About two years ago, I had a nearly perfect dinner at Cassis Bistro. It was a cold winter night and Mr. V, our friend John, and I had edgy appetites. Cassis sent us home happy–full of cassoulet, coq au vin, and choucroute–and satisfied in the way that one can only be satisfied by good, well-prepared French country food.

A few months later, when Mr. V. and I went back to Cassis for dinner before we attended a concert at the Queen E, we were anything but satisfied. The food was far too salty, and the spirit that had been evident in the preparation of our first meal there was not to be found.

Sadly, I struck Cassis from our list of places to eat in Vancouver. Then, late last summer, the bro-in-law mentioned he’d had a great dinner there. His recommendation (and raves about Cassis’ salads) came while I was arranging a second (and now annual) reunion of college “girlfriends.”

The previous year, five of us had a wonderful dinner at the now-defunct Chi. This year, we would be six. In the interim, one of us had relocated from the cold Saskatchewan prairie to Courtenay. This made getting to the dinner easier for her, but the West Coast air had motivated her to add a raw food caveat to her vegan diet.

What to do? On the one hand, five meat-loving omnivores would not be happy campers eating the strange and often haphazardly prepared food that is the hallmark of so many vegetarian restaurants in Vancouver, few of which, in any case, offer the kind of ambience necessary a good long leisurely dinner. And on the other, most conventional restaurants that offer a vegetarian option glom it up into cheesy non-veganness.

Suddenly, Cassis seemed an ideal dining spot. And, as it turned out, it pretty much was.

Our raw vegan friend was happy with a salad of organic winter vegetables followed by a steamed artichoke. Though neither of these dishes was literally raw, from my perspective they were as close as they could possibly get to that state and still pass for edible. And if our friend happened to dip a few of the artichoke leaves in a bit of the lovely drawn butter and lemon that accompanied it, well, who noticed?

As for the rest of us, a bit of wine was imbibed, and quite a bit of food was devoured.

Along with a glass of Pfaffenhiem Riesling, I ordered the crab, apple, and avocado salad, followed by the bouillabaise. The salad was attractively put together and the flavours melded wonderfully. It was a great starter. The bouillabaise was also nicely constructed, a simple combination of shellfish in a tomato fennel broth. The shellfish was so fresh and delicious I decided to chance the mussel, a major risk for someone like me who detests this particular bivalve. Let’s just say I’m still not a mussel fan.

Other main dishes ordered included coq au vin, black cod, and flat iron steak. We shared sides of cauliflower gratin, haricot amandine, and Yukon potato pave, all very rich and satisfying.

And then came the desserts—lemon tart, chocolate mousse, chocolate tart, and crème brûlée—with only the vegan and me abstaining. The desserts must have been as good as the mains, though I wouldn’t know. No one offered me even a teensy bite.

We sat in a booth in the back, not far from the kitchen, and overlooking the back patio. Cassis is a charmingly urban retreat in a not so charming urban neighbourhood near Crosstown. We had fun, we ate well, and we drank some decent wine. It was a very good night.

Service was mostly attentive and energetic, although one of our servers, a Paris H look-alike, was a touch on the languid side. The room tends to the minimalist, including the open kitchen, from which emitted an occasional crashing crescendo. Though startling, these were easily recovered from and soon blended into the happy cacophony that never interfered with our conversation.

If there was a false note that night, it was the table water, which was served lukewarm and unfiltered, and tasted bleachy. Not a good start to an otherwise much-enjoyed meal.

One of our party expressed surprise at the size of her steak, which she felt was small. None of the dishes at Cassis are particularly large, but they don’t come with large price tags either. Good food at reasonable prices may be one of Cassis’ best features.

For under $250, including taxes and tip, six of us had as many starters, mains, side dishes, glasses of wine, desserts, and coffees as we wanted, and we all went home satisfied. Try to do that anywhere else in Vancouver.

Cassis Bistro, 420 West Pender Street, Vancouver

Vancouver’s Aboriginal Mother Center has fallen more than once on hard times. They operate a non-profit society with a center at 2019 Dundas Street, in the heart of Vancouver’s Forgotten Triangle Neighbourhood.

The first Mother Center was established in Germany in 1989. Since then, Mother Centers have spread around the planet, including the United States, Europe, and the Middle East. The Mother Center Model adapts well to a range of cultures because it uses a grassroots, community development approach to assist high-risk mothers to become self-sufficient.

Vancouver’s Aboriginal Mother Center offers several programs, including a licenced day care, Aboriginal Head Start, family and cold weather homelessness programs, learning programs, and a small business development center.

The Mother Center is an island of hope for women in Vancouver who face poverty and hardship simply because they are born aboriginal. Last summer during the World Economic Forum, the center was excited about a contract to make beautiful bags for Forum attendees. Someone stole the bags, and the Center lost an important funding source. More recently, one of the Center’s key colleagues died unexpectedly.

Center funding is secure until December 31, 2006, and possibly until March 31, 2007. As it is with most non-profits, programs cannont be planned until funding is confirmed.

In support of the Mother Center, their neighbour, St. David of Wales Anglican Church will be sponsoring a fundraising concert on Saturday, November 18, at 7:00 pm. The concert, entitled Night of the Celts, will feature The Irish Pipes and Drums of the British Columbia Regiment, and the Cambrian Singers, among others.

Tickets are $25, and are available from St. David of Wales office (phone: 604-253-8524) or at the door.

Bernard Castelain Chocolat Noir Intense 77%
Mr. Castelain makes his chocolate in Provence, more exactly in Châteauneuf du Pape, near Avignon. There is very little English on his wrapper, and as far as I could make out with my sketchy French and a bit of help from Google, this chocolate is a blend of American and African cacao that allows the blooming of a touch of bitterness, which is ideal for eating. Or something like that.

I bought a 30-gram bar for $1.75 from Sur la Table in Portland. Castelain’s chocolate isn’t cheap, but it’s not overly expensive.

It had good mouth feel, good melt, and a touch of blooming bitterness, just like most chocolates in this quality and price range. Neither outstanding, nor disappointing. I did detect a subtle hint of cinnamon, which was a bit unusual, but pleasant.

A decent eating chocolate save, perhaps, one small thing. There is very little web presence for Bernard Castelain, so there’s no telling how, or by whom, those African beans were harvested. For the time being, even if this chocolate is available in Vancouver, I’ll give this brand a pass.

Dagoba Lavender
The main purpose of our vacation was to get to Ashland, which coincidentally is the home of Dagoba Chocolate. Dagoba is widely available in Vancouver, though I hadn’t bought much. The first Dagoba bar I tried was a bit astringent and waxy. Soon after, there was bad news that some Dagoba bars had been contaminated with lead, and so I didn’t buy any more.

To be fair, the lead contamination was an isolated incident, and was caused by a supplier, and not by Dagoba’s own error. Dagoba is a conscious and ethical company; the suspect product was recalled immediately. Dagoba communicated openly with both the authorities and their customers as soon as it learned of the lead problem. And they no longer deal with the supplier in question.

I decided our trip to Ashland, Dagoba’s home, would be a good time to try this chocolate again. Surprisingly, there was no sign of Dagoba products in any of the Ashland shops and coffee places we visited.

I even asked about Dagoba in a couple of Ashland stores, but got wide-eyed looks of mystification when I told them there was a chocolate company in town. All rather odd, and in the end I bought the Dagoba Lavender bar in Whole Foods in Portland on our way back to Vancouver.

Dagoba, according to their website, is Sanskrit for temple. While Dagoba is not affiliated with any religious group, the company likes the cosmological idea of a temple stupa as the source of formless creative waters, and describes their founder as a “chocolate alchemist” partially in reference to their practice of infusing flavours into chocolate. This seems more archetypal hyperbole than marketing bumpf–sincere if somewhat hard to comprehend. Maybe they mean they want to be chocolate makers for the Jung at heart.

I love lavender, but usually on my body and not in my food, though I was game to try the alchemy of lavender, blueberries, and chocolate. The blueberry flavour added the right touch, cutting off the top notes of the lavender, which would have been too cloying as a single accompaniment. Together, the lavender and blueberry emulsion complemented, and didn’t overpower, the chocolate.

I really liked this bar. It was extremely creamy, with an incredible melt and a lovely deep chocolate flavour, despite its only having 59% cacao content. It was very silky, with no hint of graininess.

The only false notes were the solid bits. The dried blueberries were sparse, and had a bit of a soapy taste when chewed. Likewise, the occasional lavender buds were dry and unwelcome. If Dagoba were to stick to the flavour and forget about the chewy bits, this bar would be nearly perfect.

Dagoba was the first U.S. chocolate maker to achieve organic certification. They are an ethical company that is focused on pleasing their customers. Since Dagoba is available in Vancouver, I intend to be one of them. And next time I’m in Ashland, I’ll plan my vacation a little better so I can budget time to drop by their factory store.

Hacienda La Esmeralda farm in Panama is the source of a new upscale coffee that has won several international awards. Its top price, for beans bought at auction then roasted by Chicago-based Intelligentsia Coffee, reached $103.90 US per pound.

The world’s most expensive coffee, of course, is Kopi Luwak, which is harvested from the poop of Indonensian civets.

Esmeralda’s coffee, which is also distributed under the trade name, Geisha, doesn’t have quite such a notable beginning.

What sets Hacianda La Esmeralda apart is its distinctive floral and citrus notes, which are normally associated with African, and not Central American coffees.

Source: Chicago Tribune via Obscure Store

Scharffen Berger 70% Bittersweet
Its European name and its packaging shout old world tradition, but Scharffen Berger was founded in San Francisco in 1996, by an epicurean ex-doctor, Robert Steinberg, and his friend and ex-patient, ex-organic farmer, and ex-winemaker, John Scharffenberger.

The free tours of their Berkeley-based factory include plenty of product samples and are reportedly not to be missed. However, since they were bought out by Hershey last year, the largesse may eventually be constrained by bean counters.

The founders were pioneers in American bean to bar artisanal chocolate, and their products are much loved by cooks and culinary doyens including Martha Stewart and the dearly departed Julia Child.

But I don’t get it. Many Scharffen Berger products are available in Vancouver, and I hadn’t found it a particularly enjoyable eating chocolate. Even so, I thought I’d give this chocolate another go. I tried the one-ounce (28 gm.) 70% Bittersweet Bar, priced at $1.99 at Whole Foods in Portland. Once again, I found it just a touch too granular, too astringent, too chalky, and just plain underwhelming.

I’m not giving up on them just yet, though. Much depends on Hershey’s ultimate plans, but if they leave Scharffen Berger to its original vision, their Cacao Nibs and Gianduja bar might cross my lips one day. These, apparently, are the best products Scharffen Berger makes, and may explain the mystery of their success.

E. Guittard Semisweet Chocolate
I regret only buying a teensy 0.35-oz (10 gm.) sampler bar of E. Guittard chocolate. Despite being only 61% cacao, this chocolate had great length and very clean flavour, was not overly sweet, yet was very satisfying, even comforting, in the smallest, very easy to snap bits. This is an ideal eating chocolate that would appeal to almost anybody, including devotees of milk chocolate.

The Guittard family has been making chocolate in California since Etienne Guittard relocated there from France in 1868. As the tag line on the label says, E. Guittard is vintage chocolate, made in the French tradition. I had never heard of this chocolate before, but will definitely be on the look out to see if it is available in Vancouver.

Corey Werfl has done it again, and this time it will be better than ever.

His Sleepy Hollow graveyard display, featuring coffins, slimy creatures, and big scary moving monsters will be back for a limited time.

Be prepared to be scared starting Friday, October 27, right up till Hallowe’en night. The display is open from dusk to 10:00 pm at 2816 Eton Street in Vancouver.

Kids are welcome as long as they are accompanied by an adult.

It seems a couple of our esteemed members of Parliament are still working out their break up woes. As far as I’m concerned, they both look like, and have the brains of, Afghan hounds.

As for our Minster of the Environment being a potted plant, do you think Ms. Ambrose would be less scary if she were confined to a greenhouse?

I eat far more chocolate than I ever write about, which is not to say that I stuff myself so full of it that I lose my memory. More like it’s sometimes just too hard to find the time to report on every single morsel of the stuff that crosses my lips.

All the same, it seems apropos to at least write about the chocolate I consumed on our recent trip down the I-5 through Washington to Ashland, Oregon, and that is, for the most part, not yet available in Vancouver.

Vosges Calindia Bar
There is a lot to be about the way le Cordon Bleu alum Katrina Markoff packages her Vosges Haute Chocolate products. Her business model is similar to Starbucks’ but on a smaller scale: Vosges is more about selling lifestyle than chocolate. Which is why if you visit the Vosges website you will have not only all manner of sweets to chose from, but also T-shirts, belts, bags, and even information about retreats that Markoff co-sponsors, which are devoted to chocolate and yoga.

If you flip over the pretty packaging her bars come in, you will find friendly instructions that tell you how to see, smell, snap, taste, and feel chocolate. All the info a chocolate dilettante needs.

Portland’s Whole Foods Market had a range of Vosges’ Exotic Candy Bars to choose from, but the one which appealed most was the Calindia. This was labeled as 66% Venezuelan dark chocolate with Indian green cardamom, organic California walnuts, and dried plums. The 3.4-ounce (97 gm.) bar was priced at $6.99, and the price tag noted the bar was from their cheese section.

To be fair, Whole Foods retails a lot of their premium chocolate out of their cheese department. Was this Vosges bar a premium product? Yes, and no. It had premium packaging, and a premium price. Some of Markoff’s concoctions have been criticized for being weak or anemic, though I wouldn’t call the Calindia bar either. The chocolate flavour was intense enough, but a touch too astringent. Even so, it melded well with the cardamom. This bar should have been a very sexy treat.

Unfortunately, it fell a bit short. Perhaps because of all the bits Markoff added to the Calindia bar, it turned out to be not very glossy, or snappy; its aroma was a bit off putting and its texture not exactly smooth. This may be because it got hotter the farther south we travelled. Our Calindia bar melted, and spent a fair amount of time during our holiday in one hotel room fridge or another. And it may be because these ingredients are ideally suited to haut cookies and not haut chocolate bars.

I’ll have to categorize this as a novelty bar, and not one I’ll be in a big hurry to purchase again when I next visit our neighbour to the south.

Newman’s Own Organics Sweet Dark
With its wrapper featuring a picture of “Pa” Newman and his entrepreneurial daughter, Nell, both in traditional farmers’ attire, this bar has a whimsical appeal. And who isn’t aware of all the good works the Newman family’s food enterprises have done for the planet? These bars use Talamanca Chocolate from Costa Rica grown organically using traditional methods. Plus they are reasonably priced, at around $3.00 US for a 2.8-ounce (70 gm.) bar.

Sweet Dark bars have a nice gloss, a rich aroma, and are snappy enough. They even have a bit of a coffee top note that I enjoyed. But that’s where it ends. For me, anyway. The chocolate is a bit gritty, although at this price point, the grittiness is acceptable. Unfortunately, although it has a decent aftertaste, this bar is too sweet. The label doesn’t indicate the proportion of cacao, but I’m guessing it’s around 50%. I’d try Newman’s Own Organic chocolate again if they came out with a bar with more cocoa, something in the 70-80% range. In the meantime, if you like your dark chocolate a bit on the sweeter side, this is a decent bar, reasonably priced, and for a good cause.

We were away for Thanksgiving, and came back with sinus colds, though we know not from whence they came.

This virus, Mr. V. reports, has been making its way all over his workplace. Still he soldiers on. He got right back to it, taking on a new team and a new job immediately after our two-week vacation.

Thank heavens someone in this family has the intestinal fortitude to persevere.

As for me, I’ve pretty much wimped out. Head colds debilitate me.

Next Wednesday is my mother’s memorial service. What little energy I have is being dedicated to making arrangements for her send off.

Until then I may not be posting very much at all.

So many books, so little time. Especially when I spend so much of my life in front of the screen, a reading mode I find far less satisfying than the good old-fashioned book. I have a lot of them on my bedside table right now:

Head On! Collisions of Egos, Ethics, and Politics in B.C.’s Transportation History. This saga, written by R. G. Harvey, a former B. C. deputy minister of highways, covers various highways ministers’ egocentricities from 1871 through 2004, stopping short of Kevin Falcon’s Gateway Folly.

The Long Tail. Why the Future of Business is Selling Less of More by Chris Anderson, editor in chief of Wired Magazine.

Waiting for Your Cat to Bark? by Eisenberg & Eisenberg from Future Now, the company who developed Grok.com. My intuition is telling me that the Long Tail and the Barking Cat may be two parts of a much bigger whole.

Heat by Bill Buford, slave of Babbo and founding editor of Granta. I treat books like I treat food. When something really good is on the table, like this one, I often save if for last. These days I’m not sure if delaying pleasure is the best approach, so I may just crack this one open and say to hell with the rest. And then again…

The Bible, New International Version, by Various and Anonymous. What can you say about this one, other than it has it all? Sex, blood, politics, family squabbles, and rapture. Though in the latter case, that would be rapture with a small “r” and not the neo-con, fundy tripe upon which certain politicians down below are basing their geopolitical decisions.

Sailors, Slackers, and Blind Pigs by Stephen Kimber. The story of Halifax at the end of World War Two. This one contains an account of boozing, looting, window smashing and public fornication. Only in Canada, eh?

The Substance of Style. How the Rise of Aesthetic Value is Remaking Commerce, Culture & Consciousness by Virginia Postrel. I hope this one is better than Richard Florida’s The Rise of the Creative Class, which I stashed on the bottom shelf of my bedside table when I was about halfway through. Postrel’s book is thinner, at least, and that’s a good thing.

Chronicles, Volume One, by Bob Dylan. Careful readers of this blog will know that I love, love, love Bob Dylan. But will I ever get around to reading Volume Two, assuming Bob gets around to writing it?

1215 The Year of Magna Carta by Danny Danziger and John Gillingham. I slept through History in high school and avoided it in university. Now I’m finding this book fascinating. It’s amazing how much of what I take for granted has its roots in the distant past.

Anatomy of the Spirit by Caroline Myss. This one made the New York Times Best Seller list, and is an attempt to link Christian mysticism, kabala, and chakrah theory to Myss’s specialty, which is “medical intuition.” I’ve enjoyed the parts where Myss talks about her own journey, but find the theoretical parts a hard slog. Plus I haven’t really been into self-development books since the 80s, as in 1980s.

Search Engine Marketing, Inc. by Mike Moran and Bill Hunt, and published by IBM press. I actually read this one through, over the course of a couple of months. It is what its title says it is, and if you are interested in search engine optimization and marketing this is a very good resource. It’s still on my bedside table’s top shelf, because I’m planning to read it again, if it’s still current when I get around to it.

Where God was Born: A Journey by Land to the Roots of Religion by Bruce Feiler. This is the story of a recent journey Feiler took through Israel, Iraq, and Iran that apparently offers “a rare universal vision of God that can inspire different faiths to an allegiance of hope.” Another book I have been saving for last because I think it will be so good.

The Path of Least Resistance. Learning to Become the Creative Force in Your Own Life by Robert Fritz. My other “bible” and a dog-eared one at that.