The Mile End's Dalmata Gelateria started out with one rogue soft-serve machine
What began as an off-menu experiment at Le Violon is now Mile End’s charming new shop for swirled ice cream.

When the team behind Le Violon opened their Italianate brasserie in the old Maison Publique space, they inherited a soft serve machine. No big deal, just a small quirk of the building. But one batch of impromptu gelato turned into another, and before long, it became a signature post-dessert moment. Even The New York Times took note.
Fast forward a few months and a tiny storefront opens up on Bernard and Clark—a former barbershop, now reimagined as a 300-square-foot swirl of veined marble, pink and orange panels, stainless steel counters, and Wes Anderson symmetry.



Photograph: Rachel Cheng / @rachelhollycheng
Behind the design: Dan Climan and Dave Dworkind of Menard Dworkind, who’ve managed to turn what could’ve felt like a takeout window into a cinematic gelateria. Tucked behind the grand gates? A courtyard that feels like a secret garden, right down to the tribute sign for the original “Salon Raphael.”
This is Dalmata Gelateria, and like Le Violon, it’s built on the same ethos: take what feels familiar, and make it unexpectedly great.




The lineup is tight, but not predictable: two seasonal soft serve twists, barbotines (slushie–gelato hybrids), sundaes, and a fresh brioche con gelato that tastes like it's straight off of a Sicilian boardwalk.
All of it is made in-house from a base developed by chefs Danny Smiles and Mitch Laughren with Laura Faria and Sara Raspa using Quebec-grown ingredients and no factory-made flavour pastes found in tourist trap shops. Clean, fresh mixes that showcase whatever’s in season.


Built as a social spot to hang as well, Dalmata isn’t just a grab-and-go spot. It’s a place to pass a cone around, share a bench in the courtyard, and pretend you’ve got nowhere to be.
Open daily from 1 to 10 p.m. (or until sold out) to start, Dalmata isn’t trying to be the biggest gelato name in town, but it is trying to do things well: Something small, simple, and perfect.
Like a great scoop (or swirl) should be.

