Au Petit Chavignol co-owner Joe Chaput carves slices of Jamón Ibérico de Bellota — considered to be the world’s best ham — from a leg mounted behind the restaurant’s bar.

Credit: Andrew Morrison

ON THE PLATE: Cheese experts triumph with first restaurant

Sometimes it’s good to give yourself a present. For me, these usually come in the guise of a fine meal, one that I’ve either been anticipating for a long time or that I’m confident will uniquely satisfy. I was lucky enough to score both last week at Au Petit Chavignol, a gem of a wine bar specializing in cured meats, cheeses, and well-imagined combinations of both.

When it opened last March, I made a point of going straight away. It’s a cool-looking spot, dominated by an L-shaped bar and distinguished by a concrete floor, a rose-hued glow, and a killer soundtrack from the early 1980s (think Psychedelic Furs and the Clash). As I sat at the bar, nursing a bracing Blanche de Chambly beer while watching all the other eager beavers mowing through various cheddars and blues, knifing pork rillettes with onion jam, and sipping on good wine, I decided my first meal there would be a present to myself.

And so I waited. Spring begat summer — a season I don’t normally associate with cheese — and I waited some more. And then, finally, in the midst of an October downpour, I knew it was time.

At first, there was some anxiety on my part. Table service and a booze license are new territory for proprietors Joe Chaput, Alice Spurrell, and Allison Spurrell, who also own and operate the legendary local cheese chainlet Les Amis du Fromage (the newest location of which is next door to Au Petit Chavignol). I was a little worried because over-the-counter exchanges with even the most astute cheesemongers are one thing, but the business of accomplished table service is altogether different. I needn’t have been concerned, though, as the staff are well-versed and genuinely passionate about the products they serve.

The menu reads like a choose-your-own-adventure novella. Roughly 20 cow, goat, sheep, and mixed-milk cheeses are plated by the single selection ($4) or on tasting boards of three ($10) or five ($16). They aren’t your average cheeses, either, as the Les Amis du Fromage crew only deal in superlatives. That means if you want slices of the best cheese in the world — that being Le Cendrillon, an ash-ripened chèvre from Quebec that beat out 2,440 others, from 34 producer nations, at this year’s World Cheese Awards — you just ask.

The salumi options are plentiful, too, including a cured-ham threesome ($19) that features willowy Prosciutto di Parma, delicious Serrano, and the world’s best ham, the 36-month-aged, acorn-fed Jamón Ibérico de Bellota from Spain. Joe Chaput carves it by hand, slicing it paper thin right off of a black-hoofed pig’s leg mounted behind the bar. Remember a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about my 50 favourite things to eat in Vancouver? Make this 51.

And they don’t just slap the charcuterie and cheese down on a plate. They also incorporate them into soups, sandwiches, and fabulous fondues.

On that first visit, I slipped into beserker mode on account of a small bowl of lubricious, super-cheesy French onion soup ($7) that stood up to my peppery glass of Qupé Syrah ($15). This was followed by a monster croque monsieur ($10) unlike any I’d had before. Lathered with béchamel and stuffed with ham and Gruyère, it was then encased in a full cheese jacket of even more Gruyère before being baked. If you can imagine biting into a thick brick of cheese and discovering a richly flavoured ham sandwich inside, that was what it was like. Fantastic.

On the following night, I was made giddy by a bubbling cauldron of fondue ($22) full of Emmenthal, Gruyère, Comté, and Beaufort cheeses, served with crunchy cornichons, sweet and poppable silver onions, and half a loaf’s worth of bread cubes. I was with my wife and two young boys, both of whom had never had a fondue before. They opted for the two available add-ons: soft fingerling potatoes ($4) and pan-fried slices of kielbasa ($5). When we ran out of these, we started dipping superbly crispy and well-seasoned French fries ($5) into the pot — but we soon had to put a stop to that, lest we burned ourselves in our Oliverian keenness for more. I swear there wasn’t a molecule of fondue left.

It’s nearly impossible to go wrong with quality cured meats and cheeses. In the end, though, it’s the hot dishes that give Au Petit Chavignol far more depth than a slicing machine and a cutting board can do on their own, and turn moments of satisfaction into cravings that, for me, may last a lifetime, probably resurfacing — gasp! — whenever it rains. If you haven’t yet surrendered to the fact that summer is over, Au Petit Chavignol is a mighty fine perch from which to wave the white flag.

Au Petit Chavignol
845 East Hastings, 604-255-4218, AuPetitChavignol.com
Food: 4 stars / Service: 4 stars / Atmosphere: 4 stars / Value: 4 stars