My Toronto Pizzeria Is Ditching U.S. Ingredients

For more than 20 years, I’ve worked in kitchens and restaurants around Toronto. I started as a dishwasher during university, then worked my way up to the stove. I liked the people and the restaurant lifestyle. Around 2020, when I was developing the menu at a takeaway pizza joint in Toronto’s West End, I started daydreaming about opening my own spot. When I was a kid, my dad would stop at the cobbler on our way to the video store. Every inch of the small space was covered in shoes and curious tools. It looked romantic, but I had no patience for it at the time; I just wanted to rent Police Academy. As an adult, I kept coming back to it and realized I wanted something similar: an approachable and honest spot—maybe a bit rough around the edges—that offers a solid product with a fair price that pays the bills for my and my partner’s modest life. 

After looking for cheap commercial spaces for almost two years, I opened my hole in the wall, Gram’s Pizza, in the city’s west end in June of 2024. I kept the menu small and simple, and sourced some of my ingredients locally. Often it was just more practical. My cheese supplier, for example, is just five minutes away. 

But practicality soon gave way to principle. Like everyone else, I’ve closely followed the news around Trump’s tariffs and watched America lurch toward authoritarianism. Not only will the tariffs hurt my business and Canadians, but I also have friends in America, and I worry about them and the uncertain future of their country. I see them sad and embarrassed and exhausted; they’re living in a country that mocks their core belief system. I decided to use the little power I have, the power of my dollar, to vote against the political actions of the United States. Starting last month, I stopped sourcing as many ingredients and supplies from America as possible. 

First went the California tomatoes. Previously I was using Stanislaus tomatoes, which are Italian-style tomatoes grown in the U.S., but I’ve since switched to a comparable brand from Italy. Unfortunately, Canada hasn’t figured out how to produce good pizza tomatoes yet, but if the day comes I’ll support those farmers immediately. Next was the pepperoni. I used to source it from Ezzo, an Ohio-based producer, along with a supplier in Venice, Italy. Then I discovered Salamina, a Quebec-based company with an excellent alternative. So Ezzo was out, Salamina was in, and my Venetian supplier remained part of the mix. Overall, roughly 50 per cent of my pizza ingredients are now from Italy. 

With Nestlé dominating the market, most big soft drinks, like Coca-Cola, are now gone from my shelves. Instead I’ve started carrying drinks by the PoP Shoppe, a soda company based in London, Ontario, that wasn’t on my radar as a Canadian brand before. I carry Allen’s juices and Sap Sucker too, and I’m looking to grow my Canadian drink options further.

Replacing ingredients and supplies hasn’t been excessively difficult or more expensive. But it takes more time to slow down, consider labels and question where the product might ultimately come from. One of the big challenges has been my flour. I use an Ontario flour made with Ontario grain that’s also milled here in Ontario. It creates the identity of my pizza dough—as bread-makers and bread enthusiasts know, it’s crucial to know your flour and how it behaves. After digging around, I discovered that the flour mill’s parent company is Cargill, the American multinational food giant. The only workable substitute I’ve found would come straight from Italy, and the cost would triple, so I’m phasing my Ontario flour out; in the meantime, I’m testing out Canadian alternatives. I’ve reached out to K2 Milling, an artisanal flour mill in Bradford, and I’m hoping they end up being my answer. 

I’m doing my best, and I’m satisfied with what I’ve done so far, but I have to accept that a complete divorce from American goods isn’t possible. Canadian-owned and locally produced kitchen supplies, like paper towels and plates, have been surprisingly hard to find, and the source-tracing rabbit hole deepens quickly. Where were the trees that go into the paper grown? What company produces the packaging? For example, I’ve begun buying lemon juice from a Canadian company, but it’s possible the lemons were grown in the U.S., because we definitely don’t farm them here. I still take credit cards from major American institutions, too. Becoming a cash-only establishment would be another step, but I worry I’d lose a lot of business—most of my customers pay by card. Thoughtfully sourcing non-American goods requires ongoing upkeep, but I value smaller, consistent attempts over bigger, emptier gestures.

A few regulars and new customers have already come in to say they like my stance. In Canada it doesn’t feel like we have much unity, but I think there’s a very real, rare and growing national sentiment about maintaining our autonomy and looking inward at what we could produce for ourselves without relying on our “friend” to the south. I plan to keep up my work of sourcing non-American ingredients for Gram’s, even if the tariffs don’t go through in the end. We’ll see what happens in the next four years. I know I’m a small operation, but if I encourage my customers to think about these issues, then I’ve made one step in the right direction.

—As told to Lindsey King