The way Jeremy Day talks about Café Taste, his nifty little Parkdale wine-and-cheese bar, you get the impression he sees it as more of a physical manifestation of his own life’s philosophy than a business venture. Wine and cheese, he tells us, has been co-opted — torn from its common-folk roots and saddled with the pretentious and high-nosed values of the highfalutin.

This high-whey robbery is supported by what Day sees as the LCBO’s short-sighted and local-industry-undercutting failure to stock more Ontario labels, and further frustrated by government regulators’ interference with this province’s fledgling artisan cheese market. The self-described wine geek set up shop three years ago in an effort to reverse this culinary misappropriation — or, in his own words, “to bring wine and cheese back to the people.”

It’s a nice speech, delivered with the comfortable enthusiasm of a veteran politician. Unlike many a vote-hungry pol though, Day’s business model backs up his rhetoric. Most of the 39 wines Café Taste serves are Ontario-made, and the furthest any of the 30 cheese wheels in its pantry have travelled is from Quebec. The whole operation is Bullfrog powered and Greenshift provides all of Café Taste’s disposable items. Add this to the brilliant job Day has done creating a romantic, bohemian coffee-house styled interior dining room (along with one of the most charming patios in the city, constructed by Day from neighbouring businesses’ cast-offs), and you’ve got the makings of a truly unique experience.

Unfortunately, our meal isn’t quite as inspiring as Day himself. Don’t get us wrong, the cheese here is very good. A luscious, orange-hued brie, for example, oozes with sweaty sock essence (in a good way) on the ploughman’s platter. The plate ($25, which ain’t a bad deal at all) also includes two other cheeses, some prosciutto, almonds and a bowl of chilli-soaked olives, as well as a glass of wine. The cheddar style goat’s milk wedge that appears on the cheese platter ($16, with 3 selections) is also exceptional, with tongue-tingling zip. And a soft, gouda-like triangle also impresses when jazzed up with some apple butter on the side.

But what are the names of these cheeses, and where do they come from? Who knows? Not our servers, it seems, who stumble with the proper French names. The varieties available aren’t listed anywhere either — no need, since your fromage is chosen for you to pair with whatever wine you decide upon. (Certainly no pretension here, right?) And with cheese this good, we’re puzzled by the grocery-store crackers and bland baguette. When asked why they haven’t sourced bread from one of the many artisan bakeries in Toronto, we’re told that they didn’t want the bread to take away from the cheese. Now that excuse oozes with sweaty sock (in a bad way).

We find the fondue ($30), which easily serves four, equally perplexing. The gooey pot is built on a foundation of Canadian brie (in place of the typical and traditional Swiss Emmenthal — which they don’t carry for obvious reasons). But other than a whack of toasted baguette rounds, there’s not much else on the plate that makes sense. Strawberries (not local) don’t provide particularly pleasing dipping bites, and kiwi slices (very far from local) are just wrong. Even the grapes — which are A-OK when smothered in hot, tangy cheese — come on the vine, half-rotted appendages and all.

For dessert, you have one choice: the Cthulhu, named after the sinister monster concocted by H.P. Lovecraft. As Day tells it, it’s the most decadently evil thing he could think of. It’s best described as a deconstructed tiramisu; layers of chocolate and vanilla sponge cake are mounded with whipped cream and blueberries, the whole thing doused table-side with hot coffee liqueur and espresso. At first, the flavours and textures are just confusing and messy. But given time to soak in the alcoholic goodness, the dish begins to live up to its name.

Which is a perfect way to sum up a visit to Café Taste. The concept is outstanding, with all the elements one is looking for in the current climate of global disillusionment. But the execution is sloppy. Given enough time to soak up the atmosphere, though (as well as the more salacious aspects of the wine), you start to appreciate the place for what it is: the sort of place we need more of in Toronto.