Since 2008, Café Medina has built an unrivalled reputation as Vancouver’s go-to brunch destination, and all it takes is stepping through the door to understand why queues form at opening time, even on a rainy Pacific coast morning. The café occupies a bright, spacious home in Vancouver’s Library District. The name Medina was chosen by owner Robbie Kane, a former photographer and location manager turned restaurateur. It was here, fittingly, that Kane met his future wife, who happens to be named Medina.

The atmosphere inside blends a Parisian café with a Mediterranean bistro. Soaring ceilings amplify every sound, while a wood-fired oven glows at the back of the room, casting a warm light over the space. Several bar counters line the room, dedicated to specialty coffees and brunch cocktails alike, creating a mood that hovers somewhere between refined and effortlessly laid-back.

The restaurant appears on the Michelin Guide Vancouver’s list of Recommended establishments, a distinction first awarded in 2023 and renewed every year since. The menu spans both Moroccan-inspired dishes and more classic brunch fare, averaging around thirty dollars.

My experience at Café Medina

I start with the warm lavender-infused hot chocolate, a floral sweetness that never overpowers the cacao, and a fitting introduction to the café’s Mediterranean-inspired kitchen. The lamb meatballs arrive in a cast-iron skillet, blanketed in a well-spiced tomato sauce fragrant with ras al hanout and roasted pepper notes that warm without scorching. Turmeric binds the finely seasoned meat with a generosity that calls to mind a Moroccan grandmother’s tagine. This is the centerpiece of my meal, and it transports me straight to Morocco.

The focaccia served alongside for soaking up the sauce can feel almost insufficient against the intensity of the dish. The grilled slices, crisp on the outside, pillowy within, disappear far too quickly. The two poached eggs nestled in the skillet are executed flawlessly: whites just set, yolks still runny at the centre, flowing into the spiced sauce the moment you break them open.

Then come the Liège waffles. Many claim they are the best Belgian waffles in the city, and the chocolate version I’m served does nothing to dispute that. The batter, less sweet than any industrial imitation, caramelizes without tipping into excess, holding a slightly dense, almost brioche-like chew that makes the perfect backdrop for the accompanying chocolate sauce: intense, barely sweetened, and generous enough that I found myself finishing the last of it with a spoon.