It’s no secret that I love Vancouver. We’re on a nickname basis. I call it Vancouv. Sometimes Vancity. Jk I was only there for three days in September so we’re not that tight. Am I allowed to call it Vancouv? Hmm…anyways, there’s something about Vancouv that I find absolutely magical. Pictured above is my favorite area called Gastown, a quaint SoHo-esque section of the city, complete with cobblestone streets and brick-facade buildings.

One night in Gastown, Kyle and I had reservations to eat at Boneta. While walking to the restaurant, we passed by Chill Winston and it immediately caught our attention. For Kyle, he simply thought the restaurant looked cool and different. My thoughts, on the other hand, went something like this: Holy hell, Kristen Stewart ate here like two weeks ago. It’s her fave! I knew Perez Hilton was good for something. We are sooo eating here. And so we cancelled our Boneta res and hopped over to Chill (pictured below).

I wanted Chill Winston to be my inaugural restaurant post because a) I ate there pretty recently so it’s still fresh in my mind and b) it was, by far, the single best restaurant I’ve ever experienced. I don’t throw those words around easily. In fact, I’ve never made that claim about a restaurant before – that’s why I said it’s the single best. The stars were aligned or something because it passed my restaurant review test with flying colors:

1. The hostess was extremely nice. Vancouv breeds nice people. This is a known fact. But when you are used to the rude, unattentive, holier-than-thou hostesses of Los Angeles who make you stand in the freezing cold and pretend you do not exist (I’m looking at you, Katsuya Hollywood Blvd), a Vancouv hostess is a breath of fresh air. I wanted to be her friend, ask her how her day was, thank her for wearing a cute headband.

2. Just as I was glowing at the thought of becoming friends with the hostess, she sits us in the most incredible area in the entire restaurant! Normally where only special or lucky people sit, we sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass window so we could gaze at the sunset and people-watch (both inside and outside!) at the same time.

3. And then the waiter comes and he’s in a head-to-toe hipster getup so I was sure he would be rude and blow cig smoke in our faces. Boy was I wrong. This guy was the nicest guy you’ve ever seen. He gave us a thorough run down of the menu and checked on us often. He wasn’t pushy and never forced us to order bison carpaccio.

4. The menu is a very eclectic mix of cuisines, from popcorn to turkey legs to tuna rolls. I started off with the tuna tartare. The plate was emptied within two minutes but from what I remember, the tuna was wrapped in avocado and had a citrusy flavor. So fresh. For my entree, I had the wild mushroom ravioli. To explain this ravioli in words would be doing the dish a great injustice. There are no words to explain it’s caliber. Swimming in a pool of herb broth, the fresh ravioli was filled with a variety of local mushrooms and topped with the most tender duck breast. I didn’t share with Kyle and he was rather pissed. I paired my ravis with an Italian red wine. I finished my meal off with a chocolate cake concoction, or in Mr. Winston’s words, a Melted Truffle Stuffed Chocolate Gateau. It didn’t matter that I was full, I ate and savored each bite as if it were my last. Overall, the meal was out of this world. Delicious. Perfect.

5. As the night rolled on, the restaurant became more crowded and lively. It had a very lounge feel to it – dark lighting, plush leather couches everywhere, and a huge central bar. Kyle and I dragged our meal out as long as possible because we just did NOT want to leave. Magical, I tell you, magical.

I didn’t see Kristen Stewart. In fact, I was so engrossed in my own meal that I didn’t even look for her. It was that good.