Andrew
Google
Linny’s has been one of the most talked-about openings in Toronto since September 2024. In under a year, it landed at No. 52 on Canada’s 100 Best and No. 13 on the Top 50 Best Steak Restaurants in the USA & Canada. Behind it is David Schwartz, whose restaurants—Sunny’s and MIMI Chinese—are already fixtures in the city’s dining conversation. Expectations were understandably high.
The atmosphere sets the tone from the moment you enter. A mid-century interior with European brasserie influence, terrazzo floors, warm ambient lighting, and restrained wood accents create a sense of continuity rather than spectacle. Servers are sharply dressed in white with black bowties and aprons, attentive without hovering, confident without excess. Corduroy banquettes and leather-bound menus feel intentional rather than nostalgic pastiche. The space is assured of its own identity.
The beverage program reinforces that confidence. The wine list is impressive, but the cocktail menu is where the personality shows. We started with the Café Negroni, a minimalist blend of an espresso martini and a classic Negroni. Bright orange notes cut cleanly through dark coffee bitterness. Balanced, uncomplicated, crafted to leave an impression.
However, that calibration begins to slip once the food arrives.
The house salad is simple to the point of exposure: gem lettuce, cucumber, bulgur, and champagne vinaigrette. The bulgur adds welcome texture, but the vinaigrette leans sharply acidic. With just 4 ingredients, there isn’t much room for error. At $19, it reads less as restraint and more as a missed adjustment.
The Ora King salmon follows a similar pattern. Often referred to as the “wagyu of the sea,” it’s prized for its fat content and softness, qualities that justify its cost. Here, those qualities are largely muted. The cure firms the fish without adding dimension, and the latkes—overly crisp and under-seasoned—do little to support it. Curing makes sense when it concentrates flavor or improves texture; with Ora King, it feels misapplied, as if the name alone is doing the work. The dish also lacks acidity, something that could have grounded the richness and clarified its intent.
The chicken liver toast is more convincing. The pâté is rich and well-seasoned, with cured egg adding depth and umami. Still, restraint slips again. An excess of fried onions pushes the dish toward sweetness, masking the savoury depth that should be at its heart.
By the time the steak arrives, expectations have shifted. The 20 oz bone-in ribeye from Blue Dot Reserve is wet-aged, grass-fed, and finished with pastrami butter. The rationale is sound: reintroducing fat where grass-fed beef lacks it. In practice, the beef is clean and well-seasoned, with the smokiness from the butter doing most of the talking. It’s good beef. But beyond that smoke, it doesn’t develop. Nothing lingers. Nothing surprises. At $136, it’s fair value, but value isn’t the same as impact.
Then comes the Concord grape sorbet, and the room snaps back into focus. Bright, precise, and layered: grape jelly depth, fresh acidity, stewed fruit, and liquid-nitrogen cream. Playful but disciplined, and easily the most memorable dish of the night.
Linny’s has accomplished a great deal in a short time. The space is well-designed, the team is capable and the ambition is clear. During this visit, the execution didn’t live up to the vision, but the foundation is real. As it stands: 3.95 / 5. This feels less like a finished statement than a restaurant still calibrating itself — but one clearly worth watching.
