Most restaurants send you home with leftovers; One Fine Food sends you home with the groceries. The Peterborough address on Erskine Avenue is an Italian dining room with a wood-fired oven and an open kitchen, and it is also a butcher counter, a bakery, a deli, a produce stand, a pantry and a prepared-foods case, all under one roof. A diner can order arancini and a pizza, then walk out with a cut of meat for tomorrow and a loaf for the morning. That breadth is the point: it answers a weeknight dinner, a Sunday outing and the week's shopping at the same address, which is why it reads less like a trattoria than like a neighbourhood food hub built around one kitchen.
The menu runs Italian and deep. Antipasti set the tone, and the arancini are the strongest first bite — crisp Sicilian risotto balls stuffed with roasted red peppers, smoked bacon, fior di latte and parmigiano reggiano, served with marinara. The board widens from there: house-made ricotta with honey and pistachio, burrata with fire-roasted cherry tomatoes and aged balsamic, a salumi and formaggi board, P.E.I. mussels steamed in white wine, garlic and fennel. The wood-fired oven carries the clearest identity — the Fungi Pizza layers garlic oil, mozzarella, brie, mushrooms, caramelized onions and truffle powder, while The One Pizza piles on house-made Italian sausage, Genoa salami, chilies, rosemary and honey. Pasta holds its own: potato gnocchi with prosciutto, peas, pistachios and sage; a mushroom risotto built on carnaroli rice and porcini; a seafood bucatini tossed with scallops, mussels and shrimp. Bigger appetites get chicken parmigiana over fettuccine alfredo and crab-and-mascarpone ravioli in a sherry rose sauce.
The breadth never tips into a kitchen trying to be everything. It stays Italian and lets the market behind it do the rest of the talking. The shop side gives the cooking an ingredient credibility a standalone dining room cannot fake: the same butcher, deli and produce counters that sell to the public stock the line. When a pizza calls for house-made sausage or an antipasto leans on house-made ricotta, the source is a few steps away rather than a delivery truck. Watch the open kitchen and the wood-fired oven work, and you see food meant to be followed from counter to table rather than assembled out of sight.
One Fine Food opened in 2016, and the format grew the other way around from most restaurants — the market and the kitchen came up together rather than one bolting onto the other. That order shows in how the address gets used across a week. Sunday brunch runs as its own daypart from ten until two, not a handful of breakfast add-ons: Eggs on Toast layers house sourdough with basil-arugula pesto, avocado, charred tomatoes, soft poached Harley Farm eggs and pickled red onions, and a wood-fired frittata and sourdough French toast round out a morning worth planning around. The patio stays open through the year, and the doors open at eight every day and do not close until nine.
The result absorbs a lot of different visits without straining. A table can build dinner around arancini, a wood-fired pizza and gnocchi, finish with tiramisu or a scoop of the daily gelato, then drift into the bakery and butcher on the way out and turn the meal into the start of the week's cooking. It bends just as easily for a group that cannot agree, with shareable boards, pizza, pasta and brunch plates covering a wide table without forcing one format on everyone. Eat here, shop here, leave with tomorrow's dinner: that motion is the through-line, and it is what keeps One Fine Food in steady rotation rather than saved for the occasional night out.