salmon and pinot - a Canadian experience

I am fortunate enough to have a very cosmopolitan boyfriend who although American born identifies himself as French, yet has a British mother and Canadian father.  His funny accent matches his peculiar hodgepodge of nationalities and hence whenever he's asked that familiar phrase, 'Hey, where are you from, you sound weird' he sighs, having to go through the rigmarole of explaining his identity YET AGAIN.

However, the upside to all this is that he has family in various corners of the globe, with most of his father's side of the family residing in British Columbia, Canada.  Which was very good news for me on my recent trip to Vancouver as it is the place his uncle Trace calls home, and luckily he generously offered to show me a 'Canadian experience'.  I've already written on how wonderful it is to hang out with a native when visiting a new city, and I've definitely made the most of my contacts, in Paris, LA, Boston and now Vancouver.

Unfortunately the crew sometimes have a rather predictable habit of frequenting the same haunts regardless of city, so in my email to Trace before the trip I asked that the experience didn't have to be typically 'Canadian', so long as it didn't involve a local Irish pub (how original), The Rock Bottom Brewery, Cheesecake Factory or Panda Express.  I am sick of these places.  We cabin crew are privileged to explore cities around the world, with the relative freedom to do as we please; we can eat at any restaurant, visit any museum, take any tours.  So I am genuinely shocked and disappointed when the crew opt for yet another dinner down at the Cheesecake Factory in Boston, when there's the famous Legal Sea Foods around the corner (which, by the by, has converted me to clam chowder).  I am equally stunned when my fellow crewmembers have no plans downroute save for a quick stop at the local mall to pick up sparkly hand sanitser at Bath and Body Works (when we're in Chicago, Christ, at least save such boring plans for Denver!!).  I have often gone to museums and art galleries alone.  It's not such a 'woe-is-me' story as I actually rather like doing cultural things alone.

Anyway, that aside, at least when I know I'm meeting with someone in the city we are going to do something fun and 'local'.  On this particular occasion Trace suggested a bite to eat at a place called 'The Sandbar' on Granville Island, as I really wanted to try some freshly caught British Columbian salmon.  We were seated in the rustically decorated outdoor area (felt like the verandah of a hunting lodge), where the temperature was rather balmy thanks to patio heaters and heated flooring, and each table had blankets to keep yourself cosy.  From here we had a lovely view under the Granville Bridge to the water below.

Credit to akabilk (http://www.flickriver.com/photos/akabilk)

The menu was extensive and had lots of options including sushi, but I really was fixated on the idea of salmon for dinner so I selected their spring salmon with rice and seasonal vegetables.  Trace is a bit of a wine buff so he suggested a Gehringer Brothers Pinot Noir (from a vineyard in Okanagan, so this really was turning out to be a Canadian experience indeed!).  Fun fact - apparently the Gehringer Brothers originally traded in chainsaws, and you can taste the sharpness in every gulp.  No, I'm joking, the wine wasn't sharp at all, it was light enough not to mask the flavours of the salmon, but had enough body to hold its own.  Well that's what I would say if I actually knew anything about wine, but I'm learning!  Later we moved on to the buzzing downstairs bar where someone was playing Billy Joel on the piano and enjoyed a Cabernet Sauvingnon, and I really did taste leather and pepper...I think.  Although I often wonder, am I really tasting and smelling these aromas of odd things like gravel or welly boots in wine, or is my brain so influenced by the power of suggestion that I merely imagine the tastes in my head?  I really do have to get into wine tasting and sort out this conundrum.

All in all, a lovely sophisticated Canadian experience.