Five people, 9pm start. Restaurant was quietly busy -- ambiance of anniversaries and dates. We were waited upon by a San Francisco expat (in wake of last week, he thought it might now be safe to return home), who was as unobtrusive as one can be when sporting pink shades and bling-sized rings.

Started with the mussels (with tomato and caper salsa/relish thing), which were great -- very fresh -- and not overpowered by the relish, which was suitably subdued. They didn't do much to justify their $20 price tag, though. Scallops were the choice of pretty much everyone else. Not being a huge fan, I can't comment much, but they were met with midly approving noises. The accompanying breads were tasty, but definitely not from the oven that day, and so a bit blander than they should have been.

Entrées were where it started to go downhill. I went with the partridge, which turned out to be a decently sized portion, but was a few orders of magnitude overcooked. I had a tough time convincing myself it wasn't chicken. The accompanying lentil and cabbage braise was a much more interesting prospect, and would have made a great appetizer. The Wild Coho salmon served around the table was similarly overdone, and didn't show much in the way of either wildness and cohoness.

Dessert was a crème brûlée and caramel apple bread pudding. Latter was one of the tastiest apple dishes I've had on the mainland (and there's no shortage of competition here), while the crème brûlée disappeared in a few seconds in the face of assault from all sides. (Suited me fine, as I focussed my attention on the pudding.)

In the end, the dessert and the price tag were the only stand-out points at Bishop's. We spoke for a while with the waiter afterwards, and he told how the restaurant -- which opened in '86 -- shook up Vancouver's dining industry with some off-the-wall dishes (something also mentioned by a few reviews I read). This gastronomic iconoclasm, he maintained, continued to this day.

I'm not so sure. William Whitelaw, the Conservative politician, once complained that "Harold Wilson is going around the country stirring up apathy". After the night's experience, I couldn't help but feel something similar.