Skip to main content
vancouver

agill@globeandmail.com

The general manager at Society Restaurant and Lounge can't find our reservation.

"What's your last name again? Oh, right. You're late," he scolds, glancing askance at his watch. "The reservation is for 6, and it's now 6:26."

Actually, we're four minutes early. I'm sure the reservation is for 6:30 because I made it myself, under a pseudonym, only a few hours ago. I remember the phone conversation clearly because I never eat at this uncivilized hour.

Of course, I could be wrong. So could the manager, a possibility he is not at all willing to concede. In fact, he seems barely willing to acknowledge us.

After being completely ignored for the next 10 minutes, the hostess asks if we would like to sit on the sidewalk patio.

Absolutely not. It's snowing out there. When she asks again a few minutes later, promising to move us indoors as soon as a table comes available, we grudgingly follow her out into the frosty air.

What has the Glowbal Group come to?

Emad Yacoub is Vancouver's answer to New York's Jeffrey Chodorow. The local restaurateur has created a small fleet of flashy eateries (Glowbal, Sanafir, Coast, Italian Kitchen and Trattoria) in the same vein as Mr. Chodorow's multiple China Grills, where volume, brash showmanship and decadently rich food meet cocktail-fuelled good times.

Love 'em or hate 'em, the Glowbal Group restaurants fill a lively niche in this city. I thought they could usually be counted upon for decent fare and friendly service.

The patio is covered and there are heaters scattered about. But even with blankets wrapped around our parkas, we're still shivering. To make matters worse, we foolishly order milkshakes (the house specialty), one spiked with bourbon, the other with Frangelico and Baileys.

When the drinks finally arrive, 15 minutes later, our teeth clatter against old-fashioned soda-fountain glasses topped with whipped cream and maraschino cherries. At least we don't have to worry about the ice cream melting before we're seated inside, which should be presently. Shouldn't it?

"Well, it could happen within the next hour, but it might not," our server explains, urging us to begin ordering our meal.

I go to the bathroom to take notes. When I return - approximately 40 minutes after we first walked in the door - the hostess has begun moving us indoors.

"Good for you!" our new waitress exclaims, as if scoring a table in the dining room is some sort of lottery prize.

She doesn't offer to take our bulky coats. While shifting mine around to make room, I graze my hand on a large shard of broken glass. I place the wine-glass remnant on the table, in clear sight of the waitress, where it remains, disregarded, for the rest of the evening.

Society undoubtedly lives up to its tag line as "Yaletown's Most Unpredictable Dining Lounge." But if this is only the prelude, I'm almost afraid to think of what may happen next.

The restaurant's loose carnival theme might be fun were it served up with the slightest hint of irony. That's not the case. Save for two large Barbie-pink glass chandeliers, the dark, sultry space, coolly appointed with slate walls, damask-patterned screens and pearly leather banquettes, takes itself extremely seriously.

As do the clientele. Contrary to what one friend suggested - that Society would become a training ground for the Granville Street club-hopping set - the lounge is filled by a familiar crowd of grey-haired men leering down the low-cut décolletage of much younger women. This type of scene can be awkward at the best of times. Here, with everyone slurping on boozy milkshakes and pulling on cones of cotton candy, it's just plain sad.

The meals, when they arrive, are no consolation, though the menu is sold as down-home comfort food. Down-home cooking, while hardly novel, is rarely this unappetizing. Battered macaroni and cheese balls ($8) might amuse, if the centres weren't so dried out. But there's nothing funny about watery lobster shepherd's pie ($18) bludgeoned with tarragon and laced with limp carrots.

Poutine ($4) smeared in liquefied cheese curds and thin chicken gravy is not cute.

"Shake 'n' Bake" chicken ($16) is the only palatable dish of the night. The half-chicken portion is generous. The meat is moist and tender, with a crispy, crunchy breadcrumb batter, deep-fried to a nice golden brown.

I retreat to the bathroom once again. When I return, the manager finally offers to take my coat (but not my friend's). He also informs us that he will be striking the milkshakes off our bill and bringing us complimentary dessert for "having to sit outside."

The women seated beside us aren't as fortunate. When the first two in their party arrived earlier - on time - they were told they couldn't have their reserved table until the third person showed up. Their friend was going to be late, they explained. Tough luck, they were told.

Instead of sitting outside (which might have at least earned them some free doughnut holes), they chose to wait inside the doorway, where they stood with their coats on for a full 30 minutes, gazing yearningly at their nearby table, which remained empty the entire time.

The women were livid. So was I, just watching the whole sorry debacle. At least they didn't miss out on much with dessert. The complimentary Junk Food Platter (normally $18) is a playful idea and a marvel to behold, but poorly executed.

Crowned by a huge puff of (wooly) pink cotton candy, the plate features two Hostess-style cupcakes (with syrupy, unset icing), Rice Krispie squares (dry), chocolate chip cookies (hard), ice cream sandwiches (melted and not very malty), caramel corn (bitter and salty) and doughnut holes (served with a pink chocolate dipping sauce that looks like Pepto-Bismol).

No wonder they were giving this "junk" away free to any table that ordered two entrées for the entire month of November.

Society wasn't just the worst dining experience I've encountered within the Glowbal Group chain of restaurants. It was my worst dining experience - period - over the last few years.

Society Restaurant & Lounge: 1257 Hamilton St., 604-629-8800.

Follow related authors and topics

Authors and topics you follow will be added to your personal news feed in Following.

Interact with The Globe