Beer and Cherries at Chambar Restaurant in Vancouver

Travelling to a new city full of bright and shiny restaurants is like sticking a five-year-old in the middle of a candy shop and saying, “Choose.” I like to find a mix of affordable places, foods I can’t find in Montreal, and at least one of what residents and critics agree is one of the city’s best restaurants.

Everyone was saying Chambar. So that’s where I went…

…in addition to an Asian night market, a handful of sushi places, and an Iranian/Middle Eastern/South Asian chai lounge. And I threw in a sake winery, a farmers market, a public market, and a wine shop. I think I covered my bases.

So, Chambar. Did it live up to the hype? Yes. It’s always fun to see what a different city thinks a great restaurant is—Chambar, for example, might not be the most popular place if it was in Montreal. It’s not young and hip enough. It’s in a financial area of the city next to BC place. It’s huge, not small and intimate and hole-in-the-wall-y. And it’s not cheap. It’s not where I’d think most people would go post-game. But they do.

They come for the excellent beer menu and snacks. Some come for the award-winning cocktails and mostly natural and organic and biodynamic wine list of private imports and local Okanagan bottles.

Because this restaurant is smart. It’s not the normal formula: appetizer, main, dessert. It’s welcoming. You don’t need a tie. And you don’t to order the $47 pepper-crusted rib-eye. You can stick with the $5 spiced bar nuts or $11 wild salmon gravlax.

With a beer, of course. A tripel, a lambic, a a dark, a Trappiste, a strong, a blonde, a witbier or an amber. There are over 50 options. Mostly imported, with an emphasis on Belgians.

I actually came here for the gluten-free beers on the menu, not the food. My brother’s into beer. And I wanted to take him somewhere he’d enjoy, but that also had something for me. And I’m always looking for an actually decent gluten-free beer. Here they have a Brunehaut and Green’s Dubbel—two g-f beers I’d never seen in Montreal.

I didn’t end up having either of them. Instead I had a great glass of wine. And he had the Karmeliet Tripel above. It went well, he said, with the albacore tuna three-ways: coated in tapioca starch (I think? Definitely gluten-free), seared, and served ceviche-style with a charred corn salsa, black garlic, and a coconut creme fraiche.

The ceviche was fresh, but bland by comparison to the fried version with a bite of the coconut creme fraiche and julienned carrots. Though the real highlight was the seared steak of tuna on the bottom left—bright red and coated in the garlic sauce.

My brother also didn’t complain about his Tripel with the tapioca-breaded calamari with chanterelle mushrooms and pine nuts on a bed of shaved Parmesan:

And of course it went with the mussels and fries:

They were meaty and tender and covered in an almost spicy wine, tomato and parsley sauce.

I was most excited about the cones of fries I kept seeing at other tables. They were alright. Since I couldn’t dip bread in the mussel juices, they did the trick. But they were really all about the lemon-y aioli with which they came.

But I preferred my glass of Seastar Winery’s Ortega from British Columbia’s Gulf Islands with the Hannah Brook Farms Green Salad. It was the farm I was going to help at the next morning, so I was glad I loved it. The sharp and sweet vinaigrette balanced the bitter herbs and greens—a mix of “everything but lettuce,” farmer Paul would say to me the next morning. That meant anise hyssop and mustard greens and kales and chicory and spinach.

 My glass of white was even better with the roasted wild sockeye salmon with green chermoula, sweet peas and charred shishito peppers with radish sprouts to garnish:

Best dish of the night. The skin was crisp and just salted enough. And the broth was just a little sweet and a lot rich. The pepper was a little bitter, a lot roasted, and a tiny bit spicy. And the peas were crunchy and starchy—late summer peas.

After all this there was no room for gluten-free beer. But my brother had a lambic for dessert. Because lambics—sour or fruit ales—are hard to find. They’re also ridiculously expensive. It’s $16.50 for a glass of Ould Kriek at Chambar. But it’s worth it. The menu describes it as having a nose of sour cherries and almonds, with a complex Champagne mouthfeel.

And the server said it would go perfectly with my Cerise Amandine dessert. Gluten-free, almost dairy-free dessert!!!!