“Dough is in my DNA”: How the grandson of Toronto baker Dave Silverstein found his true calling

I was born in Toronto to Jewish parents, Vivi and Hal Silverstein, and I grew up in Forest Hill. My great-grandfather Kalman, a Polish immigrant, started Silverstein’s Bakery on Baldwin Street in 1918. He baked bread and an assortment of pastries that were delivered throughout the community by horse and buggy. He became known not only for his famous rye loaves and delicious cinnamon rolls but also for his big heart. Every Friday, he’d close up shop and allow families in need to use the bakery’s ovens and kitchen space to prepare their Sabbath dinners.

By the 1930s, business was booming, and he was supplying restaurants with rye, dinner rolls and multigrain loaves. His son—my grandfather, Dave Silverstein—was born the same year as the bakery. As the oldest male child, he became his dad’s right-hand man. From school age on, he helped with both delivery and logistics of the bread business. In 1952, at the age of 34, my grandfather invested in the expansion and relocation of the bakery, moving it to McCaul Street, and he and my great-grandfather officially became business partners.

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Until the bakery closed in 2016, the city’s kitchens, grocery stores and delicatessens continued to stock Silverstein’s products. The bakery’s red trucks (which eventually replaced the horses and buggies), with the Silverstein’s name branded in bold lettering on the sides, were a familiar sight in the city as they chugged around delivering freshly baked bread. My dad even drove one on deliveries when he was a kid. I ate Silverstein’s bread all the time, but I never worked there. I would visit my zaide there from time to time, but I never touched a loaf that wasn’t already baked.

Bread was part of the fabric of my childhood. My zaide dropped off the best challah and rye bread at our house every single day. There wasn’t a day when there wasn’t fresh bread on my counter. Food was the love language of our family. We had a big home in Forest Hill and always hosted family gatherings and holiday dinners where everyone was welcome.

When I was 15, my parents divorced. Around that time, my mother moved to the Six Nations of the Grand River reserve, just outside of Brantford, to understand more about First Nations healing and spiritual practices. My older brother and I stayed in Toronto with my dad. Despite my family’s challenges, I had a full and fortunate life. I visited my mom on the reserve, where I experienced rich traditions like peace pipe ceremonies and powwows. With my dad, I enjoyed a beautiful home, a strong support system and a close friendship.

Back when my parents were together, we had family dinners at the table every night. My dad rarely cooked, so after the divorce and my mom’s move, we ate out all the time—for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sometimes together, but often I was on my own. House of Chan was my go-to. I was there at least twice a week. It felt like a second home.

I graduated from high school in 2001 and signed up for business management at York University. I spent a year there before transferring to George Brown to study business for another year. To this day, I regret that I didn’t enrol in the school’s culinary program. My path to owning a bakery would have been a lot shorter if I had—but I would have had a lot less fun.

Since my father and my zaide were both entrepreneurs, I wanted to try starting my own business. I had always been into music, so in the mid-aughts, I co-owned a record label called Bent Penny Records. For a few years, my business partner and I planned a music festival to be held at Downsview Park that would showcase only Canadian artists of all genres—everyone from Justin Bieber to the Barenaked Ladies to Nelly Furtado to the Tragically Hip to Drake. In 2009, I put a $10,000 deposit down to secure the venue for the festival, but then everything changed.

Drake, already a big star by this time, was a family friend. He was in Toronto for Yom Kippur, and he joined us at my aunt’s house to celebrate. He told me that his assistant had recently quit, and he wanted to know if I would like to fill the role and join them on the road. There was really no answer but yes. Even though I’d had a job before Drake offered me one, my life had been pretty lackadaisical. After signing on with Drake, things took off. One minute, I was standing in my aunt’s house, drinking Manischewitz—the next, I was on Drake’s private jet.

In 2017, I ended my working relationship with Drake, though we remain good friends. I had always wanted to work in the fashion industry, and I figured this was my chance. I knew I could leverage the connections I’d made while working for Drake, so I got my own place in Beverly Hills and decided to start a business once again—on my own, with no employees. I built a surf streetwear clothing brand called Chacha the Wave and an events company called Chacha Entertainment. I did everything: the marketing, the design, the advertising, the sales, the packaging, the distribution. Name a hat, I wore it. All of a sudden, people like Kendall Jenner were wearing my hoodies, and I was planning events for celebrities. But my job became my life. By the time Covid came around, I had run out of steam. I lost the love for my business and simply didn’t want to do it anymore. In 2021, I folded the brand.

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I’m not exactly proud of it, but for two years, I drifted around Los Angeles, golfing with my friend Gilly and developing a script about two Jewish cousins—one Black, one white—navigating a summer at Jewish camp, which I pitched to major producers. I sold NFTs from home and would go back to Toronto occasionally to visit family and friends. In 2023, during one of those visits, I met a friend for coffee at the Starbucks in Forest Hill Village. There, I also happened to meet my now-fiancée, Nicole—she was our barista.

I was tired of being aimless. I had just turned 40, and I needed stability in my life. I packed up my house in LA, came back to Toronto and moved in with Nicole. Five months later, we got pregnant and she left her job. Nicole is Polish, and just like my grandfather, she’s not one to sit around, and she has always loved cooking. With time on her hands, she started baking. At first, I thought she was nuts, waking up every day at 5 a.m. to make bread. But then I tried it—and I became obsessed. I tested recipes, added ingredients, dropped loaves off to friends and family to get their opinions, then went home to rejig everything. Dough was in my DNA, but I didn’t realize how much until then. Suddenly, it was all I could think about.

Dara Gallinger, the founder of Brodflour, and I were old friends from attending Forest Hill Collegiate together. Though we hadn’t spoken in 15 years, I called her out of the blue and asked her if she’d like to start a bakery with me. She told me—I kid you not—that just the night before, she’d had a dream about opening another bakery. We went for it. I hired Dara to be my consultant to help me launch the bakery. When a space became available in Forest Hill Village, my old stomping grounds, it felt like fate. I paid for the whole year up front to secure the location.

At first, Le Petit Pain was just going to be a bakery, but I built a world around it. I thought the neighborhood needed a one-stop shop for quality products, so in addition to our freshly baked baguettes and sourdough bread— and sandwiches and croissants—we carry a curated selection of exclusively French wines, cheeses, meats and jams, as well as an assortment of French antiques and housewares.

I opened Le Petit Pain in the first week of November, and since then, we’ve sold out daily. I’ve started reconnecting with people from my past—friends from school who still live in the area, as well as their parents—and building relationships with regulars. Customers are so thrilled to have a place to go in the village that isn’t a big-box store, so they keep coming back. I already know a bunch of our regulars by name, and I love it. I’m not hobnobbing with celebrities anymore; I’m doing something that has given my life meaning: baking bread for people to enjoy. And one day, when she’s old enough, I can’t wait to introduce my daughter to the joys of working with dough.

Le Petit Pain, 431 Spadina Rd., 647-329-4066, @lepetitpaintoronto