Chef Anar

Neighbourhood: Kensington Market · Address: 180 Baldwin St, Toronto, ON · Hours: Wed–Mon 9am–4pm · Price Range: $$ · Phone: (647) 748-9888

Why Visit

Chef Anar serves Persian-inspired brunch classics you’ll hardly find elsewhere in Toronto, from deeply spiced shakshuka to creamy feta omelettes. It’s friendly, relaxed, and genuine—like coming home to someone else’s Persian auntie.

What Makes It Unique

Unlike the usual eggs benny or pancakes, Chef Anar’s menu is built on Iranian flavours and hospitality, with every dish prepared and served by the same family. Their chai comes brewed table-side with their own spice blend, and brunch here always ends with a little complimentary sweet. You won’t get this mix of comfort and authenticity at Toronto’s trendier brunch spots.

Chef Anar is one of those Toronto brunch spots people talk about in a very particular way: not with hype for hype’s sake, but with the kind of steady, slightly evangelical affection that comes from actually going back. It sits on Baldwin Street in the Kensington Market/Chinatown stretch, and it feels exactly right for that part of the city — casual, a little scrappy around the edges, and completely confident in what it does. There’s nothing showy about the place. No elaborate branding exercise, no overdesigned menu meant for Instagram first and customers second. You come here because you want food that tastes like someone cared about every step, and because the room, small as it is, has a calm, lived-in warmth that makes brunch feel less like a performance and more like a good habit.

The shakshuka is the thing people come back for, and honestly, it earns the attention. This is the dish you use to reset your expectations for shakshuka in Toronto. The tomato base is deeply spiced and full-bodied without becoming heavy, with enough acidity to keep it bright and enough richness to make it feel like breakfast and lunch at the same time. The eggs are poached just right, set at the edges and still soft in the center, so when you break into them they spread through the sauce exactly the way you want. It lands at the table with warm flatbread that’s actually warm, not room temperature and apologetic. You tear, dip, scoop, and suddenly the table goes quiet for a minute because everyone’s too busy eating. If you’ve had mediocre shakshuka elsewhere, this one will make those versions feel lazy.

What makes Chef Anar stand out isn’t just that the food is good, it’s that the cooking feels personal without ever turning into a lecture. The Persian influence runs through the menu in a way that feels natural, not branded. You’ll notice it in the spices and the balance of flavors: cumin, turmeric, saffron, dried lime, herbs that brighten instead of just decorate. There’s warmth in the seasoning, but it’s not blunt or overloaded. The kitchen seems to know exactly when to lean into depth and when to keep things light. That balance matters, especially in brunch, where so many places either drown everything in cheese or treat “global inspiration” like a gimmick. Chef Anar does neither. It just cooks with a sense of memory and confidence.

The weekend lamb stew is the sort of special that regulars quietly keep an eye out for, and if you’re lucky enough to see it on the board, don’t overthink it. Order it. That dish has the kind of depth that makes people rearrange their plans around brunch, which sounds dramatic until you taste it. It’s the kind of comfort food that feels both generous and precise, with meat that’s tender enough to fall apart and a broth or sauce that carries real spicing, not just salt and heat. There’s usually a sense that the specials board is where the kitchen gets to flex a little, and that’s part of the fun. You don’t come here expecting the exact same experience every single time. You come because there’s often something quietly excellent waiting off-menu or only around for a weekend run.

The chai deserves its own mention because too many places treat it like a checkbox. Here, it’s made properly: spiced, strong, aromatic, and brewed long enough to actually taste like something. You get cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, and that rounded, gently sweet depth that tells you someone isn’t rushing it. It’s the kind of drink that works in a small room on a cold Toronto morning, especially when the line outside makes the whole thing feel earned. If you’re there with friends, it’s the sort of place where one person orders coffee, one person gets chai, and then everybody ends up wishing they’d gone for chai too.

The space itself is compact, and that shapes the whole experience. It’s not a sprawling cafe where you can drift in, sit forever, and barely notice the people around you. Chef Anar feels intimate. Tables are close enough that you’ll hear fragments of other people’s conversations, and on busy mornings the room has that soft, steady hum of plates, greetings, and people trying not to look too obviously hungry while they wait. The staff help set the tone. They’re friendly in a real way, not the brittle, performative version of hospitality you sometimes get at trendy brunch places. If you become a regular, they’ll likely remember you before you expect them to. By your third visit, there’s a decent chance they know your name. By your fifth, they probably know what you order, or at least can guess.

That regular crowd is part of the story here. On Sundays especially, you’ll see a mix of people: couples nursing coffee while they wait for a table, families making a proper outing of it, neighborhood regulars who look like they’ve been coming for years, and visitors who have heard just enough about the place to know they should arrive early. There’s a reason the line becomes part of the reputation. Sunday morning is the best time to go, but it’s also the busiest, and if you roll up late, you should assume you’ll wait. This isn’t a complaint so much as a reality check. If you want the easiest experience, get there around opening at 9am. That’s the move. You’ll get a table sooner, the kitchen will be in good rhythm, and you won’t spend half your morning hovering outside while everyone else has already started eating. If you do have to wait, it’s not the kind of wait that ruins the day, but it’s definitely long enough to make you wish you’d listened the first time someone told you to arrive early.

One of the nicest things about Chef Anar is how it fits into the neighbourhood without feeling swallowed by it. Kensington Market and Chinatown are full of places that compete for attention, but this spot doesn’t seem interested in playing that game. It doesn’t need to shout. You can walk here after wandering through Kensington’s side streets, after grabbing fruit, coffee, or a snack elsewhere, and it feels like a natural next stop rather than a destination built to trap you in a reservation system. The area around it makes brunch feel like part of a longer Toronto morning — browsing, walking, people-watching, ducking into a shop, then settling in for a plate that actually satisfies. It’s the kind of place locals recommend when a friend says they want somewhere relaxed but still genuinely good, with food that feels different from the usual downtown brunch loop.

What separates Chef Anar from a lot of its competitors is that it doesn’t chase novelty for its own sake. There’s no sense that the kitchen is trying to reinvent brunch every week to stay on a list somewhere. Instead, it focuses on making a small set of things really well and letting the Persian influence come through where it matters: in the spice, the balance, the sense that this is food with a point of view. That approach gives the place a kind of staying power. You don’t leave thinking about some ridiculous garnish or a gimmicky presentation. You leave thinking about the eggs, the sauce, the bread, the tea, the stew if you were lucky enough to get it. In a city with no shortage of brunch options, that kind of clarity counts for a lot.

If you’re planning a visit, a little strategy helps. Don’t treat this like a sleepy, spontaneous late-morning stop if you care about avoiding a wait. Go early, especially on weekends. If you’re with a group, be ready for a tighter seating arrangement than you’d get at a bigger, more spread-out restaurant. If you’re picky about timing, weekday mornings are calmer and easier, and you can enjoy the food without the Sunday crowd pressure. If you’re set on the weekend vibe, that’s great too — just understand that the busy room is part of the experience, not an accident. People are there because the food is worth lining up for, not because they’re bored. And once you’re inside with your plate in front of you, the wait suddenly feels much more reasonable.

Chef Anar has that rare quality of feeling both special and familiar. It doesn’t try to dazzle you with theatrics. It just feeds you well, with care, warmth, and enough personality to make you want to come back. That’s why people become regulars here. That’s why the Sunday line keeps forming. And that’s why, if you’re in Toronto and want brunch that’s comforting without being ordinary, this is a place you should make time for.