Theia, a year old now, is a cozy and intimate hideaway on Elizabeth Street in Picton. With 18 seats — 25 if you count the bar — entering feels like walking into someone’s home for dinner. Farmhouse style wooden chairs are two or four to each table, there are fresh flowers on the counter, and schoolhouse-style pendant lights cast a warm glow over the whole.

The restaurant began as a wine bar, and local wines are still a prominent feature. Bottles from nearby vineyards line the shelves and are packed into — and on top of — a wine fridge at the back of the room. Behind the bar, Mr. Harrison and sous chef Sam Zhu work their magic in a tiny kitchen. Bubbling away for today’s menu is a giant pot of ragu made with local beef and pork.

For Mr. Harrison, people are the priority. He creates an atmosphere that allows customers to let their guard down, and focus on each other. “Theia shouldn’t be the star of the show. It’s the person you come in with. It’s your relationship, or desire to have a relationship, with that person. That should be the focus.” 

Mr. Harrison matches the warm decor with unpretentious dishes that showcase local, in-season foods. “We’re not going to light food on fire and put gold flakes on stuff,” he says.

The  chef was formerly at Crosley’s, in Toronto, a restaurant he started with fellow chef Joachim Hayward in December 2020. The duo, backed by investors, scored a spot on the sought-after Ossington strip, where they began cooking takeout dinners. Even with pandemic measures – and periodic closures – Crosley’s soon became a profitable hot spot for elevated comfort food and local wines.

But the investors suddenly pulled out in January 2022, leaving Mr. Harrison at a loss for why, and what to do next. 

He and his wife, Margot, moved to the County that spring, and found the space that would become Theia in April 2023. The kitchen was small and didn’t have a gas stove or a full oven. But there was a garage door that opens to a patio. And the central-but-hidden location couldn’t be beat.

Theia opened in June, 2023. Because of the kitchen constraints, Harrison at first imagined a wine bar with small plates. But unlike Toronto’s west end, where patrons could easily walk, take a cab or transit home after a wine-soaked evening, customers in the County have fewer options, and tend to drive. That meant more food and less alcohol. Mr. Harrison pivoted, adding three induction plates and an oven. His tiny kitchen now serves 90 to 100 meals per night in the summer. 

The stars of the show: local ingredients. Mr. Harrison delights in sourcing the freshest, most local food he can find. He loves to take a common vegetable – ”something people think they know” — and present it in a new way. “Ideally, all I would do is cut something in half and put salt on it and feed it to you because to me that would be amazing. We only apply technique when it’s necessary.”

When asked how he would dress up a humble butternut squash, Harrison’s face lights up. “Roast it, put it on a plate with honey, smoked chilis, green olives, feta and fresh thyme.” 

For Countylicious, Harrison’s tasting menu showcases locally sourced foods. For $60, diners can indulge in a selection of prix fixe menus featuring beef carpaccio from La Cultura in Belleville with pine nuts and radicchio, local squash and peppers, and cumin-spiced cabbage; handmade cavatelli pasta with a ragout of beef from Sprigglen Meat Market in Wellington; Ontario duck confit with mustard greens from Rorafresh Farms in Cressy; and steelhead trout.

Mr. Harrison stays about 80 percent local. Rather than sourcing from a massive supplier like Toronto’s Gordon Food Service, he looks forward to daily texts from Vicki Emlaw of Vicki’s Veggies, and the challenge of figuring out what to do with whatever is freshly picked and delicious.

“I’d rather support people from around here. When you order online, it’s fine, it’s convenient, but you’re not there. You’re not touching the ingredients, you’re not smelling them. Going to a farm stand and being like, wow, those white onions are amazing. I don’t know what we’re going to do with them but I’ve got to have ’em. Then you bring them to the kitchen and figure it out.”