The Perfect Storm

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

On a recent weekend, two friends & I decided to go out trawling in search of cocktails in East Van. The captain of the crew was Shahriar, our George-Clooney-as-Billy-Tyne-Jr., who set us off in the direction of the ominously-named Andrea Gail (1867 Powell Street, Vancouver). Keeping with recent history (see "Move Minutes," July 10 and "A Salty Slug," July 25), this space used to be a wonderful greasy spoon named Docker's. 

This area, north of Hastings, has been trying to exploit its maritime connections and be rebranded as "Port Town" for years, but no local I know calls the neighbourhood that. Instead, it's taken on the name "Yeast Van" because of all the brewerys and distilleries in the district. That might be going a bit overboard.

Landlubbers I know have been recommending Andrea Gail, reporting amazing food and a great atmosphere. I can confirm it's unpretentious and divey:

I think it would fit about 30 people total, keeping the place intimate. And look at those distressed bar stools. For our journey, I decided to sit at the stern instead of the starboard stools, in order to survey the liquid horizon and sight my sextant. Don't check to see if I used those terms correctly. 

My lips were landlocked until I ordered a Clyde the Glide. Andrea Gail sells a draft nonny cocktail and then adds a base alcoholic spirit - the first Clyde I tried was Gin, Lemon Oleo, Ceylon Black Tea, and Yuzu.

It was very refreshing, kind of an Arnold Palmer w/ gin thing going on there. A perfect summer sipper and I liked the long glass. I also had some delicious perogies, which I snapped up but didn't snap.

After one Clyde the Glide, this time I ordered one with Brandy, and I liked it even more. The brandy blended with the lemon elements and the darker floral undercurrents of the tea traces, and it was smooth sailing for awhile.

They like good music at Andrea Gail

After an hour or so, it was time to put our nets out at a different spot, but we hit some choppy waters at Resurrection Spirits (1672 Franklin Street). We planned to go in, but like Odysseus's crew, we were hit with siren song: in this case, an earnest dude playing "Hey Joe" on an acoustic guitar. Our captain decided to steer us out of there. 

The three of us have impeccable credentials, having danced on the deck of many venues such as Green Auto, Red Gate, and the Black Lab. Here's us enjoying Chris-a-Riffic at the Zoo Zhop (formerly 223 Main Street) over a decade ago:

He's singing "Kumbaya" acappella 

However, this kind of contrived live music situation made us not want to land. Another, quieter time, perhaps!

There was a long spell in the Horse Latitudes, more specifically, the northern end of Commercial Drive. I have long called this area "The Bitter End" of East Van, because there were few salubrious spots when I lived on Pender and Commercial ca. 2007, the era of Vancouver's last garbage strike It's also right up by the famous chicken rendering plant, West Coast Reduction Ltd. (105 N. Commercial Drive). This got us talking about a signature Vancouver cocktail that would contain some bitters that represented the local aroma of our feathered friends being refined into a fine slurry. If you live in East Van, it's very familiar ...

The tradewinds eventually brought us to Bar Corso (1566 Commercial Drive). I ordered a Stella Scoppiata:

Vodka, Raspberry-infused Aperol, Orange Juice, Vanilla, Foamer, Lambrusco Float

A very pretty drink. Right now, I am ordering any drink with raspberry in it. The Lambrusco lends even more berry undertones, and a frizzante fizz. That's the brave captain in the corner of the photo. Not pictured was Damon (he's in stripes in the Zoo Zhop photo), our loblolly boy who ordered  a Hanami and let me have a sip, in order to shore me up: Gobernador Pisco, Plum Sake, Lillet. It was light, floral and not too sweet. I'll order one next time I wash up here.

The expedition was over, and Damon took his pay packet and headed home to walk his salty dog, Tom. Shah and I bought some Gin at the lively gub'mint liquor barn near Bar Corso and headed off to Breezy Manor, his home port, to try an Ojen Cocktail.

Ojen (pronounced oh-hen)* is a liqueur created in Spain and popular in New Orleans during Mardi Gras and Xmas. The Cap'n brought some back from a recent cruise there and, since he doesn't really have a sweet tooth, he offloaded some of the spirit by slinging some drinks for me at his well-appointed bar. 

That's the Brazilian Lofi Beats Girl

He subbed lime juice for simple syrup. The drink is a pretty pink colour, as you can see. It had the dominant lingering, licoricey, love-it-or-leave-it notes of anise, and a milky mouthfeel. 

The night wasn't over - the Captain made me a couple of G&Ts to stave off scurvy. Once I lost my sea legs, I made my way home on HMS Uber. 

The perfect storm is no storm at all. Bon voyage!!

*Shahriar informs me that New Orleaners pronounce it "Oh-jen." Take your pick!

Surrealist Cocktail #4

 

The Witch*

Illustration by Marcel Bontempi

1.5 oz. Gin 

1 oz Strega 

0.5 oz Cabernet (some folks like wine)

0.5 oz. Aromas de Monserrat (a liqueur originating from Catalan monks, originally used as a treatment for stomach troubles)

two drops of Strychnine

Garnish with a long black hair from an evil chick

*a drink inspired by Marcel Bontempi's 2023 version of "The Witch" by The Sonics

Cocktail Correspondents: Erik Komarnicki & Weldon Gardner Hunter

A Salty Slug

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Wednesday, July 24: This is a dispatch from my local: Barra 41 (2407 West 41st Avenue, Vancouver). Barra 41 is two blocks from my abode. When I first moved to the area, the space used to be Art's - a down-on-its-luck greasy spoon with the most ripped vinyl booths of all time. These days, it's the separate cocktail bar connected to the beloved Greek eatery, Minerva's. 

On this evening, I stopped in to try a new cocktail: The Feta Martini. It's part of the new summer menu and I decided I needed to scoop all the other local cocktail rags out there and be the first to write about this dreaded drink:

Feta infused Gin, Brine, Fino Sherry, Black Pepper, Olive Oil

Oily, salty, spicy, savory. Think the dirtiest martini that ever was. I winced a bit with every early sip. There’s no escape from the overall bitter saltiness. About 5 sips in, I started slowly adjusting to this new Dystopian world. I was hoping Kevin Costner would pull up outside on a trimaran to save me. This cocktail is a clifi* writer's dream.

The brine in question is feta brine. I'd call this cocktail "Seawater" because the salinity is overwhelming. 

I chased each sip with a slug of water. I'd seen a slug on the Heron Trail in Pacific Spirit Park before I arrived at B41, and that could be the mascot of this drink. Like that slug, I slowly proceeded, feeling imminent danger with every slow suction forward ...

The last few sips were as tough as the first. The bartender Steph insists this is a "cute cocktail," but upon questioning, she thinks ratty terrier dogs and hairless cats are cute. And she's right. She also observes that it's like a Greek Salad in liquid form. She should be a beverage writer, too.

After that sluggish sojourn, I needed something in my wheelhouse, so I followed up with a Calliope’s Club: 

Gin, Rosemary, Raspberry, Lemon, Foam, Soda

Slightly sweet, tart, mild. Notes of sherbert. Calliope is the muse of eloquence and epic poetry, and it’s significant because I felt like I got my tongue back sipping this drink.

Steph is the author of the Siren's Song, which I have had on a previous visit:

 Lemongrass & Ginger Pisco, Melon Liqueur, Lemon, Strawberry, Foam

This is an illuminated manuscript of a drink: bright, smooth, but with fruity instead of floral margins. A rival to Mum's The Word's "Japanese Slipper," but not as glacé. 

I will probably never have the Feta Martini again, but you might try it, if you're adventurous. I feel some neighbourhood pride in the cocktail lineup they have, which includes the signature Kerrisdale cocktail, the "Purple Haze": Butterfly Pea Flower Rum, Lemon & Strawberry, as well as the new Galaktobourekos, a much sweeter Greek-themed beverage with Metaxa, spiced honey, black walnut, Frangelico, and cream. 

Emerging from Barra 41 at 10pm, I was confused by tumultous and stormy sounds in the night air, which turned out to be the Fireworks Festival. The city might have been celebrating the rare occasion I tried a non-cute cocktail. On my block, the local calico cat was wandering outside, so I got a few pets in before she decided to avoid my phone's camera and dart back inside her spacious apartment. I was too slow.

Jessica Gabriel, "Slugscan"

*Clifi: Climate fiction, or writing that imagines the future of our world impacted by rising temperatures and melting polar icecaps.

A Secret Gin Stand in East Vancouver

 Highball Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

I have a favourite street in the city. It's not in my neighbourhood, so I walk down it only on occasion. On a recent Friday night, I was coming back late from having daiquiris at Friendlies, and my walk to 41st offered me the rare chance to the see the street at night. 

Imagine my surprise when I discovered an adult lemonade stand on the edge of someone's front lawn:

There were some middle-aged guys in Hawaiian shirts and a speaker lightly playing 60s hits by the Kinks. As a 52 year old who hosts a podcast on garage, girl group, and doo wop music, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Turns out a local homeowner sometimes wheels out his gin stand on select summer evenings, something he started doing during the pandemic.

He emails the people who live on the street, asking if anyone objects to the special saloon opening up for a window of time. If it's a go, he slings G&Ts for free to anyone who sidles up. The proprietor is originally from Nottingham, so he’s keeping the outlaw spirit of Robin Hood alive. 

On the night I was there, the gin was Tanqueray, but a spirited conversation ensued about previous picks. The proprietor spent years in Vanuatu, where he gained the nickname "Longfala" due to his 6'4 stature and that became the moniker of his moveable beast.

The hour or so I spent on the street, sipping two gin and tonics and chatting with the locals, was magical. The street only exists for one block and consists of several character older homes along with tasteful infills. Last call was at 11, and I helped lift and stow the stand in the yard, then return the parking pylons to a neighbour's. 

Of course, I can't reveal the location of this periodic gin palace lest the Sheriff shut it down. But I'll join the band of merry men, and any Marians, for more merriment the next time it rolls out.

Jesus Don't Want Me For A Sunbeam

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Thursday, July 18: The summer gets hotter. The need to stay away from my stuffy apartment until sundown is paramount. Luckily, there are bars.

This week it's Tocador (2610 Main Street, Vancouver). It's a Cuban restaurant and bar that I often pass by on the way to Friendlie's or Uncle Abe's. Cuban or not, it looked like a good place to hide from el sol intimidante ...

Raspberry Daiquiri – 

Appleton Estate Signature Blend, fresh muddled raspberries, lime juice, simple syrup

I like the Rasdaq much better than the Nasdaq. Less ups and downs. Just a simple, boozy, and fruity drink. I nursed it while eating some Patatas Bravas- spicy Spanish potatoes. It's hot outside, but the daiquiri is icy and the bar ambience is an octave lower than the sun. The high ceilings and open space provide natural airflow with no need for AC or fans. 

Tocador, on this day, is very busy outside, with its packed pandemic patio of picnic tables in the erstwhile street parking space on the street and the rambunctious row of seats parallel to the sidewalk. The long table by the window inside is also fully occupied. I ventured into the deeper interior of the space, expecting a more clandestine clientele. But I’m the only patron at the bar. About 12 seats there, then 6 tables and a booth in the back. This is, literally, where the cool kids hang out.

But now a sunbeam has appeared. I’m the opposite of a cat, trying to find my way out of this patch of sunlight. Meanwhile, I’m having a Bird Conspiracy:

Coconut oil washed Tanqueray Gin, Martini Bianco Vermouth, Lavender Syrup, House made cardamom bitters, lemon.

This drink is tasty & has an oatmeal mouthfeel, which I think is because of the coconut and the cardamom. Remember Dare Coconut cookies, Canucks? 

The drink (not the cookie) is spicy, floral, and acidic and I really like it. The bitters really elevate the flavour profile and adds a subtle, piquant aroma as well. It also is the cheapest cocktail on the menu, coming in at $14. It came in a goblet, which earns it extra points. 

When the sun started to sink, I settled my tab and prepared for the journey back. Tocador has a notable washroom:

It rivals Friendlie's and Maxine's for clean, spacious commodes, but it wins for the flamingo motif. 

On my walk to King Edward Station, I looked for the locally famous Follow Cat, a four-legged furball that has tagged along with me and my friend Max down 20th Avenue as we return from a night out on Main Street. But he or she didn't appear - I think they only come out at night, a rare cat who shuns the sunbeams like me.

The Sweet Sudden

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Sunday, July 14: My brother and I had dinner at Jägerhof, the fine German restaurant in Lolo (71 Lonsdale Avenue, North Vancouver). I ordered a Schnitzel Dolce Brusco. You see, Jägerhof isn't just German, it's also Austrian, Swiss, and South Tyrolean, which is, oddly, the northernmost province of Italy, with a heavy Germanic influence. 

Delicious. The schnitzel comes with a lingonberry wine sauce, which is like a jam you put on the breaded cutlet. I washed it down with a Bitburger Pilsner, but I also connived to try the one cocktail they have on the menu: the Hugo, which comprises Prosecco, Elderflower Syrup, Soda, and Mint. 

Before my drink arrived, a very old gentleman began to play an even older piano at the front of the room: an 1887 Fischer upright piano, or should I say, pianny. The first song was "Sentimental Journey," which I recognized on my own. The second was a song called "Alleycat," which he announced. After that, I couldn't tell you. I'll check Setlist.Fm later. Johnny really rolled out the barrel.

Hugo

The Hugo tastes like a milder Mojito, but the elderflower syrup makes it further floral. Lucky I got the flowers in the photo to illustrate. A light, sweet, zesty sipper. A very refreshing cocktail and a sensible drink order for a warm day, aprés Schnitzel.

After Abendessen, my brother and I walked to Semisch Park, which had us thinking Pauly Shore. A drive of ambition led us to Mahon Park, where we walked beside the very charming Wagg Creek:

A fitting name, because many furry, four-legged friends were walking the trail and wagging their tails with their humans. And my friend just got a puppy, who I am excited to meet and pet.

After the trails and tribulations of Mahon Park, we bussed back to a gelato place in Lolo and enjoyed a Stracciatella. Then we ambled back to the Q to take the Seabus over the Bodensee, which is how I imagined Burrard Inlet, a serene end to our almost Alpine excursion.

Move Minutes

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Monday, July 8: The hottest day of the year, so far. I spent most of the day in an office with air-conditioning. I have a fitness app that tracks my steps and “move minutes” and I assumed I would not get much movement today because of the heat. I have tickets to see Sleuth at Green Auto, and I might get some double-m's there if I shimmy enough to all the bands.

Honestly, the app drives me batty at times. Several times I've been looking at my stats only to have it suddenly lop off 1,000 steps or so. I know I did the exercise, but it's not recorded! And finding that annoying is annoying. Anyways, I use the app to motivate me to get out and raise my heart rate, so, overall, it's working.

After my 6pm class, I watched the Rocky Mountaineer pull into the railyard outside the college, and when I finally stepped outside to get a better view – the train was going well past the level crossing on Station Street, reaching the very end of the line on Western - the hot air hit me like Jared Leto’s breath. I worried about the show at Green Auto I was going to at 8. These kind of venues are not good for air flow. Anyways, I needed dinner and a drink before, so I headed to It's Okay (2481 East Hastings Street, Vancouver). 

It's Okay is located in the "old neighbourhood." I lived in Hastings-Sunrise from 2007 to 2011 and my brother still lives there. After the pandemic, hanging out in Pandora or Trinity Park was a culture shock after my long and ongoing sojourn in largely parkless Soviet Kerrisdale. When I lived in Sunrise, there were no pubs, no bookstores, and few coffeeshops. Now it has all those things. Figures. 

The space where It's Okay is used to be the Master Chef Café. It was a genuine greasy spoon. The waiter was Tony, a neighbourhood legend and poet who wore a smock (burgundy coloured, if i recall correctly). Is this a false memory? The guy was impeccably dressed and had charisma before it was trunc'd to "rizz." His wife May was the cook. So she was the Master. My main memory of the place, besides the big personalities of Tony and his Other Half, were the old guys who took the window booths of the restaurant and discoursed in a language that I fancifully remember as a mixture of Italian and Croatian. Let's say they were Istrian. I hope Tony, May, and the Istrian Round Table are all doing well, wherever they are.

Anyways, on this day, the space was wilting a little in the heat of the day (no AC), yet it offered fans, Footie, and a Jamaican Rum Punch as the Feature Cocktail of the Day. Featured cocktails are my love language. The drink at IOK is comprised of Appleton Estate Rum, Wray and Nephew Rum, house made pomegranate syrup, and  lime juice.

I'm not sure if Jamaican Rum Punches always blend two rums - I'll do my research later - but it blew my mind to be relishing two bucaneering boozes. The Wray and Nephew is a Navy Strength (overproofed) rum that's 63%ABV. That'll swab your decks!

The It's Okay Jamaican Rum Punch is boozy and has a darker colour in the glass than you might expect. It’s not a super sugary drink, and the Pomegranate syrup makes it almost winey, with all those grape undertones. A flavourful, 15 minute or more sipper. But it's now almost 8pm, so I gotta move. I knew I'd switch to present tense at some point.

Turns out Green Auto (1822 Pandora Street, Vancouver) is air-conditioned! Sleuth started around 8:10pm. I've been going to see this local quartet since around 2012. Their sound takes me back to my misspent indiepop youth in the early 1990s: fanzines, flexidiscs, tape-trading by post, bands with bowl haircuts and naff keyboards -- a scene documented by comps such as Corrupt Postman (Windmill Records, 1988), The Waaaaah! CD (Bring on Bull Records, 1991), One Last Kiss (spinArt/Slumberland, 1992), and The Sound of Leamington Spa series. Try and find those on Spotify!

Sleuth used to play only every couple of years: around 2015 or so, they were one of the most mysterious bands in the city, slinging their cassingle at the occasional merch table in un-airconditioned halls, usually at the bottom of the bill. They would breeze through 8-10 songs in about 35 minutes and disappear back into the corners of university libraries throughout the Lower Mainland. I assume.

They coulda been a contender. This might have been their final show, since the lead singer is moving and another member is about to become a daddy. They were the first band on the bill, playing to the smaller crowd, which was comprised of some introverted indiepoppers who knew the gravitas of this gig. They breezed through 8-10 songs in about 35 minutes. A few of us shuffled and shimmied - one thing I have always appreciated about Sleuth is that they never were a "come on, don't be afraid, come closer to the stage" acts. They let it be. Singing words of wisdom.

I checked my move minutes immediately after and I'd added 10 on. During the set, the keyboard player would often glance admiringly towards his bandmates, he must be the future father. They did a group hug after as I wiped away tears. Who will write the jaunty, melancholy janglers for us aging Vancouver popkids now? They were just visiting this planet.

After the Sleuth set, I took a walk along Wall Street, Vancouver's most pleasing promenade, in air cooled by Burrard Inlet. I never did make it back to the venue to see the other bands. I ended up at It's Ok for another rum punch, thinking of Sleuth's next move, and mine.

Way Station

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Revisiting June 19, when I wrote about The Madras Diaries and the charms of Cedar Cottage: before I travelled up the hill, I stopped off at Fiorino's to quaff a couple of the new summer debutantes on the menu. Accidentally, as it turns out.

Wednesday is normally a day off for me, but I had covered a couple of classes at the college for a beloved colleague. She had prepared the class lessons for me and they were so well designed that I will probably use her material again (with her blessing). Cherish your consummate coworkers. Those who point the way.

I actually wanted to have a Mirto Daiquiri, but, as I found out, June 19 was the day of the menu changeover. So, I ordered a Tutti Frutti.

Rum, Woods Arancello, Peach Puree, Aperol Float

Peach and blood orange (that's the Arancello) lead the charge. It's slushy. The Aperol literally floats at the top – it’s a “straw work” cocktail. Sometimes, being a cocktail aficianado also means being an angler. Drink your heart out, Isaak Walton. 

An umbrella, or should I say, a Parasol - it was a sunny day. Possibility of brain freeze from drinking too fast. Nostalgia. I remembered that an avant-garde friend in my hometown of Red Deer, Alberta dubbed the phenomenon "Icepick Manhead," which works well, but didn't women drink Slurpees and Frosters back in the 80s? I'm not sure if I ever actually saw that happen. 

I was about to be slightly critical of the name, but Tutti Frutti in Italian means "all fruits." And also, I like Little Richard, so why gripe? The name is befitting.

I knew I was going to write about a nonalcoholic beverage at The Madras Diaries later, and since the premiere of the new cocktail menu was obviously a major event, I decided to try another drink. This one was the Lavanda e Vaniglia.

Lavender Vodka, St Germain Elderflower Liqueur, Galliano Vanilla, Earl Grey Tea, Lemon Juice, Vegan miracle foamer

Complex. The lavender and elderflower are upfront, so it’s herbal. The tea chases. The vanilla smooths it out, with that lemon to give it a slightly tart finish. It all blends really well.

A hot day, so the air conditioning and the slushiness of the first drink was a balm. Busy in the restaurant, patio even busier. Fiorino's is located in Vancouver's Chinatown, so it has historic ambience, and it's close to my work. This is the kind of life I could only have dreamed of as a 14 year old Albertan attending Expo 86. 

Lots of late daylight coming in – the patio was sundrenched, but I'm a bar guy. I need to trade quips and ingratiate myself with a bartender, it often results in a free digestivo. A small child who occasionally pierced the air with joyful squeals was in attendance. A general background hubbub. A bar in Italy would be similarly lively. 

I would love to have stayed, but I made my way up on the 19 to the Madra Diaries, and the rest is history...

The Tonalities of Mole Hill

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Thursday, July 4: Back in the West End again, where the blog began. When I moved to Vancouver in 2006, I lived with my brother in a Bachelor Suite on Comox and Bute. He had the living room, I slept in the closet. 

"I sleep in a drawer!"

That's how it was. Back then my blog was Value Village is Booby-Trapped!!, a poetry journal that I had co-founded at the University of Alberta in 2002, then transformed into digital doodah. Little did I know it, but blogging had peaked around 2005 or so. How come I'm still at it?!

I would wander around my new city and write poems. I was especially charmed by the rows of Vic and Ed homes that begin by Thurlow Street. This micro-neighbourhood was and is known as Mole Hill:

As befits its name, Mole Hill doesn’t loom large in local lore. I’d wager that even many West End denizens don’t know about this charming little enclave. As a psychogeographical zone within the neighbourhood, you have to be alert to even know it’s there, but you’d feel it even if you only passed through, distracted by your phone. It’s a break from the monotony of apartment blocks and has an almost San Francisco frisson. Most times I've walked down the little gravel lane between Comox and Pendrell, I'm bathed in stippled sunlight, sometimes autumnal, sometimes æstival. 

And since it’s on the east side of the West End, that means it’s on the way to Maxine’s. 

Put some coins or a cocktail in me and I’ll tractate upon how Burrard Street is an underrated West End quarter. What makes Vancouver’s West End interesting – density, but strangely desolate side streets, a cosmopolitan mix of people and languages, brutalist buildings and art-deco beaches – is all behind you at Maxine’s. It’s a borderland, a transition zone. Maxine's is the Rick's Cafe Americain that welcomes you in or bids adieu to you, whatever your daily civic journey might be.

On this visit, I had a Cherry Colada: Sailor Jerry's spiced rum, Amarula, Pineapple, Lime, Cherry syrup and Angostura bitters. The Amarula gives it a smooth, creamy undertone and the Moai tumbler lends the drink a whimsical gravitas:

It's a delight. I could have three of these while ignoring the sunset.

I spied a new drink on the menu called a Bookmaker. It's a variation on the Paper Plane. This one’s bitterer than other remodels – in fact, it tastes like a cross between an Old Fashioned & a Paper Plane. It’s a bit of a culture shock after the fruity Cherry Colada - like going back to work after a holiday, say, the 4th of July. 

This is a drink I’d recommend for my Philistine friends who rarely will leave the comfort zone of a Negroni. As you go, the ice melts and the flavours seem to be drawn out and blend in different ways – it’s a slow sipper. It's unctuous and the walnut bitters add an hibernal note. It's not easy to describe, but it's worth getting to know. It feels like the drink equivalent of the guy that sits next to you at a bar and tells you of the ups and downs of his life. You're interested, but you might be relieved when it's over.

Odds are, I’d order this again if I’m out with someone and I need to nurse a drink while listening to some serious business. But my mind would still be on vacation, though I only have half a brain ...

Maker’s Mark Bourbon, Vecchio Amaro del Capo, Cherry Syrup, Walnut Bitters, Soda.

Thicket Ticket

 Cocktail Correspondent: Weldon Gardner Hunter

Monday, July 1: The big summer Bank Holiday. My brother and I are going to visit the Steveston Tram in Richmond, so we plan to meet at Brighouse Station, but we actually meet on the train after I get on at Marine Gateway. There's a very annoying young couple who are talking about how many languages they speak and the boy has a very loud voice. The train is filled with the energy of people who don't get out much and are really excited to have a reason. I roll my eyes sanctimoniously.

At Brighouse, we board a bus labelled "SPL" and it's a free accordion bus to the Salmon Festival in Steveston. As we go down Steveston Highway, we pass the vast blueberry fields and a housing development named "Cassis." This, in the business, is foreshadowing.

I thought Richmond would be crickets on Canada Day but it's bursting with people. Consider me a stunned Canuck. I should not have counted my chickens before they hatched. This is more foreshadowing.

The Tram has a line up of families waiting to board, and the little interpretive centre appears to be closed. We decide to visit the excellent Steveston Bookstore (3760 Moncton Street, Richmond) where I buy William Golding's Free Fall and Compton Mackenzie's Extremes Meet, the latter in a lurid 50s paperback edition. Mackenzie is the monarch of the Interwar comedy/spy genre. My brother purchases two Thor Heyerdahl books: Aku-Aku and Fatu Hiva. Good books for an adventure. 

The mission: to find a burger and a beer in a place that's not completely packed. But before this, we walk down a significant portion of the West Dyke Trail. We saw a cat:

Natural Beef

and some cows ...

Belted Galloways

We trekked to the highest point (we decided) in the whole of Lulu Island. We named the hill Crabapple Mountain:

You have to understand that Richmond is very, very flat.

This wasn't the official highest point of the journey, though - not narratively, anyways.

Fast forward to Free Bird Table and Bar (5991 Alderbridge Way, Richmond). Richmond is full of "airport" hotels, and Free Bird is a large space on the lower level of one of them. 

The Climax: the beer and the burger are acquired. Mission Accomplished. But the journey isn't over.

The Resolution: I need to try a cocktail. I have never quaffed a cocktail in Richmond, the land barely above Sea Level. When the Big One comes, the soil of Richmond is going to liquify, so I decide to get a headstart & ordered a Signature Berry Lemonade.

Here's the menu.

Here's the drink.

St. Remy Signature Brandy, Créme de Cassis, Lemon, Blackberries, Soda. Here's how it resolves: from the SPL, passing the berry fields of Southern Richmond, to the SBL - a drink with copious berry taste. I feel like Richmond has major potential as a bastion of berry-forward cocktails. Who wants to run for mayor on this thicket ticket?

I liked the SBL, but the Brandy is buried (berried?) in the mix, like a bassist for a 60s garage band recording a studio with a producer who hates rock n roll. Nevertheless, as a beverage to end the journey, it hit the spot.

Free Bird is a fairly vast space, complementing the city's spacious berry farms. It feels a bit like a British gastropub, with hints of the Farrow and Ball paint job that signifies a pub-to-restaurant conversion in Old Blighty.

While we were visiting, the France/Belgium football match was on. I cheered for the De Rode Duivels, mainly because of their dark, rich-brown berry-coloured kit, but they let us down that day.

Denouement:; I'll be back to try more cocktails at this friendly space. My brother and I caught the Canada Line and I parted with him at Oakridge/41st, bidding him Aku-Aku, Fatu Hiva. 

And the same to you!