Five-star Voya is worth the long wait
Food: 5 stars
Service: 5 stars
Atmosphere: 5 stars
Value: 5 stars
Seldom do I feel underdressed while out for dinner in a smart shirt and jacket, but at Voya, just launched in the new Loden Vancouver hotel (a year behind schedule), I couldn’t help it. The room isn’t fancy in the white-linen-and-snooty-waiter sense. It’s just that it’s much better looking than me.
A London-style taxi emblazoned with the Loden’s branding stood at the curb when we approached last Wednesday night. A doorman swept my wife and I inside and into a lobby decorated stunningly in minimalist fashion. Down a corridor to the right are elevators that rise to the hotel’s 77 rooms, including a $4,000-a-night penthouse (we toured it, and left feeling weak-kneed and very poor), while to the left is Voya’s lounge, which opens onto the dining room. The lounge is as slick as it gets, with huge cylindrical chandeliers suspended above sexy (if slightly rigid) chairs,
which front a clean-lined bar led by Jay Jones, one of Vancouver’s best bartenders (if not the best).
In the dining room, we were seated at a corner booth that afforded us unobstructed sightlines. At the far end is a private room and an art-laden hallway that splits off to the kitchen and washrooms (all of the framed work on the main floor is by Michelle Kambolis, wife of mega-restaurateur Harry Kambolis of C, Raincity Grill, and Nu). Although the blue and dark-chocolate upholstery and the
bright white tabletops might seem to be a combo fraught with frigidity, the overall palette is warmed by a darkly textured ceiling from which three jaw-dropping chandeliers emit a golden light that seems to permeate the very air you breathe. Altogether, the atmosphere is like a passionately
suggestive embrace from the most desirable person your wicked imagination can conjure (take your pick, dear reader). Indeed, few of the diners I watched appeared remotely interested in their dates or dining companions. All were fixated by the room and mesmerized by the chandeliers’ shimmer, their eyes cruising up, down, and across in disjointed arcs, as if following invisible birds.
I could see no judgment or suspicion on their faces. Perhaps it was awe.
When dinner got underway, I experienced a pretty intense déjà vu, which I’ll explain in a moment. A complimentary amuse-bouche of ricotta fritters was a rather pedestrian introduction (I’d been waiting over a year for this place, damn it, and you give me cheese fritters as a means of saying hello?). But then came the frog legs ($15). Arranged in an impeccable row on a gleaming white rectangular plate, and coated in a sweet Asian barbeque sauce flecked with sesame, they were supremely succulent — obviously the product of a studied hand. A second amuse, a tiny chilled
Qualicum Bay scallop lit up by a salty Vietnamese-style broth of fish sauce, peanut and citrus, washed over my palate like a cold ocean wave. Next came tiny parcels of quail ($14), fried with chili and garlic, the outer crunch and tang of which gently juxtaposed the softly textured and
delicately flavoured meat within. Warm, perfectly cooked leeks wrapped in house-made maple bacon ($14) followed; presented as a tightly wrought discus, its balanced earthiness and saltiness were accented with the bitterness of endive and the nuttiness of hazelnut.
So far, we’d only made a dent in the list of appetizers, but we had to move on and try a main course. For our sparrow bellies, the kitchen was kind enough to pare down an obscenely big 16-ounce halibut filet to eight ounces, which dropped the price from $38 to $26. Served with
lemon, capers, and a side of sweetly meaty chanterelles, it drank up its brown-butter sauce like a wayward sailor — probably the single best piece of white fish I’d had all year. (Halibut is hard to screw up, but equally hard to prepare in a fashion that will blow one away.)
For dessert, we were wowed by a chocolate dome with a passionfruit centre, topped with a sprinkle of house-made pop rocks ($12).
So, why the déjà vu? The launch of Voya marks the return of chef Marc-André Choquette, formerly the chef de cuisine at Lumière, who is widely, if quietly, regarded as one of Vancouver’s top chefs. (Restaurant nerds will recall he left long before the power struggle that resulted in executive chef Rob Feenie’s departure.) His efforts at Voya evidence the same playfulness, drama, and finesse, with the same airy effortlessness that made Lumière a must during its heyday. In short, you’ll be blown away.
But by no means is this a one-man show. The whole package at Voya rang my bell. Service throughout came without a single misstep (take a bow, general manager Robert Herman), and though we spent a considerable amount, it was competitive with the city’s best restaurants. We certainly felt we’d gotten our money’s worth, even on the liquid front; the wine list is predictably superb, but not ordering a Jay Jones cocktail would be like cantering on a racehorse that’s desperate to gallop. Try the Sugar Shack, a sweet Julep concoction made with mint-infused Cognac ($10), or the citrusy and herbaceous Glassy Junction ($10).
Without a doubt, Voya deserves top marks across the board, plus an extra point and a “Hell, yeah!” for staying open until 2 a.m.
08.10.30 - West Ender
