Restaurant Review: Stop Restaurant – A Pause Worth Considering, but Not Quite a Full Stop

There is a certain theatricality to naming a restaurant Stop. It suggests a command to halt, to linger, to let the city’s rhythm slow for a beat. Like much of Roncesvalles Village, the restaurant’s story is rooted in reinvention. Once a hub for hearty Eastern European staples, such as khinkali, cabbage rolls, Russian honey cake, Stop was forced into temporary exile after an electrical fire in 2023. Its return at 397 Roncesvalles Avenue signals a shift from nostalgic comfort toward Chef Denis Ganshonkov’s polished, modern interpretations of Eastern European flavours.

Inside, the dining room feels quietly assured: soft wood, amber lighting, and an unexpected touch of whimsy with feline motifs and gallery walls. The open kitchen at the front of the room offers both intimacy and spectacle—a stage where chefs work with the precision.

The menu begins softly with Ontario cucumbers. Translucent cubes rest against a backdrop of crème fraîche, tart pickled apples lending a flicker of acidity, radishes adding their peppery punctuation. It’s fresh and thoughtful, though it hums when you want it to sing.

Then comes the dish that steals the overture: the Tomato and Burrata, a visual sleight of hand that startles in the best way. What looks like a miniature pumpkin is, in fact, a blanched heirloom tomato, its skin painted in hues of burnt orange, hiding a lush interior. Slice it open and the sweet acidity of the tomato mingles with the cream of burrata in a messy, irresistible union. Chive oil glistens in emerald strokes while basil-pistachio pesto murmurs nutty undertones. It’s playful, it’s poetic, and it’s the moment Stop earns its applause.

Ontario leeks keep the mood contemplative—charred for smoke, softened for sweetness. A quenelle of whipped goat’s cheese as airy as a daydream rests beside it, with honey stitching its golden thread through the plate. It’s a composition of nuance, if not surprise.

The pickerel, cooked to a pearly tenderness, wades into a red wine sauce so brooding it feels almost literary. Onion purée lends polish, while hakurei turnips orbit quietly at the edges. It’s technically accomplished, yet a mismatched pairing—the fish light and bright, the sauce ponderous, as though they’d met by accident.

The crescendo, however, belongs to the 30-day dry-aged Ontario rib eye, a dish that strides onto the table with gravitas. The seared crust glistens like lacquered mahogany, its marbling melting under the gentle surrender of St. Brigid’s compound butter. Black garlic and beef tallow murmur in the background, adding their dark bass notes. Each bite hums with deep, almost primal savour—but just shy of the transcendent thrill one expects at $87. One of the evening’s pleasures.

The beverage program leans into understatement: a wine list focused on small Old World growers and a handful of Ontario labels—bottles chosen to harmonize rather than dominate. Classic cocktails exist off-menu, mixed with the quiet confidence of a bar team that knows its Manhattan from its Aperol Spritz without the need for print.

Where Stop falters is in its pacing and polish. Dishes arrive with grace notes of invention, but service lacks the same rhythm—polite but occasionally absent.

Stop is, in many ways, the embodiment of Toronto dining in 2025: earnest, inventive, gently ambitious. It gives us moments—like that pumpkin-disguised tomato—that feel electric, and a rib eye that satisfies on a primal register. But it is not yet the full stop its name promises. For now, it remains a tasty, thoughtful semicolon in the paragraph of your week.

Bisous,

Mme. M.

3/5

La rubrique de Madame Marie

1 étoile – Run. Before you get the runs.
2 étoiles – Mediocre, but nothing you couldn’t make at home.
3 étoiles – C’est bon, with some standout qualities.
4 étoiles – Many memorable qualities and excellent execution. Compliments to the chef.
5 étoiles – Formidable! Michelin Star quality. Book a reservation immediately.