jamiemaw

To Arne's recommendations I would add King's Fare, certainly amongst the best fish and chips in town, even if they almost aren't. Its peripheral location (in a small strip mall in Marpole) makes it an on-the-way-to-the-airport kind of destination. A near-religious zeal for fresh cod and halibut is evident on the platter. 1320 W. 73rd Ave., 604-266-3474. That being said, I prefer cod.

A morning round at Sandpiper in Harrison Mills where eagles strafe the salmon on the Harrison River. Pints at the clubhouse. A Farm Circle Tour (Farm House Cheeses and Swift Aqua Culture for sure). Dinner at Rowena's Inn on the River. Play the Steinway. Spend the night. A swim in the morning in the riverside pool. Repeat.

It would undoubtedly be very useful and interesting if someone would post just what the message or "takeaway" from this lunch was. Anyone? ← Ducky, Ther was a lot of information given during the course of the afternoon. When Andy Lynes finishes his Vancouver-Okanagan-Harrison/Aggasiz-Vancouver Island tour, he and I are going to attempt to collate that information as it relates to sustainabilty (and parallel aquaculture) issues and post it here. In the interim, a good starting point for you would be to take a look (if you haven't already) at the Ocean Wise, Suzuki and Monterrey Aquarium websites. Cheers, Jamie

A fine luncheon taken in front of one of the most dramatic restaurant prospects in the country; the westerly breezing up the Creek; the menu and service as balanced and calibrated in what it said to the ocean as the guest speakers themselves. From the first sip of that incisive hibiscus cocktail I learned a lot. I was particularly enlightened by the activist stance that Dr. John Nightingale of the Vancouver Aquarium Marine Science Centre shared with me. During a recent conference in Boston, he ate at four Boston-area restaurants. Turns out they each had ('Chilean') sea bass on the menu. Rather than remonstrating the server, or calling over the manager, John walked into the kitchen after service and had a calm and explanatory chat with the chefs. You might have thought thay would have known better there. The coastal seaports of Massachusetts used to support a thriving cod fishery, or, more accurately, vice versa. That fishery is now gone--perhaps forever. Atlantic blue fin are also under enormous pressure which is likely--as someone at our table joked--why George Clooney met Ahab. Maybe John Nightingale saved some fish in the patent process of explanation. I think that it's high time for us to educate ourselves by studying the base source material (Monterrey Aquarium et al) and then direct others--especially chefs and proprietors--to follow suit, because unfortunately, ignorance about both our own and offshore fisheries runs much deeper than the oceans. And solutions for aquaculture such as the Suzuki Foundation is proposing, certainly seem to make sound sense. In short, this is not a Birkenstock issue but rather cuts across all political stripes and income brackets. Sustainable food, after all, is what we live for and vice versa again. Many thanks to Harry, Leonard, Tom and the many others at C for providing such an exquisite vehicle that is absolute proof that what is sutainable and well managed can (as chef Rob Clark so passionately pointed out) and does taste better. Many thanks also to Sue Alexander for organizing the guest speakers. I hope that many of you have had the opportunity to watch the DVD on the Hawkshaw live-catch salmon methodology. Cheers, and many thanks to you all for your support of this event. I hope that an agritourism (bus-ride) visit follows shortly. Jamie

Thanks for the reveal, Keith. You have no idea how many times I've unwittingly passed Wind whilst searching for 8 Treasure nirvana.

You may add to this list Rodney's Oyster House, which does a oyster and raw bar (with charming props) as well as hot seafood service. The oyster station is a terrific add-on for a summer BBQ. And Yoshi Tabo (the Bluewater sushi chef) used to deliver platters of same before he started his evening shift.

Thank you. On the whole though I prefer Port Alberni bars. Either the Arlington or West Wind.

Chromedome, On this Father’s Day, I awoke to CBS’s Sunday Morning broadcast. They reported that Mother’s Day is the busiest day of the year for children calling home. Father’s Day, however, is the busiest day of the year for children calling home collect. My point is that I admire your values. You've found a way to carve a new career that inspires you while retaining your embrace of family, friends and literature. You have also found a path forward to take up less space on this planet, with no small humility, than those who might seek an artifice of more, more, and more. All of these things shine brightly in your highly literate blog. With thanks, Jamie

And for the second pan?

Sometimes these polls are reader driven, sometimes they parachute forwign writers in. The best pan-Canadian survey is EnRoute magazine, which canvasses food writers across the country to seek some common opinion, and then deploys its own writer to test each restaurant--a daunting task.

There's a value-concious alternative right next door, of course, where a dozen or so items can be sampled for $14 per course at the Lumiere Tasting Bar.

From my exp. i agree with your opinion, Jamie. But i'd like to precise: to my knowledge, each of the top table group's restaurants bake their own bread. Rhonda Viala at West, Thierry Busset at Cincin, Eleanor Chow at Blue Water Cafe, as well as Aaron at Whistler's Araxi, are all behind the loaves, baguettes and rolls that their respective restaurant serve. ← Yes, Eddy, and thanks for clarifying this point: Credit where credit's due. Although I do spy Thierry's influence since he moved from West to Cin Cin, and he travels weekly to Araxi to add in his expertise there too.

Reports are that Julio Gonzalez-Perini has sold Villa del Lupo. I'll update as further information becomes available.

Just as love arrives in many forms, so too Pot-au-Feu.

No-one has suggested that anyone be muzzled. Quite the contrary, in fact. The simple protocol I mentioned upthread could allow for more objectively-based opinions to be shared. It might also disabuse us of those 'hanging in midair' declarations--the incomplete rants that fail to answer the what and why questions. Think of it as the mise en place of posting a restaurant experience. Further, in your case, the additional benefit to us would be to hear from a professional chef whose expertise is both important and credible. Jamie

Is that going to be near where Ecco Il Pane is? ← Very. 53 West 5th Avenue.

James Chatto's article on Vancouver dining will be published next month in Toronto Life. Here's the Charlevoix portion of the R de S. Tourism Quebec should be able to furnish you with the Montreal/Eastern Townships/Laurentions portion. Well worthwhile. I'm surprised that you have difficulty sourcing vegetables in Vancouver, although I doubt that asking a Torontonian for advice would serve you well.

Its owned by Rhys Pender (the wine writer) and his wife. Now available throughout the valley. Nicely done too.

No it's not. Almost any city in Europe is better than Vancouver. New York and Las Vegas are better. Los Angeles is probably better. San Francisco is still better. Montreal is definately still better. But, really all the praise heaped on Vancouver is really just subtext for one thing; We're finally better than Toronto. And honestly, that all we as Vancouverites give a shit about. Once you recognize that all the hyperbole is really just an elaborate way for saying we're better than TO, it'll all make sense. ← Although you're wrong (hard-won experience tells me that Vancouver is more interesting and less expensive to eat out in--and certainly more diverse--than many cities its size in Europe), it’s a zero sum game. Anybody reasonably intrepid (or with a decent concierge) can eat well in virtually any city in the world, yes, even Toronto. But I did take a perverse joy in what James Chatto of Toronto Life said when I asked him (for The Globe) about our differences: ‘“I’m not surprised at the vibrancy of the Vancouver restaurant scene,” he said, “There’s an eager, concentrated population and a thriving sense of civic pride that stops just short of the smugness of Montreal and the nail-biting angst of Toronto.”’ But back on topic: Is this forum too lenient? Certainly it occasionally wants for detail and specifics. Just like death and taxes, detail and specifics (as opposed to generalities, banalities, proselytizing, blather and pontificating) focus the mind and actually force their author to be accurate. The rest—i.e. the subjective bits (i.e. “I prefer my foir gras flash-seared with fruit compôte)—can then be fairly discussed. I thought Food-Girl's opinions and criticisms interesting and thoughtfully expressed. But even if I didn’t I’d certainly defend her right to state them. Without those well-researched details, any review (here or elsewhere) lacks credibility, whether lenient or thrown down from the bully pulpit. They swiftly descend into the culinary equivalent of those painfully self-aware ‘reviews’ on Amazon.com or Travelocity: anonymous, quasi-experiential but with little authorial or analytic context. Instant armchair experts, after all, are a dime a dozen, which also explains the explosion of blogs, which are too. But the central power of these forums is to gather and collate information. Where it goes off the rails its when there’s a swarming effect, either because we’re being too kind (benefit of the doubt) or because we begin to rant. Again, sound, dispassionate criticism lies in the details: full, plain and true disclosure speed and improve cogent discussion. We use a very defined protocol when we review restaurants in print, and before writing a feature review, try to visit several times and at different times of the week. That develops a fully-dimensioned illustration instead of a snapshot, and it's done out of respect for the business at stake. You would likely think it unfair, I’m sure, to have somebody visit your own business for a couple of hours, chat up your assistant, go through your files and then write a very public review. I will say something about cost inequities. Montreal is relatively less expensive because its real estate values (the highest fixed cost of running a restaurant) have lagged far behind many other cities. That’s passed onto the consumer. Conversely, London has become one of the most expensive a dining cities in the world due to its terrible transportation infrastructure, high pound syndrome and withering rents. A $300 disappointment here can translate can translate into much, much more in London. Or Las Vegas, for that matter. I've had some disappointing meals at big name restaurants in France, England, the US and elsewhere. It happens. I suspect that if I returned though, my experience might even out. Except for that disaster at Spago . . . Bringing these thoughts together, perhaps a good protocol for future threads would be to post: • The dish • The ingredients, sauce etc. • The price • The tastes and textures • The effect/how you would compare it to comparable restaurants • The service • A few words about wine expertise, décor, crowd, ambiance etc. • And then, finally, your opinion of how successful the restaurant was in achieving its mission, and satisfying both needs and expectations.

Thanks for your response. Salary Man Pot-au-feu!

It will be interesting to hear your friends’ opinion of the uneven quality of Parisienne bread because of the consolidation of bakeries and the commodification of breads. That has been the topic of discussion in a number of articles recently. When I need French-styled breads, I typically buy them from these bakeries, which I think produce quality baguettes: Patisserie LeBeau La Baguette on Granville Island Terra Breads (ditto, and on West Fourth, soon to open near 5th and Ontario) Wildfire in Victoria La Boulangerie (which uses French flour exclusively) or Okanagan Grocery in Kelowna I think that the best bread in restaurants is served at CinCin, West, and Bluewater, from Thierry Busset’s ovens. But the best bread I’ve ever had in Vancouver came from two now-defunct sources. The Austrian Bakery at 10th and Alma, and The Vancouver Club, which used to have its own bakery (with steam ovens for an authoritative crust) in the bowels of the building. Those buns of yesteryear would spit shards of crust like shrapnel and were served with properly iced butter. Unfortunately, the bakery was ripped out to make way for a fitness facility, of all things.

Hey Jamie, did you like it (if you've tried it)? As I said it sounds pretty damn tasty to me too, complaints aside...and I do like his foie. So now I am sorely tempted to head on down and drop some coin. Look at that, criticism -> sale! Who would've guessed? Someone stop me before I go, blow a gasket, report back and get banned or something. Anyone know when the Feenster'll be back in the kitchen again? Also Jamie I think you are maybe being a bit unfair. I too was a little suspect of the foie complaint, but I am willing to hazard that even if it was the first time, if it had been really good, that wouldn't have been an issue. Then again, the substance of the complaint seems to be that foie shouldn't be in soup... So Foodie-Girl...did it taste good anyway? Just the lack of crust that bugged you? Or was it crappy no matter how you slice it? ← I was simply asking a question. For some people the pot-au-feu treatment may be an acquired taste, especially for those expecting the more typical (in North America especially) treatment of seared foie gras accompanied by a condiment of slightly soured fruit: rhubarb compôte et al. A pot-au-feu of foie gras is traditionally served with duck broth and is often bound with wilted Savoy cabbage. Here's a recipe from Quebec that is typical of the genre. Personally, I think the highest and best use of duck foie is in a terrine with hot toast points with a glass of cold Sauternes. For that get thee to John van der Lieck's Oyama Sausage Company on Granville Island--it's a very well-made product. But I choose not to eat foie gras much anymore (unless I'm in Quebec), for this reason: The lack of information on foie gras de canard production (for much goes on behind closed doors) prodded me to see for myself in the summer of 2003. Encore un Foie? I’m certainly no expert on the production of foie gras, and, as much as I love the stuff have become an infrequent eater of it, especially after it became so very ubiquitous, even in inexpert hands (it deserved much better), a decade or more ago. I regret that it lost its purity, became a plaything -- even a cynical hamburger fixing. Whereas in France foie gras is a natural wintertime celebratory food (much is consumed between Christmas and New Year's), in North America it has become commodified, an item for Robb Report readers to add to their iconic lists like a vertical of Petrus, the lists that speak to excess cash flow seeking social validation. But not to sound a snot, for even if this class is bereft of good taste, let's assume that more than one of them knows what tastes good. Although some might say that these type of people only had kids so they could get pre-boarding, I have no opinion on the subject. But not to confuse the issue: Most people, especially those with more than a passing interest in food, eat foie gras because it is delicious and because its unctuous texture is like no other. Foie gras may soon join Chilean sea bass, swordfish, bluefin tuna and Caspian caviar amongst the verbotten for the Prius set, not for reason of endangerment, but rather for perceived cruelty. But what had struck me as I read the little available literature on the subject was the lack of firsthand information. Most people rendering their opinion, on either side of the issue, had not, it appeared, set foot anywhere near a foie gras production facility. It's safe to say that the foie reared in Quebec is exemplary; indeed many Canadian and American chefs who have worked with the three main products (Sonoma, Hudson Valley and Quebéçois) believe it the best foie product on the continent. I had the opportunity to inspect two foie gras de canard farms in Quebec last summer and was even allowed entré into the inner sanctum--the gavage sheds--which, for reasons of disease control and increasing political sensitivity, are usually off limits. The first farm, south of Montreal, was a fairly large scale commercial operation that is licensed to export product extra-provincially and into the US (and in fact supplies many eastern seaboard US restaurants). It was an unfettered production line with all stages of the process carried out in a carefully controlled environment. Diet, heat, humidity and light were fastidiously calibrated and constantly monitored by computer. It was also a scrupulously clean operation; the main fear being, because of the close quarters, a systemic outbreak of disease. As the ducklings matured toward gavage, their pre-migratory instinct to gorge was seemingly tricked into action (no matter the time of year--I was there the day before St. Jean-Baptiste Day in late June) via the steady diminishment of light and heat (imitating shorter autumn days), and diet deprivation followed by a spate of abundant feed; deprivation; feed. The gavage stage (heavily air-conditioned and humidified) was clinical but expertly managed (the speed of the technique is not learned overnight) from a mechanically-forced machine that follows the operator, although the ducks were held in restrictive individual pens within a shed the size of a small warehouse. The actual gavage took just a few seconds. The shed was cold and wet, and the ducks were certainly not running to be fed -- they couldn't budge. The pens were suspended above frequently flushed concrete floors; the shed smelled much as you might expect. Although the ducks did not appear to protest the gavage, which, again, was both swift and expert, there is simply no way—short of inviting Dr. Doolittle to the party—to know. (A little like being at the dentist with wadding and a rubber dam in your mouth when he asks you the quality check question). But neither did we see any evidence of animals squealing or otherwise behaving in an obviously distressed manner. Although I asked on more than one occasion, the precise (mainly corn) composition of diet for the ducks is closely guarded; it would be unfair to speculate what, if any, medications might or might not be added to their feed. But it was obvious even to an outsider that bacterial or viral disease could be commercially lethal to this type of closed facility. What struck me most about this operation though, was the very large size of the finished liver. At over 600 grams, the liver distends below the animal’s ribcage and has an exterior appearance, prior to their trip to the abbatoir, not unlike a human hernia poking through skin. This is the portion of the liver most likely to be damaged or bruised, et voila--pate. All of the parts of the duck carcass were packaged and sold, in large part to restaurants: the foie, trimmed breasts, legs en confit, pate, and the carcass for stock. The second farm, located near Quebec City, was a somewhat different story. This smaller producer, which used smaller, old (and picturesque) wooden sheds and barns, also revealed a slightly different methodology. The ducklings (hatched off-site) were allowed free range in outdoor pens before being moved indoors to the manipulated environment. But even that seemed a little friendlier: at this stage the ducklings were still allowed to roam in quite large rooms. The gavage was similar to the prior operation, but with an important difference: the feed was stopped when the livers were estimated to be at the 400 to 450 gram stage of growth for slaughter, and before any obvious distension had taken place. For regulatory reasons (and much like many of the province’s wonderful cheeses), their product is not available outside of Quebec, the only Canadian province where it is legal to produce foie gras de canard. The chef with whom I was traveling, Jean-Luc Boulay, who operates a restaurant in Quebec City called Le Saint’Amour, visited this operation regularly, as much, I came to feel, for his interest in the welfare of the animals as for the quality of the finished (smaller) product that they gave up. He seemed convinced that the smaller livers were superior—less likely to be granular—and that the ducks knew no suffering. Boulay regularly serves several variations—typical might be a homemade terrine with Sauternes jelly and fig pulp; squab stuffed with fresh foie gras; or foie gras seared with fleur de sel, its pan deglazed with cranberries and mango chutney. One can also order a foie gras plat combining several of these. Without for a minute wishing to prejudice anyone, having seen these two producers, I wouldn't eat from a foie over half a kilo. And because in a restaurant setting that’s nigh on impossible to verify, I choose to eat it no more. But that’s an entirely personal choice, albeit one I regretfully add to a growing list of other much-missed foods, especially that other luxe one, Caspian caviar. In fact, the last foie gras I ate was in Quebec City, early last summer, from the hand of the master Boulay. It was generous and seared quickly in a hot iron pan, with a top knot of good salt and a fresh, barely warmed compote of rhubarb that put sweaters on my teeth. Those perfect combinant flavours, plush under their crust and tinctured with the rhubarb, melted away slowly, and then forever.

Looks more loke the Canada Day weekend or so. And about three weeks or so for Watermark.

Was this the first time that you had eaten a pot-au-feu of foie gras?

The same Latin root that gave us the word fascism.