Cafe Diplomatico
594 College Street
416-534-4637
Complete meal for two with all taxes, tip and alcoholic beverages: $69
Preparing to review a restaurant that’s a Toronto institution is a harrowing affair. No matter what light the long-standing restaurant is painted in, you can rest assured that someone, somewhere is going to take issue with the conclusions you’ve made and the words being said.
The feeling of trepidation was doubly so when I decided to revisit Cafe Diplomatico, a restaurant born in 1968 that just so happens to be a fixture of my own neck of the woods. Common sense dictates that in order to survive for 40-plus years, the food coming out of the kitchen must be good; nonna-good even. My aim was to determine whether or not such assumptions hold true.
I’ve had a protracted, on-again off-again relationship with this place, known to many as “The Dip”. Years ago, my volleyball team used to occasionally converge here after a game to carbo-load, but other than that, I’ve visited only once or twice in the past few years. Given the variety of interesting restaurants that have popped up on the College strip, The Dip always seemed to get short shrift over everyone else.
It’s clear to me that the primary draw for most is the long swath of patio, a space perfect for languishing the day away while people-watching and sipping an espresso. The patio easily seats as many as the interior does, and on any given day during the summer, it’s more than amply accommodated by the next generation of cosmopolitan youth, at once glimpsed primping, priming and fluffing their hair, while frantically texting their friends.
The food, however is a different story. Diplomatico specializes in hearty, rustic Italian fare, and though preparations are simplistic, my familiarity with Italian cuisine means I’ve come to expect a certain level of care. House antipasto misto ($7.49) is a haphazardly assembled platter, comprised of 6 thin slices of meat, 3 of provalone cheese, a small mountain of black olives and a raft of overly pungent and crunchy pickled vegetables atop a pile of knife-chopped romaine. Given the popularity of charcuterie around town these days, it wouldn’t be too much to expect a few house-cured options, but the meat served looks like any I could purchase at the local Metro. The caprese salad ($8.99) also appears absent-mindedly prepared, using mealy tomatoes, rubbery bocconcini and wholly lacking in the seasoning department. Both dishes originate from decent stock, but lack the finesse to elevate them beyond what one can make at home.
For a secondi, I select the gnocchi ($12.49), opting to explore The Dip’s version of matriciana sauce ($0.50). Because I’m feeling famished, I also request a side of meatballs ($2.95), which arrive on a separate plate swimming in pomodoro sauce. The gnocchi is more than a little mushy and the matriciana sauce, which substitutes bacon for the guanciale that the sauce is typically known for, is so fraught with hot pepper rings that even after a solid dusting of parmesan, I am unable to ingest more than a few bites. Our waitress notices the pasta is mostly untouched as she clears the table and I explain the heat issue, to which she nonchalantly offers that she hears that a lot. In that regard, I am lucky to have ordered the meatballs, but even though they are flecked through and through with parsley, they are bland and tough, usually signalling too vigourous a mixing. My dining companion orders a prosciutto, provalone and roasted pepper panini on ciabatta ($6.99) which is sided with a small cup of coleslaw. Any resemblance the sandwich bears to a panini is completely coincidental, though, as it lacks the crispy flatness that one associates with a properly grilled panini. Instead, this one is stodgy and limp, and exhibits only the slightest marks from the grill. The coleslaw, however, is surprisingly crunchy and tart with the lightest kiss of tangy dressing from the kitchen. On a separate trip, a personal sausage and mushroom pizza ($7.95 plus toppings) also makes it worth the visit.
When we get to dessert, I start to wonder how it’s possible that this so-so food has kept The Dip in business for so long, but upon biting into the tiramisu ($4.99), I finally understand. The ethereal cake is cool, creamy and light as the proverbial cloud, and shot through and through with just the right amount of coffee. The cannolis ($2.95) are nothing to sneeze at either, and though we’re both itching to continue our day, I can’t resist ordering one wrapped up to go. It’s crisp, crunchy shell shatters pleasantly with each bite and the sweetened, decadent filling is flecked with tiny chocolate chips.
If I drank coffee (which I understand The Dip does particularly well), either of these desserts would be reason enough for me to head to Cafe Diplomatico for a treat and a brew, at which point it occurs to me, perhaps that’s what people have been doing all along.
Porsha Perreault is a freelance writer, voracious eater, amateur charcutier, and chocolate enthusiast living in Little Italy. Now that the farmer’s market season is winding down, she can often be found at home preserving the harvest and experimenting with cured meats, or blogging about her obsession with food at Foodie and the Everyman.
