The Review: June on Cambie Brings the Buzz to Cambie Village

Lucious—muscles wrapped in a crisp white suit—is waiting for us at the front door of June.

He introduces himself with a warm handshake. His smile is also warm, but his eyes? Unreadable behind sunglasses. He ushers us in to the host stand, where we’re led to our seat by a waiter dressed in a boxy, stylish blazer that I compliment before realizing it’s just the uniform. I settle into the plush banquette, which is wrapped around an oversized circular table. I ask my dining companion if Lucious is the owner. He doesn’t hear me because the music is too loud, so I ask again, more shout-y. No, my friend tells me: he’s the bouncer. (Well, “door maître d’,” technically speaking, but same diff.)

Who could have predicted that a restaurant in Cambie Village would need security? The neighbourhood has long been thoroughly gentrified, more notable for its leafy residential streets and heritage houses than for any buzzy nightlife. On this cozy commercial strip between 12th Avenue and King Edward, the wildest Saturday night plans have typically involved catching a Wes Anderson screening at the Park Theatre and then getting a naughty second scoop from Rain or Shine.

But the ’hood, it seems, is changing. June (the restaurant) opened in April (the month), bringing something buzzier and, to be frank, sexier than Cambie has offered before. It’s destination dining, joining the recently opened Elio Volpe and upscale-Indian stalwart Vij’s to lure foodies westward. And like these award-winning neighbours, June arrives with plenty of culinary bonafides to back up the hype:  June co-proprietors Cam Watt and Keenan Hood have been running the beloved Keefer Bar for 15 years; executive chef Connor Sperling comes from Published on Main; Grapes and Soda’s Satoshi Yonemori and Keefer’s Amber Bruce are handling the bar program; Leticia Castro (Como Taperia, the Diamond) is running front-of-house operations.

All of this to say, the hordes aren’t just coming for the moodily lit room—though, frankly, the space, designed by Mexico City architecture firm Héctor Esrawe, is delicious—they’re here to eat, and drink, and drink some more.

Since opening, reservations have been slammed and lines have wrapped around the block. The recent introduction of Lala, the intimate record lounge downstairs (featuring select bites from the June menu and a full cocktail list), has helped alleviate the pressure somewhat—but Lucious is still needed to manage the flow. It’s so popular that I can only manage to snag reservations on the fringes of traditional dining hours: I have one meal at an early-bird 5:30; a few weeks later I manage to squeeze in at a European-chic 8:45.

But no matter the hour, the food and drink at this brash brasserie is worthy of the added security. Sister establishment Keefer Bar made North America’s 50 Best Bars list this year, so it’s no surprise that Yonemori and Bruce bring the heat behind the June bar, too. The classics are executed with precision—the classic June martini is crisp and strong—but it’s the originals that really delight. The mushroom old fashioned I order certainly isn’t for everyone, but it’s like nothing else: woodsy mushroom amaro plays off sweet-bitter cacao and smoky Reifel rye. The genmaicha clover club covers the other side of the flavour spectrum: the drink is punchy, bright and pleasantly toasty thanks to a mix of gin, genmaicha, horseradish and lemon.

As we sip, the hits keep spinning on our table’s Lazy Susan. Chef Sperling takes cues from French cuisine, but there’s a West Coast undertone here—a heavy seafood focus and familiar embrace of local produce. Hokkaido scallops are sliced into delicate medallions and doused in citrus beurre blanc. I can’t help but sop it up with our side of warm, perfectly plush brioche. It’s a warm-up for what might be the best house salad in town: a stack of Endswell Farm lettuce is dressed with perfect balance, every leaf bright and well seasoned.

Said salad is the idea foil for the spiced madeleines and crab dip, a prime contender for my dish of the night (well, nights, because I end up ordering it on both visits). Finally, I think, dragging the sweet and peppery pastries through the tangy, creamy seafood spread: a way to enjoy cake and crustaceans together. The meat-eaters at the table seem similarly pleased with a classic beef tartare, glistening under a crown of peppered egg yolk; the house-made potato chips on the side disappear quickly.

Mussels arrive next, and I’m wowed here, too. They’ve been cooked in a poppy chili and Fino sherry sauce that highlights just how fresh and vibrant the mollusks are. I can tell that my dining companions are impressed, too—every time someone leans closer to hear a little better, they sneak another one of these little gems off the plate. (The sleek, wood-panelled surfaces that give the bistro such a cool vintage look unfortunately also amplify the many, many voices chattering away at the tables nearby… though June’s management has confirmed it’s a known issue that they’re working to resolve.)

Maybe it’s the fact I’m three cocktails deep, or maybe I’m just absorbing the celebratory spirit emanating from the dressed-to-the-nines, largely female clientele clinking martini glasses around me (the girls’-night-out vibes are electric in here)—but I’m crushing on June even before Chef Sperling himself arrives tableside. When he pulls out a shining bucket of Normandy butter to top our order of Pasta for Rachel, the butterflies only intensify. Then he tells us he took inspiration from the classic raviole du Dauphiné to create the unique, uncut comté-stuffed ravioli sheet in honour of his pasta-loving wife, which is the most romantic thing I have ever heard.

I bite into the buttery, nutty, perfectly al dente noodles and it’s official: love is in the air. No wonder Lucious has been brought aboard to keep the crowds at bay. This is the sort of food, the sort of space, the sort of night, the sort of carb-based declarations of romance that ignite a passion so fierce even the cool winds of Cambie Village couldn’t tame them.