Despite recession, Coast is in the clear
Photo credit: Doug Shanks
POSTED BY: ANDREW MORRISON
08/20/2009 12:00 AM
COAST RESTAURANT?1054 Alberni, 604-685-5010
CoastRestaurant.ca?Food:
4 stars / Service: 5 stars / Atmosphere: 5 stars / Value: 4 stars (out of 5)
You’d think sinking $4.8 million into reinventing and relocating an existing restaurant from one address (1257 Hamilton) to another (1054 Alberni) would be an exercise in foot-shooting, especially during a recession that has been more than unkind to restaurants. But Coast is part of the Glowbal Restaurant Group (Sanafir, Italian Kitchen, et al), and the Glowbal Restaurant Group doesn’t do recessions.
Besides, the new Coast is already well on its way toward the black, having reportedly cleared over $250,000 in sales each week since opening barely a month ago, causing many who swim in restaurant circles to ask after Coast’s instant success in envious awe. How could a restaurant previously flirting with irrelevance be so readily ressurrectable?
I think the new 7,000-square-foot, two-level, 265-seat location has a lot to do with it. Plus, it could always count on the irresistible draw of newness to suck in Vancouver’s see-and-be-seen demographic, which has never been so huge. Coast is gorgeous, with soaring ceilings, mosaic floors, a 24-seat central oyster bar, and an adjacent lounge called “O” (as in “OMG, that’s a dumb name”), all coming together for a sensory lap dance soaked in sex appeal.
My wife and I dined there for the first time last week, and we were shocked by how busy and beautiful it was. It felt like it had been there for years already. We were also overwhelmed by the menus, both in terms of the number of choices within (75, including five steaks for ocean-phobes) and its almost ridiculous physical size.
After a dozen very fresh oysters — Effinghams, Kusshis, Malpeques, and Kumamoto ($29) — served with a tongue-bracing mignonette and a jumpy house-made cocktail sauce, we were primed for as many dishes as we could manage, beginning with an order of flatbread. There are four on the menu, each prepped in a pizza oven: sablefish, manila clam, lobster, and smoked salmon. We went for the latter ($15), which was spread with dill crème fraîche, ringed with red onion, and studded with crispy capers. Tried and true. We even tried it again, and both times it was flawless.
Next, we swooned over an impossibly plump yet ultralight Dungeness crab cake ($14), capped with house-made tartar sauce and served with a delicious little fennel salad — probably the best crab cake either of us had ever had. Then we ploughed through buttermilk-battered calamari ($12), served with a smoky, garlicky dip, and fought over ahi tuna from the raw bar ($14), which came presented in tidy rectangular slices, with oils of sesame and chive contending with an amalgam of jalapeño, lychee, and cilantro. Delicious.
The one disappointment was the New England chowder ($8), apparently made à la minute at the bar. With the consistency of unwhipped cream and without much in the way of flavour, it boasted no redeeming qualities whatsoever. And that’s a shame, really, as anything with double-smoked bacon in it should tear at your palate on the way in and scream that it loves you on the way down. This one just said “meh.”
What struck me most about the new Coast, though, wasn’t the food (good), service (excellent), or décor (gorgeous), but the big trick it pulls. It isn’t anything new at all, really — and that’s the genius of it. All Glowbal has done is pilfer the concept of the hugely successful Joe Fortes, the long-standing “Seafood and Chop House” just around the corner, and brought it up to 21st-century speed with a raw bar, tighter-fitting staff uniforms, and a look that doesn’t scream “American tourists are welcome here!” half as pleadingly.
What’s more interesting is that Glowbal Group president Emad Yacoub was once the chef at Joe Fortes (1996-’99), and here he is now, 10 years later, putting a dent in the venerable restaurant’s downtown hegemony. The first knock came when he opened the wildly popular Italian Kitchen (also on Alberni), but with Coast he has a restaurant that’s conceptually closer to Fortes than any other room in the city, and within stone-throwing distance to boot.
And then there’s the cocksure marketing materials I saw in the run-up to Coast’s opening: “Finally, A Seafood Restaurant Vancouver Deserves,” it read. That haughty slogan made many I know in the local restaurant trade shake their heads. To them, not only did it exhibit a deficit of class, it was gauche overkill. The new Coast, the sentiment went, would be so evolved and so popular that it would make Joe Fortes look like a dinosaur built for the enjoyment of other dinosaurs. And it does. There’s just no reason to pop your collar over it.
Bottom line: Coast is very much worth checking out, whether for a cold beer and a dozen oysters at the bar, or for a full spread with wine and dessert (get the $14 sampler with the vanilla-cheesecake popsicles). And if you’re the slightest bit disappointed, for kicks you should loudly declare your preference for Joe Fortes on your way out the door, even if you’ve never been there before. Why? Because sometimes karma needs a push, and all is apparently fair in love and restaurants. POSTED BY: ANDREW MORRISON
08/20/2009 12:00 AM
COAST RESTAURANT?1054 Alberni, 604-685-5010, CoastRestaurant.ca?Food: 4 stars / Service: 5 stars / Atmosphere: 5 stars / Value: 4 stars (out of 5)??You’d think sinking $4.8 million into reinventing and relocating an existing restaurant from one address (1257 Hamilton) to another (1054 Alberni) would be an exercise in foot-shooting, especially during a recession that has been more than unkind to restaurants. But Coast is part of the Glowbal Restaurant Group (Sanafir, Italian Kitchen, et al), and the Glowbal Restaurant Group doesn’t do recessions.
Besides, the new Coast is already well on its way toward the black, having reportedly cleared over $250,000 in sales each week since opening barely a month ago, causing many who swim in restaurant circles to ask after Coast’s instant success in envious awe. How could a restaurant previously flirting with irrelevance be so readily ressurrectable?
I think the new 7,000-square-foot, two-level, 265-seat location has a lot to do with it. Plus, it could always count on the irresistible draw of newness to suck in Vancouver’s see-and-be-seen demographic, which has never been so huge. Coast is gorgeous, with soaring ceilings, mosaic floors, a 24-seat central oyster bar, and an adjacent lounge called “O” (as in “OMG, that’s a dumb name”), all coming together for a sensory lap dance soaked in sex appeal.
My wife and I dined there for the first time last week, and we were shocked by how busy and beautiful it was. It felt like it had been there for years already. We were also overwhelmed by the menus, both in terms of the number of choices within (75, including five steaks for ocean-phobes) and its almost ridiculous physical size.
After a dozen very fresh oysters — Effinghams, Kusshis, Malpeques, and Kumamoto ($29) — served with a tongue-bracing mignonette and a jumpy house-made cocktail sauce, we were primed for as many dishes as we could manage, beginning with an order of flatbread. There are four on the menu, each prepped in a pizza oven: sablefish, manila clam, lobster, and smoked salmon. We went for the latter ($15), which was spread with dill crème fraîche, ringed with red onion, and studded with crispy capers. Tried and true. We even tried it again, and both times it was flawless.
Next, we swooned over an impossibly plump yet ultralight Dungeness crab cake ($14), capped with house-made tartar sauce and served with a delicious little fennel salad — probably the best crab cake either of us had ever had. Then we ploughed through buttermilk-battered calamari ($12), served with a smoky, garlicky dip, and fought over ahi tuna from the raw bar ($14), which came presented in tidy rectangular slices, with oils of sesame and chive contending with an amalgam of jalapeño, lychee, and cilantro. Delicious.
The one disappointment was the New England chowder ($8), apparently made à la minute at the bar. With the consistency of unwhipped cream and without much in the way of flavour, it boasted no redeeming qualities whatsoever. And that’s a shame, really, as anything with double-smoked bacon in it should tear at your palate on the way in and scream that it loves you on the way down. This one just said “meh.”
What struck me most about the new Coast, though, wasn’t the food (good), service (excellent), or décor (gorgeous), but the big trick it pulls. It isn’t anything new at all, really — and that’s the genius of it. All Glowbal has done is pilfer the concept of the hugely successful Joe Fortes, the long-standing “Seafood and Chop House” just around the corner, and brought it up to 21st-century speed with a raw bar, tighter-fitting staff uniforms, and a look that doesn’t scream “American tourists are welcome here!” half as pleadingly.
What’s more interesting is that Glowbal Group president Emad Yacoub was once the chef at Joe Fortes (1996-’99), and here he is now, 10 years later, putting a dent in the venerable restaurant’s downtown hegemony. The first knock came when he opened the wildly popular Italian Kitchen (also on Alberni), but with Coast he has a restaurant that’s conceptually closer to Fortes than any other room in the city, and within stone-throwing distance to boot.
And then there’s the cocksure marketing materials I saw in the run-up to Coast’s opening: “Finally, A Seafood Restaurant Vancouver Deserves,” it read. That haughty slogan made many I know in the local restaurant trade shake their heads. To them, not only did it exhibit a deficit of class, it was gauche overkill. The new Coast, the sentiment went, would be so evolved and so popular that it would make Joe Fortes look like a dinosaur built for the enjoyment of other dinosaurs. And it does. There’s just no reason to pop your collar over it.
Bottom line: Coast is very much worth checking out, whether for a cold beer and a dozen oysters at the bar, or for a full spread with wine and dessert (get the $14 sampler with the vanilla-cheesecake popsicles). And if you’re the slightest bit disappointed, for kicks you should loudly declare your preference for Joe Fortes on your way out the door, even if you’ve never been there before. Why? Because sometimes karma needs a push, and all is apparently fair in love and restaurants. POSTED BY: ANDREW MORRISON
08/20/2009 12:00 AM
COAST RESTAURANT?1054 Alberni, 604-685-5010, CoastRestaurant.ca?Food: 4 stars / Service: 5 stars / Atmosphere: 5 stars / Value: 4 stars (out of 5)??You’d think sinking $4.8 million into reinventing and relocating an existing restaurant from one address (1257 Hamilton) to another (1054 Alberni) would be an exercise in foot-shooting, especially during a recession that has been more than unkind to restaurants. But Coast is part of the Glowbal Restaurant Group (Sanafir, Italian Kitchen, et al), and the Glowbal Restaurant Group doesn’t do recessions.
Besides, the new Coast is already well on its way toward the black, having reportedly cleared over $250,000 in sales each week since opening barely a month ago, causing many who swim in restaurant circles to ask after Coast’s instant success in envious awe. How could a restaurant previously flirting with irrelevance be so readily ressurrectable?
I think the new 7,000-square-foot, two-level, 265-seat location has a lot to do with it. Plus, it could always count on the irresistible draw of newness to suck in Vancouver’s see-and-be-seen demographic, which has never been so huge. Coast is gorgeous, with soaring ceilings, mosaic floors, a 24-seat central oyster bar, and an adjacent lounge called “O” (as in “OMG, that’s a dumb name”), all coming together for a sensory lap dance soaked in sex appeal.
My wife and I dined there for the first time last week, and we were shocked by how busy and beautiful it was. It felt like it had been there for years already. We were also overwhelmed by the menus, both in terms of the number of choices within (75, including five steaks for ocean-phobes) and its almost ridiculous physical size.
After a dozen very fresh oysters — Effinghams, Kusshis, Malpeques, and Kumamoto ($29) — served with a tongue-bracing mignonette and a jumpy house-made cocktail sauce, we were primed for as many dishes as we could manage, beginning with an order of flatbread. There are four on the menu, each prepped in a pizza oven: sablefish, manila clam, lobster, and smoked salmon. We went for the latter ($15), which was spread with dill crème fraîche, ringed with red onion, and studded with crispy capers. Tried and true. We even tried it again, and both times it was flawless.
Next, we swooned over an impossibly plump yet ultralight Dungeness crab cake ($14), capped with house-made tartar sauce and served with a delicious little fennel salad — probably the best crab cake either of us had ever had. Then we ploughed through buttermilk-battered calamari ($12), served with a smoky, garlicky dip, and fought over ahi tuna from the raw bar ($14), which came presented in tidy rectangular slices, with oils of sesame and chive contending with an amalgam of jalapeño, lychee, and cilantro. Delicious.
The one disappointment was the New England chowder ($8), apparently made à la minute at the bar. With the consistency of unwhipped cream and without much in the way of flavour, it boasted no redeeming qualities whatsoever. And that’s a shame, really, as anything with double-smoked bacon in it should tear at your palate on the way in and scream that it loves you on the way down. This one just said “meh.”
What struck me most about the new Coast, though, wasn’t the food (good), service (excellent), or décor (gorgeous), but the big trick it pulls. It isn’t anything new at all, really — and that’s the genius of it. All Glowbal has done is pilfer the concept of the hugely successful Joe Fortes, the long-standing “Seafood and Chop House” just around the corner, and brought it up to 21st-century speed with a raw bar, tighter-fitting staff uniforms, and a look that doesn’t scream “American tourists are welcome here!” half as pleadingly.
What’s more interesting is that Glowbal Group president Emad Yacoub was once the chef at Joe Fortes (1996-’99), and here he is now, 10 years later, putting a dent in the venerable restaurant’s downtown hegemony. The first knock came when he opened the wildly popular Italian Kitchen (also on Alberni), but with Coast he has a restaurant that’s conceptually closer to Fortes than any other room in the city, and within stone-throwing distance to boot.
And then there’s the cocksure marketing materials I saw in the run-up to Coast’s opening: “Finally, A Seafood Restaurant Vancouver Deserves,” it read. That haughty slogan made many I know in the local restaurant trade shake their heads. To them, not only did it exhibit a deficit of class, it was gauche overkill. The new Coast, the sentiment went, would be so evolved and so popular that it would make Joe Fortes look like a dinosaur built for the enjoyment of other dinosaurs. And it does. There’s just no reason to pop your collar over it.
Bottom line: Coast is very much worth checking out, whether for a cold beer and a dozen oysters at the bar, or for a full spread with wine and dessert (get the $14 sampler with the vanilla-cheesecake popsicles). And if you’re the slightest bit disappointed, for kicks you should loudly declare your preference for Joe Fortes on your way out the door, even if you’ve never been there before. Why? Because sometimes karma needs a push, and all is apparently fair in love and restaurants.
