On-line foreplay, buzz, and a splashy launch have made Fuel the hot new place—right down to happy-snappy food bloggers shooting their plates—all in a couple of weeks. We wanted to like it a whole lot more than we did, mainly because the co-owners, chef Rob Belcham and sommelier Tom Doughty (both ex-C) are a crack team. But right now, the food and service need tweaking.

First experience: a Friday night. Out yourself as a restaurant critic and you’re adored the moment you walk through the door. Because I want to know how regular diners are treated, I don’t. So, while he parked, I went in and waited. And waited. Staff knew the foursome ahead of me. Greetings all round, and off they all trooped. As time passed, I read the computerized reservations list, until finally some kind soul came out of the open kitchen and took me to the table.

It’s an attractive space, neutral colours, dark wood, foie gras–coloured tablecloths, heavy flatware, a large and arachnoidesque light fitting overhead, all background for the main design element: the L-shaped chef’s bar and the open kitchen. (A big front window lets passersby watch, too.) When it’s busy, you have to shout.

But you’re here for the West Coast modern menu, which is simple, original, and extraordinarily tempting. Even with only a half-dozen possibles, narrowing down starter choices was hard. Drawn by the promise of “house-made chorizo” in what is basically a sophisticated spin on paella, we loved the perfectly grilled squid and side-stripe prawns, and the small oblong rice cakes golden with saffron, but never did find the promised chorizo. A salad of romaine with matsutake and chanterelle mushrooms and a poached egg is dressed with sherry vinegar. The inspiration for this dish, I’m guessing, is the classic French bistro salad strewn with lardons. Bacon’s salt and fat can withstand a hefty acidic slap; mushrooms wilt.

On to mains. He chose the sablefish and pork belly, wondering how they could possibly work together. They do, as astute chef Belcham knows, because there’s richness and texture in common, and fish and meat were both at ease with the unexpected accompaniments of red heart radish, shiitake mushrooms, and dashi broth. Sides are consistent surprises: beets and chard with rainbow trout, broccoli rabe with rib eye, and a clever and satisfying olive-spiked cauliflower purée that supports tender pink slices of lamb leg.

Dessert was exceptional. Four stars to pastry chef Paul Croteau’s variations on grapefruit—sorbet, sugared, and more—that played as seamlessly as a string quartet. He makes good bread too, served as a mini épi on black granite with sea salt and Vancouver Island organic, unsalted, hand-whipped, rubbed between milkmaids’ thighs butter. (I may have gotten that wrong even though I’ve heard it twice now.) Do servers itemize every component on the plate because you may, by the time your food arrives, have forgotten what you ordered? That’s what my bloke thought, anyway. The place was going full-tilt Friday night and timing was off-kilter, with way too long between courses. (I’m not saying that there’s attitude here, but the prancingly ceremonious service does occasionally veer close to John Cleese country.)

So, lunch with a friend some days later. He’s vegetarian so they made him risotto topped with crisped capers but neglected to tell him, a scant glancer at menus, that the centrepiece of his pumpkin soup, smooth as liquid suede and garnished with crystallized pumpkin seeds, is a massive scallop. I ate it and gave him some of the sublime deep-fried red onions that came with my lamb sandwich. The long-braised meat is the essence of deep, rich comfort, with green-olive tapenade cutting its opulence, but not quite enough. Arugula, mizuna, or some other upstart green on the side maybe? Dessert was again stellar, apples and hazelnuts worked in various wonderful ways, including an intense smear of hazelnut paste and a shot glass of apple soda that was like sticking your face into a bowl of chilled Granny Smiths.

Wine list: huge. Doughty has assembled labels for all tastes and budgets. With a couple of low-end glasses apiece, dinner was $130 before tax and tip; a nonalcoholic lunch, $44.50. Right now, I’d give Fuel a few weeks to settle down. When you do go, be sure to leave room for dessert.