February 2006
Alexandra Gill - going out: THE DISH

An old dog shows off his new tricks

The Smoking Dog Bistro was the first -- my first culinary experience in Vancouver, that is. It was five years ago. I had just arrived from Toronto and had yet to stock my fridge. My landlord, noticing the pile of empty pizza boxes outside the door, invited me out to dinner.

The landlord seemed to get on well with the owner, a jovial French man named Jean-Claude Ramond.

"This is the best restaurant in Vancouver," the landlord exclaimed, while trying to grope my knee under the table and spitting up bad breath. It wasn't the most charming introduction to the city.

Six months later, I got the hell out of Kits, moved downtown and never saw my lecherous landlord again. Truth be told, I never had any desire to return to the Smoking Dog either.

Oh, sure. It was a cozy enough restaurant that served up lusty Provencal cooking and plenty of joie de vivre. Still, initial impressions are hard to shake. I never got over the icky feeling that crowded around the horseshoe bar were a lot of desperate, dirty old men.

Shame on me.

Ramond, or J-C as he was known to his friends, died last summer. Turns out he wasn't just a vivacious little guy who smoked really fat cigars. He was an icon in the city going back to 1970, when he opened la creperie and gave Gastown its first taste of moody Rive Gauche romance. The stories that followed the funeral made me wish I had known him.

A month before he died, Ramond sold the Smoking Dog to two friends, Jean Séguin and Judith Andrews. The plan was for them to be silent partners, while Ramond's son ran the restaurant. Unfortunately, Martin's heart just wasn't into to it after his old man passed away. Thus, Séguin and Andrews ended up with a restaurant they had never intended to manage and the enormous shoes of a local legend to fill.

The young couple thought it best not to change the joint too much, but still wanted to give it their own touch. They introduced lower prices and some lighter, Mediterranean fare. The reviews were good, but nothing spectacular. Then a few weeks ago, I heard that Ken Bogas, the former proprietor of the bankrupted Coco Pazzo, was working in the kitchen. This, I had to see.

"Oh, no," a waiter laughed when I visited last week and asked if the rumour was true. Pascal Georges and Mohammed (Mo-Mo) Draoui are still handling the stoves. Bogas, the notorious bad-boy chef, had been hired as a consultant -- but not for long.

"I just didn't like some of the things he said, and his advice wasn't what I wanted," said Séguin. "Also, when people found out, a lot called me up and said, 'If he's involved, we're not coming back.' "

Well, the buzz got me out. Then again, I'm a sucker for a cheap bone and a bit of a naughty pup. So I decided to go with a girlfriend to celebrate her recent engagement. I figured this might be her last chance to flirt with some frisky old chiens.

There weren't many single men at the restaurant. Actually, the place was packed with women. But they did have Moët & Chandon by the glass ($20). And Adam! Hey, he was one of my favourite bartenders at the Bearfoot Bistro in Whistler. The guy is a magician, literally. I've seen him levitate bottles before.

So the old dog has acquired a few new tricks. I'm impressed -- especially with Adam's wine list, which has expanded beyond the borders of France, allowing it to slim down to some very reasonable price points.

The restaurant's new leash on life also includes several smaller plates, from pan-seared lamb chops ($12) with poached Anjou pears and fresh thyme to the smoking dog ($12), an Oyama lamb sausage baked in fresh pastry with escarole and bacon sauerkraut.

They both sounded tantalizing, but we went for the pâté maison and were glad we shared. This $10 dish, served with five creamy slices, toast points, mixed greens, cornichons and black olives, is positively huge.

For mains, we tear into the veal truffle agnolotti ($17), tossed in olive oil, white wine, beef stock, clover honey -- and almost too rich for its own good. The Dog's signature pepper steak ($30) is still on the menu, but we opted for a smaller cut ($19), which comes with a simple bordelaise sauce and pommes frites. Thick, yet golden, crisp and lightly tossed with salt, the fries were so good I had to sneak back for more the next day.

Good thing I did. It was jazz night (the Scott Cook duo plays on Fridays; the Larry Volen duo on Saturdays) and the place was hopping.

Roll over, Rover. I think I've found a new best friend.