Let me start by saying I’m not a skier. Growing up in Sudbury, we certainly had the weather for it but the once majestic mountains of the Canadian Shield have long since eroded to more minuscule bumps, limiting any chance of maximizing 6000 foot drops. As a result, there was no ski scene other than Adanac mountain with its’ six runs and 239 ft vertical or cross country tracks near Laurentian university.
In addition, I get little enjoyment at the thought of lugging copious amounts of equipment to a crowded resort only to dress up, wait in line for a lift and let gravity pull me down a run named Cougar Milk just to end up at the point I started. Instead, I’m more than happy to sit in the bar and provide moral support although I do feel somewhat guilty about indulging in the apres menu when I didn’t do any of the work. Maybe this is why the Whistler ski scene bugs me so much. Don’t get me wrong…the scenery is absolutely beautiful but it is somewhat tainted by the aberrant behavior of the town’s residents and visitors. Here are a few examples:
- Nobody looks cool walking in ski boots- Ski boots are for skiing and not walking. Regardless of your gait or corresponding wardrobe, people walking around hotel lobby’s wearing boots look more foolish that a guy trying to run in high heels as part of a fundraiser. If you’re done skiing, take your boots off.
- Accents are cool unless you make them up- Whistler draws youth from around the world, especially Australia and New Zealand. Many people find such accents cute or even sexy…unless you don’t really have one. Hanging with a few Aussies for a couple of weeks doesn’t entitle you to start speaking like them. Accents aren’t viruses..you just don’t catch one. In addition, making up an accent to increase your hill cred is stupid; it didn’t work for Madonna it sure as hell won’t work for you.
- It’s evident there aren’t an abundance of salons in the village- You can get almost anything in Whistler Village…except a haircut. According to the map, there are a few places but most people don’t seem to use them. Sure, chronic helmet head is inevitable in such an environment, but allowing your hair to be a refuge for alpine wildlife is taking it a step too far.
- Bathrobes are called bathrobes for an reason. They aren’t called restaurant robes, lobby robes or bar robes. If you want to drink wine in a bathrobe, use your minibar. I don’t need to see your post-pedicured feet stuffed in a pair of disposable slippers or have to witness a wardrobe malfunction because you forgot the only thing holding you man or lady parts in place is a velour belt.
- Weed is technically still illegal in BC- Regardless of time of day, it is almost impossible to take a stroll through the village without wafting skunky smells here and there. Although Whistler is far from immune to wildlife, I’m sure the smells are not the results of stinky mammals….well at least not the ones with a white stripe and fur….oh wait…and four legs.
The dining scene in Whistler is a mishmash of aristocratic eateries, snack bars, beer havens and a few very recognizable franchises such as KFC, Starbucks and McDonald’s. I spent most of the time at the hotel for work functions, but I did have the opportunity to go to Araxi for dinner one night. Araxi is a fine dining establishment which gained national attention when it was announced the destination of the winner of the sixth season of Hell’s Kitchen. Dave Levey, best remembered for breaking his arm while washing a fire truck, was the eventual winner. Rumour has it he was treated like a glorified line cook and left shortly after the 2010 winter Olympics. In 2014, he was reported arrested as part of a drug bust in New Jersey (perhaps he thought he was still in Whister). Araxi, on the other hand, has continued to flourish under long time head chef James Walt.
I started with a Cuckoo’s calling cocktail, presumably named after the Robert Galbraith aka J.K. Rowling crime novel which is funny because the only bourbons named in that novel are the cookies which are most recognizable as the long brown ones in a box of Peak Frean assorted creme that you only eat once the good ones are gone. The drink had many of my favorite cocktail flavours including bacon infused bourbon, jalapeno, thyme, lemon and bitters. The smoky flavour was prevalent but not overwhelming and the rest of the flavours blended together well.
Araxi features an oyster bar and a small but diverse choice of starters and mains. Since I rarely have an opportunity to indulge in fresh west coast oysters, I was happy to order a half dozen (three each of Zen and Joyce Point from coastal British Columbia). They were shucked nicely and served with traditional condiments (fresh horseradish and lemon) and a spectacular mignonette.
A few of us also split a Vancouver Island beef tartare tossed with Peruvian chilies, yuzu, local sweet peppers and snipped chives, spiced vegetable chips and arugula and topped with a quail egg. It was smallish but the ingredients were in perfect proportion and delivered fresh and delicate flavours with the right amount of heat and seasoning.
For the main I opted for the Quebec rabbit stuffed with slow cooked pork jowl with carrot puree, roasted carrots, sauteed brussel sprouts and grainy mustard vinaigrette. It didn’t dawn on me on first but I thought afterwards it was rather strange to have a dish with rabbit and carrots together but once I tried the puree, any thoughts related to this food chain faux pas quickly hopped out of my head. It was fantastic. The rabbit with the pork was incredible and reminded me of a two-tiered and upscale M&M chicken tornado my mom used to make. The sprouts and carrots were a nice al dente.
For desert, I decided on a cheese course featuring a mix of offerings from local, Canadian and Italy sources. I’ve tried a few such as the delicious Benedictin Bleu from Quebec and P.E.I.’s Avonlea Clothbound Cheddar before, but although not normally a huge fan of the softies, the Poplar Grove double cream camembert from Penticton was the star. In addition to the decedent taste, its glistening interior was visually stunning. The fig compote was unbelievably good as well.
My Take
Whistler draws thousands of annual guests ranging from novice skiers to village wondering orophobic tourists. As a result, the variety of shops and eateries is quite diverse. Whether it’s an urban taco bar or a swanky sit down, there is no shortage of choices. Araxi is one of the most recognized of the latter and lived up to its long standing reputation although at resort prices. Whether it’s untamed hair or an affinity for the maryjane, just remember what happens in Whistler should stay in Whistler…just ask the winner of Hell’s Kitchen six.
Fare..Eat..Ales 