It's not worth beating around the bush here, so I'll get right to it: Vegan cuisine is a very hard sell in the Prairies.
The average diner may be exponentially more adventurous than he was five years ago, but predominance of meat on most contemporary restaurant menus in Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba shows where people's cravings carnivorously lie. Being someone who enjoys many vegetable-focused restaurants, I do find bringing friends to places sans-meat options can be typically met with eye rolls or "Can we get a cheeseburger after?" type comments. I'm sure you'll agree that it's a hard stereotype for some people to get past.
That said, it's impossible to deny that plant-based dining in Canada is on the dramatic rise. You can't walk a few blocks in Toronto without passing by some sort of vegetable-focused eatery (the buzzworthy Planta, the fast-casual Kupfert & Kim et al.). Out on the West Coast, Victoria is home to the country's premier vegan butcher shop, the Very Good Butchers, and Vancouver's Virtuous Pie is a delicious and flourishing example of how an unorthodox pizzeria can hit its stride.
Yes, vegan cuisine can be fulfilling, delicious and memorable. When it falters, though, it gives those patrons who are unsure, but willing to test its waters, a reason to stop dabbling.
Die Pie is a vegan restaurant that has potential depending on what you order. It's somewhat edgy branding can appeal to unsuspecting passersby on Jasper Avenue looking for a bite to eat. Once in the door, the interior itself is fairly nondescript, but it vibes like a relaxed restaurant to have a casual meal with friends.
The room is easy to fill and, as such, offers a warm buzz on a chilly fall night. Bubbly service staff add to the comfort levels here and before ordering drinks, you are happily informed about the plant-based food you're about to enjoy.
The short wine list is fairly standard and the compact cocktail menu offers all sorts of usual suspects and includes a tasty vegan version of the Caesar with house-made " clamato" and kombu dashi.
With pleasant service and suitable drinks, things certainly get off to a good start here, but when the food starts arriving is when the substantial stumbles start.
For starters, chef Neil Royale's beet salad promises a pleasant combination of smoked and candied walnuts, cultured "sour cream" and an herb salad, but materializes disappointingly. Unseasoned and overly tender chunks of beets sit on top of what is perhaps one tablespoon of an equally flavourless white schmear with a few pieces of basil and a sprinkling of walnuts.
Likewise, the "lobster" penne promises wondrous things at its $22 price point, but fails to deliver. A cashew-based cream sauce, accented by a hint of lemon, happily coats untraditional, gluten-free pasta and intermingled are a few chunks of king-oyster mushrooms. Fried-oyster mushrooms and kale top off the run-of-the-mill, overpriced dish of which there were no lobster mushrooms to be found.
The pasta's accompanying vegan kale Caesar salad showcases some clever techniques by way of crispy mushroom "bacon" and an interesting sunflower seed-based " parmesan," but is overshadowed by the under-worked chunks of kale that are fibrous and chewy.
Die Pie fares much better with its main focus: pizza. The 'pulled-pork' offering boasts jackfruit in a tangy barbecue sauce with a tasty, homemade cashew mozzarella, grated purple cabbage and chipotle aioli. The crust is appropriately chewy and the toppings, although unconventional, work well together and make for a filling bite.
Its other unusual "buffalo chicken" pie also proves favourable with an interesting nut-based " gorgonzola," "buttermilk" ranch dressing and a hefty amount of fresh dill. Oddly delicious is, perhaps, the best term to describe this particular pizza.
It's worth noting that Die Pie also prepares its own gluten-free pizza crust in-house, which is a feat in and of itself. Opting for said crust on the above, I found the quality of crust very impressive. It's the best, restaurant-made gluten-free pizza crust I have had in Alberta.
Leaving dinner here feeling fairly indifferent, I couldn't help but hope that this atypical pizzeria would fine-tune its creations to give us non-vegans a tempting argument to come back.