Germany: Das Gasthaus on the Danforth served pragmatic, unpretentious fare the way my sister and I knew it from growing up in a half-German household. 
Cubes of smoked cheese, slices of sausage, pickled vegetables served on boards by the half-metre, with bread and beet salad. One nod to the exotic was the sliced smoked (Quebec) sturgeon. And of course, beer by the litre. My friend opted for venison, though he could have chosen other standard options – schnitzel or bockwurst. The decor was, well, German but not overly clicheed despite a few porcupine figurines. And no oompah band or waitress in dirndl.
Colombia: The guys with me had no choice in the matter – they reported to me at work and therefore had to attend. Mi Tierra is a small restaurant on west St. Clair, covered inside-and-out with the gold, red and blue of Colombia. The call all-round was bandeja paisa, plates piled with beans, rice, pork, chorizo sausage, fried egg and fried plantain. There wasn’t much talking as we dug in – I washed my meal down with Inka Cola, which tastes like cream soda. This place rates high on the “local factor” as most of the other patrons were Spanish-speaking.
