Have driven by this place many times, and decided today with a friend to come for dinner..... When we came in, we thought the ambiance looked great and were looking forward to a nice dinner.... We werw told we would be seated momentarily..... Time passed about twenty minutes ans no one came..... My friend and I just decided to get up and leave.........
Not recommended..... Will not be back
I have been here before, but it was a friends first time coming here and they wanted to come.
Upon being seated they brought us bread......our waitress came and took our order. I ordered a ceasar salad (for starters) spaghetti carbonara (with added chicken) and my friend got linguine with salmon and some beer. My ceasar salad came and it was $10.50 (for that?) It was on a small plate....I was like "ok....." good, ate it, it was not anything special....(There goes $10) afterwards came our entrees. It did taste pretty good, but portion size seemed to be much smaller than it was last time I came (you know that plate you get at milestones that has chicken appetizers? (wings, chicken bites etc.....) That was what our pasta was on.
But to be fair; the pasta did taste pretty good, but think portions should be bigger.
The service was pretty mediocre......nothing good, but nothing bad ither. The Ambiance was great.
Who knows. I might return; I might not.....who cares
I realized, sitting visibly but inaccurately melancholic at my table in Chambar, staring intently into my water like I'm checking it for neutrinos, that I've fallen into a cliché probably inevitable given the empty seat across from me. I was that lonely man unaccompanied in a French restaurant, a prime source of comedy open for improvisation by the likes of Robin Williams and John Ritter (not kidding, they actually did that). I imagined the waiting staff were sympathetic, wondering who stood me up. They knew that the reservation was for two and can only wonder what kind of an ass would not show for a dinner at Chambar, one of the best reviewed restaurants in Vancouver. In truth, I had no companion; I only asked for two in case I did. I admit most of my friends down here wouldn't appreciate first-rate French cuisine, asking for ketchup to top their sherry-braised rabbit cannelloni. I jest, in actuality, my friends were occupied that day, but if there was one restaurant where I badly needed a dining buddy, it was this one.
I'll return to a previously used metaphor where I compared a restaurant to Doctor's Who's TARDIS, only in this case, it's not irony. Chambar's front fascia is barely a car's width but extends from a congested lobby and bar to two more dining areas, each one slightly brighter than the last. It was like Chambar broke down walls and found more dining areas to take over. The lobby was dark and moody, followed by a traditional banquet hall lit only by candles and massive windows encompassing the distant wall. My table was past this one, into a final room where untreated brick walls shifted to painted boards. The aged wood floor paneling shifted in color the moment I crossed the threshold.
So I shouldn't have been upset with the waiting staff when they proceeded to ignore me for damn near twenty minutes. I was sitting the farthest in the most distant room at a table with two place settings obviously waiting for a companion who would never arrive. I still hadn't ordered any food when the family next to mine received their appetizers. I finally informed my waiter that my companion was never going to show and that the experience could begin.
I also never felt more like a pariah for not ordering wine. If my sister or mother were here, they'd polish off a quart of Canalicchio di Sopra '06 which would double the bill but cut their chances for cardiovascular disease by half. It's called the French Paradox—why that fluky country manages to down wine by the barrel, eat meat like they're extras in an Italian splatterpunk film, and still live longer on average than anyone in North America. I'm sure it has something to do with stress. I'm sure. I'm practically a teetotaler (one who abstains from all alcohol), like I'm choking on a Eucharist at a Christian Scientist convention—you could measure the irony with a dipstick. I closed up the four-page wine menu and opted away from my predilection for water in favor of a cola. Non-diet. No ice. Wild man. The coke includes free re-fills, which you may think is typical but isn't.
Immediately upon browsing the dinner menu, I locked on a specific appetizer like a grey owl on an unsuspecting squirrel, the foie de canard--spiced foie gras terrine, port reduction, Kriek granita & truffled brioche French toast. To those loyal readers out there (Mom), you'll remember that last time I enjoyed foie gras with brioche was in Gordon Ramsay's Savoy Grill. I'll give credit for Chambar's presentation—they easily topped Savoy in the panache of their plate, though Savoy's brioche was offered in a miniature bread pan which could best Elmo in face-contorting adorability. Savoy does edge out in flavor—their foie gras was creamier—but Chambar sent it home with the inclusion of the Kriek granita pallet cleanser. Kriek is a brand of Belgium beer made from fermented cherries. When I mentioned my foie gras history with the waiter, he commented on the coincidence given their head chef had worked at the Savoy Grill before coming to Canada. This was repeated with the maitre d, leading me to suspect that the kitchen was following my progress. When weighing such tempting starters as lime & chili rubbed beef striploin and grilled asparagus with white spring salmon & saffron mayonnaise, who would order the goose liver pâté? This patron must have taste?
Or I'm simply arrogant. Probably the latter.
I followed this astounding starter with the canard et chèvre--spiced rubbed duck breast, Okanagan herb goat cheese, roasted hazelnuts, ricotta gnocchi, and sauce bigarade. Barring the bite off my mom's plate at the Savoy Grill, I've only enjoyed duck three times, all in the last two months and all in high-end bistros. I'm starting to think that duck could be my baseline in fine cuisine. I'll certainly never try it at home, as it would surely never measure up. This plate goes down as the best of the bunch, which reveals an ocean's-worth given I've never had bad duck. The platting was exquisite, with crunchy nuts, diabolical herb gnocchi, and a cream sauce I would drink like Red Bull if given the choice. It makes heroine look like a heaping bowl of orange jelly beans. There was a cracker that topped the plate, and if it was boxed, I would clear the store shelf.
With two courses like that, you know I'm not leaving without dessert. With so many options, I decided upon the le camping--graham cracker ice cream with salted chocolate cremeux and toasted meringue. What that doesn't tell you is that they smear the meringue on the plate and torch it in place. I am so doing that at home to impress my dinner guests.
By the end, any complaints I had about the misunderstanding about my lack of a dinner guest had been disregarded. This came after Vij's but I can't compare that with Chambar. Chambar is intended to be a fine dining experience, with exquisite platting and elegance. Vij's is unique, avant garde even, breaking rules you shouldn’t break because they can, where Chambar is the best example of a French restaurant still painting within the lines.
Is that a criticism? These experiences are what I supplant for sex, so I think not.
OVERALL: 9.5 out of 10
On its surface, you could dismiss Vij's, baring you possessed some form of extrasensory culinary clairvoyance. I had criticized restaurants in the past that matched the straightforward décor approached by Vij's, but here, it's intentional and not the result of a limited budget. Vij's stands a proud achievement in a city of over half a million people that the most respected, most critically praised restaurant is so modest and unpretentious that it refuses to take reservations. Compared to the other dinners I would have on this Vancouver outing, Vij's not only came up the cheapest, but the friendliest as well. Of course, the day had to balance that experience with a depressing lead in.
I had arrived that same day, and after dropping my bag on the bed of the hotel, I hustled out and took to the road, guided my by TomTom voiced by Billy Connolly ("Turn around, if possible…it's important to turn your whole car around; don't just turn around inside the car."). Prior critics had recommended arriving around 5:00, thirty minutes ahead of the dinner service, if one had any hope of getting in on the first seating. My watch read 5:00, unaware that it would take 15 minutes to find a parking spot in this cursed town. I eventually stumbled into an empty stall mated to a Canada Trust that threatened to tow any car before 6:00 unless it was owned by a customer. Anxiety began to build. I couldn't remember if the doors opened at 5:00 or 5:30, and I began to worry that I'd be standing in line for hours, my empty stomach trying to convince my brain to eat the toddler in front of me while his parents tapped away on their iPhones.
Vij's is paired with another restaurant, Rangoli, owned by the same chef and promising modest prices with smaller portions. Rangoli also features a store where interested buyers can purchase prepackaged food and cookbooks related to the franchise surrounding the head chef and owner, Vikram Vij.
My substandard $15 dollar watch silently flipped to 5:30 and the doors opened, revealing the pleasant head chef and host, the celebrity himself. What modesty to welcome each customer personally? I managed a table at the first seating and took a moment to enjoy the décor, or rather lack thereof…well, what I could see in a restaurant as dark as an adult video store…I've heard. I did make out a painted but otherwise unfinished roof with exposed pipes and air ducts, bargain light shades only in fashion before 1979, and a cluster of female chefs clad head-to-toe in black like gastronomic ninjas frantically preparing the first set of orders.
The first waiter placed an unidentified brass jug on my table and I spent the first few minutes of the meal staring at it, unsure what could be concealed in its dimly-lit depths. As I pondered this culinary Lemarchand's box, passing waiters kept offering me free food. To start was pana puri, followed by glass of masala chai, a cassava root fry, and a vegetable pakora. My assigned waiter followed and poured water from the brass decanter still mocking me at the center.
Just water, huh? Kind of disappointed now.
Disappointment is being sarcastic. Some critics have pointed at the owner's boisterous attitude as being pompous, that the restaurant's refusal to accept reservations is inexcusable. My scholarly counter to such a criticism is to tell those people to bug off. Show up at 5:00 and swallow your damned pride; or better still, just avoid Vij's and drop twice as much money on a pretentious slab of cow you self-important philistine. I'm sorry that Vij treats each patron equally, regardless of the house they live in or the car they drive. There's no bouncer, no mandatory tie. Vikram Vij wears a scarf over an un-tucked kurta and doesn't ask for anything from his patrons. Expensive? Vij's was the cheapest place I patronized for dinner during my vacation, and maybe it might be expensive if what you're used to is the Indian equivalent of a culinary bukkake (yeah, I went there), where you're offered thirty variations of curries and kormas and can eat nonstop until you bankrupt Macau. Waiting twenty minutes is a small price to pay for the best Indian-inspired food you likely ever to find.
Don't expect butter chicken or masala chops; Vij's is about something entirely new, original recipes inspired by classic Indian traditions. The menu is a meek collection of dishes, scattered on the single page in seemingly no sensible order. I opted for the popular wine marinated lamb popsicles in fenugreek cream curry on turmeric and spinach potatoes. The dish was delivered with a side of rice and chapattis. Given the snacks preceding the meal, I hardly required an appetizer, although I would've liked to have ordered those somosas. Although I'm not one to enjoy tearing meat off bones, I found myself bravely diving in. There was no gristle or tough sections, the bones stuck up inviting from the large bowl and I alternated between them and the cream sauce, spooned up with rice or bread. The curry was without a doubt the best I had ever had.
The stress of my car's fate took hold and a rushed through the bill, racing to the stall to find my car still waiting patiently without a ticket. I wandered back to Vij's and dropped down cash for one of his cookbooks. The clerk asked if I wanted Vij to sign it. Yeah, she actually asked. While the chef signed my sister's name across the leaf, he recounted how easy the fenugreek sauce is to make at home, and that the secret to the lamb's tenderness is to marinade it in the wine for a full day. Oh, simple as that?
If I lived in Vancouver, or anywhere near it, I would make it my mission to order each and every dish on Vij's modest menu. I would run a blog dedicated to just this one restaurant. It truly is that good, even ignoring the demands imposed by its novelty. It isn't pretty, could stand with a few extra lights, and I did feel rather tight against other patrons, but Vij's placement on the upper echelon of the culinary elite is well earned.
OVERALL: 9 out of 10
By the way, I think describing a buffet as a culinary bukkake may be my most disgusting metaphor yet.
I get the feeling I may not want to show my face around Vancouver if I offer a negative or even mildly critical evaluation of Gotham Steakhouse and Cocktail Bar, a title which leads very little to the imagination. Even before I made the reservation, friends had cautioned me to such an extent, I felt I should park well enough away and approach the restaurant flanked by anonymous bystanders. Perhaps I should've laced Kevlar through my jacket just in case little Suzee's head doesn't adequately absorb the energy of a .44 Magnum hydra-shock hollow point fired from a passing Bentley.
What I'm saying is that Gotham Steakhouse and Cocktail Bar—boy, that's a mouthful—carries a certain reputation, a swagger if you will, like Big Pussy Bonpensiero; will you be greeted like family or pummeled into gravy from repeated blows from a Louisville slugger? This reputation stems from a 2008 gang shooting where criminals killed other criminals as they were about to enter the restaurant. I mention this bluntly though it was in no way Gotham's fault. I'd perhaps lay credence if shootings were habitual of the location, but if you take restaurant themes into account, you'd have to avoid every Asian restaurant before vetoing the steakhouses. What I found more interesting was that during the 2008 assassination, one of the other patrons was none other than Keanu Reeves, probably enjoying an overpriced fillet mignon and wondering if a spiteful movie aficionado was finally exacting revenge for Chain Reaction.
Taken as a statistic, the shooting at Gotham Steakhouse and Cocktail—that's just too long and it's getting annoying, I'm just going to call it GothCock. GothCock wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last in Vancouver, proudly claiming six restaurant shootings in the past five years. This isn't a critical observation of Vancouver restaurants, and given the number bistros, cafes, diners, eateries, and pubs in the downtown region alone, you'd have better chance contracting thyroid cancer from a misfired Russian kill-satellite then getting caught in one of these shootings. On top of that, what are the chances of it happening twice at the same location? If I felt that shootings were a determent to patronage, no one would be eating at our local Moxis.
No, my ridicule of GothCock is that it actually LOOKS like a restaurant from Goodfellas. I expected the ceiling to pull away, followed by a thick-browed director acting like a ferret on a double-espresso dropped via crane to correct me on my posture during the shot. I spotted at least three Pesci-like patrons digging into a steak like it contained heroine.
An ominous descent into the lower levels led me to the bathrooms, flanked by closed buffet rooms where private gatherings operated well away from the other patrons. GothCock wants to be THAT kind of restaurant, but not for disrespectful modern gangsters, heavens no. Not even for the 1990's sweat-suit wearing Soprano's generation. No, GothCock was built for the era of fedoras and white cocktail dresses, outside of the post depression era and into the optimistic and pre-free-love age of the 1950s, an era I would love to visit but hate to be stuck in.
At some point, I should mention the food, but GothCock doesn't seem to care about it, so why should I? Outside of the impressive décor, GothCock mimics many of the motions you'd expect from a high-class grill, not unlike The Savoy in England. What they forgot was the food. I'd mentioned the steak at The Savoy as being the best in the history of carved meat, a title I was curious if GothCock would challenge. Did it succeed? Short answer, no, long answer… ummm…no.
Was it good? Of course it was good; GothCock knows how to make steak. And they knew how to present themselves as a high-class grill, including the white dinner jacket-wrapped piano player clacking away at his keys, the wine list a'la iPad, and the cocktail lounge where you could enjoy a meal while your table was being prepped. Yes, this place looks great, and on the surface would give the panache of Claridge's a run for its money, but Claridge's shifts from shaded and comfortable to bright and inviting as you pass from the lounge to the dining area. GothCock just remains dark. Where Claridge's offered herb-encrusted bread sticks and truffle-oil cream cheese, GothCock offered a stainless steel bowl of cheese-flavored Goldfish.
One might argue I was finding fault for no good reason, but my negativity began when I saw the prices. GothCock was by a large margin the most expensive restaurant I enjoyed during my Vancouver trip, and I must stress my often stated opinion that price does not equal quality. I would praise the cost if I felt I was getting my money's worth, if I felt the staff, cooking and waiting, were trying their best to earn every dime. Wait, I'm getting to the point, I promise. The meal opened up with a half a loaf of onion bread, which is a great complimentary starter, and one you should enjoy considering how much you're going to get razed for the main. The fillet mignon arrived virtually orphaned on an oversized plate, a branch of parsley its sole companion, though isolated on the edge like a scolded child being punished for breaking a vase.
Any other side must be purchased; this included the small plate of potatoes I opted for. Without a side, that's all you get, a lone steak on a white plate, and for that, they'll charge you $50. That's right, $50 bucks, not counting the 9$ plate of potatoes. Enjoy your god damned onion bread. For the blissfully ignorant, this is a method started in France and given a posh French name which was then embraced by restaurants wanting to squeeze every dime from their customers. It's called à la carte, "according to the menu", and the few times I've sat down at restaurants employing this, the prices were either low or the plates were occupied by more than just garnish and dreams. The Savoy Grill was à la carte, but I didn't feel I was being fleeced, and counting for exchange, Savoy was cheaper. Even if they were on par, The Savoy steak was an F1 to GothCock's Indy. To me, it feels like I'm paying for the prestige of GothCock and not its food, like they expect their reputation to be worth the weight of Apple stock.
I finished the meal with the sticky toffee pudding and found it blisteringly hot, so much so that I had to make a choice, eat it and pay the price in charred taste buds, or wait and simply drink the ice-cream melting faster than the polar caps. Later that evening, I enjoyed a better sticky toffee pudding at Earls. That's a depressing revelation, especially since this dessert cost more than my lunch at Country Meadows.
So that was GothCock, proof that my desire for flamboyance has a cutoff. It's a litmus test where a restaurant forgets why it exists in the first place. Eventually, they won't serve food at all, they'll only charge you 30 bucks to sit down, giving you just a certificate to prove you ate there. Yes the meal was good, yes the restaurant looked great, yes the service was without fault—they even picked up the crumbs from the bread. I can't deny those facts, but I also have problems recommending it, not while they're so many places that remember that they're in the culinary business. I think I'd be swayed if GothCock had stripper poles or tight uniforms, or if you could put money on a horse race while you ate, but as of now, there are better investments.
OVERALL: 7.8 out of 10
Of all the restaurants in my journeys, outside of Gordon Ramsey at Claridges (which is no longer Gordon Ramsey at Claridges), there has never been a more hyped restaurant than Tojo’s. They obviously wallow in the accolades—you can barely see through the glass door with all the stickers on it from various review sites like Zagat, Trip Advisor, or Yelp. I may never again encounter a restaurant with this much buildup. Hell, I was even discussing my visit with Jewel Staite. Jewel Staite! Jewel Staite? Yes, Jewel Staite. You know, Firefly, Stargate—oh forget it, those of you who know, care. She reaffirmed the apparent certainty that Tojo’s was one of the best if not THE best restaurant in all of Vancouver.
Would it then be a surprise that it didn’t fulfill such lofty expectations? I was practically guaranteed transcendence, and no one was more shocked than I at my reaction. It’s admittedly unfair; it already counts as one of the best Japanese culinary experiences I’ve ever encountered, but with this level of hype, I was expecting it to top the list, and it didn’t. As it stands, it’s unfortunately just amazing. I await retribution for stating Tojo’s as simply fantastic, merely astonishing, regrettably excellent.
Based purely on its décor, it deserves high praise. This is not a conventional Japanese restaurant, but a Japanese restaurant’s ecstasy-laced hallucination of itself. It’s enormous, with gaps of hardwood floor shockingly underutilized, still leaving dozens of tables and an expansive bar open as we entered. The bar was reserved for omakase.
No, that’s not some mid-level Yakuza boss in Grand Theft Auto 5, but the term labeled for chef menus in Japanese restaurants. I find the exclusiveness of the bar disappointing, especially since I wanted to try omakase. My girlfriend wasn’t, leaving me trapped at a table ordering the non-omakase chef’s menu…yes there are two chef menus. No, I don’t really know the difference. I could see the owner/head chef, the one that looks like Sonny Chiba from Kill Bill, behind the bar serving a half-dozen men clearly ending their shift as GQ models. How badly did I want to sit at the bar? So much so that the $80 price tag felt like a drop in the bucket, not that I’ve had good experience with omakase.
In another feeble attempt at self-glorification, the last time I had a full-on omakase was at a restaurant in the New World Mall in downtown Hong Kong. Against a backdrop of fireworks blasting beyond a window overlooking Kowloon Bay on the final day of the Autumn Festival, as the Blade Runner-esque cityscape of the Admiralty fired lasers into a starless night made ever blacker by rampant pollution, I enjoyed a $300 omakase. It also gave me food poisoning, which is a tale in itself. A chef obviously lower on the totem pole, but one of some obvious talent was supplying my dinner in Tojo’s. My tasting menu included five courses of what I expected would be alternating variations of raw fish and rice. I held my chopsticks the proper way in anticipation, ironic that most of the delivered dishes were in dire need of fork. I consider myself a chopstick master—got a technique down and everything—I don’t even squish the rice. All but one of the dishes I was served was nearly impossible to enjoy with sticks, but at no point was I offered a fork. Some of the bites were as minute as Adam Sandler’s box-office draw.
The first dish, a tuna tartare, was one of the greatest dishes I’d ever sampled, followed by a salmon sashimi, followed by…I honestly don’t know what it was. I mean it was good, and I recognized the bed of morel mushrooms it sat on. Carrots, I saw carrots. All that led to a dish punctuated but what felt like slightly undercooked tripe, a dish so disappointing, I had to break a personal policy and share my displeasure with the staff (in the most polite way possible, of course). It was only after that was I served some actual sushi, five various pieces of exceptional refinement. Of the five courses, two disappointed while three overwhelmed, a fact obviously perceived by the wait staff, who obviously conveyed this to the chef, and the previous setback was redeemed with a complimentary green tea crème brulee, a dish of which all future crème brulees will be compared.
Tojo’s reputation is obviously well earned; it has reached that critical mass where no bad publicity can stop it. Like a G-type main sequence star, Tojo’s is unlikely to dim in the foreseeable future, feeding on a nearly inexhaustive supply of publicity garnered from celebrities like Anthony Bourdain, Tom Cruise, and Jack Black. Wait…is that…Pat Morita (hasn’t he been dead for eleven years?). By the way, funny that Bourdain is the only one labeled; even Cruise is listed under just…”people”. Heaven forbid I offer up a negative review, not that I would give one. The experience, taken on an average of décor, service, and the six dishes served, still comes up with a top grade across the board. Odd that I walked out still…disappointed. How does that work?
Should you visit Tojo’s? Hell yeah. I’m required to visit different restaurants each time I visit Vancouver and I still want to try omakase. It was absolutely worthy the visit...if you have the money. Remember, such a reputation does equate to rather lofty prices. The only sushi combo dinner offered is a staggering $55. That price I quoted for omakase was only to start, with the cost likely to increase, up to triple depending on the details. Thank god, my girlfriend only ordered the California rolls. I left her out of the review until now because her comments perfectly reflect the justification of my review. She hates sushi…hates it. I can’t get her to try anything, but she ordered California rolls, and said they were the best she’d ever had. Thank you, Tojo’s, you might have finally opened up my girlfriend’s culinary horizons, and for that, I cannot offer a greater score.
Enjoyed a fabulous dinner at Fable while visiting Vancouver. The atmosphere is fun, hip, friendly, casual, and warm. Dishes were variable and tasty, especially the sausage stuffed pork loin and the smores desert. Service was friendly and helpful. Reasonably priced, wonderful service. This is perhaps the best farm to table place I've ever been to. I will return every time I come back to Vancouver.
This place has excellent pizza. We dropped in for a couple of slices for a quick dinner. Don't expect great décor, just great pizza. No pizza in my entire life has come close to this. I always order the pesto and artichoke and veggie pizza, 1 large pizza with half and half. I love the sesame seeds in the crust. Delicious, exquisite and so well made. Romanos pizza’s awesomely amazing!
La Grotta has been a local favourite for sandwiches. It has always been their legacy to pack a sheer amount of meat in every sandwich, giving the customers a tasteful treat. I have never been let down with a single sandwich I've ordered from them. For every order, you are sure that you are paying for the premium meats, best cheese and fresh vegetables. The main thing people come for are the paninis and for good reason they are amazing! To top it off, the staff was super friendly & helpful.
This little gem in Vancouver serves great pasta! The staff were accommodating and happy to guide us through the menu, and we enjoyed a fine meal that was well presented and beautifully cooked. I came here once for lunch and dinner. I personally like their angel hair pasta with the seafood. It was rich and delicious. On the other time, I felt adventurous and ordered the seafood risotto, which I thought has excellent flavours. If this was just nearer to our home, I would visit and eat here regularly.
I purposely went to dine here because it was rated as one of the top new restaurants in town in Vancouver Magazine. I had the pho with rare beef. The soup base was excellent, very flavorful without tasting like MSG (I did not feel thirsty afterwards). The beef slices had more fat content than the ones elsewhere, which I really liked, because they did not taste "fatty" per se or oily but were very tender, the most tender I have had at any Vietnamese restaurant. I also had a chicken sandwich, and at $4.50, it was very reasonably priced. Very tasty, with fresh veggies inside, and a roll that was toasted to perfection.
The waitress was attentive without being intrusive. All in all, a very positive experience.
We decided to take a drive and ended up here. So not what I expected. Tiny parking lot and from the outside like a small unsophisticated neighbourhood café.... same inside. There is no ambiance here, tables are too close together and whole place is very small. I counted 5 waiters which seemed very excessive. We chose our dessert and were served quickly. Good but not really impressive. Skimpy with sauce and whip cream. As soon as plate with clear, it was taken away. The bill was brought so fast my son-in-law was offended and changed his mind about buying more to take home. Frankly, this place is set up to get you in and out ASAP. Not a quiet place to relax and savour a special treat.
Yes, we've been here quite a few times. Sometimes they're smokin' busy and sometimes, like just this past Tuesday, there's only a handful of tables. We have had wildly inconsistent experiences from really good food with fairly attentive and pleasant service to completely the opposite. This last time we ordered Peking duck, crispy chicken chow mean and Buddha's feast veggies. Basically, this restaurant just seems tired. The food was fine, no real complaints but nothing outstanding. There was one guy (maitre'd?) running around like crazy, one busser/waiter delivering food and carrying bus pans of dirty dishes around with his eyes permanently downcast and a guy in jeans walking around picking up credit cards and delivering the odd dish (owner?). When we were done eating it took them ages to clear our plates, then we asked for and paid the bill and sat for about 10 minutes before leaving. Then, with 2 of us already in the parking lot the busser comes out with the dessert that was included in with our Peking duck. Seriously? No one said, hey you still have dessert coming or what not when we were paying our bill 10 minutes before we actually left. There were exactly 7 tables occupied in the restaurant... So you can't say it was because they were swamped. Anyway, we'll be moving on, Pelican you have underwhelmed us probably for the last time. We're not having a great run with the Chinese restaurants lately **SIGH**.
We've been to the Richmond location where they really delivered on food quality and service, therefore when we had out of town visitors we chose Sun Sui Wah, Main St. Location for a casual meal after airport pick up. We were 5 and ordered roast duck, free range chicken, lettuce wrap, scallops and veggies, salty spicy deep fried tofu and sauteed snow pea shoots. The waiter tried to talk us into a soy chicken instead of the steamed ginger chicken we wanted but our visitors wanted the ginger dish so we stuck with ordering that only to be told 10 min later by the waiter that they were out of that and only had the soy chicken left. We said that was fine but he should have been honest in the first place, that was annoying. The best dish was the snow pea shoots, hard to go wrong with that. The duck was dry and probably the worst chinese style roast duck I've ever had in Vancouver and I would say we've had that in about 50 different chinese restaurants. The free range soy chicken was ok, just ok. The filling for the lettuce wrap (pork) was bland and anemic looking. The scallops and veggies were fine, and for the price a good amount of scallops. My son ordered a coke and it took them 15 minutes to bring it. The whole meal was completely underwhelming and if I hadn't experienced the Richmond location first I would not have any clue as to how Sun Sui Wah holds the reputation they do in Vancouver for being one of the best Chinese restaurants. By the way, I am Chinese so I know about the off the cuff service style in these restaurants but the service here was even less remarkable than say, Hon's, so that's not up to snuff. Maybe dim sum is really the only thing they do well or maybe we hit them on an off night, nevertheless we probably won't go back there any time soon.
Sunday night, don't feel like cooking or doing dishes, no kids around for a change. We surfed around for a new place to try and settle on Wishes and Luck. We frequent the Drive alot and this place looked interesting. We arrive with no reso's around 8:00 pm. There aren't a whole lot of seats (35?) and the tables were full (good sign) so we sat at the bar. We are happy bar stool dwellers so that was not a problem. Usually we find bar service to be more personable because you are so close to the action. Here we had 2 bartenders working in a not very large space, yet oddly they were both rather shy and reserved. We ordered wine and a Negroni, followed by beet salad, pork bites, tartare, and meatballs. Strangely even though we were practically sitting on top of them we had to initiate asking for everything from the (maybe they're a couple?) barkeeps who were very busy slicing, dicing, mashing, swirling behind the bar and didn't seem to have any time left over to serve us (only 2 guests) sitting at the bar. The beet salad was outstanding, tricolor beets, goats cheese, nicely dressed. The pork bites, we didn't like, kind of dry and honestly can't remember anything else about them except we wouldn't order them again. They forgot to bring our meatballs and then when they did, they said it was on the house, but they appeared on the bill anyways. We paid and left without saying anything. Funny thing is that the owner (Dolly?) chased after us to apologize for not taking the meatballs off the bill, she seemed genuine when she said next time you come in we'll do something special for you. The thing is to do something special for people the FIRST time they come in. We may or may or may not return but nice to know she actually cared enough to run down the street after us, we give her 10 points for that, no 15 points, she had heels on.
Last Saturday we had a nice treat, chauffered in an SUV limo, dinner at this gold standard of a steakhouse, pampered for a few hours. The room was elegant, the food classic, the service impeccable. We ordered iceberg wedge, spinach salad, beefsteak tomato salad, calamari, rib eye steaks and blackened ahi tuna with roasted beets, asparagus and mashed potato sides. All the food was well prepared and nicely seasoned. Excellent dressings on all the salads. Great wine selection with some surprisingly reasonable selections, although if you're at all price conscious you really should not come here because dinner for 4 could easily set you back a mortgage payment on the average Vancouver condo. We were seated on the upper level at an excellent table overlooking all the action. The service as expected was unobtrusive, understated yet always there, and well timed. We did feel that the steaks, while tender and tasty, was not the best we've ever tasted, although to be fair we've had some amazing steak. It is not dry aged, rather wet aged 30+ days, so we were told by our waiter. Anyway, enough first world whining... It was an elegant meal with good company, fine wine and classy service. And at least we didn't get shot (ha ha).
Because we practice the fine art of breakfast cookery at home we don't often go out for the morning meal, but on this particular Sunday we didn't have breakfast or lunch so decided to finally come for a 2:15 pm "dunch" because every time we drive by we say, "we've got to try that place". It was surprisingly busy still at that time and there were 2 or 3 other small parties waiting at the door when we arrived. but it didn't take long to get seated. It's very basic inside. They erased all traces of the brave bull, quick paint job, table and chairs, and bam, breakfast joint. Didn't hire any designers here, and who cares for a cheap n cheerful breaky? Except it's not cheap. Hubby ordered the special eggs benny with avocado fritter, side of bacon (extra), side of home fries (extra), me, benny style eggs on arugula and lemon truffle potatoes. The food took AGES to come, easily over 30 minutes, seemed like an hour for my tummy. Way too long to wait for breakfast food. By the time it came we were both so hungry we would have eaten cotton balls sautéed in butter. Thank goodness the food was tasty, but not very hot. The portions were fine for us because we are both watching our waistlines but they weren't generous portions by any stretch. Our waitress was saccharin sweet and narrated each thing she was about to do, "I'm going to get some more water for you now", "I'm going to get some more coffee for you now". If it was actual breakfast time when some people might be sporting hangovers, her life could be in peril. Still, the food was definitely flavourful, although the hollandaise was a little thin for my liking. The coffee was good quality and we saw some yummy looking waffles and beignets cruise by our table. Our bill came to $40.00 for two breakfasts and 1 bottomless coffee. We were kind of surprised. So, finally I'd say we would come again if there were no line ups but we wouldn't wait in line again just to have to wait a long time for the food. Also, I noticed on the menu they put 18% gratuity on large parties... really? For this kind of service? I would expect that at Gotham's where we had dined the night before, but no way at Yolk's. Craaazy.
The food was in comparable with the authentic Chinese restaurants. They have incredible customer service. My plates were always taken away when I was done and my glass of water was always kept full. The prices are kind of expensive, but for the quality and size of the portions I would say it’s worth it. The vegetables are always crisp and well marinated. The vegetarian hot and sour soup is pretty good. I especially liked the Fried Pea Pods, Chinese Mushroom, and Bamboo Shoots.
I can't believe we've never been here before even though we've driven by the establishment many times. The indoor decoration gives the traditional Indian vibe. That clearly translates on their food, which was out of this world. I used to like the Indian restaurant in my hometown but this is my new favourite. I was with my family when we ate at Handi. We enjoyed and shared the Garlic/Basil Naan, Eggplant Bhartha, samosas, Beef Curry, chicken tikka and my personal favourite the Lamb Methi! I can’t wait to go back to Handi restaurant!
Spoon Kitchen is great new spot for Thai & Malaysian food! It has very tasty dishes at a reasonable price. They take a modern twist on Malaysian food, which are very appetizing and eye pleasing with all the food presentation. Good thing their food taste great as it looks. I would recommend you to order the Coconut Tiger Prawns! Beef Rendang & Roti are also great best seller choices.
|1.||Stepho's Greek Taverna|
|6.||Phnom Penh Restaurant|
|9.||Kobe Japanese Steak House|
|10.||Gotham Steakhouse & Cocktail Bar|
|16.||Les Faux Bourgeois Bistro|
|19.||Ebisu on Robson|
|20.||Glowbal Grill and Satay Bar|
|2.||Seasons in the Park|
|4.||Talay Thai Restaurant|
|5.||Diva at The Met|
|8.||Guu with Garlic|
|10.||La Grotta Del Formaggio|
|11.||Salade de Fruits Cafe|
|12.||Pink Peppercorn Seafood House|
|15.||Blue Water Cafe + Raw Bar|
|17.||Khunnai Chang Thai Cuisine|
|18.||Afghan Horsemen Restaurant, The|
|20.||Les Faux Bourgeois Bistro|