The Review: Elem Pulls Inspiration from India, Italy and Beyond

The inspiration of elements reveals itself before you’ve even had your first bite at Elem, the new Main Street room from supergroup Hassib Sarwari, Winnie Sun and chef Vish Mayekar. The space itself is divided by vibe. There’s the “wood” room, which feels warm and grounding; the airy curtain room (blue, breezy and wistful); and the largest of the three spaces: the water-inspired concrete room. With its white textured ceiling (that’s more expansive loft than office park popcorn), white stone walls and sleek marble tables, there’s a chance the room could feel cold. But velvety booths soften the space and two parallel kitchens bring a buzzing energy, making it feel like the hottest spot in town.

One of the kitchens is helmed by Sun, former bar whiz at Zarak and the brains behind Elem’s cocktail lab. Like the room itself, the bar program she’s devised is inspired by opposing elements (in this case, water, air, fire and earth). The reason Sun’s workspace is a kitchen and not just a bar is that Elem also employs a zero-waste program. Here, fruits, vegetables and even chocolate scraps that would usually be discarded by the kitchen are instead transformed into the restaurant’s signature (and show-stopping) beverages.

Take the melon cocktail ($21), part of the water-inspired menu: a soy milk clarified mix of taro rum, lacto-fermented honeydew and curry leaf, which is one of Sun’s many repurposed ingredients. The resulting drink has notes of honeydew so concentrated it’s like biting into sun-ripened melon, yet it’s balanced: the curry leaf is never bold enough to overpower, and instead adds an almost lemongrass-like complexity. Equally intriguing is the not-too-sweet butternut squash old fashioned ($23), made of butternut squash bourbon, shiitake mushroom, maple syrup and house-made nasturtium tincture (which you receive a drop of on your hand as well to try in its concentrated form). Upon hearing my excitement over this unique use of the seasonal gourd, our server promptly brings two delicate glasses filled with butternut squash liqueur to taste as well—it’s a thoughtfulness that immediately spotlights the elevated environment (and calls to mind the scene in The Bear season two, when Richie delivers a surprise deep-dish pizza to his customers). There’s luxury here, but it’s not pure decadence.

Similarly to Sun’s cocktail program, Vish Mayekar (formerly of Pepino’s) has designed an exploration of seemingly disparate elements—all tied together by his personal travels. From California to Spain to Bangkok and beyond, flavours and spices from all over the world are distilled into bold yet refined dishes. Take the centrepiece-worthy lamb skewers ($38); lacquered with a sticky sweet medjool date glaze and featuring pickled radish, crispy buckwheat and punchy ginger labneh, they seem to pull inspiration from the Levant. The marbled lamb itself is masterfully prepared, with a texture more akin to a braised short rib than fast-grilled meat, and—through the expert layering of sauces—achieves an each-bite-better-than-the-last effect.

The yellowfin tuna bhel ($24) delivers a similar impact via a luxurious amount of texture: perfect cubes of mango, jewel-like pomegranate seeds, puffed rice and a topping of sev (a popular Indian snack food made from chickpea flour) practically beg you to take just one more bite. The dish, which is inspired by Mayekar’s favourite childhood treat, is bright and herbaceous thanks to the cilantro-mint chutney—a fantastic foil to the almost earthy, shatteringly crisp semolina crackers you scoop it up with.

While the bhel is a study in texture, the rabbit and chestnut cavatelli ($36) is one in subtlety. Here, the simple joy of buttery sauce on chewy, house-made pasta marries with braised rabbit that melts on your tongue—this is no small feat. The notoriously lean protein takes a deft hand to master, and Mayekar has it; he also highlights the dish with simple adornment: thinly sliced maitake and roasted chestnuts. That simplicity makes this dish scream nostalgia in a way that feels like coming home.

Though at Elem, home can take many forms: the bavette ($54), too, tastes like memories to me. Marinated for two days in salsa borracha (or, drunk salsa, often made with tequila or beer), the steak is spicy in the interior in a way that takes me back to thinly sliced carne asada I used to pick up from my local Vallartas back home in California. But this is no thin steak—it’s juicy and rich, with a punch of spice that kicks through it with ease.

Just as strikingly spiced are the barbecued carrots ($18), whose centres taste of the Sichuan spice they were marinated in. When served atop smoked yogurt brightened with mandarin kosho and topped with tiny crispy pearls called bubu arare, this dish is both a conundrum and deeply addicting.

Dessert doesn’t hold back either. The Japanese pudding ($15) jiggles like a pitch-perfect flan, but with a caramel that’s taken just over the edge, scorching it until the sugars taste toasty and almost bitter rather than cloying; when paired with the Vecchio Amaro that’s poured overtop, it becomes the ideal vessel for the sharp anise and orange notes the drink is known for.

Already, Elem seems to satisfy the ultra-Vancouver equilibrium of chic coolness and warm generosity. In a restaurant as buzzy as this with a kitchen defined by community (the back of house almost entirely comprises past Caffe La Tana staff), it tracks that the dishes would find that same balance of opulence and subtlety—between what feels like a once-a-year treat and a daily craving. Though it’s new in town, Elem feels elemental to the city’s dining scene.