When my younger daughter Ruth was growing up, we had several dining out rituals.

For much of the ’90s, Friday night meant dinner at Bar Italia located on the College St. strip of Little Italy. The attractions were many: Plain pasta for her with only butter and a dusting of parmesan, a glass of robust red wine for me along with roast chicken or grilled steak. Foccacia dipped in olive oil laced with chilies or the excellent antipasto were mandatory starters.

Perched on stools at the bar, we became fixtures and favourites with bartenders Steven, Giuseppe and Mark. Ruth’s Shirley Temple-ish beverage came printed on our bill as “1 Ruthie.” Read more…