Toronto’s dining scene has just had a glow-up of epic proportions, thanks to LSL, a restaurant so ambitious it makes other fine-dining spots look like they’re still in rehearsal. I’ve already been three times since it opened, which tells you something. I don’t usually make repeat visits to a place that costs more than a weekend in Europe. But here? Worth. Every. Penny.
The name LSL comes from its three creators: Didier Leroy, Masaki Saito, and Christian Le Squer. Leroy is Toronto’s long-standing French maestro, the kind of chef who can make a sauce that will haunt your dreams. Saito, the city’s sushi superstar, is famous for importing fish that’s fresher than most people feel on Monday mornings. And then there’s Le Squer, who has held three Michelin stars at Le Cinq in Paris since 2016—a full decade of maintaining perfection at one of the world’s most competitive tables. (He’s won stars at every restaurant he’s helmed since 1996).
The idea for LSL began with a moment of serendipity. Saito was unwell one evening at his eponymous Michelin 2-star restaurant, and Didier stepped into the kitchen to cook for a rather important guest: none other than Yo-Yo Ma. Instead of serving traditional Japanese dishes, Didier applied French technique to Saito’s pristine Japanese ingredients. The cellist was enchanted, the patron backing Saito was intrigued, and the seed of a new restaurant was planted. If one night of unexpected fusion could thrill a world-class musician, imagine what could happen if they built an entire menu around it.
And so, with the help of a deep-pocketed supporter, LSL was born: a ten-seat, tasting-menu-only experience in North York that feels more like theatre than dinner. The décor is understated, elegant, practically monastic, but that’s the point: the drama unfolds on the plates.
And what plates they are. The first time I went, the now-famous tomato appeared: ripe, stuffed with fatty tuna, and topped with glistening caviar. It was decadent, surprising, and frankly a little absurd—in the best possible way. Since then, each visit has been a different adventure. The menu changes every quarter, so returning is like opening a new act in a play you know you’re going to enjoy. One season it’s delicate fish wrapped in sauces so French they practically sing “La Marseillaise,” another it’s pristine Japanese ingredients paired with flavours that make you sit back and grin like an idiot. Every dish manages to be both inventive and delicious—no smoke and mirrors here, just very, very good food.
The service matches the performance. The staff anticipate needs before you even voice them. Wine appears as though by magic, explanations are delivered with charm, and the pacing is so precise. Choreographed. By the end, you’re not sure whether you’ve had dinner or witnessed a piece of performance art
Of course, all this comes at a price. Dinner runs $680 cad per person, before you even think about wine. Add pairings, and you’re into airfare territory. But here’s the thing: every time I’ve left LSL, I’ve felt it was money well spent. This isn’t Tuesday night dinner. It’s an event, a culinary pilgrimage, the kind of experience you tell stories about later.
So, would I recommend it? Absolutely. I’ve already gone three times and I’m counting the days until the next menu change. If Le Squer can keep three Michelin stars in Paris for over two decades, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before LSL collects its own here. Pricey, yes. Pretentious, perhaps. But unforgettable? Definitely.
Fantastic