Some restaurants are named after their street. This street is named after the weather — the marine layer that slides between the towers and holds the city, briefly, twelve metres in the air.
Every frame above is landscape. This one is lunch. Forty-four dishes, transcribed unchanged from the published card — sixteen name the place they came from. The only colour on this page is the food, and that is the argument.
Asparagus, summer squash, potato pavé, truffle jus.
Herb-crushed potatoes, asparagus, lemon caper vinaigrette.
Elk juniper salami, bison pepperoni, island brie, warm brioche.
Lime, orange, jalapeño, crispy corn chips.
Buttermilk flax pancakes, summer berry compote, maple syrup.
The first hot plate on Burrard, from half six — which almost nothing else downtown does. For the 644 rooms upstairs and the towers across the street.
Two and a half hours, a view, and a kitchen that can put a proper plate down inside fifty minutes.
West-facing glass and a Pacific Northwest sunset that runs past nine in July. Chef de Cuisine Craig Sung — ex-Forage — writes the card by the season.
