Saturday, March 31, 2007

Vancouver Ramblings


Walking around Vancouver the last few days, it quickly dawned on me that this is one of the most culinarily diverse cities in North America. I began my dining adventures with dinner at a slightly downscale Burnaby/Metrotown eatery billing itself as a "Chinese restaurant." What made this Chinese restaurant unique however, was the fact that was nearly completely devoid of Chinese food, although won ton soup and fried rice were on the menu.

Everything else was Korean, including the complimentary dishes of pickled daikon and relatively mild kimchi. The won ton soup had a rich and salty broth and the dumplings resembled diminutive potstickers with bright ginger overtones. For my main course, I had a filling bowl of thick noodles topped with a seafood and onion-laced black bean sauce. Satisfying and inexpensive, I was pleasantly surprised by the fare offered at this "Chinese" restaurant.

Further evidence of culinary eclecticism (or perhaps confusion) was on display at the curiously-named Pittsburg Restaurant at 1687-4500 Kingsway. Peering into the window of this modernistic restaurant, I noticed that it had a large Asian clientele tucking into meals from all over the gastronomical map. The menu had everything from New York strip steak to noodle soups to Monte Cristo sandwiches. One item on the menu caught my eye, the "chef's recommendation" of a Hainese chicken meal.

Originating in Hainan, the smallest Chinese province, this version of chicken is simple yet satisfying peasant fare. The lunch began with a serving of a brothy soup without much more than a few slivers of meat and vegetables. However, the stock was quite heady with the meaty taste of oxtail. The entree consisted of chilled steamed chicken with a minced ginger dipping sauce and sides of baby bok choi drizzled with oyster sauce, salted peanuts, and sticky rice. While this was a reasonably light repast, this $9.50 Cdn lunch's simplicity and delicate flavors made it a true standout.

Later I needed change to board the Skytrain downtown, so I popped into Burnaby's Crystal Mall. Resembling a clean and well-lit scene out of Blade Runner, this retail center is packed with Asian eateries and foodstuffs of nearly every description. Bakeries offered up almond-scented cookies alongside two-bite-sized egg custard tarts. Pyramids of gleaming citrus stood alongside vigorous stalks of Chinese greens. The food court offered sushi, rice bowls, and noodles, and I even contemplated stopping in at an herbalist. I would up going into a store simply marked "Japanese Foods," and in this case, it was an accurate moniker. Loading up on wasabi peas and rice crackers, I also had change for the train.

For dinner that night, I had a fair shawarma platter at the Falafel King in the West End, followed by a visit to the Bulgarian-inflected fillo restaurant (see entry below). Downtown the next day, a friend and I had a so-so lunch of Indian butter chicken. My friend returned to work and I went back to read at her West End apartment. Tiring of accidentally dropping wasabi peas between my friend's couch cushions, I put on my coat and strolled down to the False Creek Ferry dock where I paid $4 Cdn for roundtrip passage to Granville Island.

The brief trip (it probably took longer to walk from the shore to the floating dock) brought me a stone's throw from the Granville Island Public Market. This covered market is a gastronomic paradise with shops specializing in local seafood, fresh B.C. produce, meats, and everything else ranging from Pez dispensers to cheeses from all over the world.

Since I knew I was going to have a late dinner, I decided to get myself a little snack. I started off with a glass of fresh-squeezed cantaloupe juice with a wild coho salmon spring roll at the Fraser Valley booth. The juice was quite refreshing and not-too-sweet, but the spring roll worked better in concept than in execution. It was a bit dry, especially compared to the best I've ever had at San Francisco's Slanted Door, and the smoked salmon tasted a bit more of of salt than wild fish. I had much better luck with the two oysters on a skewer at Celine's - these were fine fat Pacific shellfish, perfectly grilled.

Northwest Sweet


For the last few days, I've been ambling around Seattle and Vancouver, which beats hanging out in snow-covered Boulder. I've had the good fortune to sample some extraordinary chocolate, as well as visit a restaurant specializing in fillo, including sweets.

Dilettante Chocolates is a Seattle institution. Although I find the name a wee bit peculiar, I'd always try and purchase a few of their chocolate bars from their coffee stand at the Seattle/Tacoma airport, usually after sampling a bowl of Ivar's clam chowder.

Meeting up with friends on Wednesday night, I had my first exposure to one of their Mocha Cafe locations, which features a stunning array of treats for the cocoa lover. Visitors can purchase everything from salmon-shaped chocolate bars to sinister three-foot tall chocolate Easter bunnies straight out of Donnie Darko. Light meals are also available, but the main draws are the chocolate drinks, ice cream parlor treats and pastries.

While Starbucks' may have given up on selling super-rich hot chocolate, Mocha Cafes offer no less than seven different varieties of molten hot chocolate, ranging from white to Ephemere dark, which is Dilettante's signature cocoa base, used in everything from truffles to cakes. You'll notice the picture of the truffle box - the reason you don't see the truffles themselves is that my friend and I ate them before it dawned on me it would make for a good photograph.

At the cafe, I opted for a Ephemere ice cream soda, made with premium vanilla ice cream and rich chocolate. It had a much darker chocolate taste than any other ice cream drink I've ever had, and it was just as flavor-packed as any chocolate cake. The creaminess of the vanilla helped offset the dark intensity of the chocolate base which wasn't overly sweet and had a heady strength resembling fine espresso. My companions went for dark and moist chocolate tortes, which were the equal of the superlative ice cream soda.

Up in Vancouver, a friend took me to the Acacia Fillo Bar in the bustling West End. Specializing in dishes prepared with the light pastry found in baklava, this delightful and reasonably-priced cafe offers fillo-wrapped omelets, meat and vegetable turnovers, fresh-baked croissants, and of course, desserts. Service is impecabble as the incredibly suave owner sees to it that you have an experience wrapped in Old World hospitality.

My friend and I stopped in for dessert, and we shared a chocolate mousse with berries wrapped in fillo and a bird's nest, shredded and sweetened fillo topped with glazed strawberry and Belgian cream. While some might find the bird's nest a bit sweet, I was partially drawn to it as I remember reading about it in one of M.F.K. Fisher's books. We stopped by a few days later for breakfast, where I had a banzita, a flaky and fillng quiche-like tart filled with leek and feta cheese. My friend enjoyed her wild mushroom omelet, and raved about the sweet yams that came on the side.

Lastly, I stopped in at Daniel Chocolates, a Belgian chocolatier located in the heart of the Robson Street shopping district. I picked up a box of chocolates for folks at home, and if the candy bars I bought for myself and my friend are any indication, they are at least the equal of Dilettante. Where do you get your chocolate fix?

Thursday, March 8, 2007

L.A. Food Noir, Part II: The Pacific Dining Car


L.A. is the ultimate film noir city, and one theme that seems to underscore nearly all L.A. noirs is the strong tie between corruption and power. Think Noah Cross and his dirty water dealings in Chinatown or L.A. Confidential's Dudley Smith, the crooked cop whose allegiances shifted between the mob and the LAPD.

One locale that figures prominently in neo-noir writer James Ellroy's works, including L.A. Confidential, is the Pacific Dining Car. This is the round-the-clock restaurant where Dud Smith made deals with cops and gangsters alike, and Denzel Washington took Ethan Hawke here in Training Day to confer with "The Wise Men," a group of powerful detectives and attorneys.

With an allure like this, I couldn't resist walking from my hotel to the restaurant's location on the edge of downtown. I arrived early for breakfast, and the atmosphere was one of quiet, luxury, and discretion, even though it was clear that the front section of the restaurant was, unsurprisingly, once a rail car. The veteran hostess offered me a copy of the L.A. Times to read as she led me to a large table in the back.

I noted that most of the clientele were dressed in power suits and were obviously discussing matters of great import or at least involving great deals of money. The portrayal of the Pacific Dining Car in Training Day as a place to make deals was dead-on, as I watched a prominent attorney pay his respects to a community leader, who then returned to his conversation with a former political appointee about City Hall issues.

Although I didn't order the baseball steak (a thick cut of top sirloin) that Denzel recommended to Ethan, I did opt for a $16.95 breakfast of top sirloin and two eggs. As I waited for my meal, the attentive waiters made sure that my fine china cup of coffee remained topped off and they set the table with several small silver dishes filled with jam for my wheat toast and a portion of ketchup-based steak sauce.

The steak and eggs arrived, and it proved that the kitchen knew its stuff after 85 years of being in business. The prime grade steak was a perfect medium rare and the eggs had a consistency that was neither too firm or runny. Instead of potatoes, I had several slices of flavorful tomato that were nicely set off by a few sprinkles of pepper.

It was a decadent meal that nicely fit into the wood-paneled mens' club feel of the place. While I wouldn't want to spend $16.95 every morning for breakfast, I considered part of my tab went towards sitting in a famed noir location as well as providing me with an insight into a true power breakfast spot. And by the way, the food was better than Kate Mantilini's.

Wednesday, March 7, 2007

L.A. Food Noir, Part I: Kate Mantilini


My day job requires that I regularly travel throughout the U.S. and Canada, and I'm spending much of this week in Southern California. One nice perk of my job is that it affords me the opportunity to visit interesting hotels and restaurants, and both my lodging and dining choices on this trip reflect my other great passion, film.

Monday afternoon, I checked into L.A.'s historic Biltmore Hotel. An erstwhile venue for the Academy Awards, this has also been a filming location for movies ranging from Beverly Hills Cop to The Fabulous Baker Boys. Even though I had never been here before, I was able to find my way to my room based on what I had seen in the movies. For the record, I did not ask the restaurant host if I could have a word with Victor Maitland before "parts of the man start falling off."

For dinner, I pointed the car down Wilshire (I feel like such a player in my rental Mercury) and ate at Kate Mantilini, named for a L.A. boxing promoter of yesteryear. More important, the menu states that Mantilini was the mistress of the restaurant's owner's uncle.

As to the restaurant itself, it's one of those boxy yet slick Beverly Hills venues popular with entertainment industry insiders, as evidenced by an $18.50 entree salad named for the Cannes Film Festival. The salad was decent, if a bit overdressed, and consisted of a heaping pile of mixed greens topped with smoked salmon and a finger of toasted sourdough covered with a slab of duck pate. For a starter, I had a $4.5o cup of corn chowder, which was helped by generous sprinklings of salt and pepper. Dessert consisted of a slice of icebox lemon pie, which resembled a less tart version of its key lime cousin.

The food was fine, although not exceptional, but as they say, there's a flip side to that coin. Kate Manitlini could have served me a warmed-over Big Mac and I still would have been happy to be there. How's that? Kate Mantilini is the setting for the greatest tough-guy film conversation of the last two decades, the late-night verbal duel between Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro in Michael Mann's L.A. crime epic, Heat.

Mann did effectively convey the nocturnal energy of the restaurant in this scene and unlike other film restaurant locations that I've patronized (notably the Deux Moulins cafe in Amelie), there wasn't a distinction between what I was experiencing and what was captured on film.

I plan on hitting another L.A. noir location for breakfast and I'll write about that soon. In the meantime, if anyone has any good dining suggestions for San Diego, let me know.

Friday, March 2, 2007

Sensational Senegalese Restaurant

Always searching for new ethnic dining experiences, we ventured to Aurora to try cuisine from Senegal. Our good friends Alexandre Philippe and Vanessa Bogehold took us to Le Baobab African Restaurant at 1447 Florence St. They were our guides to this delightful French-speaking family restaurant. An adorable toddler greeted us as we sat down in what felt like the owner's dining room. The little girl sat in my lap as I scanned the menu. Since most of Le Baobab's business appears to be take-out, we were the only customers.

We started the meal with an order of plantains and a round of ginger drinks. Freshly crushed ginger juice came in a pitcher and was refreshingly strong. I ordered a chicken (dark meat) and vegetable combination with couscous and the others tried the lamb dishes. All were tasty, cooked to order and very filling.
We were told that on occasion Senegalese music and dancing accompany a meal at Le Baobab. I highly recommend this African adventure in Aurora.