ll I needed was a ladder. And some of those rubber things you put on your car so that when you open your door you don’t dent the car next to you. But, it appears I’d once again left my home-improvement chores too late - all hardware store on Dundas West were closed for the day. So what choice did I have but to go straight to plan B: I went to the bar.

I had remembered hearing much about a new character bar out in these parts called The Communist’s Daughter, but I didn’t know exactly where. I just keep walking, exploring the hard stretch of Dundas West near Trinity-Bellwoods, where Portuguese sports bars and forklift manufacturers seem to be as common as Starbucks and corner bistros on Queen Street. All I had was a name, and a mental picture of a cool spot with a bit of action forming inside.

Alas, I gave up my quest, and stuck my head into a sketchy little spot called Nazzare bar, which appeared to be giving off some steam. The place was packed; all the Goodwill tables and chairs were occupied - one chair alone was supporting three rowdy drinkers. Soda-pop bar stools and even the standing room was filling up.

What choice did I have but to stay - the tiny bar was rocking! But were any of these people from here? The crowd was positively small town - it was as though I’d pulled off the Transcanada west-bound for gas, and ended up in some northern town bar for drinks.

As it turns out, Nazzare Bar is The Communist’s Daughter. And - as I would find out - the crowd was indeed from here, most from the immediate area. The former snack bar had recently been reconfigured to placate the localers and provide new delights.

“Whether they meant to or not,” one regular explained, “the Communist's Daughter people have created a little piece of Northern Ontario - for Torontonians. Service is friendly, the bathrooms clean, and the jukebox collection stellar. And miraculously, considering the young and with-it crowd, the pickled egg jar diminishes from half-full to empty each night.”

Don't let the curious moniker fool you: The C.D. isn't a Socialist meeting headquarters - the name is taken from a line from a ‘70s song. Currently the place has "dive" written all over it; it couldn't be clearer if the word were graffitied on its saffron-coloured walls.

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 juke-box 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. - Don Ellis


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Reader Reviews
This place tastes different!
Faye Sialakas, Toronto
Sept, 2, 2004
Sliding into a small elusive bar on the Dundas St West area I found myself remisniscing of Pisco Sours in Santiago. It was a week day, so grabbing a seat wasn't such an arduous task. It's funny how someone in a big urban city can get lost with all the fancy martini bars that have cropped up all over the city. So much at our disposal, but still, each place seems to be like all the rest. Sometimes living in a big place like Toronto someone can end up feeling like they're from a small town with nothing new and interesting to do. Well, the Communist's Daughter is Toronto. The toronto that I know. Where one can take refuge in the fact that there's a place where you can choose your own music on the jukebox, where dress code is not in effect,where you don't have to pull up in a limo to be noticed. It's real people serving real drinks. Sure, I miss the elaborate Martini menu but after a while even flavoured martinis end up tasting the same. This place tastes different!

Michael J. rocks.
Nicole, Amherstburg
November 27, 2004
What a great time I had! Michael J. rocks. Thanks to Paul and Trish for your hospitality.


Thanks for this one.
beaumonster toronto
July 5, 2004
This place is perfect. A place that feels real, has an amazingly diverse and edited jukebox and a fun and friendly crowd. - See TL review , torontolife.com. Of course, MB had this place month's before, as usual. Thanks for this one.


A little piece of Northern Ontario
Jennifer G. Toronto
Jan 2004
Being a girl from the middle of nowhere, the thing I've missed most about the last decade I've spent in T.O. is those middle-of-nowhere bars. The ones that felt more like clubhouses than nightclubs, where everyone literally knew your name if they were sober enough to remember it, including the sleezy American fishermen in town for the week. So despite the fact that I've lived in a nowhere-neighbourhood in the middle of the city for the past few years, I've not been able to find that--until The Communist's Daughter came along.

The first time I went, people were standing in the doorway with drinks (legally inside the bar, to their credit) for lack of any other room. The second time I went, most of the people in the bar were from North Bay. The service is friendly, the bathrooms are clean, and the jukebox collection is stellar. And miraculously, considering the young & with-it crowd, the pickled egg jar had diminished from half-full to empty in the week between visits. Whether they meant to or not, the lovely Communist's Daughter people have created a little piece of Northern Ontario (or pretty much any part of Canada other than downtown Toronto, many would argue) in Portugal Village. Yippee!