Everything Tartistry bakes is gluten-free. Not a shelf of it, not a Tuesday exception — the entire case, tarts and pies and quiche alike, comes out of a wheat-free kitchen. The bakery works out of the Distillery District and builds its identity on the Canadian butter tart, made with rice flour, all butter, and none of the corn syrup, lard, shortening, or oil that the standard recipe leans on. It is a strange pair of commitments to hold at once: a dessert defined by its pastry, rebuilt without the flour that usually makes pastry work. Michèle and Stephen Roberts have been holding it since 2012. The practical result is a counter where a celiac, a vegan, and someone avoiding sugar can all order from the same case.
The plain tart is the reference point, listed as Legendary Plain, and it is the one to judge the kitchen by. Everything else is a variation on a fixed structure. Maple walnut tosses its walnuts in pure maple syrup and roasts them before they go into the shell. Lemon curd is built on freshly squeezed juice and zest, and it cuts against the richness rather than adding to it. The cheesecake tart bakes New York-style cheesecake on a gluten-free graham crust inside the tart shell. S'more brings marshmallows, chocolate chips, and homemade graham crumbs; roasted almond and white chocolate goes the other direction, toasted and restrained. Pecan, raisin, blueberry, raspberry, coconut, chocolate hazelnut, peanut butter chocolate. Vegan plain, pecan, and raisin. Zero-sugar plain, pecan, and raisin, sweetened with monk fruit. The fillings change constantly. The shell does not.
The savoury case is where the ambitions stop being about dessert. Cheddar, leek and spinach quiche. Chicken tourtière, a ground-chicken variation on the French Canadian original. Mushroom chicken with bacon, white wine, and fresh thyme. Beef brisket stew under pastry. Butter chicken worked into the tart format with yogurt, tomato, and garam masala. Boeuf à la bourguignon arrives seasonally. The pies run to nine inches: pecan made without corn syrup, pumpkin made with thirty-five percent cream instead of evaporated milk. Read together, those substitutions describe a kitchen that treats every shortcut in the standard recipe as a question rather than a given. Corn syrup is cheap and it is stable. Evaporated milk keeps. Neither one earns its place here.
The origin is a mother. Michèle learned to cook and bake from Margaret, and Tartistry's own account of why it exists at all puts her at the centre of it. Two of the case's non-tart items carry that lineage directly. The lemon squares are Margaret's recipe — shortbread crust, real zest, fresh juice — and the shortbread cookies are hers as well. Emma's Fudge Cake is named for a woman who lived at Michèle's grandmother's house in Weston in the nineteen-thirties. Michèle came to baking through a full career change, according to local reporting, and she and Stephen run the business as a couple, having built the storefront around the objects and aromas they already loved.
The Distillery District moves people who are already walking, and a bakery that sells by the tart benefits from that. But Tartistry is not built for a passing sugar decision. Its range makes it a supply house: a mixed box that lets a table set a lemon curd against a plain, a quiche and a tourtière carried home for a weeknight, whole pies at the holidays, and tarts turning up on other retailers' shelves across the city, well past the reach of its own counters. What began as one woman's second career now stocks other people's kitchens. Start with the plain one. It has nothing to hide behind, which is the reason to make it first.