Chateau Azariah

Nestled in the eclectic West End locale of Bute and Pacific. The Royal Mansions are home to some of the most elite inner-​pockets of hip twenty-​somethings in the city. There is no guarantee that the general public will spot any of these inhabitants. However, here, you meet our gracious host Ian Azariah. Man of mystery. Poised in his manner and quick with his whit. Compose yourself, he may charm you… perhaps into something a little more comfortable. Whether that be one of his many illustriously upholstered furnishings or, simply, a state of mind.
Converse a while; Ribbing rhetoric, and meaty metaphor are the mainstay, but perhaps topical transitions into metaphysics or break-​through medicine might interest you. Your lusciously coiffed host will level with you too though, for instance, on the essential «B» pillars of life. Beers, Bikes, Blunts, and Babes.
Enough talk, I get it. You’ve been on the road. You’ve just stumbled in from a solid Third beach session. Dehydration = frustration and you’re wondering what kind of nourishment options you’ve got here. No worries bro. Azariah’s got it dialed with his wild spread of charcuterie: Salami, chorizo, pepperoni, and sophisticated cheeses like brie and camembert. This laundry list of excellence may have you concerned about gout, but don’t doubt! He’s no stranger to the fruits of the fields. And now that the season draws nigh, the gamut of blueberries, raspberries, figs, and melons are on the roster, dip it in chocolate, ’cause he’s diced and fanned them out. Like a spread of sequenced dominoes tumbling in ripple effect toward the strings of your heart.
Don’t worry! Walk-​ins are welcome. If you plan on coming and going during your stay, he may not cut you a key. Rather he’ll teach you a whistle (to which regulars are privy). Purse your lips. Give it a try. Keys will promptly be thrown at you from his dreamy, slidy, second story window. His flowing locks strewn by the wind. Those who fumble or miss will be scoffed at.