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Restaurant Reviews
Restaurant Reviews A great meal is more than just food—it’s an experience. In our Restaurant Reviews section, we serve up the full story, from the first bite to the final bill. Whether it’s a cozy neighborhood gem, a family-friendly spot, or one of the hottest fine-dining trends, we give you the real scoop: the flavors worth savoring, the atmosphere that sets the mood, and the service that can make—or break—a night out. Honest, detailed, and taste-tested, our reviews help you decide where to spend your next date night, family dinner, or casual brunch with friends. What You’ll Find Here Flavor & Food Quality: We don’t just list menu items — we dive into the flavors, textures, presentation, and how well each dish delivers on its promise. Whether it’s a signature dessert, a simple pasta, or an ambitious tasting menu, our reviewers assess every mouthful. Ambience & Atmosphere: The decor, lighting, music, crowd, noise level, and comfort all matter. A restaurant might serve excellent food, but if the lighting is harsh or it’s unbearably loud, that changes the experience. We describe what you’ll feel when you walk in. Service & Hospitality: Was the staff attentive, knowledgeable, friendly? Did they accommodate special preferences, dietary needs, or requests? How swiftly did food arrive? We note all these things because true hospitality adds value to every meal. Value & Final Impressions: The price tag counts. We compare what you pay vs what you get — portion sizes, quality of ingredients, plating, extras like bread, amuse-bouche, etc. Then, we wrap up with whether the overall experience felt worth it. Best Occasions & Recommendations: Not every place is perfect for every event. Some spots shine for casual brunches, others are better suited for romantic dinners or business dining. We’ll suggest what occasions each restaurant is ideal for, based on vibe, pricing, and menu. Local Flavour & Regional Insights: Food culture is local. We often explore how restaurants include local ingredients, serve regional specialties, or put a twist on traditional dishes. This helps both visitors and locals discover places that reflect the city’s character. Why Read Our Reviews Trusted Opinion: We eat there; we taste it. No fluff, no hype. We try to be objective, honest but fair. In-Depth & Useful: Instead of vague praise or blanket criticism, we give details: what stood out, what surprised us, what disappointed. That way, you know what to expect — or what to avoid. Discover Hidden Gems: Some of the best meals are found off the beaten track. We like to uncover under-the-radar places that deserve more attention — not just the popular or well-advertised ones. Helps You Make Informed Choices: Whether you’re celebrating something special or just looking for a quick, satisfying bite, our reviews give you enough information to decide where to spend your time and money.
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Joseph Tito
Restaurant Reviews
AERA WHERE THE CITY BECOMES YOUR DINNER COMPANION
Sometimes you need dinner. Sometimes you need an experience that makes you forget you have to do laundry tomorrow.Aera delivers the latter—perched on the 38th floor of The Well like it's auditioning to be Toronto's main character. This isn't just dinner; it's dinner with a backdrop that makes your Instagram stories look like they were shot by a professional who actually knows what they're doing.The Reality CheckYes, you'll spend more than your grocery budget. Yes, you'll probably overdress and still feel underdressed when you see the woman at table twelve who clearly shops somewhere I can't pronounce. And yes, you'll take seventeen photos of your drink before you actually taste it.Worth it? Absolutely.What You're Actually GettingThe 5oz beef tenderloin arrives like it went to therapy and worked through all its issues—perfectly cooked, confident, with nothing to prove. The sushi doesn't try to reinvent the wheel, which is refreshing in a world where everything needs to be "elevated" or "reimagined." Sometimes fresh fish on good rice is exactly the flex you need.That seafood tower? It's not subtle. It's not trying to be. It sits there like edible architecture, daring you to take a photo and tag your ex.The Drinks SituationThe "Amelia" tastes like summer decided to get its act together—vodka, elderflower, blackberry, and just enough sophistication to make you feel like you have your life figured out. The "Gilgamesh" is for when you want to tell people you drank something with miso and shiitake bitters, because honestly, when else are you going to get that opportunity?The Truth About the ExperienceHere's what they don't tell you: the view does half the work. You could be eating a decent sandwich up here and still feel like you're living your best life. But Aera doesn't coast on the scenery—the service moves like they actually want you to enjoy yourself, not like they're doing you a favor by taking your order.The lighting hits different when you're thirty-eight floors up. Everything looks better—your date, your food, your questionable decision to order the most expensive thing on the menu because "it's a special occasion" (it's Tuesday).The Bottom LineAera isn't where you go to grab a quick bite. It's where you go when you want to remember that sometimes life can feel as good as it looks on other people's social media. It's expensive, yes. Worth it for the right moment? Also yes.Just make a reservation, wear something that makes you feel like you belong there, and prepare to eat really good food while pretending you always dine with the entire city spread out below you.Some nights deserve to be elevated. This is the place that does the elevating.Sometimes you need dinner. Sometimes you need an experience that makes you forget you have to do laundry tomorrow."Pro tip: Go for sunset if you can swing it. The city lights coming on while you're working through that wagyu is the kind of moment that makes you understand why people write poetry about dinner.
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By Joseph Tito
Restaurant Reviews
Where My Inner Gino Finally Found Home
Location: 1451 Royal York Rd, Etobicoke (aka where I didn't expect to find actual Italian food)The vibe: Your nonna's approval wrapped in pizza doughOkay, so as someone who was literally born in Rome and has spent years explaining to well-meaning Canadians that no, Olive Garden is not "close enough," finding Crudo felt like discovering a twenty-euro note in an old jacket pocket. This place doesn't just bring out your inner Gino—it validates the Gino you actually are.The Panuozzo Situation (Or: Finally, Someone Gets It)When I heard "Toronto's first panuozzo," my Roman cynicism kicked in hard. I've seen what this city does to Italian food—it's usually a crime against my ancestors. But these guys? They actually know what they're doing. The bread has that perfect texture that only comes from people who understand that panuozzo isn't just "pizza sandwich"—it's an art form that requires actual skill.Their mortadella with pistachio cream made me momentarily homesick in the best way. It's not trying to be some fusion nonsense or "elevated" version—it's just good, honest panuozzo like you'd find in any proper Roman pizzeria. The kind that makes you realize how much you've been settling for sad Canadian interpretations of Italian food.The porchetta version? Chef's kiss Perfect. Finally, someone in this city who knows that marinated eggplant isn't just a random vegetable you throw on because it sounds Italian.Pizza That Doesn't Insult My HeritageLook, I've been disappointed by "authentic Italian" pizza in Toronto more times than I care to count. Places that think adding some basil makes it Neapolitan, or worse, those spots that proudly serve thick-crust monstrosities and call them "Italian-style."But Crudo's pizza? Actually respectable. The dough has the right chew, the San Marzano sauce tastes like it should (shocking, I know), and they're not drowning everything in cheese like they're trying to hide something. At $23 for a 12-inch, it's more expensive than what I'd pay in Rome, but this is Toronto—I've learned to adjust my expectations along with my budget.The Reality Check (From Someone Who Knows Better)The atmosphere is simple and unpretentious, which is exactly how it should be. Good Italian food doesn't need mood lighting and exposed brick—it just needs to be good. The fact that they've got Euro Cup on and everyone's clearly comfortable just hanging around? That's more authentic than half the "rustic Italian" places downtown charging double.Service is efficient without being rushed, and watching them slice everything fresh in front of you reminds me of home in ways I didn't expect. It's those little details that tell you these people actually understand Italian food culture, not just the Instagram version of it.The Brutally Honest OpinionHere's the thing—as an Italian living in Toronto, I've become an expert at managing expectations. Most "Italian" food here is Italian the way Tim Hortons is French cuisine. But Crudo? It's actually trying to do things right, and mostly succeeding.Is it exactly like being back in Italy? No, obviously. But it's close enough to make me stop complaining about how "nobody in Toronto knows how to make proper Italian food." The owners clearly give a damn about authenticity, and in a city where people think carbonara should have peas, that's worth celebrating. Look, I went in expecting decent pizza and left questioning why I've been settling for mediocrity my entire adult life. "My fellow Etobicokians, if you haven't tried Crudo Pizza & Panuozzo you aren't living"—and honestly, they're not wrong.This place doesn't need Instagram-worthy neon signs or Edison bulbs to prove it's good. It just quietly serves food that makes you want to kiss the chef (in a purely platonic, "thank you for showing me the light" kind of way). It's the kind of spot that makes you feel like you've discovered something special, even though you're basically just eating really good Italian food in a strip mall.The Final VerdictCrudo brings out your inner Gino in the best possible way—suddenly you care about the quality of your tomatoes, you have opinions about cheese, and you might catch yourself gesturing more enthusiastically while talking. It's authentic without being pretentious, delicious without breaking the bank (okay, it'll dent it a little), and hidden just enough to make you feel like you're in on Toronto's best-kept secret.Rating: ★★★★☆ (would be five stars but they don't deliver to my couch)Will I be back? Già prenotato for next week.Crudo Pizza & Panuozzo 1451 Royal York Rd, Etobicoke (647) 694 6284 | crudoto.com
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Admin - BTC
Restaurant Reviews
From Boardroom to Boscaiola: Enza Cianciotta's Delicious Second Act
At 52, this Italian-Canadian entrepreneur walked away from a lucrative tech career to create something that actually feeds the soul—and it's working.When Enza Cianciotta tells you she's "loving" her late-in-life pivot to entrepreneurship, you believe her. After three decades as a software executive, traveling between Canada and London every three weeks, Enza did what most people only dream about: she walked away from the money to chase her passion. But this isn't your typical "follow your dreams" story. This is about a woman who saw a problem in our food system and decided to fix it, one authentic product at a time.Living in London for 12 years opened Enza's eyes to something most North Americans don't realize we're missing. "Coming from Europe, all the grocery stores here were laden with products full of high fructose corn syrup, emulsifiers, stabilizers," she explains. "In Europe, GMOs are banned." The revelation that hit hardest? Learning that a tomato could contain shrimp genes—meaning someone with a shellfish allergy could have an anaphylactic reaction to what should be a safe, natural product.This European perspective, combined with her Italian heritage and nutritional education, became the foundation for SOLENZI—her "free-from" food brand. When Enza told her Scottish husband she wanted to start a business while working AND attending nutrition school, his response was beautifully blunt: "Pick one. You can't do all these three things and do them well." That advice transformed everything.Enza's approach isn't just about removing the bad stuff—it's about elevating the good. She traveled to Puglia, where her family originates, meeting with artichoke growers and farmers. The goal: marry convenience with nutrition, creating meals you could prepare in 30-40 minutes without sacrificing quality or authenticity.SOLENZI's pasta line breaks all the rules. While most brands mix flours, Enza took a purist approach: one pasta that's 100% red lentil (26 grams of protein per portion), another that's 100% chickpea, another that's 100% green pea flour. When featured on "The Good Stuff with Mary Berg," her lentil pasta was voted best alternative pasta, and sales quadrupled overnight.Her newest creation might be the most exciting yet: pasta made with Italian durum wheat and Lupini bean flour. The result? Double the protein of regular wheat pasta, three times the fiber, and 50% fewer net carbs, all while tasting exactly like traditional pasta.Sometimes the best discoveries happen by accident. Preparing for a food show, Enza had a can of coconut cream in her kitchen. On a whim, she combined it with her Boscaiola mushroom mix, simmered for 20 minutes, and brought it to the show. "They didn't care about anything else. They wanted to know where to buy the sauce." That accidental creation became her number-one selling product.Today, SOLENZI products are sold at Farm Boy, Healthy Plant, Fortinos and other major retailers. The brand includes artisanal pastas, gourmet sauces (all sugar-free and gluten-free certified), pestos, and antipastos—all made with simple, authentic ingredients. "We're all passionate about food and nutrition, family. We're authentic, and we believe in integrity and transparency," she says.At 52, Enza proves the best time to start something new might be when you finally know exactly what you stand for: marrying convenience with healthier eating to bring gourmet, delicious food that makes meal-making easy. She's giving us permission to eat well without the guilt, confusion, or compromise. And honestly? It's about time.
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Joseph Tito
Restaurant Reviews
The Real Story Behind Newmarket's Hottest New Spot
I'm sitting across from Lilly Vona at Bar Locale just days before opening, and even in this final preparation stage, you can feel the energy she and partner Frank Facciponte have built into this space. The music system is being tested, the bar is being stocked, and small plates are being perfected in the kitchen. It's exactly the sophisticated yet genuinely fun atmosphere they envisioned when they first laid eyes on this landmark location.Between the Covers: So you're about to open. How does it feel to see your vision finally coming to life?Lilly: It's incredible. This has been something I've always wanted to do. Through my travels, all through my young life, at home when my parents were big entertainers—this is what I've always enjoyed. Sharing plates, small plates, it's collaborative. It invites social connection. Food is so many things to so many people, but at the end of the day, it's family, it's love, it's culture.BTC: So what made Newmarket the right fit for this concept?Lilly: Actually, Newmarket wasn't even on our radar initially. We were actively looking at locations in midtown Toronto when we got approached to look at this property. It's a town-owned landmark location, and we only had one hour to view the space before deciding if we wanted to go through the whole RFP process—business plan, presentation, financials, the works. But honestly, the moment we saw it, we knew. And then when we learned about Main Street's accolades and what this community has built, we got really excited about being part of both the community and the business community here. It's such a unique opportunity to be in a landmark location that has this incredible heritage and significance to the town.BTC: You and Frank are business partners AND life partners. How do you not kill each other when the restaurant is having a shit day?Lilly: laughs We're both Geminis, so we're like the nicest four people you'll ever meet! But Geminis make exciting lovers, exciting partners. Exciting doesn't always mean easy—it's intense sometimes. We play hard, we work hard, we love hard. It's just who we are. And somehow through this crazy life we live, we raised three of the most amazing, well-balanced young men. That's my proudest achievement.BTC: What's been the biggest learning curve in expanding to three locations?Lilly: Learning to step back and trust our team. It took years—me and Frank worked on site 24/7 for years—for us to be able to oversee operations without micromanaging. Now we can go to our own restaurants and enjoy them as guests. Well, mostly. I still notice dust and fingerprints on the walls—you can't help it!BTC: Let's talk about that renovation. You literally stripped this place to the bare bones.Lilly: We did! It was a massive undertaking, but we had this vision of a space that could effortlessly transition from relaxed daytime lunch and brunch to a vibrant nighttime hotspot. That required completely rebuilding and redesigning everything. Every detail matters when you're trying to create an experience that lets people fully immerse themselves from the moment they walk in.BTC: How are you planning to balance creating that vibrant energy while still making it a place people can actually connect?Lilly: The music's going to be loud. When people come from our other Locale locations and say "the music's too loud," we're gonna be like "Crank it!" People should know that before coming in. But trust me, it will work. I'm 60, and I want to go to a place with loud music and crafted cocktails on date night. Sometimes you don't want to talk so much to your partner—you listen to the music together. It's gonna be vibrant, it's gonna give you energy.BTC: Your team seems ready to launch.Lilly: I could not do this without my core team. Steve Oletic will be our restaurant manager here—what he's achieved to make sure Aurora's in good hands while dedicating himself 24/7 to getting this place ready is incredible. Chef Michael Dadd is our head chef, and Eli Rosch is our bar manager. We've collaborated on everything together, and I can't wait for people to experience what we've built.The relationship between restaurant owner and chef is like a very complex dance. When you find that balance with somebody, you fucking go with it. Michael had so much potential beyond what he was doing—small plates, ingredient-driven cooking—this is his niche. And when I let him go, this is what we got.BTC: Chef Michael, tell us about your approach to the menu.Chef Michael Dadd: It's all about Mediterranean inspiration using local ingredients. We're doing everything from scratch—sardines we'll be cleaning and marinating in-house, 40 pounds a week. The patatas bravas, which we introduced at Beer Fest, went over really well. And the croquettas—very Spanish traditional but with a Scotch egg element, so there's a beautiful soft poached egg in the middle.I grew up 15 minutes north of here, so using local produce from the Holland Marsh has always been engrained in everything I do. I can't wait for guests to discover these flavor combinations.BTC: What's the hardest part about getting ready to open this concept?Lilly: Honestly? The hardest part has been navigating the delays and supply chain issues. Post-COVID, everything is more expensive—30 to 35% more—and nothing arrives on time. A simple barstool turns into a six-week delay. But we push through because growth isn’t just about opening another space—it’s about creating opportunity. For our team, our community, and the vision we believe in.I can't wait for our regular customers from King and Aurora to discover this different side of what we do, and to welcome new faces to the family."Food is so many things to so many people, but at the end of the day, it's family, it's love, it's culture."BTC: The design here is stunning. Tell me about those details.Lilly: Every single detail has been thought of, from the bathrooms to the little fringe on the barstools. The glass chandeliers are hand-blown from England. The moth wallpaper—I wanted something edgy. But here's the crazy part: when we first got in this place during construction, I went into that dusty, ugly washroom, and a moth landed on the wall. I was thinking about a logo representing transformation—of Locale, of this space, of myself. Moths are attracted to night and light, and this is the night. Everything just clicked.BTC: What's next for the Locale empire?Lilly: We're going to go RV for a month, because that's what we do. Montreal's been calling, so... I don't know. Let's end it with that.As our conversation winds down and the final preparations continue around us, it's clear that Lilly is about to achieve exactly what she set out to—a place where food is love, where collaboration happens naturally, and where every detail serves the bigger vision of bringing people together. Bar Locale is ready to open, and Newmarket is about to discover something special.
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Joseph Tito
Restaurant Reviews
KLEINBURG'S HIDDEN GEM: Why La Baracca Is Worth The Drive
I've reached that age where leaving my house requires a compelling reason. Not just a good reason—a seismic, tectonic-plate-shifting reason that overrides my primal desire to remain horizontal on my couch, binge-watching shows while eating takeout straight from the container. La Baracca in Kleinburg provided exactly that reason, and trust me when I say it was worth putting on real pants for.Don't let the name fool you. "Baracca" means "shack" in Italian, a humble nod to what stood on this spot before renovation. But there's nothing shack-like about this place except perhaps the warm, unpretentious welcome that wraps around you like your favorite sweater the moment you step inside.The Space: Historic Charm Meets Modern BeautyHoused in a beautifully renovated historical home in the heart of Kleinburg village, La Baracca strikes that impossible balance between sophisticated and comfortable. The clean, bright interior is punctuated with modern art pieces that keep the space from feeling stuffy or dated. It's elegant without being intimidating—the kind of place where you could propose or just celebrate making it through another work week.But the real magic happens in what they call their "secret garden." Tucked behind the main building, this lush outdoor space transforms ordinary meals into occasions. Strung with twinkling lights and surrounded by greenery, it's the kind of setting that makes even a Wednesday night dinner feel like you've stumbled into someone else's anniversary celebration. I watched a woman actually gasp when she walked out there—a full-bodied, hand-to-chest gasp that wasn't even slightly performative.In a world of overpriced mediocrity, there's something refreshing about paying for something that actually delivers.”Let's be honest—we've all lowered our service expectations lately. The bar is so low that when a server remembers to bring water, I'm ready to nominate them for humanitarian awards. But La Baracca's staff operates in a different universe.Our server greeted us with genuine warmth and the kind of menu knowledge that can only come from actually eating the food, not just reciting descriptions from training. He described specials with such passion I half expected him to break into interpretive dance. When I couldn't decide between two pasta dishes, he didn't give the standard "they're both good" cop-out but instead walked me through exactly how each would taste and which would pair better with my wine.Speaking of wine—the collection is extensive without being overwhelming, and nobody made me feel like an idiot when I mispronounced the Italian varietals. Our server suggested a regional wine that wasn't even among the most expensive options, a rare act of beverage integrity that deserves recognition.It was worth putting on real pants for.”The Food: This Is Why You're HereI could write poetry about the bread basket alone—crusty, still-warm bread served with olive oil that tastes like it was pressed approximately twelve minutes ago. But that would leave no room to tell you about everything else, and trust me, you need to know.The calamari appetizer made me question my life choices. Why have I suffered through so many rubbery, over-battered versions when this tender, lightly coated perfection exists in the world? It's served with a lemon aioli that's somehow both rich and light, a culinary magic trick I'm still trying to deconstruct.For mains, the "blue crab pasta with lobster bisque" deserves every bit of its reputation. The pasta (handmade, because of course it is) has that perfect bite, and the sauce strikes a balance between creamy and light that should be scientifically impossible. The seafood is fresh and abundant—none of that sad "two shrimp and a mussel" situation that plagues lesser establishments.But the wild boar gnocchi? That's the dish I'm still having flashbacks about. The gnocchi themselves are cloud-like pillows that somehow maintain their structure, and the wild boar ragu has depth that comes from actual slow-cooking, not just dumping in tomato paste and hoping for the best. It's rustic and refined at the same time, like the culinary equivalent of someone who can discuss philosophy but also knows how to change a tire.Save room for the white chocolate lava cake with pistachio filling. When cut open, that vibrant green center flowing into the pool of vanilla gelato created a moment so sensual I felt like I should've bought it dinner first. The contrast between the warm cake and cool gelato, the sweet white chocolate and slightly bitter pistachio—it's the kind of dessert that ruins you for other desserts.The Verdict: Worth Every Penny (And You'll Need Several)Let's address the prosciutto-wrapped elephant in the room: La Baracca isn't cheap. Your credit card will feel the burn. But in a world of overpriced mediocrity, there's something refreshing about paying for something that actually delivers. The portions are generous, the ingredients clearly high-quality, and the execution skilled enough to justify the price tag.This isn't everyday dining unless your last name is Bezos or Musk. But for those nights when you need to remind yourself that pleasure still exists in the world—celebrations, romantic evenings, or just Tuesday nights when existential dread hits hard—La Baracca offers a genuine experience rather than just a meal.In a sea of restaurants that feel like they were designed by algorithms and staffed by people who would rather be anywhere else, La Baracca stands out as passionately, authentically human. It's as if someone took all the elements that make dining out special and concentrated them in one historical building in Kleinburg.So yes, put on real pants. Drive to Kleinburg. Spend more than you planned. You'll leave with the kind of food memories that pop up months later, making you smile inappropriately during boring meetings. And isn't that worth a little credit card anxiety?I think so. And if you don't trust me, trust the woman who gasped at the secret garden. That kind of genuine delight can't be faked.Rating: 4.7 out of 5 perfectly paired wine glassesLa Baracca is located at 10503 Islington Avenue in Kleinburg. Open Tuesday through Saturday for lunch (12–3pm)and dinner (5–10:30pm). Reservations strongly recommended for weekend dinners and the garden seating area.
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Admin - BTC
Restaurant Reviews
“You don’t have to be fully healed to be someone’s lighthouse. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is show up, broken pieces and all.”
Alex: [takes a deep breath] Because trauma compounds. Being removed from your home is traumatic. Being in a system that shuffles you around is traumatic. Being queer in spaces that may not affirm or understand your identity? Another layer.The statistics around mental health for system-involved LGBTQ+ youth are heartbreaking. Higher rates of depression, anxiety, suicide attempts. But those aren't just numbers to me—they're kids with names and dreams and favorite songs.We build mental health support into everything we do, not as an add-on but as the foundation. You can't build a future if you're constantly in survival mode. Healing has to come first.But here's what's important: we don't pathologize their responses to trauma. When a kid has a panic attack because they're being moved to their seventh placement in two years, that's not a disorder—that's a reasonable response to an unreasonable situation. We validate that. We teach them to understand their own responses rather than being ashamed of them.JT: Your work embraces the messy, non-linear reality of healing and identity—something we talk about a lot in Between the Covers. How do you approach that messiness with Lighthouse?Alex: [smiles] Oh, we're all about the mess. Transformation isn't linear. Healing isn't Instagram-worthy. Growth often looks like two steps forward, one step back, three steps sideways, and occasionally a complete faceplant.We have this cultural narrative that recovery or growth should be this beautiful, inspiring journey with a clear before-and-after. The reality? It's complicated and contradictory. You can be making huge strides in therapy while your external life is falling apart. You can look like you're thriving to everyone else while fighting internal battles they can't see.At Lighthouse, we celebrate tiny victories—the kid who made it to school three days this week instead of two, the teen who spoke in group for the first time, the young adult who went to a job interview even though anxiety nearly kept them home. We honor backslides and mistakes as part of the process, not failures.“Where tradition meets the table—and every dish tells a story.”Step into Vivo and you’re instantly wrapped in the warmth of rustic charm, rich aromas, and a love for food that feels like coming home. This isn’t just a place to eat—it’s a place to linger, to laugh, to connect.Rooted in Italian tradition, Vivo brings a modern twist to classic recipes that have been passed down through generations. Whether it's their hand-stretched pizza, house-made pasta, or the kind of tiramisu that makes you believe in love again, every bite is a reminder that good food takes time—and heart.The space is cozy yet elevated, with open kitchens that invite you to be part of the experience. Families, first dates, and foodies all gather here for one simple reason: it’s authentic. From the first pour of olive oil to the last swirl of espresso, Vivo delivers comfort without compromise. Come hungry, leave full—in more ways than one.BTC: What's been the most surprising part of this work for you?Alex: [smiles] How much the kids end up helping me. There's this narrative that mentorship is one-directional—wise adult helps struggling youth. But these young people have taught me more about resilience and authenticity than any self-help book ever could.Last year, we had this 14-year-old, Jamie, who'd been in seven placements. At our summer retreat, we were doing this activity about belonging, and Jamie said, "Sometimes family isn't who you're born to; it's who you refuse to give up on." I think about that every day.The other surprise is how much joy there is mixed in with the hard stuff. We laugh a lot. We celebrate every tiny victory. Found family can be as messy and complicated as biological family, but there's something beautiful about choosing each other anyway.BTC: What would you tell adults—especially those struggling with their own identities or mental health—about what you've learned from this work?Alex: [leans forward] That it's never too late to find your people. To reshape your story. To heal old wounds.So many adults I meet—especially queer adults—are carrying these deep beliefs that they're fundamentally broken or unworthy of connection. They've internalized messages from childhood, from society, from religion, from everywhere telling them they're wrong somehow.What I've learned from our youth is that unlearning those messages is a lifetime practice. It's not about reaching some perfect state of self-acceptance; it's about noticing when those old stories arise and gently challenging them, over and over again.Also? Community matters. We aren't meant to heal in isolation. Finding spaces where you can be your authentic self—messy, contradictory, evolving—is essential. Whether that's therapy, support groups, chosen family, creative communities... find your lighthouse, the people who can help guide you safely to shore.BTC: Last question—what gives you hope on the hard days?Alex: [quiet for a moment] Two things. First, the change I've witnessed. When we started Lighthouse seven years ago, we had twelve mentors and twenty kids. Now we have over a hundred pairs across three counties. That growth tells me something about our collective capacity for care.“Healing isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you were before the world told you to shrink—and choosing, every damn day, to take up space anyway.”But honestly? It's the text messages. The ones that say "I got through today" or "I used that coping strategy" or just "thank you." Small moments of connection that remind me why we do this work.There's this kid, Tyler, who graduated from our program last year. They're in college now, studying social work. They texted me recently:"Sometimes I still feel like I'm falling apart, but then I remember that's just part of being human. And I keep going anyway."That's it, right there. We're all just falling apart and putting ourselves back together. But we don't have to do it alone.“You don’t have to be whole to be worthy.”
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Joseph Tito
Restaurant Reviews
Restaurant Review - 9 Baci
Located at 10200 Keele Street, 9Baci Restaurant is a charming spot that brings authentic Italian flavors to the heart of Maple. Known for its warm ambiance and inviting atmosphere, it’s the perfect place for a casual dinner or a celebratory night out. Their menu features Italian classics like wood-fired pizzas and handmade pastas, with the truffle gnocchi and stone-baked pizza often stealing the spotlight. The outdoor patio adds an extra layer of coziness, making it an ideal setting for enjoying a glass of wine with your meal.What truly sets 9Baci apart is its dedication to creating a welcoming experience. The staff’s warmth and passion make every guest feel like family, ensuring attentive service from start to finish. While the food consistently earns praise for its quality and flavor, the restaurant’s community-focused vibe and occasional themed nights, like karaoke or Latin evenings, make it a unique dining destination. If you’re in Maple and craving a true taste of Italy, 9Baci is a must-visit spot that delivers on all fronts.
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Spotlight
Winning Her Way: How Melissa Grelo Redefines Success
THE NOTE WAITING IN HER HOTEL ROOMMelissa Grelo was on the brink of one of the boldest moves of her career - a wellness retreat built on her Aging Powerfully platform, the passion project she’s nurtured alongside running a podcast, parenting an 11-year-old, and hosting The Social, Canada’s most-watched daytime talk show. Her daughter, Marquesa, had tucked a note into her bag with strict instructions: Don’t open until you get there.Alone in her hotel room, minutes before leading a room full of women who’d come to learn from her and the group of experts she had curated, Melissa finally opened it. On the first page, in her daughter’s unmistakably confident handwriting:I am so proud of you.“It was a very long letter,” Melissa laughs now. “She’s a very prolific writer. Her vocabulary is fabulous.”But the message was simple: Go. Do this. I’m good. I’m cheering for you.This is what it looks like when a woman builds a life that supports her joy - and raises a daughter who sees and celebrates it.THE GAME IS RIGGED. SHE PLAYS IT ANYWAY.Let’s get something straight: Melissa Grelo hasn’t come undone. She’s building a life, a career, and a rhythm that reflect her strengths, not society’s expectations. What she has done is thrive in an industry where women, especially those on camera, still face extra layers of scrutiny: age, appearance, composure, perfection. Viewers often expect media personalities to be flawless, polished, and ever-present, even when their lives are evolving behind the scenes.And still, Melissa moves forward with clarity and confidence.When The Social finally premiered, it wasn’t just another show for her. It was something she had dreamed up, pitched, and championed for years. So even though she was only 11 weeks postpartum, she chose to be there - excited, grateful, and fully aware of the significance of stepping into a project she had helped bring to life.“I went back to work really fast after I had her,” she says calmly. Not apologizing. Not justifying. Simply acknowledging that the moment mattered to her. She wanted to show up for something she had helped build.Men call this dedication. Women are often told it’s “balance.” But the truth is simpler: Melissa followed her ambition and trusted herself.WHEN HER BODY HIT PAUSE, SHE HIT RESETA year and a half after Marquesa was born, Melissa was hosting Your Morning and The Social. Early mornings, long days, big interviews, and two live shows that demanded focus and energy. Her career was expanding quickly, and she was embracing every opportunity that came with it. Mid-flight to Calgary, her body signaled it was time to calibrate - dizziness, racing heart, the kind of symptoms that demand attention. Doctors checked her vitals: all perfect.The lesson wasn’t “slow down,” it was “support yourself.”She did exactly that. Therapy. A later call time. And a more intentional approach to her already full life.“I’m very bad at resting,” she admits with a smile. “I’ve always been foot-to-the-floor.”But instead of pushing harder, she adjusted smarter. She didn’t crumble; she evolved.THE MATH OF MODERN PARENTHOODMelissa had Marquesa at 36, and like many parents who have children later in life, she occasionally does the quiet calculations – how old she’ll be at major milestones, how life stages might line up. “Always, always,” she says. “Everybody does the math.”But here's what the math doesn't consider: wisdom. Experience. A fully formed self."What we feel like we might be behind in or losing in age, we've gained in wisdom," she says. "We're bringing a whole different self to parenting."Her daughter gets the version of Melissa who knows who she is. Who lived a full life first. Who built a career and collected stories and mistakes and victories before motherhood.This Melissa doesn't crumble when the culture whispers that she's "aging out." She launches a podcast called Aging Powerfully and fills a retreat with women who want what she's modeling: strength without shame."I'm going to be the youngest version of my age at every step of the way."CHOOSING A FAMILY PLAN THAT FITS THEIR LIFEAfter four years of fertility treatment and two clinics, Melissa conceived naturally the very summer The Social was greenlit.Later, when she and her husband Ryan discussed having a second child, they communicated honestly and without pressure.“I’m not slowing down,” she told him. “If we have another, lead caregiving will fall on you.”They talked it through. They both had ambitions. They chose one child. A thoughtful, mutual decision.No guilt. No external expectations. Just a family designing a life that makes sense for them.“I’m very proud of how I’ve navigated the challenges,” she says, recognizing her own growth and the strength in choosing intentionally.RAISING A DAUGHTER WHO KNOWS SHE BELONGSPeople often ask ambitious mothers how they teach their daughters that they can “have it all,” but Melissa reframes the question. For her, the focus is helping her daughter understand that when challenges arise, the issue isn’t her, it’s the world she’s moving through.The approach in their household is simple and open. “There are no secrets in our family,” she says. “Just living life.”Marquesa knows the real stories behind Melissa’s journey - the fertility challenges, the anxiety attack, and the truth of what ambition can cost and give. She also sees something her mother developed later in life: strong boundaries.“She has boundaries very clear in a way I didn’t figure out until my mid or late 30s,” Melissa says. “When my daughter sees me pushing myself too hard because I don’t have good boundaries, she already does.”Their connection is built in everyday moments. At bedtime, Melissa asks: “What makes you feel loved?” and “What moments matter most?” And the answers are always the same - braiding her hair, cuddling on the couch, the rituals that make her feel safe and seen.It’s presence over perfection. Consistency over performance. Love woven into the ordinary parts of life.THE COSTUME AND THE TRUTHEvery morning, Melissa puts on the polished on-air version of herself. Every night, she settles into sweatpants on the couch.“This is who I am,” she tells her daughter. “Work-Mommy is a costume.”Marquesa prefers the no-makeup version.Melissa even built a clothing line - MARQ, named after her daughter, because she wanted kids to feel free before the world labels them.“I’m not throwing gender expectations on a child who still has placenta on her,” she jokes.Their house uses RuPaul’s Drag Race and Love Island as jumping-off points for conversations about character and confidence.“What’s more important than being pretty?” Melissa asks.Marquesa never hesitates: Being smart. Being kind.CHOOSING A FAMILY PLAN THAT FITS THEIR LIFEAfter four years of fertility treatment and two clinics, Melissa conceived naturally the very summer The Social was greenlit.Later, when she and her husband Ryan discussed having a second child, they communicated honestly and without pressure.“I’m not slowing down,” she told him. “If we have another, lead caregiving will fall on you.”They talked it through. They both had ambitions. They chose one child. A thoughtful, mutual decision.No guilt. No external expectations. Just a family designing a life that makes sense for them.“I’m very proud of how I’ve navigated the challenges,” she says, recognizing her own growth and the strength in choosing intentionally.RAISING A DAUGHTER WHO KNOWS SHE BELONGSPeople often ask ambitious mothers how they teach their daughters that they can “have it all,” but Melissa reframes the question. For her, the focus is helping her daughter understand that when challenges arise, the issue isn’t her, it’s the world she’s moving through.The approach in their household is simple and open. “There are no secrets in our family,” she says. “Just living life.”Marquesa knows the real stories behind Melissa’s journey - the fertility challenges, the anxiety attack, and the truth of what ambition can cost and give. She also sees something her mother developed later in life: strong boundaries.“She has boundaries very clear in a way I didn’t figure out until my mid or late 30s,” Melissa says. “When my daughter sees me pushing myself too hard because I don’t have good boundaries, she already does.”Their connection is built in everyday moments. At bedtime, Melissa asks: “What makes you feel loved?” and “What moments matter most?” And the answers are always the same - braiding her hair, cuddling on the couch, the rituals that make her feel safe and seen.It’s presence over perfection. Consistency over performance. Love woven into the ordinary parts of life.THE COSTUME AND THE TRUTHEvery morning, Melissa puts on the polished on-air version of herself. Every night, she settles into sweatpants on the couch.“This is who I am,” she tells her daughter. “Work-Mommy is a costume.”Marquesa prefers the no-makeup version.Melissa even built a clothing line - MARQ, named after her daughter, because she wanted kids to feel free before the world labels them.“I’m not throwing gender expectations on a child who still has placenta on her,” she jokes.Their house uses RuPaul’s Drag Race and Love Island as jumping-off points for conversations about character and confidence.“What’s more important than being pretty?” Melissa asks.Marquesa never hesitates: Being smart. Being kind.WINNING LOOKS DIFFERENT THAN THEY TOLD USOur interview took place on Melissa’s train ride home, a quiet moment in her busy day. As the train pulls into the station, Melissa gathers her things. Ryan is on pickup duty. Tomorrow she’ll do it all again, the work she loves, the routines she cherishes, a life she’s built intentionally.Tonight, she’ll braid Marquesa’s hair. She’ll ask the questions that matter. She’ll settle into the couch as her real self.The version that is fully present.The version that embraces every part of her life with intention.The version showing her daughter what’s possible when you follow your own path.And someday, when another letter comes, it won’t say I miss you.It will say:I see you. And I’m proud.
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Joseph Tito
Spotlight
The Fire That Forged Her: The Unbreakable Power of Leslie Al-Jishi
I’ve known Leslie Al-Jishi long enough to say this with absolute certainty — she doesn’t just survive things. She transforms them.We met years ago in Bahrain, long before hashtags and hero narratives made resilience fashionable. Back then, the world was shifting under our feet. Women were finally being allowed to drive, and the Gulf was pulsing with a quiet revolution — change moving in whispers, not shouts.Leslie was already ahead of it. She wasn’t waiting for permission; she was building her own road.We built one of the first performing arts schools in Bahrain together — something that sounds simple now, but at the time felt radical. It wasn’t just about music or movement. It was about freedom. About giving young people — especially girls — a place to be seen, to move, to speak without fear.Leslie understood that before anyone else. While most people saw risk, she saw necessity. She was — and still is — the kind of woman who walks straight into resistance and says, “Fine. Watch me.”The Weight of LegacyLeslie comes from a family whose name carries weight. The Al-Jishi legacy runs through hospitals, medical fields, generations of service and innovation. But don’t mistake inheritance for ease.Leslie didn’t sit back and coast on family prestige. She expanded it. Reimagined it. Made it hers. In a landscape that still measures women by how quietly they move, she made sure her footsteps echoed.Her power isn’t loud — it’s disciplined. It’s the kind that doesn’t need to announce itself because it’s already in motion. The kind that sits at a boardroom table and changes the entire temperature of the room with one sentence.When the World StoppedAnd then — the unthinkable.Her son, Baddar, passed away.Even now, writing that sentence feels impossible. Because as a father, I can’t even begin to comprehend it. I don’t want to.I was there for her then — at least I thought I was. I showed up, I tried to comfort, I tried to hold space. But I realize now, I didn’t truly understand. Not until I became a parent myself.Back then, I saw the grief from the outside — the strength, the composure, the way she held everything together when her entire world was breaking.Now, I understand that you don’t carry that kind of pain — it becomes part of you. It never leaves. It shapes every breath, every choice, every silence.Leslie didn’t “move on.” She learned to move with it.And that’s where her power comes from — not from grace or endurance, but from the sheer will to keep showing up in a world that took everything from her and still demanded more.There’s strength you perform for others — and then there’s the kind that lives in your bones. Leslie’s is the latter.The RebirthOut of that darkness, she rebuilt. Not just herself, but the lives and futures around her.Today, Leslie Al-Jishi is a woman who can walk into any room — in Riyadh, in London, in Marbella — and command it without saying a word. There’s something magnetic about her energy: calm, assured, unflinching.She’s evolved from a regional powerhouse into a global force — a connector, a creator, a quiet architect of progress.You don’t see her name splashed across headlines or trending hashtags — because she’s too busy doing the work. The kind of work that outlives applause.What Power Really Looks LikeWhen people talk about “strong women,” they often picture loudness — defiance, bravado, Instagram quotes in gold cursive. Leslie’s power doesn’t look like that. It’s quieter. More dangerous. It’s the kind that doesn’t ask to be seen — but once you do see it, you can’t look away.She is, quite simply, a woman who will stop at nothing for what she believes in. Whether it’s culture, art, education, healthcare, or justice — she doesn’t just join the cause; she becomes the pulse of it.And through it all, she remains deeply human. Warm. Grounded. The kind of woman who will hold your hand in silence because she knows words aren’t enough.Leslie Al-Jishi doesn’t live in the past, but she carries it with her — like a compass. Every choice she makes honors the boy she lost, the man she’s raising (yes, Yousif — Amm Joseph is talking about you!), the women who came before her, and the countless ones who’ll come after.She is proof that grief can be both an anchor and a set of wings.I’ve seen powerful people fall apart over far less. But Leslie — she rose, again and again, until the ashes became her armor.And maybe that’s the secret: she never set out to inspire anyone. She just refused to stop moving.From Saudi roots to Bahraini milestones to Marbella’s sun-soaked coastlines, Leslie Al-Jishi remains what she’s always been — unstoppable, unshakable, and utterly unforgettable.This is Leslie Al-Jishi: the fire that forged itself.
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Joseph Tito
Identity & Culture
THE DIVORCE THAT BROKE THE INTERNET
How Sheikha Mahra Al Maktoum Turned Her Broken Marriage Into a Masterclass in Modern PowerThe Instagram post lasted exactly 47 minutes before going viral worldwide."Dear Husband," Sheikha Mahra Al Maktoum typed on July 16, 2024, "As you are occupied with other companions, I hereby declare our divorce. I divorce you, I divorce you, and I divorce you. Take care. Your ex-wife."In less than 50 words, the daughter of Dubai's ruler hadn't just ended her marriage—she'd detonated a centuries-old power dynamic, invoked Islamic law through Instagram, and given roughly 3 billion women worldwide a moment of vicarious satisfaction. The post has since been deleted, but screenshots live forever, especially when they're saved by millions.Here's what most Western media missed: This wasn't just a spurned wife going rogue on social media. This was a calculated power move by someone who understands exactly how modern influence works.The SetupLet's be clear about who we're discussing. Mahra bint Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum isn't your average royal. Half-Greek, half-Emirati, educated between Dubai and London, she's been walking the tightrope between tradition and modernity since birth. At 30, she runs her own perfume line, commands 500K+ Instagram followers, and manages to be both a devoted mother and a social media force—all while navigating one of the world's most scrutinized royal families.Her (now ex) husband, Sheikh Mana bin Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, is her father's advisor and technically her cousin. Their 2023 wedding was peak Dubai excess—the kind where nobody posts the budget but everyone knows it could fund a small nation's healthcare system.Less than a year later, it was over. Publicly. Brutally. Brilliantly.The Real StorySources in Dubai (who unsurprisingly prefer anonymity) paint a different picture than the "woman scorned" narrative. Mahra had been building her exit strategy for months. The perfume line? Launched weeks before the divorce announcement. The name of her first fragrance? "Divorce." I'm not making this up."She knew exactly what she was doing," says a Dubai-based luxury brand consultant who's worked with several royal family members. "The triple talaq [saying 'I divorce you' three times] is traditionally a male prerogative in Islamic law. For a woman to use it, publicly, on Instagram? That's not emotional. That's revolutionary."The timing was surgical. Posted during peak Middle East social media hours, tagged strategically, worded to go viral. Within hours, she'd transformed from "another Gulf princess" into a global feminist icon—whether she intended to or not.The Business of Being BrokenHere's where it gets interesting. While Western influencers turn divorces into reality shows, Mahra turned hers into a luxury brand. Her perfume "Divorce" sold out in Dubai within 72 hours of launch. The follow-up fragrance? "Moving On." The third? "New Beginnings."This isn't just marketing—it's alchemy. She's taken the most private pain and transformed it into the most public power.The numbers are staggering:Perfume sales up 400% post-divorce announcementInstagram engagement rates that would make Kim Kardashian weepSpeaking requests from every major women's conference globallyA reported book deal worth seven figures"She's done what no royal has done before," explains a Middle Eastern social media analyst. "She's monetized authenticity in a culture that usually pays for silence."The Marbella ConnectionWhich brings us to why Mahra matters to Marbella, beyond the obvious fact that she probably owns property here (the Al Maktoums own property everywhere that matters).Marbella has always been where Middle Eastern royalty comes to be Western—to drink champagne, wear bikinis, and pretend the rules don't apply. But Mahra represents something different: she's bringing Eastern power moves to Western platforms, using Islamic law as a feminist tool, turning tradition into disruption.She's reportedly considering a Marbella boutique for her fragrance line. But more interesting are the whispers about a potential investment in a female-only members club here—a place where divorced women can network, not commiserate. "Think Soho House meets group therapy meets venture capital fund," says someone familiar with the plans.This makes sense. Marbella isn't just where you go to escape your divorce—it's where you go to plan your next act. The Costa del Sol has always been a place for reinvention, where new money can wash away old scandals. For someone like Mahra, it's not a hideaway—it's a laboratory.The Uncomfortable TruthLet's address what everyone's thinking: Is any of this real? Is the divorce final? Does Islamic law even recognize Instagram as a valid platform for religious declarations? Is this all just performance art with a luxury goods tie-in?The answer is: it doesn't matter.What matters is that a 30-year-old woman from one of the world's most patriarchal societies just showed every woman watching that power isn't given—it's taken. And sometimes, it's taken in public, with excellent lighting and a strategic hashtag.Her father, Sheikh Mohammed, hasn't publicly commented. But sources say he's "not entirely displeased" with his daughter's business acumen. After all, Dubai wasn't built on tradition—it was built on ambitious people who understood that controversy, properly managed, is just another word for marketing.What Happens NextThe Marbella boutique, if it happens, won't just sell perfume. Sources suggest it's part of a larger play—a lifestyle brand that speaks to women navigating what she calls "conscious uncoupling with unconscious wealth." Think Gwyneth Paltrow's Goop but with actual money and fewer jade eggs.But here's the real disruption: Mahra is building a business model for modern royal women. No more suffering in silence behind palace walls. No more choosing between tradition and independence. Instead, she's showing that you can honor your heritage while hashtagging your liberation."Every wealthy woman in an unhappy marriage is watching her," says a Marbella-based divorce attorney who's seen a spike in "Mahra-inspired" inquiries. "She's proved you can leave loudly and profit from the noise."The Last WordWhen I reached out to Mahra's team for comment, they sent back a single line: "The Sheikha's fragrances speak for themselves."And maybe that's the point. In a world where every celebrity divorce comes with competing PR narratives and leaked text messages, Mahra Al Maktoum did something radical: she controlled her own story, named her own price, and literally bottled the experience for $250 per ounce.The masculine way to handle divorce? Lawyers, NDAs, and financial settlements. The feminine way? Turn your pain into a product, your breakdown into a breakthrough, and your ex-husband into a marketing strategy.She's not coming to Marbella to hide. She's coming to expand.And honestly? The Costa del Sol could use more women who understand that sometimes the best revenge isn't living well—it's living publicly, profitably, and completely on your own terms.Welcome to Marbella, Sheikha. You're going to fit right in.Joseph Tito is the Editor-in-Chief of Between the Covers and writes the magazine’s unapologetically unhinged “Bitch Fest” advice column. He is currently researching the legal validity of Instagram divorces under Islamic law and accepting early applications for his upcoming divorce-themed fragrance line, tentatively titled “Irreconcilable Differences.”
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Joseph Tito
Bitch Fest
Bitch Fest: Marbella Edition
You write it. I bitch it. We heal (sort of).🪩 Welcome to Bitch FestWelcome to Bitch Fest — Marbella’s new emotional support group disguised as a column.Think of me as your slightly judgmental best friend who always tells you the truth, even when you didn’t ask for it.Here’s how this works: you write in with your chaos, your cringe, your “did that really just happen?” moments — and I respond with brutal honesty, affection, and just enough sarcasm to sting.This isn’t therapy. It’s survival with better lighting.Because if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that even under the Spanish sun, the mess still shows up — it just tans better here.💌 Letter 1: “Golden Mile Ghosted”Dear Bitch Fest,I met a man at Nobu. Gorgeous. Divorced. Smelled like Tom Ford and said he splits his time between Marbella and London.He sends voice notes that sound like poetry, but every time he’s “back in London,” I don’t hear from him for a week.He told me he’s not ready for labels, but he texts me every night at 11:11.Is this a sign from the universe or a sign I’m an idiot?— Manifesting but MadDear Manifesting,Oh honey. Oh no. Oh absolutely fucking not.“Splits his time between London and Marbella” is code for “has a wife in Kensington and a coke dealer in Puerto Banús.” This man isn’t mysterious — he’s married. Or worse, emotionally constipated with a frequent flyer fetish.Let me paint you a picture: right now, while you’re checking your phone for the fifteenth time today, analyzing that 11:11 timestamp like it’s the Da Vinci Code of dick, he’s in London having missionary sex with someone named Philippa who owns horses and says “darling” like it’s a tax deduction.You know what 11:11 really means? It means he’s consistent about exactly one thing: breadcrumbing you at bedtime. That’s not divine timing — that’s a man with a Google Calendar reminder that says “text the Marbella one.”I’ve been you. I dated a man whose career was “travel.” Cool—he toured the world disappointing gay men. I spent €400 on an outfit for a dinner he canceled by WhatsApp voice note while I was already sitting there.Delete him. Block him. Sage your phone. Burn some palo santo. Hell, burn his memory. Because baby, the only thing worse than a man who won’t commit is a woman who keeps waiting for him to.The universe isn’t testing you. It’s begging you to raise your standards above “texts back sometimes.”💌 Letter 2: “Puente Romano Parenting”Dear Bitch Fest,We came to Marbella for a “family reset.” The kids are sunburned, my husband’s emailing from the cabana, and I’m hiding in the bathroom Googling “can Aperol count as hydration?”The mom at the next table is doing yoga in a bikini and I haven’t meditated since 2014.Am I failing motherhood?— Namaste-ishDear Namaste-ish,First of all, yes — Aperol is hydrating if you believe hard enough. It’s called manifesting electrolytes.Now, let’s talk about bikini yoga mom. You think she’s enlightened? She’s not. She’s disassociating. That’s not inner peace — that’s Xanax and a prayer. I guarantee she went to her car afterward and screamed into a beach towel.Here’s the truth: every “family reset” in Marbella is just rich people discovering you can’t outrun dysfunction — it just gets a tan.Your husband’s not “working remotely,” he’s remotely present.Your kids aren’t feral, they’re just honest. They know this whole charade is bullshit, and they’re acting accordingly.I watched a woman at Trocadero Beach Club yesterday FaceTime her therapist while her kids destroyed €200 worth of calamari. She kept saying, “I’m practicing presence,” while her son practiced violence on his sister. We made eye contact. We both knew.Here’s your permission slip: you don’t need to meditate. You don’t need to journal. You don’t need to pretend that family time in paradise isn’t sometimes a gold-plated nightmare.You need that Aperol, a kids’ club that doesn’t ask questions, and the number of that yoga teacher who really just lets everyone cry for an hour.You’re not failing motherhood. You’re surviving it — with a better view. The only difference between a “good” mother and a “bad” one in Marbella is the SPF level and whether you packed iPads.Pour another drink. The vitamin D will balance it out. That’s science. Probably.💌 Letter 3: “Group Chat Hell”Dear Bitch Fest,Every Marbella WhatsApp group is like emotional CrossFit.If I don’t respond within five minutes, someone adds a passive-aggressive emoji.I left the group once and got added back ten minutes later.Is there any escape?— Emoji OverloadDear Emoji,Oh God, you joined one of those groups. Let me guess the cast:Sharon, who sells “healing crystals” (it’s meth energy, not amethyst).Jennifer, who posts daily affirmations at 6 a.m. (cocaine or insomnia — place your bets).Maria, who “doesn’t do drama” but screenshots everything.That one woman who replies to every message with a voice note longer than a podcast episode.The admin who has “Founder / CEO / Spiritual Warrior” in her bio but actually just day-drinks and does damage control.These groups are where optimism goes to die. It starts with “sisterhood” and ends with someone crying about a borrowed Hermès bag that came back “with energy.”I was in one. Once. Someone asked if anyone knew a good therapist. Sixteen women recommended sound baths, and one tried to sell her a course on “womb wisdom.” I said, “maybe try an actual licensed psychologist,” and got removed for “negative vibrations.”You can’t leave gracefully. You can’t leave at all. These groups are the Hotel California of estrogen — you can check out, but your notifications never leave.Here’s what you do:Mute for 365 days.Change your profile pic to something spiritual (sunset, yoga pose, glass of wine).Never respond, but occasionally heart-react to maintain proof of life.If anyone asks where you’ve been, say “soul-searching.” They’ll assume rehab or Ibiza — both are more respectable than admitting you just couldn’t take another sunrise quote from Eckhart Tolle.And start your own group: “Women Who Understand That Sometimes Life Is Just Shit And That’s Okay.”Entry requirements: at least one public crying incident, no vision boards, and wine counts as a food group.💋 The Ugly Beautiful TruthWe all came to Marbella for the same reason — we thought geographical distance from our problems meant emotional distance too.Surprise, bitch: your issues got upgraded to first class and followed you here.After three years, two divorces (not mine, but I was heavily involved), and approximately €47,000 in “healing experiences,” I’ve realized something:We’re all just damaged goods in better lighting.And that’s perfect.Because the women who admit they’re a mess in Marbella? Those are my people.The ones crying in their G-Wagons at school pickup.The ones who brought their therapist’s number to brunch “just in case.”The ones who moved here for a fresh start and ended up fresh out of fucks to give.You know why I started this column?Because I got tired of pretending my reinvention was working.It wasn’t. Still isn’t.I’m typing this in yesterday’s dress at 3 p.m., slightly buzzed, highly caffeinated, and my biggest achievement today was not texting my ex back.Tomorrow, I’ll probably do better. Or worse.Either way, I’ll do it in paradise — with excellent bone structure and questionable judgment.That’s the Marbella way.💌 Send Me Your DamageGot a confession? A crisis? Caught your husband texting someone saved as “Gym”?Don’t text your ex. Don’t drunk-DM. Send me your damage.📧 bitchfest@btcmag.comSubject line: “Help Me, Joseph,” “Am I The Asshole?” — or just keyboard smash. I’ll understand.The Joseph Tito Guarantee:I’ll be meaner than your inner critic but kinder than your mother-in-law.I’ll tell you the truth you need to hear, wrapped in the joke you need to laugh at.And I will never — ever — suggest meditation as a solution.Because babe, if deep breathing actually fixed things, we’d all be enlightened by now instead of entitled.
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Joseph Tito
Spotlight
The Woman Who Wouldn't Giggle: Elvira Caria's Four Decades of Refusing to Play Nice
After 40 years of fighting for her voice in broadcasting, Elvira Caria lost the only title that ever mattered to her: Matthew's momThere's a street named after Elvira Caria in Vaughan. She didn't pay for it, she'll tell you right away. Awards line her walls—forty years' worth of recognition for lifting up her community, for being the voice that shows up at every damn event with her phone and her genuine give-a-shit attitude.But when I meet her at The Roost Café on a grey autumn morning, she says the work that matters most is the stuff nobody sees."My real satisfactory work?" She pauses, weighing whether to trust me with this. "I help young girls escape human trafficking. You can't put that on social media."This is Elvira Caria: the woman who refused to be radio's giggling fool, who chose late-night shifts over morning show glory so she could be home when her son's school bus arrived, who now sits across from me one year after burying that same son at 25."I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the community," she says. And she means it literally.The Day She Found Her Voice by Refusing to Use ItPicture this: a young Elvira in a radio control room, told by a well-known male broadcaster that her job was to giggle. To be the pretty voice that makes him sound better."I don't do giggling fool," she says now, decades later, the Southern Italian fire still in her voice.She stopped showing up to giggle on cue. Got fired on a Friday. Instead of folding, she handed her termination papers back: "If you can find a better reason to fire me on Monday, I'll accept it. If not, I'm coming back."Monday passed. So did Tuesday. By Friday she expected another dismissal—everyone fires on Fridays. But a month later the man who told her to giggle was gone. Elvira stayed for six more years."I found my value voice," she says. "I wasn't going to bend for someone else's value."The Choice That Looked Like SacrificeAt the height of her career, being groomed for a morning show at one of Canada's top stations, Elvira walked away."Nobody quits Rock Radio," her boss said."Well, I just did."She took the shifts nobody wanted—weekends, evenings, 3 a.m. hits at Yonge and Dundas. People called it sacrifice. She calls it choice."While others were sleeping, I was talking to the people we now call homeless. Nobody wakes up saying, I want to be on the streets when I grow up. Nobody."The choice meant she was home when Matthew got off the school bus. It meant knowing his friends, his teachers, his world. For 25 years, it meant being Matthew's mom first, Elvira Caria second.The Irony That Breaks YouHere's the part that will gut you: she spent decades insisting she was more than just Matthew's mom. She was a broadcaster, a journalist, a voice for the voiceless. She built a career on authenticity when authenticity could get you fired.And then, in 2024, Matthew was gone— twenty-five years old and on the edge of everything. Suddenly all Elvira wanted was the one title that had been stripped away."Matthew never saw me as a radio announcer," she says, voice steady, eyes somewhere else. "He saw me as his mom. And that's all he cared about."The Part Where She Stops Pretending Everything's FineLet's talk about not getting out of bed. About hygiene being optional when grief is bone-deep.Her sister-in-law was the one who finally broke through: "They need you. My boys need you! You're more than their Zia." So Elvira took small steps. A shower became a victory. Coloring her hair, an achievement. Looking in the mirror and trying to recognize whoever stared back."I'm mad at God," she admits. "People say everything happens for a reason. What's the fucking reason? Why take away a kid who never did anything wrong, who was just starting his life?"The Community That Saved Her When Awards Couldn'tTen people can tell Elvira she's wonderful. One critic cuts deeper at 3 a.m. That's human.She'll admit some awards now feel hollow—accolades in a season of loss. The recognition doesn't heal the absence.But the community? They showed up in ways that mattered. The woman from her coffee shop who just sat with her, no words needed. The neighbor who mowed her lawn without asking, week after week, because grief means grass keeps growing when you can't. The radio colleague who took her shifts without question when she couldn't form words, let alone broadcast them. The mothers from Matthew's old baseball team who still text her his jersey number on game days. Or the Baseball league who named an umpire award after him."Someone left groceries at my door every Tuesday for three months," she tells me. "Never found out who. Just bags of real food—not casseroles, not sympathy lasagna—but the exact brands I buy. Someone paid attention to what was in my cart before. That's community."The vigils, the legacy fund in Matthew's name, the quiet notes slipped under her door—that's what kept her standing."The real work happens in shadows," she says. "Helping a girl escape trafficking. Watching her graduate two years later. That's when I think—okay, maybe I've done enough to meet my maker."The Wisdom of Not Giving a FuckAfter decades of answering every critic, she's learned the most radical act: indifference."You don't have to react to everything," she says. "Not everything requires an explanation."She still hates small talk, still loves a stage. The influencer economy baffles her. "People think having a phone makes them reporters. Broadcasting is an accreditation—you're trained how to interview, how to fact-check, how to smell bullshit."Who She Is NowA year later, she's still figuring it out. Still showing up at community events with her phone and her give-a-shit intact. Still ironing her underwear (yes, really) because some control is better than none.The street sign with her name stands in Vaughan, but she lives in the in-between—between public recognition and private purpose, between the veteran broadcaster and the grieving mother."The evil grows faster than good," she says. "We're always catching up."So she keeps going. Not because grief eases—it doesn't. Not because she's found a new purpose—she hasn't. But because stopping isn't her style.She refused to giggle back then. She refuses to perform now. And maybe that's the lesson: sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is keep showing up, even when you don't know why you're still here. Especially then.Elvira Caria continues to support multiple charities across the GTA while maintaining her broadcasting career. She's still mad at God, still helping girls escape trafficking, still learning who she is now. She does not need your sympathy. She might need you to know that grief has no timeline, authenticity isn't content, and sometimes the bravest thing you can do is refuse to play along.
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Joseph Tito
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The Dentist Is Between My Legs: Bif Naked on Heart Surgery, Picking Felons, and Why She's Just Getting Started at 54
The punk icon who found euphoria on an operating table talks death doulas, divorce gratitude, and why her failing marriage hurt more than cancerBy Joseph Tito | Between the Covers | November 2025Bif Naked is cutting up her dog's food with her hands when I ask how it feels to be a legend.She looks at me like I've asked her to explain quantum physics in Swahili. "I'm a dog mom," she says, and goes back to mincing. Her fingers work methodically, tearing dog food into smaller and smaller pieces. The woman who once spit on audiences from punk stages now performs this daily ritual of care with the focus of a surgeon.This is going to be that kind of conversation—where every expectation gets shredded like dog food.The Operating Table High"So I was wide awake," Bif says, settling into her Toronto condo couch, miniskirt riding up as she crosses her legs. She's talking about her heart surgery like most people describe a spa day. "They thread a little camera through your leg all the way to your heart, and they can see what they're doing on the screen."She leans forward, eyes bright with the memory. "The surgeon is wearing a pineapple hat—like, the surgical hat had cartoon pineapples on it. And they're listening to William Shatner singing. Have you ever heard him sing? Who knew this album existed?"This is a woman describing having a hole in her heart closed with what she calls "a little umbrella device," conscious the entire time, finding it all hilarious and profound in equal measure. Her voice gets almost reverent: "I thought, this is the coolest shit ever. How is it possible that in this lifetime, I can listen to these people talking about their day jobs, which is fixing my stupid heart?"Then comes the moment that gives this article its title. They need to inject Novocaine into her leg to make the incision. You know that heavy, aching feeling from the dentist?"I said, 'Oh! It feels like the dentist is between my legs.'"She covers her face, laughing and mortified simultaneously. "The nurses started howling. This patient is on the table, making what they think is dirty talk. But I just meant—" she gestures helplessly "—the Novocaine!"Her whole body shakes with laughter now. "Of course that's what I said. How fucking funny is that?"God's Rejection and Other Love Stories"God is not going to choose me for whatever reason," she says, the laughter suddenly gone. "I'm going to stay here on earth and have to deal with it. Because I'm not learning my lessons yet."The shift in energy is palpable. She's talking about her pattern now—the violent men, the criminal boyfriends, the marriages to liars. "If there's a wrong guy, send him my way. If he is a criminal, if he's a violent felon, send him my way. I'm going to fall in love with that idiot every time."She delivers this like a weather report, no self-pity, just fact. When I ask why she got divorced, she doesn't hesitate: "Because I married liars." Then, catching herself: "But I have to look at what my fault was."She discovered what healthy relationships actually look like at 54. Fifty-four. After two failed marriages, cancer, and enough medical trauma to kill most people twice. "I had no idea relationships were supposed to be healthy," she says, and the wonderment in her voice is genuine. "I think that I've always been chasing true love. I'll never give up on love, ever."The contradiction sits there between us: the woman who picks monsters still believes in fairy tales."My emotional crisis of my failing marriage trumped my cancer experience."She says this so matter-of-factly that I almost miss it. The dissolution of her marriage during treatment hurt more than the actual cancer. Her hands, which had been still, start moving again—straightening pillows, adjusting her jewelry."Which was good," she adds quickly, "because it forced me to throw myself into volunteering."The man who married a rock star got a cancer patient instead, couldn't handle the plot twist. Now she trains as a death doula, works in palliative care. "If I was told tomorrow that I could not be a performer anymore," she says, her voice steady, "I think I would go into hospital administration."The Stage She Was Always SeekingBefore Bif Naked existed, there was a theatre kid at the University of Winnipeg who'd taken ballet for 13 years. She demonstrates a position, her leg extending with muscle memory from decades ago. "I wanted to be an actress and a ballet star."Then a drummer named Brett needed a singer. Suddenly she had a vehicle for all her poetry, all her rage about El Salvador and Indigenous treatment and misogyny. Whether it was ballet slippers or combat boots, she was always searching for a stage—just took her a while to find the right one."I got to stand up there. I got to spit on the audience. I got to say, fuck you, you can't objectify me." Her voice rises with the memory, that old fire flickering. "I didn't even have to sing very well. And believe me, I could not. I sounded like a dying cat."She pauses, grins. "And I don't mean the band Garbage."They opened for DOA. NoMeansNo. Bad Religion. She dropped out of university, and here's the kicker—"I'm still waiting to go back to school," she laughs, thirty-something years later, like she might actually do it.The same rage that fueled her screaming about El Salvador now targets Doug Ford's Ontario. "I couldn't figure out why I moved here," she says. "Then Ford got elected and I thought, 'Oh. I'm here to use my big mouth.'"The Children She'll Never Have (Or Will She?)When she cuts up that dog food with such maternal precision, I have to ask about kids. Her whole body language shifts—shoulders dropping, a softness creeping in."My ovaries were taken out at 36. So breast cancer didn't just cut up my tit." She says this with the same directness she uses for everything else, but her hand unconsciously moves to her stomach. "I've been in menopause since I was 36 years of age."People ask about adoption—she is, after all, adopted herself. The sarcasm returns, protective: "Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Let me turn around as a divorcee who's working nonstop as a self-employed artist in Canada and get right on the adoption train."But then, unexpectedly: "Now in my mid-50s? Yeah, I suppose I am ready."The possibility hangs there. Not this year. But the door isn't closed.Tina Turner's Miniskirt Ministry"I look to women like Tina Turner," she says, smoothing her miniskirt with deliberate intention. "Tina Turner didn't start playing stadiums till she was in her 50s."At 54, she genuinely believes she's just getting started. The documentary premiering across Canada this month (November 12 in Toronto, November 4 in Vancouver). The album finally released after she shelved it during the George Floyd protests because "the world didn't need a fucking Bif Naked record" during that summer of unrest."The sky is the limit," she says, and means it.When I ask who she's fighting for now, what her voice stands for at 54, she barely breathes before answering."When I was singing 'Tell On You' on my first record, I wasn't the only girl who was sexually assaulted," she says, her voice dropping to something harder, older. "I was the only girl with a microphone."The room goes quiet. Even the dog stops moving.She calls herself "a square" now—no cocaine, no partying. "I can be thoughtful and intelligent. I can try very hard to be a voice for the voiceless."But square doesn't mean silent. She's angrier about politics than ever, advocating for animals, healthcare inequality, LGBTQ+ rights rollbacks."Unfortunately," she says with a grin that's pure punk rock, "I'm still the one holding the mic."What's Next Is What She WantsThey're making a feature film about her life. The documentary's touring. When I ask what's next, she almost defaults to "that's a Peter question"—her manager's domain—then catches herself, takes ownership."We're working on the feature film based on the book."But really, what's next is whatever the fuck she wants. She's earned that.I ask what she'd tell a young girl starting out in music today. She thinks, really thinks, her face cycling through decades of memory."Never take it personally. Never take anything personally, no matter what."Then she says something that makes me stop writing: "There's room for everybody."This from a woman who had to claw for every inch of space. Who quit drinking partly to avoid being "misinterpreted" by men who'd use any excuse to discredit her. Who's been assaulted, dismissed, divorced, nearly killed."Anybody can make music on their computer, anybody can learn piano on YouTube, anybody can upload a song and send it to their nona," she continues, and she means it. "That's actually a gift."As I'm leaving, she's back to cutting up dog food, this ritualistic care that anchors her. I think about what she said about God not choosing her yet, about having to stay here and deal with it.But watching her hands work—the same hands that punched stage divers, that held microphones during cancer treatment, that reached for violent men who couldn't love her back—I realize something.She keeps saying she hasn't learned her lessons. But maybe she has. Maybe the lesson is you can marry liars and still believe in love. You can lose your ovaries at 36 and mother the whole world anyway. You can tell your surgical team the dentist is between your legs and still become a legend.She looks up from the dog bowl, catches me staring."I wasn't the only girl who was sexually assaulted," she says again, quieter this time but somehow louder. "I was the only girl with a microphone."Bif Naked's documentary tours Canada this month. Her album "Champion" is available now. She still wears miniskirts and heels. She's just getting started.
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