I’m not sure how it happened, but I now live in the Meat Unpacking District.
At the north end of my Toronto street are two sister restaurants, the Black Hoof and the recently-closed-but-soon-to-reopen Hoof Café. True to their names, the former is renowned for its “off-cut-centric” menu and pig-head tacos; the latter’s claim to fame was its “love letters,” envelopes of beef tongue and pork-belly pastrami. Walk east and there’s a porchetta sandwich shop. Further south is the home of the grass-fed gourmet burger, which isn’t far from the organic butcher shop. All this hacking and cleaving is greeted with long queues, critical accolades and rapturous testimony on Chowhound. Continue reading