by Andrew Morrison | I passed by The Union at 219 Union Street on my bike during Happy Hour the other day and – seeing the sidewalk patio packed with people-watchers digging into nahm jim-glazed chicken wings and sipping on exotically-flavoured “banga” cocktails like it was no big deal – remembered back to when the address was just a blank, 2,000 sqft slate of naked concrete and glass.

Since the ignominious destruction of the Hogan’s Alley neighbourhood in the 1970s, food and drink had been woefully scarce hereabouts. The Union’s arrival was a game changer for the block, right where Chinatown melds imperceptibly with Strathcona. Long gone were the old days of community magnets like Mother’s Tamale & Chili Parlour and Vie’s Chicken Shack. In my lifetime, I could purchase insurance or get a cheap haircut on the block, but to wet my whistle I had to go around the corner and up the stairs at The Brickhouse. That uniquely idiosyncratic spot has been fine enough for its 20+ years (a real institution), but options are finer still.

It was four years ago this week that I poked my head in at The Union for the first time, and what an absolute mess it was. Watching Evoke ID designers David Nicolay and Rob Edmonds do their thing here was another lesson in the possibilities of restaurant design. I didn’t see the irreverent, bar-forward, Southeast Asian street food-inspired establishment they were envisioning straight away, but I’d check in every few weeks to see how their vision was unfolding, and it was no end of fascinating to witness it take shape (like watching them apply flesh and sinew to a skeleton they only ever knew to be alive in their imaginations).

Since then, it’s made a huge impact on the block. In addition to The Union, there’s also Harvest, Big Trouble, Crackle Creme, and Hogan’s Alley Cafe — a big improvement in a very short period of time.

Like a speed bump, stop sign, or distinctive tree, house, or abandoned 1964 Volvo with four flat tires, The Union has become part of the daily landscape for many Vancouverites. As it sits close to the end of the last quasi-residential stretch before the Adanac Bikeway hits the Dunsmuir Viaduct and the city proper, it’s exactly where thousands of cyclists – every day – pause and take a deep breath through the nostrils before committing to the last leg of their commute.

And boy does it smell good! I wasn’t around when Jimi Hendrix’s grandmother Nora was cooking at Vie’s (nor were bike lines, for that matter), so I can’t say with certainly that The Union’s wings and short rib pho smell better than her fried chicken and steaks. Either way, it’s cool that there’s a good smell again, and cooler still to recall how it came from nothing. Take a look…

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