As I push the door of Vin Papillon, I’m immediately drawn into a singular atmosphere. Everything is tinted in shades of pink, punctuated by paintings that give the space a slightly old-fashioned, almost nostalgic feel. The room is split into two, on one side, traditional tables; on the other, a large bar where guests sit tightly packed together. Before long, the lights dim, casting the space into a more intimate, subdued ambiance. The menu features house classics like Petite Bourgogne ham and beef tartare, which I plan to try. But the chalkboard also highlights more seasonal offerings; during my visit, snow crab and white asparagus.

My experience at Vin Papillon

I begin with the snow crab from Rimouski, cooked over charcoal. Served in its shell, it requires a bit of effort to crack open, but the reward is immediate. The flesh is incredibly delicate, almost sweet, elevated by a powerful bisque sauce that intensifies every bite. It’s a raw, precise dish that truly showcases the quality of Quebec’s produce.

Next comes the white asparagus, paired with a clementine beurre blanc. The plate is intriguing: a single asparagus spear, cut into four, almost minimalist in presentation. On tasting, the beurre blanc reveals itself as intense and tangy, with great depth. The dried clementines, lightly charred over charcoal, bring an interesting bitterness, but the asparagus itself is slightly undercooked for my taste. The idea is compelling, though the execution feels a bit unbalanced.

The calamari skewer marks a real turning point. Charcoal-grilled to perfection, the texture is tender and melting. The nduja marinade brings a controlled heat. Dipped into the chimichurri, a fresh herbal dimension emerges, while the oil’s richness softens the spice. Here, the balance is clear, thoughtful, and particularly successful, so much so that I almost wish I had ordered more.

Next, the hand-cut beef tartare is served with a pepper sabayon. On paper, the pairing is intriguing. On the palate, however, it’s more conflicted… the tartare’s sauce, very vinegary, quickly dominates. The meat, though high quality, could use a touch more seasoning. The sabayon is pleasant on its own, but within the full bite, it struggles to stand up against the acidity. For me, it’s a dish that feels more visually appealing than truly satisfying.

I finish with a rhubarb, almond tart, and white chocolate ice cream. The almond base is precise and well-executed, and the tart as a whole reflects precise technical skill. Yet the rhubarb, meant to be the star, remains too subtle. It lacks intensity, almost fading behind the other components.