A stroll along from Gassy Jack Square up the first block of Powell St. will soon solidify its reputation as one of the more . Its already home to a couple of tasty addresses, such as Sea Monstr Sushi (55) and The Diamond (6), but a new Rodneys Oyster House is destined for 52; the next version of pan-Latin-themed Cobre will set up shop next door (50); and before the summer is out a little European comfort food cafe called Lily Maes will land where Cafe Dolcino used to be (12).
Anchoring this already aromatic maelstrom will be the aptly-named Sardine Can (26), which just opened last week. Ive been a couple of times already, and though I would normally give a restaurant a few weeks to find its feet before reviewing it, the new 20-seat effort from industry veterans Chris Stewart and Andrey Durbach was ready straight out of the gate.
This is hardly surprising, for in recent years the owners have navigated their way through many an opening week with nary a hiccup. Their current stable includes La Buca, Pied-a-Terre, and Cafeteria and the Spanish tapas theme at the Sardine Can is the most basic theyve attempted to date. They have no grill top or deep fryer to concern themselves with, no mixed drinks (just an affordable list of wine, beer, and sherry), and a server can walk from one end of the room to the other in less time than it takes to tie one shoe. The only course correction so far that Ive noticed has been the removal of an uncooperative empanada from the menu (replaced by a rotating special). Its been sunlit uplands from there.
There is much to like about it, beginning with the design. This is an old building, and the 500 sq.ft. space at its foot has been home to cafés in the past. Its antique bones would lend themselves well to any Old World concept, but unlike most Spanish restaurants that have come Vancouvers way (there have been pitifully few), The Sardine Can doesnt dwell on kitsch. I didnt see any bullfighting posters on the walls or hear any Paco de Lucia on the stereo.
On the contrary, the walls, which are high, are largely unadorned, save for some bespoke wallpaper a sardine pattern made by local artist Robert Chaplin (an old friend of Durbachs), and I could have sworn that I heard David Bowie coming from the small speakers. Still, it looks like its been around for 50 years or more. Branding is limited to a sandwich-board sign outside that has been cleverly painted to look like a sardine can, a logo painted on a window, and the name set in little black tesserae on the white mosaic floor by the front door. The 10-seat bar faces right into the galley kitchen, and its leather and button-topped stools match those arranged around the three high and narrow tables. And since all the food is served for sharing, formal table settings have been supplanted by stacks of side plates, buckets of cutlery, and paper napkin dispensers.
The menu hugs tapas traditions, but isnt enslaved by them. They arent, for example, deep frying the potatoes to make patatas bravas, but are employing soft fingerlings instead. And rather than grilling the bread for their addictive, piquant toasts (one version spread with a mash of sardines, the other doused in thin tomato puree and capped with curls of manchego), theyre using a large panini press.
But the restraints that the little kitchen has imposed on the menu havent hamstrung the way its dozen or so raciones taste. Not in the least.
Ive eaten very nearly the lot, and stand-outs have included the little beef and pork meatballs that come wading in a delirium-inducing tomato sauce spiked with Rioja (so lit with oil that it exhibits a transfixing luminescence); hot slices of thin but impactful chorizo sausage prepped in sherry; flawlessly cooked gulf prawns given a heavy lick of garlic and a perfunctory kiss of spice; a hearty, electrifying stew of octopus, sausage and potato; the juicy mussels steamed open by the hot, sparkling breath of Cava; the thinly sliced hams (either Serrano or Pata Negra); and a caramel flan so dreamy that it comes close to wiping all memory of the preceding dishes away. Prices dont exceed $11 per dish, but it adds up swiftly.
Be sure to bring cash or your debit card, as your bill will be discounted by 10% (an overdue shot across the bow of credit card companies that charge high fees to restaurants).
I could grumble about how small it is and how hard it can be to get a table (they dont accept reservations), but Durbach and Stewart, pros to the letter, had the foresight to give it a name so fitting that it would make such a complaint seem utterly ridiculous. The truth is that there wasnt a single thing that I disliked about The Sardine Can. It is as tightly wrought a restaurant as one could hope for, and a tough act for the next restaurants on Powell Street to follow.
