t Jamie Kennedy on Church, the place doesn't get in the way of your plate. JK's design is minimalist and unobtrusive, the furnishings spare and functional. The food is Jamie Kennedy, of course, but a tapas cuisine that's traveled and adapted - like, for example, the (occasionally offered) crisp grilled Cornish hen served with poached apples.

The room is simple, clean, and in touch with the JK himself - the kitchen is very open-concept. Simple uncovered wood tables fill the little room; a chef’s bar (chef’s table?) centres one side of the room. And rows and rows of polished mason jars - stuffed with red peppers, apricots, purple beets - line the shelves at the back of the wine bar. Don't dress up, and you won’t need to make reservations (JK takes reservations at lunch only).

The food couldn't be any better, and the service almost reaches the same impeccable standard as when JK reigned supreme at the ROM. Staff knows how to keep customers contentedly queued by ignoring them, (you likely won’t be greeted at the door, and there will be a lineup) even if you manage to make it early. But when you do make your way in, and are finally granted a table (or a seat at the chef’s counter) service is brusque and the ambiance is about as cozy (and quiet) as a train station.

But lack of attitude 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 Front and Church Street former sushi house. The reason? Affordable servings of previously unaffordable cuisine now at impossibly low prices.