The service is brusque and the ambiance is about as cozy (and quiet) as a train station, but that doesn't keep the hungry hordes from lining up night after night to wait for one of a handful of tables at this matchbox-size spot. The reason? Hard to say; perhaps it’s just the beer. Though the jukebox vibe here on an average Friday night would send your hipster self into helpless paroxysms of joy.

I have returned to Communist’s Daughter again and again, but now as a destination bar - I now have my ladder, and have sufficiently lost interest in the car door guards - and each time I’m taken back to small-town Ontario. To satisfy that Northern Ontario yearning, a visit to The Communist’s Daughter is a shorter drive. Just don’t park too close to me.

Upshot: C.D.’s regulars have a sense of humour, and their colourful personalities (and attire, on occasion) distinguish this joint from the others. - D.E.