Last updated on March 3, 2024
When was the last time you applauded the opening of a new Tim Hortons or a Starbucks? Now think about your reaction anytime a new independent coffeeshop opens up in your neighbourhood. Unless you live under a rock, you know that the right answer here is “yes to indie” and “no to corporate.” Lately I’ve been questioning the wisdom of some of our dearest knee-jerk reactions, one of which is the coffee culture hierarchy.
Independent coffeeshops – here, there and everywhere
If you live in Toronto, you might have noticed more than a few indie coffeehouses popping up on just about every corner. Last time I visited my hairdresser along Dundas, we counted five just looking out the window. Toronto Life published three different round-ups in 2009 and another just a few weeks ago. By their estimate, 22 new cafes opened shop in 2009 and they’re already counting another dozen or so for this year.
Those independent businesses are one of the things I like best about this city. But lately, I’ve been thinking about economics and eating, and how those independents fit into our food landscape. Mostly, because I’ve been thinking about local food and questions of cultural authenticity. Coffee adds a layer of complexity to the issue, bringing with it questions of gentrification and elitism—largely because, unlike food, we don’t view coffee as a human right. (Yes, I know, many of you would disagree, especially on a Monday morning.) A recent discussion over on the Spacing blog about the Tim Hortons and Jet Fuel coffeeshops in Cabbagetown—The Changing Face of Cabbagetown—reminded me just how poorly the “corporate-equals-bad, indie-equals-good” dichotomy serves us. Because while it’s one thing to note the stereotypes of income disparities between Tim Hortons and Starbucks drinkers, tossing an indie against a Tim Hortons turns out to be more challenging.
A lot of commenters, myself included, noted that Jet Fuel can be intimidating if you’re not in the know. When Tim Hortons opened up at the corner of Winchester and Parliament (I was living on Winchester at the time), the place filled up within days with people I’d hardly seen before in the neighbourhood. I’d definitely never seen them at Jet Fuel or at the perpetually desolate Coffee Time across the street.
I’ll repeat what I wrote in my comment on Spacing:
Regardless of how any individual person is treated at Jet Fuel, there’s no denying that it caters to a certain clientele, and that clientele doesn’t include an awful lot of the people who live in Cabbagetown. I find it a little odd that this article talks about what a great mix of people live in Cabbagetown and how bad gentrification is, when I’d say Jet Fuel is a prime example of exactly that. The Tim Hortons was a great addition to the neighbourhood, as evidenced by the number of people who use it — it’s almost like a community centre…I’m a big supporter of Toronto’s indie coffee shops…but you can’t deny that those shops tend to attract a certain type of customer, thanks to the prices, the vibe, etc…for a lot of people, Tim Hortons is more affordable and more welcoming.
Who is actually welcome at independent coffeeshops in this city?
In other words, while we’re busy applauding new independent coffee houses, and looking down our caffeinated noses at the lines at the corporate chains, we’re forgetting that smaller independent typically cater to a very small, and specific, clientele. Besides prices, their hours tend to be best suited to freelancers, part-timers and anyone else not tied to the 9-5 grind. If you want a coffee at 10 at night, or just an evening sitdown that’s not the local watering hole, well, I suggest you check out that Tim Hortons on Parliament. In fact, walk into any of the coffee houses listed in the Toronto Life round-ups, and you’ll notice that the clientele is somewhat uniform. But pop into the Tim Hortons at Parliament and Winchester, and you’ll see a Muslim study group talking well into the night; or the Tim Hortons at Bathurst and Dundas, which is always packed with groups of international students hitting the books. None of whom seem interested in what independent coffee houses offer. And, dare I say, they seem blissfully unencumbered by the scoldy morality that many of us carry about our consumer choices. It seems to me that if we’re going to tout the diversity of this city while also screaming against corporate chains, we should pause and ask ourselves why people keep lining up at the Tim Hortons. Because what really struck me about the arrival of Tim Hortons wasn’t that people stopped going to Jet Fuel — theirs is a pretty dedicated audience — but that Tim Hortons filled with people who clearly didn’t feel they’d previously had a gathering spot to call their own.
[Over a decade later, Jet Fuel remains one of Toronto’s most durable independent coffeeshops, and the only one mentioned in this post that is still open. Belljar and Lit, mentioned below, have closed.]
Tim Hortons, of course, is famous for very successfully branding itself as the ultimate symbol of Canada, with a logo that’s probably more iconic than our flag at this point. Never mind that “Timmie’s” merged with Wendy’s as far back as 1995, became independent again for a few years, but then merged with Burger King in 2014, under what became Restaurant Brands International, which also owns Popeye and is partially owned by a Brazilian investment company. Very Canadian, eh?
Personally, I hate the coffee at Tim Hortons, and Starbucks is tolerable mostly out of habit. So yes, I’m happy to make the effort to get my coffee at Lit, which is just down the street from me, or at the newly opened Belljar Cafe, around the corner [both in Roncesvalles and both, sadly, long shuttered.]. I’m just not convinced that the knee-jerk hostility for the corporate chains is entirely warranted. Until there’s a local independent to serve every type of clientele, the chains aren’t going anywhere and neither are their customers.
