Billing itself as “Nuevo Latino” cuisine, Cobre takes a step away from the stereotypes traditionally associated with Mexican cuisine – giant margaritas, sombreros, elbow-to-elbow seating and artery-clogging amounts of cheese. Not that a rib-sticking enchilada with a huge dollop of sour cream can ever be a bad thing, but Cobre isn’t the place to hit up for a one-plate chow-down. A cursory glance at the decor sums up Cobre’s design and culinary aesthetic: a restrained juxtaposition between the rough coziness of brick walls and the edgy warmth of copper ceilings. Just enough of too much to be good for you.

I’ll lay my cards on the table now: I love tapas bars, but they really stress me out. Deciding what to order is always a timely reminder about the inefficiency of the democratic system. When the plates finally arrive, there usually isn’t enough to go around, and so us hungry diners politely sit and stare at the last bit of meat on the plate, hollow-cheeked and gaunt. Cobre solves this dilemma with a simple rule: four people to a plate, maximum. The other strategy: make the food filling and the portions perfect.

The star of dish of the night was the pork belly: flavourful, comforting and thrillingly tasty. The alternately silky and robust textures of the meat were brought out with expert cooking, and the luscious experience of the pork was highlighted by a subtle chipotle-tamarind glaze. Cobre’s other diner favourite, jerk-spiced diver scallops, didn’t deliver the same punch. Flavour was lacking, although the scallops themselves were tender and nicely seared. However, the duck breast, sliced and served over risotto, made the consensus clear: Cobre knows how to cook meat. Found inside each puddle of disappointing, goopy risotto was a piece of duck crackling (to everybody’s delight). Almost redeemed. A personal favourite of mine was the flat iron steak on buttermilk mash. Coarse salt, sprinkled last-minute over three small strips of beef, delivered a crunch and a bite that made me appreciate the saying that less is sometimes more. The sablefish dish was supremely “meh.” Crumbled like an afterthought over bready pieces of tostada, the fish’s delicate, almost quivering texture and subtle flavour were undermined by its preparation and accompaniments. The only real miss of the night was the Peruvian tacu tacu, a vegetarian dish which layered goat cheese, roasted eggplant, green beans and a rice cake (the tacu tacu) over a helping of roasted garlic. While the eggplant itself was delicious and the green beans refreshingly crunchy, the tacu tacu was dry and flavourless – something you’d eat if you were really hungry and just wanted something to fill your stomach so you could quit complaining to your friends.

Dessert was caramel with whipped cream, berries, and churros. If there’s a name for it, it was forgotten amidst the ecstasy of that perfect bite: fluffy, rich caramel, light whip, and tart raspberry all rolled into one sexy, delicious mass.

Throughout the night, I was impressed with how quickly the food came, how conveniently the food was portioned, and how well thought-out each dish was – each was accompanied by a starchy staple to ensure you didn’t leave the restaurant with an empty stomach. In a city where the tapas lounge has become a bit of a cliché, Cobre offers a sophisticated, intelligent, dining experience.

For more photos from Cobre, visit the Flickr set.

If there’s a default food for me (and many Vancouverites) – it’s sushi. Chinese-owned Japanese restaurants are a dime a dozen, found in every corner of the GVRD, but there are a small handful that stand above the rest; Nikkyu is one of them.

From the outside, Nikkyu is rather unassuming, and that doesn’t change past the doors either. Wooden tables and chairs are clustered tightly in the small dining hall, allowing for easy (though slightly public) conversations and access to the attentive staff.

The food, like the restaurant itself, is a simple affair, but an enjoyable one. Withing minutes of ordering, dishes started rolling in. While each entree was presented well, it was the tuna dishes that stood out the most from common fare. The soft textures of the negitoro sashimi ($1/pc) melted in my mouth, while the green onions in the negitoro and spicy tuna rolls ($3.85) gave a nice kick to the staple. The spider ($9.50) and rainbow rolls ($8.50), while competent, were a bit too familiar; I’d had the same formula elsewhere.

If you’re looking for an authentic or innovative Japanese experience, Nikkyu isn’t your place, but if you’re with a small group looking for familiar flavours, fresh tuna, and quality service, I recommend it.

For more photos from Nikkyu, visit the Flickr set.

Lately, my appetite hasn’t been up to par, but if there’s one place I’ve been craving, it’s Chambar. You wouldn’t expect to find such a gem on the outskirts of Chinatown, but location doesn’t stop Chambar from being what it is: a charming restaurant with warm service and mouth-watering Belgian cuisine.

As a dinner-only location, Chambar is always bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers and candlelight. The walls are lined with tables for two, with only a few spots for larger groups. Dapper servers are always hurrying about, but to date, have been courteous and attentive without fail. The atmosphere is far from casual, but it’s hard not to feel at home.

Much like the atmosphere, the food has a definite sophistication, but there’s comfort in the delivery; it’s probably the fries. Arriving with each of my entrees has been a delectable side of pommes frites, served with what I suspect to be a smoked-garlic tartar sauce. I hate to say it, but oftentimes, I find myself picking at the fries more than the main course – much like this review.

Though my hand reaches for fries more often than my fork, that’s not to say the entrees don’t hold their own. If you love mussels, the Kwak ($10), an amber beer with bitter-orange overtones, is a curious entry. Each bottle is served in a flared glass with a rounded bottom, and held by a wooden stand. Supposedly, inventor Pauwel Kwak designed the apparatus for coachmen. So much for driving sober.

If you have a taste for Belgian cuisine (or mussels for that matter), you owe it to yourself to visit Chambar. Just be sure to make early reservations; they’re booked most nights.