St. Lawrence’s Cabane à Sucre is an exceptional affair — except for one missing thing

Some memories, like maple syrup, stick.

For me, a singular food event haunts me — a two-hour journey from Ottawa to the famous Quebecois restaurant Au Pied de Cochon, at their rural Sugar Shack, or in French, cabane à sucre. The exact details of the meal elude me to this day, except for two things: the long, shared communal table piled high with an endless and unnecessary amount of food, and the first course of the dinner, a massively rich foie gras tart that no one could finish.

Sugar Shacks are a unique Quebecois experience. There’s nothing quite like it. Historically, little huts were set up in the early spring during the thaw to collect sap and turn it into maple syrup. From that, large rustic cabins evolved to serve hungry visitors endless buffets of both high-end and hearty meals, shared amongst all.

St. Lawrence’s Cabane à Sucre experience has been on my list for a while. Widely considered the best restaurant in Vancouver, for good reason, there is no place quite like it in Vancouver. I can only speak to my visits, but the consistency of quality, from the food to service, is consistently exceptional. 

A real sugar shack is not usually a fine-dining experience but a communal sharing of flavours, a more laid-back enterprise, set with large rows of tables where everyone mixes and mingles. Since it was my first visit, I was intrigued about how the team would approach it, given their position as one of the top Vancouver restaurants.

According to William Johnson’s excellent interview with chef and owner J-C Poirier, the team decided on a different approach this year, abandoning communal tables and excess in favour of a more traditional, and far less extravagant, four-course meal. 

The meal itself was a subdued affair, but still a testament to the best of French and Québécois cooking. A traditional sugar shack split pea soup, bursting with little delicate pockets of maple flavour. A foie custard was a subtly luscious affair, and easily stood out as one of the best dishes of the evening.

From there, we had our options of different appetizers and entrees. The standout was easily the buckwheat crêpes with mushroom ragout. Plated with the attention to detail you find at the best restaurants in the world, the half-crescent buckwheat held little bits of mushroom that, together, and almost-foaming, bitingly white Oka cheese sauce balanced the whole dish. 

The venison, while more subdued than the other dishes, was a case study in preparing game meat. Gone was the normal toughness, each bite had a delicate feel that you’d associate with steak. 

Yet for all its delicacy, for all the attention to every minute detail, I finished the meal feeling a touch of disappointment. Perfection, yes, but stripped of the best parts of what makes a cabane à sucre so special. Gone was the excess, the carousing tables full of rowdy guests, the overuse of foie gras and the stomach-churning level of richness topped by gallons of maple syrup. 

A restaurant has to evolve. For a fine-dining experience like St. Lawrence, the delicate balance between casual and upscale may have been too much to continue. Elegance and refinement are rarely found at a communal table. 

We hold onto memories, and those memories create expectations. A sugar shack in my mind has always been, if not the opposite of fine dining, a group affair, a welcome opportunity to sit shoulder to shoulder with friends and strangers, to embrace for a brief moment of gluttony that in any other situation would feel excessive. While I never experienced St. Lawrence’s previous iteration, I wish I could.

Maybe the times demand a change. Excess and gluttony, under mounds of maple syrup, may have no place in the world we find ourselves in today. But as Poirier said in his interview with The Straight in 2024 — “let’s bring everyone together on a long table” — I cannot help but think that more meals at those communal tables, surrounded by friends and strangers, is exactly what is needed these days. 

Cabane à Sucre continues until mid-March, with many spots still available to book, especially on weekdays.