Can you keep a secret? The Divino Bordeaux Wine Club meets the second Sunday of every month, but its members don’t want you to know that. And anyone can join, but they don’t want you to know that either. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that they’re not looking for new members (they are), but you have to understand that the more people know about it, the more they will be forced to divvy up their portion of Mr. Grippo’s secret wine collection.
What do you get when you mix Anthony Bourdain’s affectionate crudeness, the genuineness of Jamie Oliver, and Gordon Ramsay’s foul-mouthed confidence? Why, Vancouver’s rock star Chef, Gord Martin, of the Bin 941 and Bin 942 Tapas Bars. Adidas trainers sporting, yellow-tinted glasses wearing, t-shirt and tattoo loving smarmy bachelor Chef, Martin epitomizes his very own brand of Celebrity Chef.
At the end of last month, the good folks at the Vancouver Aquarium’s Ocean Wise Program celebrated their five year anniversary by getting together in an attempt to butter up (and fatten up) local food media with a three hour mystery Dine Around tour to show off their wide range of participating Lower Mainland restaurants.
There’s something to be said about drinking with the dolphins.
The “Winery of the Year” celebration hosted at the Vancouver Aquarium honouring Sandhill Winery and Master Winemaker, Howard Soon, brought an entirely new meaning to the saying, “drinking like a fish”. There was certainly no shortage of wines to sample at the Monday, January 18th event, which welcomed a gamut of guests ranging from wine reps in their best tight skirts and heels, to the money backers sporting their most recently acquired tans, as well as several local renowned wine educators and media types.
I have a confession to make: the last time I stepped foot in The Teahouse in Stanley Park was for their Easter Sunday brunch in 1987. Clad in the matching doily dresses and patent leather shoes my mother made my sister and I famous for as children, we sat quietly and ever-so patiently in the sunny conservatory eating crab eggs benedict, patiently biding our time until we’d be excused from the table to go and wreak havoc on the unsuspecting Stanley Park gardens with our ninja-like Easter egg hunting skills.
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