestrone or stracciatella. Then my pizza appeared. A delight to behold: lots of goats-cheesy white goodness in the middle, a few olives and peppers poking through on the periphery, and some promising glimpses of sausage throughout. The pizza was quartered already - thank you very much to the kitchen. When asked what I needed I was quick to reply: hot chilli oil. In the time it took me to take a pic or two, she brought me a shot-glass sized plastic container of oil. I would have preferred something easier to decant from, but no mind. I drizzled a little over the pizza, folded a quarter in half and took a bite. The salty olive, the spicy pork, and the tartness of the goats cheese, with a little sweetness from the pepper and the snap of heat from the oil - it all worked well together. Texture was good too - Jollys crust is neither too thick nor too thin, soft and just a little chewy, especially at the edges where the cheese was a little crispy.
I worked away at the first piece and then the second. I overheard the woman across the marble expanse lament the size of hers and realized I, too, was getting close to capacity. Should I take half home with me? I was driven to divide the third quarter in half and sucked it back too. But that was it. I pushed my plate back and resumed reading in earnest.
The waitress came by, laughed, and said she’d be back with a container. I asked for an espresso - long, which arrived almost instantly, emblazoned with Lavazza. I pushed the Redpath sugar package aside. In a world full of designer coffee, it’s nice to have an unadulterated espresso.
The waitress returned a short while later and asked if I’d like the bill. I appreciated her question - it was without pressure. Clearly, if I’d decided to spend a little more time with my book, it wasn’t going to bother her. I agreed and asked her to bring a machine too.
During the bill paying, she asked me what I was reading. I showed her the cover - The Widow’s Guide to Dead Bastards. She laughed at the title and I explained the premise - a memoir by a widow, Canadian Jessica Waite, about her not-so-great relationship with her husband and the secrets she learned about him posthumously. Within seconds, we were deep into a discussion about the challenge of being in a relationship, a conversation that resulted in some surprising disclosure from the waitress. We laughed, shook hands, and wished each other well. We’d gone from waitress/customer to middle-aged allies in the complicated game of life.
And that was the surprisingly satisfying end to my meal at Jolly’s. I shall enjoy that nearly-half pizza tomorrow with a salad.
* 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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