BAR GOBO
BAR GOBO
AN APPROACHABLE WINE BAR WITH ECOLOGICALLY-MINDED BOTTLES AND BITES
After her first visit to Bar Gobo, a friend texted me facetiously that she could, "bathe in that anchovy butter," and couldn't "stop thinking about it like a toxic guy." Her words put into satire what I'd been feeling after my initial visit to the Union street wine bar—except my daydreams conjured up the rillette I'd tasted and the wine list that accompanied each dish so masterfully. The 16-seat wine bar (a capacity of 25 seats if the coronavirus ever goes away) is the newborn sister of arguably the most ecologically-minded kitchen in the city: Burdock & Co.—Vancouver chef Andrea Carlson's Main street restaurant just off 11th Avenue. Burdock & Co. was the fertile grounds of the Bar Gobo concept which started as a natural wine, cocktail, and dumpling pop-up event in the restaurant. "Gobo" is a Japanese variation of the burdock root, an ingredient often used by Carlson and her team.
Bread from Livia Bakery; Tiles from an Italian East Vancouver supplier that hadn’t been touched in 30 years.
Interior refined by Kevin Bismanis.
Before the natural wine craze exploded across the Western Hemisphere, back in 2014, another restauranteur sent me to Burdock & Co. after describing what natural wine was: a curation of grapes grown with ancestral agriculture or permaculture in mind, left to ferment into wine with the least human meddling possible. This process avoids the additives often filtered through commercial wines, and gives the beverage a more playful, less predictable texture, which can add an element of fun.
When I visited, Burdock & Co.'s sommelier at the time, Julie Sopuck didn't gloat about these wines with the air of pretension that can, unfortunately, be more common today—ever since the movement took on a more ideological wellness tone. Rather, Sopuck explained why the wines were interesting by telling the story of the burgeoning movement, its erudite growers, and the funky taste the wines could take on—while also allowing room for uncertainty from her guests. (Natural wines used to be more costly, which is an understandable deterrent.) Fast forward to 2020 and that same approachable nature and openness to query is embodied by Peter Van de Reep, Bar Gobo's sommelier and frontman.
Biodynamic peach, sprouted walnut, and Cherry Lane Farm dandelion and greens salad
Van de Reep sat down with me earlier this summer to talk about the new room—a collaboration between himself, Chef Andrea Carlson, Kevin Bismanis (Carlson’s partner and an architect who refined the interior), and Chef Neil Hillbrandt. The warm, afternoon light swept through the South-facing windows as we sat engulfed by the aroma of freshly baked bread and dinner prep emanating from Hillbrandt's open-air kitchen only a few feet away.
"It's funny—it's kind of surreal to sit in a spot that we talked about only about a month or five weeks ago," Van de Reep notes after I asked how they came together to launch such an exciting project. "The space existed, but what the concept was, or what we were going to do, was just a few brief chats around a table with some coffee." With the size of the space, the limited kitchen (put in place by the proprietors of The Parker, an old favourite of mine), and the interest and experience of the team, it made sense to see how a wine bar might suit the neighbourhood. (While he's well-known as a magnate of cocktails, having spearheaded the locally-revered and industry-decorated Campagnolo Upstairs, Van de Reep actually has a background in wine). The biggest difference between Bar Gobo and most other natural wine hot spots (Juice Bar, the Vin Van pop-up, and Apéro Mode) is that Van de Reep isn't a local-plurality adherent. Natural wines from British Columbia and California are wonderful, but he sees vibrancy in naturally-cultivated wines sourced from Europe as well.
Sesame Tofu with bonito flakes and maple
The rotating menu is printed on Hilroy school paper
"Right now, all our wines fit that bill [of minimal-intervention]; some more than others," he answers when asked. "I think there's a lot more nuance to it than people may think and it all depends on where your fruit is coming from, who grows it, who makes it, what country you're in." Natural wines coming from the U.S. and much of B.C., he emphasizes, aren't necessarily coming from a diversity of vineyards. "The way grape growing works in the Okanagan, for example, most people aren't growing their own grapes. It's almost always the case where [winemakers] are purchasing fruit," from the same few growers. Van de Reep is more interested in a variety of producers; his selections can come from growers in Germany, Portugal, Austria, Italy, Spain—the wine list reads like a season of Chef's Table, or a bygone bucket list. (Dare I say that in a COVID-19 era, Bar Gobo might just ease the grief we collectively share for a world we long to explore?)
Van de Reep pulls over a bottle of Cheverny Rouillon (a Pinot Noir and Gamay blend) from the Clos du Tue-Boeuf family domain, located in the modest village of Les Montils in the Loire Valley, and elucidates its story: The family has been farming organically since 1996 and their 10 hectares in Cheverny sit on a clay soil of flint Blois chalk on southeast hillsides overlooking the Beuvron. The vineyards are surrounded by forests, maintaining the biodiversity of their soils. This was the bottle that changed his world when a friend once invited Van de Reep to open anything from the friend’s cellar; it had more character than anything he’d tasted before.
Rillette with plum, pickled chard stems, and sunflower seed bread thins
Zaklan Heritage Farm radishes in sesame butter
Anchovy “Toast”
Van de Reep’s focus is clear. He's interested in "wineries that are trying to do the right thing in terms of not overmanipulating," he explains—as well as those that aren't using ludicrous amounts of sulfur or additives that got more obtuse as the corporate industry mutated. For him, it's about leaving the commercial world behind and sourcing from those who are, "paying attention to the wine and caring about the land they have."
We chat about the importance of narrative when answering questions about wine. It's part of why the beverage expert loves what he does: engaging with curious clientele. "With a small list of, frankly, pretty obscure or esoteric grapes—or not what people would necessarily expect that grape to be like—a lot of it is pretty hands-on: explaining why we want to pour it, why it's exciting, and why we think you should drink it."
As Hillbrandt tends to his plated art at the back of the room, Van de Reep redirects credit from himself onto the former Burdock sous-chef and Carlson alike. "Andrea and Neil are constantly working on the menu," he explains. The menu will shift as often as the wine list does. But a focus on similar odes-to-the-land applies to the food as well. "We don't have it this week, but we had fresh burrata last week, oysters are from the East Coast right now, but they'll switch to the West Coast in the winter; we'll have tomato salad from Sunny Paradise Farms, and you can piece [items] together: cheese and charcuterie from Oyama [Sausage Co.], Haida Gwaii scallops." It'll all change, "depending on what's seasonal, what's fun, what we're reading about, and what we're tasting."
After our chat, I stayed to order a glass of the Cheverny Rouillon. Looking at the nostalgia-inducing Hilroy paper menu, I couldn't help but put in a food order, despite knowing I'd be back with friends (and my spouse a few weeks later). A three-inch-long rectangle of Duck Rillette with plums and pickled chard, placed beside a plum jelly, and a sunflower seed, psyllium-based bread was unforgettable. An order of Livia bread with cultured butter made from PEI buttermilk (via a fermentation process and inoculation from healthy bacteria) was the perfect combination of fluffy, rich but balanced, and creamy. One of the most unique salads I've had in a while came with sprouted walnuts, biodynamic peaches from Oliver, B.C. and greens from Cherry Lane Farms in Delta.
Beta 5 Chocolate’s Milk + Honey bar
Later, two friends and I ordered the now-infamous-in-our-group Anchovy Toast: a cracker-textured bread thin draped in anchovy-bespattered butter. The radishes from Zaklan Heritage Farm were crisp and juicy with leaves you could scoop up the underlying sesame butter dip with, then eat all at once. The equally-memorable sesame tofu dish souped in a maple-soy liquid and topped with bonito flakes and sesame seeds is served cold but dances with flavour. I ordered a glass of Rigour & Whimsy's skin-contact Hyperdrive; the couple behind Rigour & Whimsy are among the winemakers who select grapes from biodynamic-minded farmers in and around Okanagan Falls, B.C.
Dessert was Beta 5 Chocolate’s Milk + Honey bar: a collaboration with Vancouver's The Curatorialist inspired by a Turkish breakfast staple known as Bal-kaymak (clotted cream and honey). The bar was crafted using Valrhona's Opalys white chocolate and is spotted with crumbles of sponge toffee for its honey notes. The company regards the bar's coup de grâce as a small pinch of mastic gum that cuts the saccharine white chocolate's sweetness, adding notes of cedar and pine. These bars are limited, and may soon be unavailable at Bar Gobo, but Hillbrandt has since plated a beautiful Bay Laurel and salted chocolate custard, meringue and honeycomb dessert, which I have no doubt is equally as delicious.
Leaving the best for last has been a trend in dining for centuries, so as an endnote to this piece, I'll invoke the same trend: The service received on three occasions from Caryn, a server with years in the industry, warmed the entire room. Her knowledge of the sourcing that went into Hillbrandt's menu and the family-run vineyards behind Van de Reep's selections, as well as the narrative-based detail of each ingredient in the Beta 5 bar, and the story behind the tiles decorating the bar stand, exemplified what sits at the root of this endeavour: a passion for collaboration with ecologically-minded artisan makers and a deep love for the nourishment they provide. Bar Gobo is clearly a win for the neighbourhood.
Words & photos by Tracy Giesz-Ramsay
