Summer. Beer.
No two words have ever been so flawlessly in simpatico. One is the perfect complement to the other, it’s twin and companion. Without one, the other is incomplete. There is nothing like sun, surf and a beer that has been freshly plucked from a slightly sand-crusted cooler’s cold, slushy recesses. Big sunglasses and good tunes naturally accompany such moments and bikini parties are sure to spontaneously occur. It’s science. Read More
We’re rounding a bend on the Pacific Rim Highway doing sixty, the windows are half down and the sun is a full-blown supernova. No slow tourists getting in the way and no logging trucks are threatening to dust us off the highway’s notoriously thin ’n bendy lanes. All of this primal beauty is ours! Massive old-growth trees, sedimentary rock cliffs carved full of faces by ancient tectonic stress and erosion, ice-cold lakes. The ipod migrating back and forth on the dash just keyed-up Bran Van 3000’s Drinking In LA and my wife and I nod in unison. This is the life. Read More
My wife and I have spent much of our twelve years together moving from place to place. As nomads, who frequently spend little actual time together (due to me being a cook and her being a normal person, or “normie” as us cooks call ‘em) our most cherished moments are those weekly rituals designed to bring families together. Things like shopping, dog-walking, Netflicks binging, and dining. Of special importance are the evenings we dedicate to “eating out”. We jump in the car, speed off and spend a couple hours eating at “our place”.
At every way-station we have called home, “our place” has been a Chinese restaurant. If you’ve read my love letter to My Chinatown you probably know that the breakthrough food moment of my life was eating Chinese food with Crystal soon after we met. In Toronto we had the House of Gourmet, in Van. we had the (now sadly defunct) Wonton House, and in Campbell River we now spend countless evenings fighting chopstick duels for the last dumpling at Beijing House. Read More
A couple of months back, my chef and mentor Hiro loaded my co-workers Yuki, Azusa, and myself into the Wasabiya-mobile and swept us away to Vancouver for a bite at two of the city’s Canadian-Japanese hotspots. The first was Denman Street’s Zakkushi, and the second was Miku Restaurant located on West Hastings St. (although, now they’re in the process of moving to a waterfront location)
These two joints share a couple of remarkable things in common. Both started with a single location and conceptual vision (one owner or chef, one concept). Both became a hit and opened multiple incarnations in and around Vancouver. Both serve Japanese cuisine to the hungry Van public, albeit in very different styles, neighborhoods and price ranges… And both kitchens are full of people who want to yell at you. Read More
My wife Crystal received a gift certificate from her work (employee of the century!) for Locals Restaurant in Courtenay, a place we had both wanted to try out for a long time. The problem is Locals happens to have the same days off as my restaurant does, and I’m somewhat fascist when it comes to missing work. Lucky for us both, Crystal is a master negotiator. Read More