We're halfway through an eight-course dinner at Market by Jean-Georges and I'm still waiting to be wowed.
The restaurant certainly is lovely. Its three finely tailored rooms are coiled around the third level of the new Shangri-La Hotel like a shimmering pearl and silver cuff. Service is friendly and attentive, if at times a bit klutzy (though the gentleman in the lounge whose burger slid right off his plate and onto the tabletop didn't seem at all upset). And I'm sure Market will be a roaring success by virtue of its brand name alone. The place is already packed with beautiful people who are draped in fur and fascinating to watch.
Of course, you don't need to be rich to eat here. With entrées ranging from $19 to $29 (excluding lobster), the prices are in the same league as at Earls or the Cactus Club - but so is much of the ho-hum food.
How can this be?
Jean-Georges Vongerichten is a legend. As a pioneer of East-West fusion cuisine, he is - or was - one of the most influential and creative chefs of our time. His food, which eschews thick butter and cream sauces for vegetable broths, fruit juices and infused oils, is extolled as being ethereally light, clean and simple.
So why is almost every dish that is brought to our table overwhelmingly sweet, sloppy or just plain ordinary?
We order the $65 six-course menu for two, supplemented by two additional appetizers plus wine pairings for a total of $240 before tip.
Creamy sea urchin arrives in three pieces that have unfortunately fallen out of formation and skidded all over the plate. The topping, a thin slice of seeded jalapeno dribbled with a tartly citric yuzu sauce, is an interesting calibration of hot and sour. This is a classic Vongerichten combination and would make a very nice starter - if the brown "toast" underneath weren't limp.
Black truffle and fontina pizza is okay. The crust is thin and crisp, but the chopped truffles are anemic. (Granted, it's been a bad season.) Ahi tuna is rolled in rice cracker that has more chew than crackle. It's plated next to a pale orange puddle of "citrus-sriracha emulsion," which must be a glorified name for the spicy ebi mayo sauce served at every izakaya in town. The Market version, although slightly thinner, tastes pretty much the same.
Foie gras brûlée is a soft puck of torchon that has been branded with sugar and saddled with dried sour cherries, pistachio slivers and diced celery. By the time it reaches the table, this sad-looking dish is already collapsing into a lumpy collar of white port gelée, which isn't acidic enough to balance the overall sweetness.
Our palates are briefly perked up with succulent shrimp wrapped in a crispy sheath of smoky bacon. The papaya-mustard sauce is a fruity-fiery sensation that swells into a soothing burst of umami. And the apple cider pairing is brilliant.
But then along comes the sablefish, flopping around in its flaccid nut-coriander-peppercorn "crust." The sweet-and-sour broth tastes like honey slicked with butter.
Soy-glazed ribs are nicely spiced and not too cloying, but it's the heat-packing pile of rosemary breadcrumbs on the side that stands out.
Crumbs. Seriously. This is the climax of the night.
Don't even get me started on the molten chocolate cake that's dragged out of the trenches for dessert. Sure, Mr. Vongerichten is said to have invented this relentlessly copied sweet (by accident), way back when.
But now that Dr. Oetker is doing a box mix, isn't it time to put the gooey warhorse out to pasture? Or at least embellish it with something more enticing than vanilla ice cream?
Market isn't trying to be a four-star restaurant. It is what it is: a casual fine-dining repackaging of the chef's greatest hits, one of many in his ever-expanding empire of 20-plus restaurants worldwide. The Vancouver team, headed by chef David Foot, doesn't have any wiggle room for creativity. The kitchen is working with ironclad recipes that have been scaled out to one 10th of a gram.
Still, when I return for a second visit to sample the café menu, I can't help but wonder what's been lost in transcription.
Should the beef tartare really be this creamy? And shouldn't it be served with some sort of bread? Is the tuna tartare with avocado meant to look so sludgy?
Can a restaurant that calls itself Market actually dress a salad with the most pitifully pale, tasteless, out-of-season tomatoes and not expect people to balk?
Market is a pleasant enough restaurant that offers decent value and a happening lounge scene. But it doesn't in any way raise the bar for Vancouver, where sriracha is almost as common as ketchup and Irish pubs are marinating their fish and chips in sake lees.
Asian fusion is an institution here. Off the top of my head, I can name a handful of local dishes that are more appetizing, inventive and finessed than anything I ate at Market: the sous vide salmon with wasabi sabayon at Gastropod; grilled squid in dashi broth with ginger oil at Chow; pan-seared hamachi with crème fraîche and chervil smoked caviar at Elixir; and Rob Feenie's tuna tataki at the Cactus Club.
It's too bad Mr. Vongerichten didn't spend more time in Vancouver when he was setting up his latest farm team. He might have picked up a few tips.
Market by Jean-Georges:
Shangri-La Hotel, 1128 West
Georgia St., 604-695-1115.
Alexandra Gill