A Love Letter to Domus

Ottawa’s restaurant that taught us what a restaurant could be.

Domus was never just a place to eat. It was a little cathedral to Canadian food before we even knew we had any. Long before “farm-to-table” became a checkbox on every menu, Domus was quietly doing it — foraging before it was trendy, buying direct from farmers when it was still weird, putting Saskatoon berries on the plate like they belonged there.

For over two decades, Domus was where you went when you wanted to feel part of something bigger than your dinner. A chef-owned room with brick walls, honest wood tables, and no gimmicks — just food that changed because it had to, because the seasons and the farmers and the forest were dictating the menu that day.

Domus taught Ottawa how to eat like adults. No bottomless mimosas, no menu hacks, no “let’s just grab a quick bite.” You ordered. You sat. You paid attention. You tasted something that told you exactly where you were on the map — local fish, heritage pork, fiddleheads that had probably been picked that morning.

And through it all, John Taylor was quiet about it. No theatrics, no press blitz, no ego-fueled declarations about redefining Canadian cuisine. Just the work — relentless, thoughtful, rooted in respect. Today, there are chefs loudly claiming to do similar things — claiming sustainability, claiming ethical choices — but often as branding exercises first, dinner second. Domus never needed the hashtags, the manifestos, or the self-congratulation.

If you were lucky, you talked to John about chanterelles or pork belly or why the tomatoes were so good this year. And if you were really lucky, you left feeling like you’d been let in on a secret — that eating this way was a small act of respect, both to the people growing the food and to the city you lived in.

When Domus closed, Ottawa didn’t just lose a restaurant — we lost a bit of our backbone. That quiet confidence that said, we can have nice things. You can still taste its legacy in dozens of kitchens across the city, but there’s a reason every chef of a certain age lowers their voice a little when they say the name.

We miss you, Domus. Thanks for teaching Ottawa to care about what was on the plate — and who put it there.