Toronto Ravine Network

Neighbourhood: Citywide · Address: Accessible at dozens of points across the city · Hours: Open 24 hours · Price Range: Free · Editorial status: Not yet verified

Why Visit

The Toronto Ravine Network is a massive, interconnected labyrinth of forests, creeks, and wildlife corridors that snake through the entire city, hidden below street level. You can disappear into deep urban wilderness in minutes, finding yourself surrounded by native plants, birds, and even the occasional deer.

What Makes It Unique

Unlike parks or single trails, the ravine system links dozens of neighbourhoods, offering a sense of true escape and surprise with every entry point. Much of the network threads behind homes, under expressways, or into unexpected pockets, creating routes where you rarely see the same thing twice. Few cities have such dense, contiguous greenspace right inside the urban core.

If you want dim sum in Toronto that still feels gloriously unpolished, go east. The Chinatown around Gerrard and Broadview doesn’t get the same attention as Spadina, and that’s exactly the point. It’s smaller, a little scruffier, and way more local. On Sunday morning, this stretch fills up with families, regulars, big tables of aunties, sleepy kids, and people who clearly know exactly what they’re ordering before they even sit down. It doesn’t feel staged for visitors. It feels like a neighbourhood doing its thing. The best part is the rhythm of it. You walk in and there’s usually a bit of chaos right away: a host trying to fit your party somewhere, tables pushed close together, teapots clattering, servers calling things out across the room. If you’ve only done the polished downtown brunch version of dim sum, this is a different world. Carts still roll by in some spots, loaded with metal steamers and fried things that disappear fast. You’re making split-second decisions while someone lifts a lid to show you shrimp dumplings, siu mai, turnip cake, chicken feet, sticky rice wrapped in lotus leaf, maybe egg tarts if you’re lucky and they haven’t all gone. It’s loud. It’s fast. It’s not especially precious. And that’s why it’s so good. The food is the reason to come, obviously, and East Chinatown delivers. The dumplings tend to arrive properly hot, not dried out from sitting around. The har gow has that slightly springy skin and a real snap from the shrimp. The siu mai is porky and dense in the right way. Fried taro dumplings come out shatteringly crisp. Congee, if you order it, is the move on a cold morning. So are rice noodle rolls with a puddle of sweet soy sauce spreading across the plate. You don’t need to overthink it. Order a mix of steamed, fried, and one or two things you’ve never tried before. Go before 10 a.m. on Sunday if you can. That’s the best advice, full stop. Officially, many places start dim sum service around 10, but showing up early puts you ahead of the rush, and by 10:30 the wait can get annoying. From 9 to 11 is the sweet spot for being there as the room wakes up and then hits full volume. If you come with two people, you’ll get seated faster; bigger groups may end up waiting or squeezed onto a shared table. Don’t expect a long, leisurely meal. This is more of a brisk, satisfying feast with tea constantly being topped up and plates stacking quickly. And yes, bring cash if you can, or at least don’t assume every place handles cards smoothly. Wear something you don’t mind carrying a bit of frying smell afterward. Then walk Gerrard when you’re done, a little overfed, maybe with a bakery bun in hand. That’s the whole appeal here. It’s cheap, excellent, and completely itself. The Sunday dim sum rush in East Chinatown still feels like the real thing, because it is.