The hospitality sector, which employs 1.2 million people, makes $120-billion annual revenue (or 5 per cent of Canada’s GDP).ILLUSTRATION: THE GLOBE AND MAIL. SOURCES: CSA/GETTY IMAGES
Corey Mintz is a Winnipeg-based writer and the author of The Next Supper: The End of Restaurants as We Knew Them, and What Comes After.
In the fall, I worked on a project that involved scouting and assembling members of a team. If I was in a movie, that process might have been a quick montage – seven samurai, a group of avengers, or a squad of drivers and demolitions experts making split-second decisions about whether they’re “in or out.” But in real life, this takes months of meetings and follow-ups. When it all finally came together, I wanted to plan a get-together so everyone could get to know who they’re doing business with. In such contexts, I’m partial to dim sum cart service: the high energy of servers in bowties swimming through a bustling room with steaming servings of char siu bao or har gow, everyone working together to grab food for a range of tastes for the benefit of everyone at the table.
But as we tried to schedule this lunch, fall bled into winter, and the inevitable happened: The accelerating crunch of holiday plans and deadlines got in our way. So I suggested: Why don’t we do this in January?
Among this half-dozen people, there was a sigh of relief, for two great reasons. One: like everyone, we’re all busy over the holidays, and will have more availability in January. And two: everyone on the team works in hospitality, so we know firsthand that December is when the gravy train chugs along for restaurants – and that January is when it screeches to a halt.
From our readers: Things that make you go mmm
In December, offices book holiday parties, people are out shopping, and families are looking for gathering places; if you own or work in a restaurant, you’re lucky to get even one day off that month. But sales plunge precipitously in January as households start enacting their strict new year’s resolutions or reeling from their holiday spending. And so, even as the costs of ingredients, labour, insurance and utilities continue to rise, restaurants have to make their December revenue stretch or cut staff and offer incentives (such as Toronto’s Winterlicious prix-fixe event) to increase traffic and stay afloat.
So we felt good about deciding to delay our plans for the time when restaurants need our patronage the most. But there’s another reason to feel good about that decision, too: It doubles as an act of patriotism.
One of the biggest questions of 2025 was how the Canadian economy would evolve to disentangle our dependence on the United States. While economists tend to focus on the impact of trade and on Canada’s energy and manufacturing industries, the hospitality sector’s $120-billion annual revenue represents 5 per cent of Canada’s GDP, and employs 1.2 million people, predominantly lower-income Canadians. Restaurants and bars bring life to our streets, which is even more valuable as online commerce erodes the presence of independent retail in our communities. Without thriving restaurants, our main streets would be mostly comprised of “for lease” signs between Rexalls, Subways and weed shops.
The “buy Canadian” movement has good intentions. Canada really does need long-term thinking, investments in domestic industries and expansion of global trade routes. But when you want a waffle maker or a Bluetooth shower speaker, shopping local can be challenging. When dining out, however, supporting local is easy: Just go to (almost) any restaurant.
No, that doesn’t mean finding one that only serves bison and pickerel. We should still eat dim sum and dosas, quesadillas and oxtail over rice, pho and jollof. It just means eating at any local restaurant that doesn’t have America’s hand in its pocket, and yours. It means dining out in the name of our fellow Canadians.
As soon as this trade war heated up, franchisees of American fast-food chains started mounting “Canadian-owned” signs. It was an understandable move; these were business owners trying to avoid the backlash against American companies. But while franchises are indeed usually owned by locals, they are governed by the same franchise agreements that require them to send 5 to 9 per cent of their gross revenue to the franchisers, often in another country (even if some, to be fair, is withheld for the CRA). Dining at literally any other restaurant is more patriotic than at a burger place that kicks back almost one dollar of every 10 to the United States.
I was proud to see data from the reservation company OpenTable, indicating a strong return to dining out in Canada this year: For every month in 2025, year-over-year reservations were up between 12 per cent to 28 per cent, significantly higher than OpenTable’s U.S. numbers. Given the inflationary obstacles of dining out, that’s a good sign, and it helps create stability for the sector’s employees. And our industry outperformed growth forecasts this year thanks in large part to a surge in domestic tourism, while adding 23,600 jobs in the first nine months of 2025. But three in four Canadians also report eating out less, according to Restaurants Canada, and sales are projected to decline next year.
At the macro level, Canada’s economy is shaped by deals made behind closed doors by people we elect, but who must negotiate with increasingly authoritarian regimes with questionable values. Outside of the occasional election, we can feel all but powerless to effect change.
But at the micro level – the appearance of our main streets, shopping malls, strip plazas, even that stretch of sidewalk outside so many city halls with hot dog and fry vendors – we have a lot of power. Our communities are in many ways shaped by us, and in this case, by our dining choices.
Of course, times are tight. We don’t all have a discretionary budget for dining out, and the costs of doing so are increasing. For those who do, more of that spending is going toward takeout and delivery – but that’s an option that keeps us disconnected, contributes much less to a restaurant’s bottom line than a sit-in meal, and distributes a large portion of our bill to U.S. tech companies.
Every December, many of us face the same feeling: There’s no way to spend time with everyone we wanted to. But the good news is that the world doesn’t end on Dec. 31, and January is the better December. And one month at a time, starting at the crucial start of the year, our food decisions can help make a better community.