Advertisement

Food Food & Drink

So bad yet so good

Junked Food Co. 1256 Dundas West, at Dovercourt, 647-343-5326, junkedfoodco.com, @junkedfoodco, Tuesday to Thursday 4-11 pm, Friday to Saturday, 4 pm to 4 am.


Toronto has marquee-name chefs, inventive up-and-comers, all kinds of shining examples of international cuisines. But the longest lines are at poutine shops, raucous bars with deep-fried snack menus or the almighty Burger’s Priest. 

Whether it’s due to millennials’ extended adolescence (as a zillion think pieces would have us believe), our limited budgets, a backlash against organic lunches or those dudes from Epic Meal Time, some of T.O.’s most hyped eateries have fully embraced stunt eating. 

Elevating comfort foods is hardly a new concept, but instead of legitimizing junk food dishes via advanced techniques or fine ingredients, menus are looking more and more like an unholy blend of ultra-processed childhood faves and ultra-fried carnival food.

You won’t find a better example than Junked Food Co, which opened this winter. From the pizza built on waffles to donut sandwiches, the takeout spot’s offerings seem like they were concocted by a fleet of 13-year-old boys at a sleepover who got hammered on one-third of a pilfered cooler each and decided to mix their Halloween candy with the contents of the fancy cheese drawer. 

The Dorito is a menu cornerstone, and sweet-and-savoury combos are, naturally, present, but there’s no luxurious salted caramel or maple glaze in sight. The pulled pork is stewed in Dr. Pepper, the chili is deepened pleasantly with chocolate, and the ketchup and BBQ sauce taste like the cooks melted down a bunch of Fruit Roll-Ups and called it a day. Turns out I’m close: the BBQ sauce is actually made with Jolly Ranchers. 

Their most beloved creation might be the “smash bag” ($8 with pulled pork), a snack-sized portion of Doritos dressed up with taco fixings and your choice of meat. You’re meant to crunch up the chips from the outside mash in the shredded lettuce, jalapeños sour cream and grated cheddar then scarf it all down with a plastic fork. 

For anyone who has childhood memories of Old El Paso build-your-own taco night, it’s like instant nostalgia in a little foil bag.

Tater tots stuffed with melted cheddar can be topped with chili sour cream, chives and bacon bits or poutine-ified (all $8). The tots themselves don’t need much help – the deep-brown, crispy crust and moist, cheesy interior make them a menu standout – but the bean-and-chicken chili doesn’t hurt ’em any.

A little less successful is the Crispy Goo ($6), a dense, glazed donut sliced in two, with one of the halves encased in a half-brick of melted cheddar and a wafer of crisped cheese on top, in case we might miss the point. And even I (almost) hit my sky-high cheese tolerance with their mac ‘n’ cheese ($8), which tethers elbow macaroni together with foot-long strings of white mozzarella and brie, the whole thing garnishes with – you guessed it – a few Doritos. Don’t let the “white chocolate” on the menu scare you off it’s imperceptible in the sage-sprinkled sauce.

Does that Crispy Goo sound like a preposterous amount of fat, sugar, salt and starch? Well, sure, but it certainly wasn’t bad enough for me to quit eating it. Judge all you want, but this is between me, God and my metabolism.

Don’t miss: Toronto’s best junk food

food@nowtoronto.com | @nowtoronto

Advertisement

Exclusive content and events straight to your inbox

Subscribe to our Newsletter

This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

By signing up, I agree to receive emails from Now Toronto and to the Privacy Policy and Terms & Conditions.

Recently Posted