Seven great Toronto dive bars that shouldn’t be missed

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Why we love it: “The odour, the characters, the decor, the staff, the prices from 1991…” —Jessie Anderson

The vibes: In a big city like Toronto, it’s easy to feel oh-so-small. If you vanished, would anyone even notice? At Captain Jack, though, show up often enough and you’ll always be remembered — quirks and all. The raucous little Beach bar takes care to honour every lost patron. One November night, a candle sat on the bar where Morley, a longtime regular, always perched, a cutout of his favourite hockey player Yvan Cournoyer propped beside it, and a pumpkin marking his spot (nearly a week after Halloween, no one had bothered to take the decorations down). Soon, a plaque will mark the seat, just as others already honour departed friends like Captain Bruce.

Jovial owner Rob Lee — clad in a tee illustrated with a jacked torso and thick gold chain — remembers not only the dead but the living. On any given night, he knows the name of every single person in the room. Most customers are regulars, many stopping in daily. Couples like Marcus and George met here; Jackie and her husband even held their wedding reception here.

So how do they keep the vibes immaculate enough to draw people back day after day? The bartenders often remember your order so a drink lands in front of you the moment you sit down. And a stern set of house rules is posted throughout the bar, with entries like “no biting,” “no playing ‘Fast Car,’” and “do not take your teeth out at the bar.” Break one and you go in the Ban Book. A counter by the door tracks how many days they’ve gone without a new entry.

The treasures: Another hallmark of a great dive is how much random bric-a-brac it can hold. In just one corner, Captain Jack boasts a KISS pinball machine, a black-and-white Rod Serling cutout, and a tiny purple plastic chair. By the door sits a prized collection of patron-made artwork featuring beloved bartenders, plus a container of dog treats; even pups who aren’t allowed inside still get a warm welcome.

The regulars and bartenders — all locals, many with a decade of service — keep coming back, drawn to what Lee proudly calls the cheapest drinks in the Beach, along with customer-friendly touches like the urinal installed in the mop closet for anyone who can’t make the trek to the basement bathroom. For Lee, the formula is simple: “I make a little every day, don’t get greedy and then they keep coming back.”

Why we love it: “Grossman’s Tavern is the undeniable king of Toronto dive bars, and what makes it particularly special is its seminal role in Toronto’s live music scene, stretching back to the 1960s. It’s a cultural force, uniquely Toronto. And another thing that makes it stand among dives is the patrons, who are as diverse as they come: professors, punks, grey-hairs, bankers, the odd lost tourist, even (during their Saturday Dixieland matinees) families with young children.” —Rob Quail

The character: Sinking into one of the weathered leather couches at the front of Grossman’s, your eye might land on a cardboard box parked by the door. It’s been there for about 15 years; no one knows where it belongs, so it just migrates around the room. Look up and you’ll spot a huge water stain on the ceiling — the leak was fixed, but no one’s in a rush to repaint. “Some people will say, ‘oh my God, there’s a hole here’ or ‘there’s a box there, why is it there?’” owner Tonny Louie says. “You can be a beautiful bar in the Sheraton but those are manmade. It’s not something that evolved over time. And this is what’s beautiful about this place. You can come here, be yourself. They don’t feel like they have to live up to a certain image. They just come here.”

The music: No one’s here for the Instagram esthetic anyway (though the wall of plants, portraits, and vintage gig posters is undeniably charming). They’re here for the music. Grossman’s, one of the city’s original dive bars, morphed into its current form after starting as a cafeteria in the ’40s. The Louies bought it from the Grossmans in 1975 and have run it ever since. Dubbed Toronto’s home of the blues, it remains a haven for musicians: there’s live music five nights a week, plus Dixieland jazz on weekends. Some patrons have been coming for 30 years or more; Louie jokes that if he hasn’t seen you in a while, he knows why.

Like the portraits, the iconic sign, and yes, the old box by the door, Louie himself has become an institution. He’s been at Grossman’s long enough to watch customers he met in their 20s and 30s age into their 60s and 70s. But he’s happy to remain a constant in their lives — and he’s still having fun. “I always say to them, you know what?” he laughs. “I don’t recognize any one of you from way back when, but I still look the same, though.”

Why we love it: “LGBTQ and Indigenous owners. It’s small and I love it.” —Myles Shuttleworth

The owners: Natasha and Cece Marshall have seven children between them — and a few years ago, they welcomed an unexpected eighth: their dive bar, C.C.’s Bar & Grill. Natasha had worked in hospitality for years and was running a bar solo when she had a realization: “Why am I making (that owner) money when I could be making ourselves money?” She named the place after her wife, carrying on the legacy of earlier incarnations like Helen’s Bar & Burgers and Henry’s. “It’s always been a bar,” she says, “but it took us a while to change the demographic.” Once an “old-man bar” with a less-than-stellar reputation, their dream was to transform it into a welcoming space filled with LGBTQ+ pride and open arms for anyone who wanted to hang out.

The community: To build community, they started hosting events — lots of them. There’s karaoke, drag bingo, queer stand-up, sapphic open mics, and trans poetry nights. They draw in punters with their own in-house beer and wine, Splash, as well as a cocktail list made up entirely — and unironically — of retro classics like Sex on the Beach.

The bar itself is wonderfully unpretentious. Decor amounts to a dart board, sports on TV, and signs proclaiming “warning: nobody gets out sober” and “no working during drinking hours.” Other signs read “trans lives matter” and “this is a safe space to be who you are.” In a city with a dwindling number of queer bar options, Natasha and Cece are proud to offer an east-end haven — and a reminder: “We’re Indigenous, we’re queer, we’re women, right — (you can) just do it.”

Why we love it: “I went there the night I arrived in Canada. With most of Ossington becoming exclusive and cliquey, this bar remains fiercely unpretentious. There’s a healthy dose of attitude, but it feels welcoming rather than intimidating. It’s dog-friendly, with a cute back patio, great staff and great drinks.” —Jenni

Dive bar seating can be a crap shoot, but at Sweaty Betty’s, something glorious always awaits: a cosy, comfy couch.

The resilience: Owner May Brand managed the bar for more than a decade before buying it in 2018, promptly “cleaned it up and made it more gay,” but the couches stayed. Her dive helped turn Ossington into the city’s hotspot during the red-lighting, skinny-jeans, multi-tattoo indie-sleaze era. Today, Dundas, College, and Geary may be hipper locales, but Sweaty Betty’s holds firm post-gentrification: no table service, defiantly punk, defiantly queer, defiantly still here.

Walking in feels like visiting an old friend’s house — or perhaps a kooky aunt’s, judging by the decor.

The dogs: Another perk is that dogs are welcome, too. Tiny pups curl up in laps, hounds snooze at patrons’ feet, and one wall is covered in dog portraits. “Dogs are everything to me,” Brand says. After bartending at the Gladstone and seeing dogs tied outside, she decided: “f-ck it, we need to be a dog bar.”

Since they don’t serve food (picklebacks notwithstanding), dogs can hang inside or on the patio. Staff often greet them first, and general manager Sarah Shusterman says they always lift the mood. A 9:30 p.m. curfew keeps everyone safe, but the dogs seem unconcerned: water bowls, treats, and even branded bandanas await them.

Inclusivity is central for Brand. Prices stay low so everyone can grab a drink, even on a tight budget. Monthly drink specials donate a portion to local charities, and any vendors they work with are required to contribute to causes, too. “The neighbourhood can get kind of bougie,” Shusterman says, “but we don’t want gentrification to erase the communities that have always been here.”

Why we love it: “Amazing back patio and pinball machine. Lots of local flavour and order your own dinner from UberEats!” —Lynne Dalgleish

The family: Everyone comes back to the Done Right Inn. Manager Heather Dalgleish started working there shortly after it opened — 25 years ago. One bartender, Steve, worked there for years before leaving to open his own bar; when he closed it post-COVID, he returned to tending bar at the Inn. On an average night, multiple members of the Done Right family are probably there, like regular Simon with his deaf and blind dog Winnie (she has her own spot at the end of the bar), who helps out but also hangs out for fun. Heather’s son Mason is around. Even one of the other dive-bar owners in this feature picks up shifts at Done Right. “People move on for different reasons, but in general they will stay a long time,” Dalgleish says.

The place has always been a charmingly bootstrapped affair. Owner Lisa Sevaszlian built the bar with university pal and original co-owner Michelle Menard alongside their boyfriends in the late nineties (Menard left 20 years ago). “When they first opened, they basically bought two cases of beer and as soon as they sold 24, they went and bought two more,” Dalgleish remembers. “They were both so frugal, like Lisa’s dad had owned a building that had an old sub shop in it and they got the cash register and the microwave from there. It was always the lowest budget possible and it just built from that — always easygoing, never a cover charge, everyone’s accepted.”

The patio: Dalgleish’s partner Shaun built the Inn’s best feature: the patio, around a massive tree that gnarls through the middle of the bar, creating a leafy respite from busy Queen Street West. Many west-end denizens have whiled away an evening in the weathered wooden booths, ordering draft beers from small Ontario breweries (the Dunnie’s specialty), a glass of wine (red or white), or a mixed drink (“we can make a margarita, but we don’t want to”). You can bring your own food, and pups are welcome, too. While the strip has changed drastically, prices at the Inn remain reasonable. “People will be here on a pub crawl or something then they order and can’t believe how cheap it is because they’ve just been somewhere on King Street,” Heather says. And so the folks keep coming back, back to the Done Right Inn.

6. The dirt-cheap dream: Bistro 422

Why we love it: “I feel like these (other votes) are ‘nice’ dive bars with appealing hipster-friendly features. A real dive bar is like Bistro 422.” —Jeff Conlin

The prices: Before it became one of Toronto’s most infamous dives, Bistro 422 was — believe it or not — a fancy Finnish restaurant. Owner Erik Chopra’s parents didn’t score big with smoked salmon and meatballs in the mid-’80s, so they converted it into a bar. First came the punks, then the students, swarms who’ve kept it alive for four decades thanks to notoriously budget-friendly prices: a pitcher of mixed drinks is $18 all-in (only a few bucks more than 15 years ago), a Tuesday pitcher of beer goes for $11.50, and house shooters are just $3.54.

Bistro 422’s frills-free reputation is legendary. One Reddit user swears they saw someone squeegee a beer spill back into a pitcher — tales that only add to the legend of “the beast.” Part of the lore is the seemingly permanent staff. Chopra took over the bar in 2013 and is there most days, keeping prices low by doing much of the work himself. “It’s very hard to keep prices low these days,” he says. “One way I do it is by working here myself, to keep the labour costs down.” Much of the food is made from scratch, and Chopra is always hunting deals: “On the Flipp app looking, ‘OK, where can I buy beef for cheap this week? Where could I get chicken wings for cheap?’”

The staff: Then there’s the mononymic Burger, hired to tend bar when Chopra’s mom was pregnant with him. “When people ask how long he’s worked here, Burger goes, ‘Erik, how old are you again?’” Chopra says. This year marks 40 years of Chopra being alive — four decades behind the bar for Burger, whose no-nonsense demeanor has made him one of the few Toronto bartenders known by multiple generations.

Amid the city’s rapidly opening and closing bars, a little consistency is a relief. “These places are important and, actually, this block is blessed in that we have a few dive bars that have been here forever,” Chopra says. “Hopefully we’ll be here forever and hopefully keep our prices where we can.”

Why we love it: “Every time I go, there is something new on the walls or on the shelves. The drinks are so damn cheap, too; they refuse to bring up prices much because they want the community to keep coming in. Unfortunately, the beloved owner Abra Shiner passed away, but her spirit lives on through this amazing space she created. It is a place we celebrate our victories and nurse our wounds and I even fell in love with my husband there.” —Lucy Tetreault

The legacy: Toronto’s bar scene has lost luminaries in recent years, but few departures have stung like Abra Shiner’s. She died of cancer this summer, prompting an outpouring of love; her husband, Mike Ojala, estimates more than 2,000 people attended her celebration of life.

Shiner’s spirit lives on at Swan Dive, turning 10 this New Year’s. Ojala isn’t sure how long he’ll keep the bar, but after running it for three years during Shiner’s treatment, he’s grown accustomed to it. “I’m comfortable here, so I’m gonna try and keep it up and running,” he says. “And if I eventually do decide to move on to something else, I’d rather pass the torch to someone who also loves the space and has the same mentality: just a dive bar with a big community, somewhere for people to go and hang out.”

The spirit: The bar is all Abra. She hand-plastered it with vintage currency, covered the beer dispenser in stickers, and foraged mismatched Formica tables from the street. The black-and-white floor nods to another dive classic, the Done Right Inn, while whimsical touches abound: a Cruis’n USA console (driver’s seat included!), sticker dispensers, Addams Family and Munsters pinball machines, an oversized Connect Four, and a battered pile of old board games.

The free pool table is a star attraction, drawing friends and dates for low-key matches. Equality matters: players sign up on the chalkboard, so everyone gets a turn rather than playing to victory.

Shiner also built community through frequent music nights, food pop-ups, and arts markets, giving local creatives a welcoming stage. The bar houses her permanent, quirky collection — piggy paintings, antique magic posters, and pictures of Shiner herself — along with a plaque that reads “in celebration of Abra & Mike,” marking their Halloween 2022 wedding.

“So many different types of people gravitated towards my wife’s personality: she was very magnetic, just very open, honest. If you pissed her off, she’d let you know and if she liked you, she’d let you know; she treated everyone who walks in the door with a big smile. She made you want to come in, made you want to stay, and made you want to come back,” Ojala says. “I hope we can continue that.”

Have a favourite dive bar we didn’t mention? Share it in the comments and tell us what makes it special.