There are restaurants that shout and there are restaurants that whisper. Elem, tucked quietly into Vancouver’s new dining spaces in Mount Pleasant, is the kind of place that prefers the whisper—the steady, measured voice that insists on restraint even when presenting something as grand as dry-aged duck or a cloud made of corn. It’s not about fireworks here; it’s about patience, about seasons, and about the way a dish can evolve on the palate in a slow, contemplative arc.

Dishes

Team Tastic came here for a Sunday dinner and I had a great taste of the $125 "Let us cook for you" tasting menu which included the following:

  • Burrata Lettuce Wrap
  • Venison Tartare
  • Lamb Skewers
  • Gnocchi
  • Dry-Aged Duck
  • Corn Cloud Cake
  • Birthday Carrot Cake

Burrata Lettuce Wrap

The meal opened like a sonnet, a burrata poised in its own gleaming orb, surrounded by lettuce and herbs that looked as if they had been foraged from a meadow at dawn. The lush cream of the cheese contrasted with the bitterness of greens and the faint sweetness of a jam-like topping. It was both rustic and urbane, a reminder that the Italian countryside could, for a moment, live on a Vancouver plate.

Burrata Lettuce Wrap
Elem – Burrata Lettuce Wrap

Venison Tartare

A disc of venison arrived, crowned with chive-dusted chips, and this looked like the solid version of a whiskey martini. Gamey and clean at once, the tartare offered depth without the heaviness of beef. It was Vancouver wildness channeled into a modernist gesture, and it hummed with quiet daring.

Elem – Venison Tartare
Elem – Venison Tartare

Lamb Skewers

Here the flavors leaned primal—lamb, charred on skewers, resting atop a pillowy spread of yogurt, its sharpness softened by medjool date glaze and nutty buckwheat. It was a dish that wanted you to eat with your hands, to let the fat smear against the tang, to remember the elemental pleasure of meat and fire.

Elem – Lamb Skewers
Elem – Lamb Skewers

Gnocchi

This wasn’t your nonna’s gnocchi. Elem’s rendition was softened into near pillows, swimming in a sauce that leaned more towards forest than farmhouse. Wild butter morel mushrooms echoed the season, herbs blanketed the surface, and the dish read less as pasta and more as a small woodland scene—a reminder that umami was not a flavor but a landscape.

Elem – Gnocchi
Elem – Gnocchi

Dry-Aged Duck

This was the star. Sliced to precision, glistening skin, tender pink meat in a marinade of prunes, duck jus, and and braised shallot. Each bite was deep, savoury, and layered—the kind of dish you pause for, mid-conversation, just to let the flavour sit. The duck wasn’t just dinner—it was the thesis of the meal. Bonus points for including the whole leg to gnaw off off the bone.

Elem – Dry-Aged Duck
Elem – Dry-Aged Duck

Corn Cloud Cake

This first dessert was basically corn reimagined as a dream. Airy, sweet, almost mousse-like, with a little hit of salt. It was playful but also refined, the kind of dish that makes you smile before you even take a bite. Desserts like this make me feel like the restaurant is going for a Michelin star soon.

Elem – Corn Cloud Cake
Elem – Corn Cloud Cake

Birthday Carrot Cake

And then—surprise candle moment because it was close to my birthday. Carrot cake with a dark, glossy drizzle. Not flashy, but thoughtful and personal. The kind of touch that reminds you restaurants are still about joy, not just plates for Instagram. You can't capture the amount of moisture this had in a photo.

Elem – Birthday Carrot Cake
Elem – Birthday Carrot Cake

Ambiance:

Elem’s dining room had the kind of cool restraint you’d expect from a gallery, but it never tipped into sterility. Marble tables stretched like pale canvases, while curved leather chairs softened the geometry. Light bounced from copper panels framing the open kitchen, giving you little cinematic glimpses of chefs at work. It was design-forward but not distracting—every detail felt intentional, from the ombré ceramic cups to the hush of natural light diffused through tall curtains.

Inside Elem
Inside Elem

It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t dim, and it wasn’t trying to be a scene. Instead, Elem created a space where you could actually hear your dining partner while still feeling like you were part of something elevated. Minimalist, yes—but with just enough warmth in the details to keep it human.

Inside Elem
Inside Elem

Service:

The service at Elem matched the room’s precision but carried a friendliness that kept it approachable. Staff moved with choreography—plates arriving on time, descriptions clear and unhurried—but never with that over-rehearsed stiffness you sometimes get at fine dining spots. They seemed genuinely excited about the food, and their confidence made the tasting menu feel like a guided journey rather than a sales pitch.

Inside Elem
Inside Elem

What stood out most was the balance: attentive enough to make you feel taken care of, discreet enough to let conversations flow. Water glasses filled as if by magic, plates whisked away before they lingered too long, and when a candle arrived on a surprise birthday cake, it felt personal rather than performative. Elem’s service didn’t demand applause—it simply made the night feel seamless, which is its own kind of luxury.

Final Thoughts:

Elem wasn’t trying to be trendy—it was trying to be timeless, and it nailed it. For $125 a person, it’s not cheap, but it left me thinking about flavors long after the night ended.

  • One-liner summary: Elem whispered, and it was worth leaning in for an experience I'm sure is going to be noticed by the Michelin Guide next year.
  • Highlight dish: Dry-Aged Duck
  • Price per person: $150 (before drinks)
  • Would I return? Absolutely—next time with someone I want to impress without saying a word.
Elem – The Bill
Elem – The Bill
Inside Elem
Inside Elem
Outside Elem
Outside Elem