Stepping into George’s Grill (1329 Woodbine, south of O’Connor in East York) is like walking into a time capsule. Blue vinyl stools. Formica countertops. Metal napkin dispensers. An old-fashioned milkshake maker nestled next to the ancient grill. An art deco clock that marks the passing minutes.
There is something comforting about this place. Comfortable. At George’s Grill, it could just as easily be 1958 as 2008. Even the customers have remained constant.
“They’ve come here since they were teenagers… people have habits,” says owner Olga Trayanoff, 80, who opened the restaurant with now-deceased husband George in the summer of 1951. “Now they bring their children and their grandchildren, too. They make me feel old!” She laughs. “I am old!”
George’s Grill is Trayanoff’s livelihood. It is also her social sphere. And because her home is just upstairs, it’s a convenient way for her to work while remaining accessible to her only child, an adult son with severe autism.
“I have to be home for Johnny. That’s why I can’t go out and work. I should be retired now, but I don’t know what to do instead. I might become senile if I retired!”
Authentic family diners — where customers forge friendships with the owners and connect to a collective past — are a steadily dying breed. There is a new kind of diner in town; one that lacks the authenticity, sense of community and personal touch that George’s Grill offers as readily as a hot cup of coffee.
Johnny Rockets, a cartoonish ’50s-throwback diner franchise that touts itself as the home of “the original hamburger,” recently opened a location at Yonge and Dundas — a block away from The Senator, widely regarded as Toronto’s oldest diner. Johnny Rockets is a California-based chain established in 1986 and run by The Johnny Rockets Group, Inc. The restaurant’s standard red, white and chrome interior glimmers with a sterile, post-modern sheen. There is no authenticity and no human connection, aside from the occasional corporate-mandated smiles from bow tie–wearing servers earning $7.60 per hour, plus tips.
But perhaps this is the great appeal of franchises: people lead busy lives and their time is at a premium. There are not enough minutes in the day for a leisurely plate of scrambled eggs served with a side of neighbourly chitchat. Not enough minutes in the day to talk about our lives, or hear about other the lives of others. We seek detachment and anonymity. We want to wolf down our toast and bacon, pay and walk out the door.
Adrian Blackwell is an assistant professor at the University of Toronto and is an expert on the topic of neighbourhood gentrification. When asked why franchises flourish while many mom ’n’ pop businesses often flounder, he responds by email: “I would hypothesize that it has to do with a mismatch between new consumers and older businesses targeted towards former residents of these neighbourhoods. The other issue is that property values rise and store-owners who are renting their shops find that they can no long afford the rising rents.”
Toronto’s old-fashioned family diners have certainly seen better days.
The Canary Restaurant sits vacant at the corner of Front Street East and Cherry, a standing monument to itself. The tables, chairs and Maple Leafs paraphernalia are missing, but its orange vinyl stools and old appliances are perfectly preserved under a layer of dust. After over 40 years in the same location, The Canary closed its doors for the last time in April of 2007.
The New Trivoli Diner at St. Clair West and Dufferin closed for good in 2006 due to a rent increase. When food is cheap and profit margins are low, a sudden rent increase can spell the end of the road for small businesses.
The Lakeview Lunch, an institution at Dundas and Ossington best known for its milkshakes (although not for much else, in recent years), was put up for lease in August. It recently re-opened under new ownership. The Stem Open Kitchen, a beloved Queen West greasy spoon, was closed for renovations in June. While the renovations sign has long since disappeared, the windows remain papered over and rumours are swirling on The Stem’s Facebook page. The landmark diner’s future is painfully uncertain.
Fran’s Restaurant thrives at two locations, but is a family business no longer; the Toronto diner was purchased by a group of investors over a decade ago.
These authentic family diners are part and parcel of what makes our city so vital. Generic franchises and big-box stores are contributing to the universal “blanding down” of large North American cities. It’s the distinctive small businesses — with their nostalgia pieces, regulars and reams of stories — that add character and local colour to Toronto neighbourhoods. Every time a homegrown establishment like The Canary Restaurant closes down, Toronto loses a small piece of its identity.
In spite of arthritis and age, Olga Trayanoff continues to hand-cut her french fries.
“I’ve been doing it [this way] for so long… I think my customers are spoiled with me, you know? They know I don’t use frozen.”
Do they taste better, cut by hand?
“Yeah,” she says. “We don’t serve too much now, so….” Her voice trails off.
“Anyway. I still do it the way I used to.”