Oritalia
at
Hotel Le Soleil
Vancouver, BC

It was Friday night and the joint was jumping. Vancouver’s financial worker bees had swarmed for their TGIF thing. The drinkers flocked to the mahogany antique bar, while the foodies massed at the counter of the open kitchen begging tidbits from the chefs. Booths were full of casual diners and even the sidewalk was thronged—until Vancouver’s liquid sunshine began to fall.

These Vancouver movers were illuminated by chandeliers of glass upright-cone supine-crescent shapes supported by whimsically twisted rods of wrought-iron. A tremendous golden sun was setting—or rising—on the wall of the stairway that went up to the Oritalia’s second level and formal dining area.

There, sitting comfortably above the din, menus lit by candles in tiny carved pumpkins, my sister and I were well situated to engage in a favorite pastime—people watching. We nibbled warm bread slathered with butter, seasoned with pink pepper corns and Asian spices. We checked-out the wines. Oritalia’s extensive wine list goes toward new vintages of Rieslings, merlots and zinfandels. That night, Canada’s Mission Hill Winery, in British Columbia’s Okanogan valley was featured. A 1998 Mission Hill Private Reserve Merlot with smoky aromas and blackberry undertones paired well with my sister’s lamb.

All other activities ceased, however, when the first course arrived. Buttery-rich foie gras that had been sautéed quickly, melted in my mouth. A fruity, red grape reduction and a woodsy, open fire taste of hickory-smoked black chanterelles merged perfectly with the liver. Then, after a plate trade with my sister, I devoured a fat juicy grilled scallop spiked by an orange sauce. It was perched on a crisp fried wonton sitting above cool sunflower sprouts. This last was an example of the Asian (Ori) and Mediterranean (Italia) fusion that Oritalia chefs managed so deftly.

My main course came gift-wrapped. A square of pink sockeye salmon sat on a golden cake of risotto. Cute and crispy enoki mushrooms tied with a leek string bow and tiny beets completed the package. The salmon had been lightly smoked and then pan-fried which created an almost caramelized exterior and a moist interior. The risotto also managed the right inside/outside combination—crispy out, velvety in. Encircled by a creamy black bean sauce spiked with ginger, there was a nice play between the oceanic flavors of the salmon against the earthiness of the risotto and beets.

Plates swapped again and a rosy, round loin of lamb sat before me in a puddle of red wine reduction. It was exceptionally tender and redolent with a porcini mushroom crust. Local porcinis had been smoked, dried and crumbled for the crust. Served with thyme-flavored spaetzle, it was an altogether agreeable entrée.

It was a struggle to commit ourselves to just one dessert. After some polemics, I felt compelled to order the Flourless Chocolate Torte served with kumquat coulis. It was, of course, the coulis that seduced me. Yet, the rich, dark, heart-throbbing chocolate did make a welcome addition to the near-tart kumquat puree.

My sister, the more restrained of us, opted for a light palate-clearing mango sorbet. It arrived on a bold black triangle of a plate with wonton towers of sweetened goat cheese and small delicate puddles of lavender cream.

After devouring this epicurean repast, there was one final luxury—we retired to our rooms at Le Soleil without having to go out in the storm.

                              By Kate Crawford  January  2002

LINKS WITH ATTITUDE

Oritalia's Menu.

Here's Oritalia at Le Soleil's web site.