How actor Katherine Barrell spends a day off in Toronto

Canadian quadruple threat Katherine Barrell (actor, writer, producer, director) is no stranger to a packed schedule. The former Workin’ Moms star is raising her two kids—two-year-old Celeste and four-year-old Ronan—while also starring in Pioneer Girl, the miniseries from Shaftesbury’s KindaTV. She took us through her ideal day off—complete with oysters before 10 a.m., a visit to the Young Centre for the Performing Arts and a wander through Toronto institution Tap Phong.

Morning

I live in Hamilton, and every so often I treat myself to a solo “me day” in Toronto. If I’m lucky, that means spending the night at Gibraltar Point Centre for the Arts on the Toronto Islands. It’s an incredible artist retreat where you can book a stay and use the space as a quiet refuge for writing, creating or simply thinking. That’s where my ideal day begins.

I start with a walk to the water, followed by a bit of meditation. Lately, I’ve been keeping a gratitude journal, jotting down things I’m thankful for and revisiting past entries. As an artist, it helps me notice what I’ve overlooked and what deserves more attention. I’m a big believer in setting intentions, and this practice keeps me grounded.

I’m also a complete coffee snob. My husband bought a wildly extravagant Jura coffee machine, and now I’m ruined for life, so I hop on the ferry and make a beeline for Cluny in the Distillery District for my caffeine fix. I studied at the Young Centre for the Performing Arts, so the area feels like a second home. I order an oat milk latte and a croissant, and if they happen to be serving oysters, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slurping back at least half a dozen before noon.

If I’m lucky, there’s a show playing at the Young Centre—they often mount their productions oddly early, so that’s where I’m heading. I’m such a theatre kid that, when we were renovating our house, I made my contractor build dresser doors in front of my attic bathroom so it feels like you’re walking into the wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

My last stop in the Distillery District is Soma for chocolate. It was my go-to whenever I had a bad day at school, and it remains my go-to now. For myself, I’ll grab the milk chocolate with hazelnuts. My daughter gets anything with sprinkles—or “pinkles,” as she calls them—and my son inevitably chooses something involving crumbled cookies. I can’t leave my husband out, especially since he’s back home managing the brood, so I swing by Balzac’s and pick up a bag of dark roast beans before heading to my next stop.

Afternoon

I really love interior design, so I head out from the Distillery and amble along Queen East, exploring furniture and antique stores and dreaming about pieces I’ll probably never buy. If I’m feeling snacky, I stop at St. Lawrence Market and grab whatever strikes my fancy. Sometimes it’s a bagel with lox; sometimes it’s a samosa.

Then I head to St. James Park for a trip down memory lane. The first apartment I ever lived in when I moved to Toronto was right across from the cathedral. I thought it was incredibly romantic—until I learned that the bells ring loudly at 6:30 a.m. and every 15 minutes after that. Trauma aside, I still love sitting among the roses now that I know I’ll be sleeping somewhere else.

Next, I hop on the streetcar and head to Kensington Market. I love the artistic energy of the neighbourhood and have so many memories tied to it, like when my best friend and I found complementary ’50s prom dresses at Courage My Love. I remember visiting Kensington as a broke student and still being able to afford cheese thanks to the pricing at Global Cheese. It’s a place I never miss when I’m in the city.

From there, I wander into Chinatown, browsing tiny shops and spending far too much time in Tap Phong admiring pots, pans and kitchen gadgets while working up an appetite. Eventually, I make my way to Mother’s Dumplings for boiled chive-and-noodle dumplings and a juicy pork bun.

Afterward, I walk up to Dundas and head west to Trinity-Bellwoods. When my husband and I got our miniature Australian shepherd, Bernie, 10 years ago, we lived in Liberty Village and spent countless hours at the park with him. These days, I like visiting the dog park purely for nostalgia. It’s nice to watch all the dogs without having to anxiously chase your own around.

I spend the rest of the afternoon on Ossington, grabbing a lager at Bellwoods Brewery and browsing racks at my favourite consignment store, I Miss You Vintage.

Evening

As the sun starts to set, my movie cravings hit hard. I head to Little Italy and catch whatever is playing at the Royal Cinema. I genuinely don’t care what’s on the schedule—it could be an indie film, a Canadian feature or a small festival screening—I just love being in that space, watching art alongside strangers.

After the movie, I’ll grab a cocktail at Pompette before settling in for a solo dinner at Contrada. I’ll get a crudo or lobster linguine or some kind of stuffed pasta to start. Then I’m ordering the New York strip. There’s no messing around when I get to eat dinner alone.

My night ends with a stay at the Gladstone Hotel. Back in my room, I’ll sink into a bath with Epsom salts and lavender or eucalyptus oil and listen to an audiobook—usually a suspense thriller or fantasy novel, since I’m currently working on writing a fantasy television series.

Then comes the actual cleaning part. I shower, wash my hair and finish with a very minimal skin care routine: cleanser, SkinCeuticals retinol, eye cream and a dark-spot treatment that I’m fairly certain is a complete hoax but continue to use anyway. Truthfully, I’d rather spend my money on fancy food.

Before bed, I light a candle from a Hamilton company called Wax and Fire. Then I do a simple intention-setting exercise. First, I write down three things I already love—something as small as the colour of my bedspread or the scent of the candle burning beside me. Then I write three things I want, as though they’re already true: “I love that I get to work on a show that’s walking distance from my house” or “I love that we get to take a big family vacation every year.”

Then it’s time to turn in. No midnight snack required: my cup—and my stomach—are already full.