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The new Lumière restaurant, recently reopened under the direction of celebrity chef Daniel Boulud, does not make a terribly strong first impression.

When I call for a reservation, the receptionist puts me on hold. After five minutes, the line goes dead. Let's try this again. The same woman answers the phone. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that," she says, sounding genuinely insincere.

Two weeks later, we arrive at the restaurant and step into a tiny corner foyer that is draped off from the dining room with thick velvet curtains. Theatrical? Not really. It looks like a backstage costume closet and smells of tobacco breath.

This is how the chef chooses to make his Canadian debut? Fortunately, we are tolerant diners and will forgive a few hiccups because his main act - the food - is a magnificent, foot-stomping showstopper.

For those who have been living in a culinary cave, some background: 15 months ago, founding executive chef Rob Feenie departed Lumière - a multi-award winning Relais & Châteaux property considered one of the finest restaurants in the country - citing irreconcilable differences with owners David and Manjy Sidoo. Four months later, the Sidoos announced a partnership with Mr. Boulud.

The new Lumière and DB Bistro Moderne next door (which replaces Feenie's) launched in mid-December, under the management of Mr. Boulud's Dinex Group, which also oversees his seven restaurants in New York, Las Vegas, Palm Springs, Calif., and Beijing.

And thus Lumière is illuminated anew.

The 40-seat dining room is smaller than before, but the design, by Janson Goldstein of New York, is opulently retro. Think luxury rec room, circa 1974, replete with dark-wood wall panelling, ultra-plush carpeting, crushed velvet banquettes, smoked glass and silk-cocooned windows.

Apart from the awkward, cramped, five-seat bar - which replaces the old Lumière Tasting Bar - the space certainly has soul. One almost expects to hear Barry White crooning in the background. Or to turn around and find Cher placing a dainty Pucci handbag on a tableside purse stool. (Yes, the infamous purse stools, widely mocked by New Yorkers when Alain Ducasse imported them from France, have now made their way to Vancouver.)

Lumière's well-cushioned warmth is welcome relief from the hard edges, high ceilings and jarring acoustics that plague modern rooms. You don't often see restaurants this sumptuous any more, certainly not in Vancouver. And the formality is fully appropriate because you definitely won't find such fine French haute cuisine anywhere else, either. Not at this distinguished level.

Lumière offers three menu options: a three-course prix fixe for $98 with several choices, a set six-course chef's menu for $135 and a grand, nine-course tasting menu for $175. Wine pairing is available for all menus, which can also be ordered vegetarian.

It's expensive, but worth every astonishing bite. Where else are you going to dine on a mosaic of venison that looks like a diminutive checkerboard, one so intricately woven with alternating squares of tenderloin, crunchy celery root and creamy foie gras that it would have to be played with tweezers?

Although the kitchen is being commendably supervised by executive chef Dale Mackay (the former chef de cuisine who got caught in the crosshairs of the ownership dispute), this is, without doubt, Mr. Boulud's craftsmanship that you are paying for.

Some dishes are almost identical (with slight local tweaks) to those found at Daniel, his three-Michelin-starred flagship in New York. In a recent New York Times review reaffirming Daniel's four stars, critic Frank Bruni waxed rhapsodic about beet velouté adorned with a tiny grissino wrapped at one end with a nub of duck prosciutto. "It looked like a hummingbird's Q-tip," he wrote.

And so we have it in Vancouver, the same breadstick swab, here tipped with buffalo prosciutto and laid over a thimble of broccoli soup.

Each plate is an exquisitely composed piece of art with rhythmic flavours, contrasting textures, balanced shapes and bold strokes of colour.

Dungeness crab with heart of palm is dreamily veiled in white and pale-melony greens. Round bouquets of crab and celery crème fraiche are fluted with fronds of baby lettuce, the soft creaminess complemented by teensy balls of tempura-battered apple rippling with sweetness and two distinct notes of crunch.

Beet and vodka cured hamachi is a trio of translucent ovals rimmed in bright fuchsia and framed with shimmery lines of beet dust. One piece of fish is bedecked with white sturgeon caviar. The others, not to be outdone, are topped with horseradish cream that hits the taste buds like a fiery kick from a satin stiletto.

Everything is cooked to perfection and expertly seasoned. Slow-baked arctic char is firm to the touch but melts on the tongue as the mild flavour gently pops, thanks to a sprinkling of sea salt and a beurre rouge sauce laced with port that will forever put to rest the notion that fish cannot be served with red wine.

Mr. Boulud, who cites his Lyonnais grandmother as one of his greatest influences, is renowned for elevating rustic French cooking to refined heights of luxury. Some of his techniques are fairly obvious: Sprinkle chicken breast and baby vegetables with a blizzard of black truffle and anyone would be blown away.

But it's his subtle way of transforming humble ingredients into something sublime - whipped lentils du Puy specked with toasted hazelnut - that is more impressive.

The wine list has range, much of it comfortably approachable. You could spend $5,000 on a bottle of Chateau Petrus, or $50 on a decent syrah from Chile. In addition to all the big houses from France, the Pacific Northwest is very well represented. (Do try the Foxtrot Pinot Noir.)

I'm sure many people will be anxious to know how Mr. Boulud's Lumière measures up to its previous incarnation. It's not fair (or appropriate) to compare.

The new Lumière is in a league all its own.

Lumière: 2551 West Broadway, Vancouver; 604-739-8185

agill@globeandmail.com