Review: Le Crocodile by Rob Feenie Is an Exercise in Elegance

This past spring we broke the news of Chef Rob Feenie taking over famed West End restaurant Le Crocodile from Michel Jacob, and this summer announced its official opening date.

For months I was curious about how Feenie’s reimagining would go—I live right by the restaurant and walk past it daily, observing the decor modernize (there’s warm wood paneling that feels distinctly now), new golden crocodile graphics anoint the large front windows, and the room fill with guests while the chef himself walks table to table.

Now that Le Crocodile by Rob Feenie has been in full swing for months I finally had the chance to experience this take on the beloved French restaurant. As even though some much-loved menu items from Chef Jacob’s heyday remain available, it’s now totally Feenie’s POV.

The night began like all good ones do: with wine. Jill Spoor is the wine director at Le Crocodile and she’s a rockstar of the night; her pairing explanations have me feeling like I too, am an expert in all things grape. Spoor starts us off with Les Vergers Muscadet Sèvre et Maine, which despite the name does not lean sweet—there’s a ton of apple on the nose and it’s flush with minerality and salinity, an excellent pairing for our amuse bouche which arrives mere seconds later. 

On one side, a West Coast oyster swimming in an fresh cucumber mignonette, a fabulous take on the new-style of dressed oysters that have been around lately (that’s to say, not just a shallot-based mignonette). On the other side, a bite-sized tart, whose crust tastes of strawberry wafer cookie (in a good way) and is filled with nectarine preserves and plum and topped with just enough shaved foie to add a savoury (and mineral-forward, this is liver after all) roundness. Jam and foie may be a classic combination, but this iteration is utterly fantastic, especially when paired with the Muscadet.

Next up is bread, which is often an overlooked course, but here it’s made by local bakery Small Victory—it’s chewy and just dense enough to stand up to a generous smear of PEI butter dotted with fleur de sel. We choose to keep ours throughout the night in order to mop up any future sauces (the right choice).

Ahead of the next course is an Alscatian wine: Gustave Lorentz Gewurztraminer. It’s light, zesty with an almost savoury finish that makes it very drinkable. When paired with the next course it transforms, too, the bouquet becomes stronger, fruit-forward notes reach out and grab you while remaining distinctly acidic.

That transformative course is Kobujime Hamachi crudo with herb oil, white soy, yuzu, serrano, compressed Asian pear and celery ice. As the celery granita melts it changes the profile of the dish—adding salinity in a welcome way, especially when eaten with the perfect bite; that is, some of everything but especially the serrano and compressed Asian pear because together they are an absolute flavour bomb of sweet and spicy. This dish in particular seems to encapsulate the perspective Chef Feenie is bringing to his iteration of Le Crocodile because it feels so rooted in West Coast flavours while equally honed in technique.

A glass of Domaine de la Sarazinière Macon Bussiere “Claude Seigneuret” follows. It’s a barrel-aged Chardonnay from Burgundy, whose butteriness is tamed by ample minerality while remaining complex thanks to the old vines. It’s a treat before I even get to eat what I’m supposed to pair it with: a pitch-perfect mushroom soup.

Le Crocodile’s iteration of the cold-weather favourite is rich without being too cream-heavy and umami-forward, thanks to parmesan foam, thinly sliced matsutake and a cheese tuile that makes for the ideal crouton upgrade.

Hot smoked trout follows the soup with a glass of the medium-bodied Saint-Joseph Domaine J.Denuzière to pair alongside. The fish and the beurre Nantais that accompanies it showcase a mastery of cookery (the trout is supple, deeply smokey and all but melts on your tongue). Like the hamachi crudo, this is a dish that tastes like Vancouver while also feeling elegant and white tablecloth-worthy—it’s Le Crocodile by Rob Feenie in a nutshell.

The savoury portion of the night ends with an herb-cursted lamb saddle served with a smooth squash puree, beets and farro. The herb mix on the lamb is actually vadouvan spices—this dish is bold in the way the other dishes were subtle, but this isn’t a bad thing. It only makes sense that this explosion of spices finishes off the main courses. With this we drank a 2022 Domaine Jean Louis Chave Selection Cotes du Rhone Mon Coeur; its grenache base helps mellow out the sharper spices while allowing the game flavour of the lamb to sing.

Despite training in patisserie, I am somewhat known for being less into dessert than my other food-loving colleagues, but Le Crocodile’s classic Alsatian apple tart served with brown butter cardamom ice cream was one of the best things I’ve eaten this year (dessert or not). Upon first glance the dish looks simple, but the layers of flavour (and layer upon layer of thinly sliced apple) prove how simplicity can be the best way to showcase skill. And here, at the most refined neighbourhood restaurant I could have, that skill is showcased in spades.

Le Crocodile by Rob Feenie
909 Burrard Street