A Long Weekend in Vancouver, BC (Part 3): Haute Cuisine and Asian Disneyland for Foodies

If only Himalaya’s sweets tasted as good as they look.

Since she had been sleeping in, I knew my wife would be famished when she woke. Unlike those of us with more … er … efficient metobalisms, my wife will become shaky, get headaches, and, worst of all for me, get quite irritable without food. So once again I looked to Arne’s foodblog.

He mentioned a trip to Vancouver’s Little India and visions of Chicago’s Devon Avenue and Vij’s curry from the night before had me looking up the directions on Street and Trips before I had fully snapped out of my daydreams. Being on the central/southern portion of Main St, Little India would be a relatively quick trip from Richmond.

A snack would suffice as a fix for my wife’s carbohydrate DTs. Arne suggested Pabla’s Himalaya Restaurant as a reliable samosa dealer, so that’s where we went and that’s what we got. They had buffet, but samosas were a menu offering only. Nothing looked especially fresh on the buffet anyway, despite it being only 11:30. In addition to an order of beef and vegetable samosa each, we decided to go ahead and try their butter chicken and naan. Butter chicken is one of the few curries my wife consistently enjoys.

The samosas came first, two per plate with a side of chickpea curry. The curry itself was a bit bland and monotone, but the samosas were indeed tasty. The shells were flaky and flavorful, not overly greasy, and the insides adequate. The butter chicken was also tasty, but not especially good. The flavor was intense enough, but again rather monotone. Perhaps the wonderful balance of the dishes the night before at Vij’s had just ruined us. The naan was interesting, however. Not sure if it was interesting in a good way, but interesting nonetheless. The flavor had me baffled for a while. I asked the server if it had rice flour in it and he said no, just wheat flour. But it tasted like rice cakes, I insisted to my wife. Then it dawned on me: not rice cakes, but puffed wheat. It tasted like puffed wheat cereal and the outermost crust on the bread had both a sheen and chew that also brought back mornings in front of a bowl of Quaker Puffed Wheat. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, it just didn’t really taste like bread to me.

We had promised each other on the way in that we’d stop and get some sweets on the way out. The savory buffet is in the back, but smartly, the candy buffet is up front — 20 feet or more of multi-colored squares and circles saying “Eat Me”. We helped ourselves to a variety of barfi, halwa, and ladoo, which we then took to the counter to get weighed. We took our treats with us as we walked around the neighborhood.

Neither the sweets nor the neighborhood lived up to our hopes. Vancouver’s Little India is no Devon. Maybe not even a Berkeley. There are several clothiers and jewelers which are interesting, but few restaurants or grocers, and those there are don’t appear to be especially good. I do wonder if there is a newer Little India in Vancouver’s suburbs. Richmond’s Chinese and other Asian attractions clearly dwarf Vancouver’s respectable Chinatown. The quarter of a million strong Desi community must have something more, right?

The candies were nearly all stale. The textures were off, either too dry and crumbly, or stiff. We threw most of them away after one bite and my wife just stopped tasting them after the first couple. I love Indian sweets, but these were like ice cream that’d been freezer burned.

I think my main goal on a return trip will be to find out where the really good low-end Indian food is, maybe some Southern Indian, some melt-your-teeth Indian. I know it must exist.

Juicy, juicy amber plums.

After leaving Little India we drove down Main until we hit a major east-west street and then turned right to go towards Hwy 1. I hadn’t planned on visiting a farmer’s market in Vancouver. I’d heard that I’d just be underwhelmed. Portland has two large farmer’s markets that are arguably among the best in the country. And most communities around town have smaller ones.

But I do like to visit them on my travels and my wife has learned to enjoy them as well, as long as I don’t make her wait too long while I take photos. So when we saw a sign saying farmer’s market that way with an arrow, we turned.

The East Vancouver Community Market is indeed smaller than our largest here in Portland. It runs the length of a parking lot, maybe 100 yards, with booths on each side. It’s comparable to the Hollywood or Hillsdale markets, which, despite their smaller size, are busy destinations for their neighborhoods and food-lovers like myself.

Offerings are mostly produce. Klippers was selling beautiful amber plums and a range of peaches. Their heirloom and organic tomatoes displayed bright summer colors of yellow, orange, and red. Along side sat typical green and more rare purple tomatillos. Surprisingly, the oyster mushrooms from Richmond Specialty Farms were also in a rainbow of colors — pink, yellow, and tan.

Though Vancouver lacks Mexican restaurants, they really don’t seem to lack the ingredients. Stein Mountain hung gorgeous strings of chiles from their stall like I’ve only seen south of the border. They were also selling vines of cherry tomatoes in various levels of ripeness. We purchased some of their blackberries, though more than a few were quite tart. Forstbauer Farm had really nice bunches of squash blossoms still on the stems along with baby zucchini still sporting their flowers. Hill Top Farm had all sizes, shapes, and colors of peppers, mostly sweeter varieties, along with eggplants and strangely shaped Asian squashes.

I don’t know that I could respect a farmer’s market without cheeses, and thankfully Vancouver’s has two dairies: Little Qualicum and McClennan Creek. Little Qualicum is an award winning dairy specializing in cow cheeses, especially raw milk and washed rind. McClennan Creek specializes in goat cheeses, both fresh and aged.

Probably our favorite bite of the market, however, was Bad Girl Chocolates. Using fanciful molds and Callebaut chocolate, I wouldn’t have known the truffles were vegan had I not found out afterwards. They use interesting flavorings such as Chinese five spice, chai, or pomegranate. The pomegranate was perhaps too tart, but the cayenne in their “hot chocolate” was perfect, building gradually the more you ate. Textures and flavor balance could be improved, but I would purchase these before any national brand.

The Vancouver market has a strong hippy vibe. Dreds and hairy arm-pitted women are the norm, both among customers and vendors. But that only adds to the unique character and anti-commercial feel. I don’t think Vancouver residents have anything to be ashamed of by this market and I think they have a lot to be proud of. Bigger isn’t always better. (Or so my wife keeps telling me.)

The chocolates and berries were a nice snack as we sped around Hwy 1 and up to Capilano Suspension Bridge where we watched young guys shoot down a natural water slide and over a waterfall. Then it was over to Cypress Provincial Park, Horseshoe Bay, and Lighthouse Park, where we found more berries to snack on — for free. That left us just enough time to get back to our hotel and change before our early dinner reservation, our one true splurge, a four star restaurant with a tasting menu, something I fear Portland will never have.

Avocado, crab, tomato coulis — oh my!

It was between West, Lumiere, and Bishop’s before the trip, the three Vancouver four star restaurants specializing in Northwest cuisine. Bishop’s seemed like the old guard. Lumiere, the one currently with the most international acclaim. And West, West was the one the locals always named. And when Arne said he liked it best and that it was a better value, that made the choice sure.

I was a little worried. I brought pants and a collared shirt, but nothing nice. I get away with that in any restaurant in Portland, but we don’t have any four star restaurants. In Chicago, or even San Francisco, I’d feel totally out of place. When I called to confirm the reservations, the lady on the other end of the line almost laughed, I think, when I asked if that would be fine.

The restaurant is walking distance from Vij’s along Granville. They have a tiny sign so you’re better off looking for the valet. The interior is open and modern with diamond-shaped sconces, a river-like, meandering shape hanging from the ceiling, and a wine rack so tall it requires a permanently-attached ladder slid along rails behind the bar.

I had asked twice on the phone to be seated next to the window if possible, and I was a bit disappointed when I wasn’t. I was annoyed when, by the end of the meal, no one else had been either. The service was otherwise top-notch. And I can see what the hostess was surprised when I asked about attire: during our meal, suits and black dresses sat beside people in t-shirts, shorts, and sandals. Throw in a mullet or two and a Budweiser tank top and would have felt like a family reunion.

The menu offers both ala carte and tasting options, but we knew we’d be getting tasting menus. They had two: summer tasting menu and West tasting menu. My wife got the summer tasting menu, which fit her palate better, and I ordered the slightly larger and more expensive West tasting menu, which fit my palate better. (The former was $84 and the latter $94 Canadian, of course.)

We were both started with an amuse bouche of chilled cucumber-melon soup. Perhaps a bit salty and one-dimensional, it was also refreshing and served to clean the palate. They also brought out a basket of breads, three different types, along with a little bowl of fruity olive oil and a half moon of butter. The butter was too cold, making it hard to spread. But the breads were all tasty.

For her first course, my wife received a fat column of avocado, topped by Dungeness crab salad, and mixed microgreens, herbs, and shredded radicchio. A delicate potato lattice, so thin I have no clue how they created it, separated the greens from the crab. Underneath all was a tomato coulis. Not only a beautiful dish, a perfect one for my wife’s palate. The combination of flavors has become classic, but the execution rarely lives up to this version.

I received the gazpacho. Instead of the more usual salsa-as-soup that I expected, West’s version centered a disc of yellowfin tartare in a cold tomato broth. From the look of it, you might expect the broth to be watery, but it wasn’t. The tomato flavor was intense and more refreshing due to the light nature of the broth. More than just tomato, the broth had notes that you might expect from a gazpacho — perhaps cucumber, perhaps chile, perhaps lime. A cherry tomato balanced atop the tuna. The skin of the tomato was peeled back, flying like the scarf of Snoopy in battle with the Red Barron. The tartare could have been chilled a little more so that it was less mushy, but that’s a minor quibble for a great dish.

A goat cheese ravioli was set before my wife next. Set in a basil sauce, they were topped with a melange of lightly cooked julienned vegetables, including artichoke hearts. On top of that was a grated aged cheese. My wife loved it.

My next course was the foie gras. The seared lobes, topped with a bit of micrgreens, were crispy on the outside and creamy on the inside. The lobes were mirrored by two roasted peach wedges in a vanilla and rosemary syrup topped with nuts. A potato tuile sat next to all, looking like a thumb ring for Andre the Giant. The sweet and tart peaches, the fragrant sauce, the rich and slightly bitter foie, the crisp and starchy potato. It was perfection in concert. Perhaps the best course of the night.

I had an extra course which they decided to make my next one, the halibut. A nicely seared piece of fish came atop a mixture of baby chanterelles and sliced baby carrots and zucchini, along with fava beans and other vegetables. A light, but again flavorful, broth sat below all unifying the flavors. Simple and very good, but not as interesting as other dishes.

For my wife’s main, they brought her the scallops. Fork tender, but nicely crusted, they were topped with a caramelly onion puree. Thin slices of baby zucchini separated the scallops from maitakes obscured by a translucent potato tuile. A mushroom jus with a bit of vinegar to brighten it, coated the bottom of the plate. These were perhaps the best scallops I’ve ever tasted, though I’m not sure if the dish overall was better than the sum of its parts.

I was served the lamb for my main. A frenched double-chop, thick and brightly pink, but not undercooked, was perched upon sauteed baby chanterelles. Underneath lay a plate-lickable jus held to one side of the plate by a fennel puree. On the other side of the plate sat a fat puck, tasting like essence of au gratin potatoes in a crusty shell. I absolutely loved the potato puck. I could have eaten a dozen more. The fennel puree on its own was good and it was also good with the lamb. The lamb was tender, but not as tender or as tasty as the lamb from Vij’s. Again, this dish didn’t seem to be unified to transcend its parts, but the parts were all so good on their own, who’s complaining?

Next, they brought out my wife’s first dessert course: fresh apricots with maple yogurt, banana toffee cake, brown sugar filo crisps, and apricot espuma. I don’t remember the cake, perhaps it was below the apricots, but everything else was terrific. The light coating of mapley yogurt on the apricots added both a sweetness and tartness. The cross of filo on top of the round of apricot chunks added a darker sweetness, but more importantly a nice texture to contrast the frothy espuma that topped everything. This dessert was perfect example of what I hoped for more of in the savory dishes. Each part made the whole better by adding texture or flavors that highlighted the textures or flavors of the other parts.

As the compliment to my wife’s first dessert, I received the cheese course. A wedge of blue, aged, and soft cheese were accompanied by candied hazelnuts, sliced apple and pear, fruit and berrry chutney, and walnut bread. An enjoyable cheese course.

Raspberries layered with lemon wafers came for my wife’s second dessert. Four raspberries were standing on end on each of the two levles. A small dollup of cream cheese ice cream sat between the raspberries. A nobo tea syrup joined a raspberry syrup as an accent. Simpler than the first dessert, it was still tasty, with the creamy ice cream balancing the tart, but perfectly ripe, berries. I never taste the tea syrup, but I like the concept.

I was served an upscale chocolate moon pie for my dessert. Between two light chocolate cookies was sandwiched a chocolate-kumquat mousse. The sweet sandwich sat in a pool of creme anglaise. On top of the sandwich a halved vanilla ice cream truffle sat next to a stripe of powdered sugar. Simple, like my wife’s second dessert, it was still quite tasty. The kumquat flavor could come out more, but it was very enjoyable.

We finished with petit fours: two truffles rolled in nuts and two raspberry napoleans topped with coconut. I love the idea of mignardises and these were tasty.

It took the valet a while to show up so we could give him our ticket, but we still had time to take a walk around the west end beaches and watch the sunset. Good thing we did, too, because, though we were stuffed, little did we know there’d be more to eat that night.

That ain’t fruit in those fish waffles.

After the Chinatown Night Market, we weren’t sure if we’d make the effort for the Richmond Night Market. But it was either that or sit in the hotel and watch another Kids in the Hall rerun, so I insisted. It wasn’t that far anyway.

It actually took longer to walk to the market once we parked than it did to find it from our hotel. It seemed like everyone was leaving, so I wasn’t clear why no parking spots closeby were opening up. Not that it mattered. Even the closest parking spots outside the woefully inadequate offical lot were a hike.

When we finally arrived, it was obvious why there were no parking spots. Half the town was at the market and more, just like us, were filing in every minute. Naively, I made my wife double-time our walk because I thought there wouldn’t be anything left to see as late as we got there.

The Richmond Night Market is to the Chinatown Night Market what Disneyland is to the county fair. It’s just a whole other category. At one end is a fair with rides and a ferris wheel. At the other is a stage with live music. Between are scores of booths selling t-shirts, watches, Hello Kitty, DVDs, Samurai swords, and things to scrape your feet. There was a mop that could clean anything. There was a tool that could fix anything. There was an herb that could cure anything. (No, not that “herb”. Try Hastings.) And in the back left corner is the food.

Fifty, maybe even seventy-five or more, stands selling food. Fish balls, shu mai, beef skewers, squid skewers, dan dan noodles, pad thai. Fish cakes, shark fin soup, bubble tea, mango juice, green papaya salad. But I don’t gloss over these because they’re too plain or were mediocre. I gloss over them because there’s just too much. Even that som tum had crisp julienned papaya, fresh tomatoes, crush peanuts, and sweet, dried meat.

How do you decide between fresh sugar cane juice and young coconut juice, both made right before you? I chose the sugar cane juice because I’d never had it fresh before and it was terrific. How do you choose between a rice flour pancake filled with cinnamon and brown sugar and a fish shaped waffle filled with stir-fry vegetables? I chose the freshly made pancake, and again, it was excellent, warm and chewy, with an almost caramelly center.

My wife commented that we could have just went there instead of West and spent several hours gorging on funky Asian foods and spent about $150 less. (Not that either of us would have given up our great meal at West.) It’s hard to beat freshly grilled skewers of poultry, fish, and meat, crusted over hot coals — especially when they’re only one dollar Canadian each. Or how about roti canai produced ala minute. You could even get oyster pancakes or balls of batter studded with octopus cooked while you wait.

Half a dozen or more drooling marketers queued for mondo crepes filled with fresh strawberry, mango, or bananas. We ate a unique little item called a cart wheel cake that was like a crepe batter molded into a plump disc and filled with sweet fillings. The Nutella one we chose oozed with chocolate-hazelnutty goodness. One vendor was selling chocolate-covered strawberries, including green tea infused chocolate-covered strawberries. Dragon’s beard candy, handmade, seemed to be a market specialty. The confection of sugar pulled into thin strands, sometimes flavored and colored, are wrapped around peanuts. The cotton candy like exterior almost melts in the mouth leaving the peanuts.

The market runs three nights a week during the summer and should be a destination for any traveller. (Be a travller, not a tourist, as Tony Bourdain says.) It should be required for any food lover visiting Vancouver. It was a great ending to a last real day of eating in Vancouver.