
“Let’s go for Portuguese.”
Alas, I’d hazard a guess this isn’t the most commonly heard phrase among Toronto diners, at least not one used as frequently as it would if, say, an Italian, Thai, or Indian eatery were the culinary destination in question.
But even if you’re not a connoisseur of Portuguese cuisine (generally noted for its wide variety of dishes made with fish and seafood, extensive range of pork products, many regional soups, and pervasive use of potatoes, rice, cabbage, and chiles), you have likely enjoyed its most famous gastronomic export: pastel de nata, otherwise known as the custard tart.
One taste and the reason for this confection’s popularity becomes clear. What’s not to love about crisp and flaky crust encircling a filling of rich vanilla custard, its surface blistered golden brown where high heat has caramelized the sugars? Yet for a sweet composed of such simple components, so many factors contribute to its overall success: the quality of the dough that forms the shell (it’s called “massa folhada” in Portuguese and is essentially puff pastry); the colour, texture, and sweetness of the filling; the oven temperature and duration of baking. If any one of these elements is off, the baker risks producing an inferior patéis de nata (the technical plural form, though it’s common to refer to these tarts collectively as “natas”).
The stick against which all Portuguese custard tarts are measured belongs to the Antiga Confeitaria de Belém, a bakery on the outskirts of Lisbon, on Portugal’s mainland. The history books say the bakery bought the original recipe for patéis de nata from the monks who developed it in the nearby Jerónimos Monastery and has been selling the pastries to the public since 1837. Given how closely the original ingredients and method are guarded, only tarts from this Lisbon location can be called, eponymously, “pastéis de Belém.”
The confeitaria dusts the tops of it tarts with cinnamon and icing sugar and sells, on average, 10,000 of them each day. But Torontonians with neither the means for crossing the Atlantic nor the patience to wait among the throngs vying for pastries to be pulled from the Belém ovens need not despair. Truly delectable natas can be found right here at home. Expect to pay anywhere from $1.00 to $1.50 per tart, with volume discounts usually in place for purchases of a half or full dozen.
Not surprisingly, the bakeries clustered in Toronto’s Little Portugal are reliable for sourcing consistently tasty custard tarts. Nova Era Bakery & Pastry (1172 Dundas Street West) and Caldense Bakery (1209 Dundas Street West) are perhaps the most widely known of the bunch, as evidenced by the mighty trays of natas stacked two high each establishment always has on offer. Both approach the pastry and custard components of the tart masterfully.
Nova Era’s tart shells have a delicate flakiness reminiscent of good pie crust, and the pale yellow filling is velvety smooth, firm, and not overly sweet. The bakery also favours a well-browned tart surface, providing ample opportunity to savour deposits of intense caramel flavour. Caldense follows suit with tart shells of comparable quality (the pastry on the extra specimens I carried home for long-term snacking shatters like fresh a full two days after purchase) and filling of a similar colour, texture, and level of caramelization. Where this tart differs, however, is in its degree of sweetness, which surpasses Nova Era’s. Here’s where personal palate steps in to help decide which pastel de nata wins out — see what yours tells you.
Also situated in Little Portugal is Venezia (114 Ossington Avenue), a charming Old World bakery, coffee shop, and market crammed with all manner of European foodstuffs, including meats and cheese in a small deli case; imported canned, bottled, and boxed items; and, of course, traditional baked goods in all shapes and sizes. Venezia produces natas in adorable miniature size and displays them on decorative platters made from Portuguese ceramic. The tarts’ thick filling, carrying just a hint of yellow hue, is one of the sweetest of all the samples and the pastry is composed of multiple airy layers. Compared with the dark, robust tarts found at Nova Era and Caldense, Venezia’s are a light, ethereal affair, a nice option when the mood strikes.

For another take on natas there's Semolina Bakery & Fine Foods (188 Ossington Avenue), just up the street from Venezia. While producing a fairly standard shell — flaky pastry, nicely browned — Semolina goes for well-cooked filling with a clotted texture, a rustic variation on the custard theme. This filling is also flecked with specs of spice (cinnamon, and nutmeg too if my taste buds are correct), giving these tarts an additional layer of flavour.
Heading north into Little Italy, several bakeries include natas on their menus. National Bakery & Pastry (812 College Street West) turns out a tart with nicely caramelized, middling-sweet custard encased in chewy pastry. However, the revelatory pastel de nata moment on College comes courtesy of Golden Wheat Bakery & Pastry (652 College Street West). The first bite reveals tender pastry walls shot through with air pockets and exposes a superlative filling: it’s a deep golden colour throughout, it hits just the right note of sweetness, and it’s impossibly smooth and soft without being runny. My partner, who is Portuguese and has eaten countless natas in his lifetime, chews slowly, nodding in solemn and unequivocal approval.
Attention east-enders: Do not despair, as there are several locations to cater to your natas needs. Options at the St. Lawrence Market’s south building (92 Front Street East) include Churrasco of St. Lawrence and Future Bakery. The Churrasco stall beckons and I chase a grilled chicken sandwich with a tart composed of crusty pastry filled with a firm custard that leans to being under- rather than over-sweet. I make a mental note to return early some Saturday and nab one of these natas while they’re still warm from the oven.
Finally, travelling northeast to the Danforth, I find Portuguese patéis de nata in an unlikely location: on the edge of Greektown. The giveaway is the chalkboard sign hanging in the window at Europa Fine Pastries & Bakery (713 Danforth Avenue East). It reads, “Yes, we have custard tarts.” Though pale from not being baked aggressively, the pastry has an exceptional texture; the shell crumbles as I bite in, raining shards onto the table — and my lap. Custard-wise, Europa’s filling is lemon yellow and sweet, though not cloyingly so.
The last frontier in this patéis de nata adventure surely has to be making them in my own kitchen. David Leite, whose cookbook The New Portuguese Table made the Montreal Gazette’s favourite cookbooks of 2009 list, provides a detailed recipe on his Leite’s Culinaria site, which includes directions for crafting the puff pastry by hand.
In the meantime, when a craving for this ever-popular tart hits, Toronto’s bakeries have got me covered.
Jodi Lewchuk is an editor by profession and a writer and cook by passion. She also writes about and photographs food for her personal blog, Cursive Mechanics.



We buy 'em at Eve's Temptations on the lower level of the St. Lawrence Market. Delicious, creamy inside, crispy pastry, nicely caramelized on top. They're located right at the bottom of the west staircase, pretty much opposite the Chinese Deli. I'm not an expert on them, but based on the handful of places I've tried these ones definitely stand out above the others.
This is interesting. However, having been in Belem, the natas they sell are a little bit different than the ones you get here, or even in Lisbon. I think it's because in Belem they're more like a vanilla custard, as opposed to the custard filling everywhere else.
Gary – thanks for the tip. I’ll have to try Eve’s next time I’m at the market.
Paul – As I noted in the piece, only natas from the Antiga Confeitaria de Belem are allowed to carry the name “pateis de Belem” in deference to that bakery’s closely guarded ownership of the original, unique recipe. The rest of the world can only call their tarts simply “pateis de natas.” Interesting that you detect a more pronounced vanilla flavour from the Belem pastries – there’s endless debate about Belem’s secret ingredients and method (in one of his articles David Leite claims the owner told him they bake the tarts at a scorching 700 degrees!). One day I hope to be in that very long line I hear forms at the Belem bakery every day and taste one of its special treats for myself!