Croissants, palmiers, chocolate brioche, maple pecan brioche
in honor of the season…it was difficult to choose. In a nod to the Franco-Anglo
history of the city, scones and muffins are also on offer. The decision was
just too hard, so I went with two small-sized goodies: a chocolate croissant,
or chocolatine as they call it here, and a fig and spice scone. The chocolatine
was buttery and airy with just the right amount of dark chocolate folded in the
center. Almost equally delicious, the scone had a nice crumble and not too much
spice and fig in competition. In the spirit of sugaring season, Chris chose the
maple pecan brioche, and Pete and Katie both opted for a cheese croissant.
Accompanied by mugs of café au lait, it was the perfect way to start our day.
(Note: we tried to go back again the next morning only to find to our great
disappointment that they’re closed on Sundays.)
After a bracing walk along the metallic St. Lawrence and
back through the Old Town, we took the metro up to Marché Jean Talon, the largest food
market in Montreal. Purportedly where most of the local chefs shop, Jean Talon
is a vibrant community of vendors all vying for a shopper’s attention and
dollars. The bulk of the vendors are indoors, in a cavernous hall lined with
stalls of produce, flowers, sausages, cheeses, sushi—you name it; it can be
found at Jean Talon. And samples galore to be had.
In addition to stalls, small shops line the interior, like the
Polish baker selling babka and poppy seed cake, and an Arabic sweets vendor who
sells Turkish Delight and delicate pastries dripping with honey and nuts.
In warmer weather the market spills outside, and on this day
a few hardy folks had set up their wares outdoors, but the bulk of the action
was inside. Surrounding the market, in a large square block, are food shops of
all kinds and ethnicities. One of my favorites, and a destination for me most
of the time I visit Montreal, is Fromagerie Hamel. The pungent smell of cheese
hits you as soon as you walk in the door of this family owned business that’s
been in operation for fifty years. Although they also sell deli products and
specialty food items, it’s the hundreds of different cheeses from Canada and
around the world that are its big draw. Raw milk cheeses not sold in the US and
rare French cheeses are the main reason I make the pilgrimage.
In the afternoon, to cleanse our palates, the four of us
spent a few hours in the Museum of Fine Arts and made plans to meet up later
for dinner. Chris and I decided to walk back through the city to our hotel
instead of taking the metro. Walking—admiring the architecture, observing the
locals, and soaking up the urban vibe—is one of our favorite things to do when
we’re in a city. When we lived in Paris, we actually walked so much that I gave
myself plantar fasciitis. Fortunately it has since healed, so we set off from
the stately English neighborhood where the MFA is located, and passed through
the busy commercial district, Chinatown, and the tawdry Red Light district before
arriving back in the Old Town.
Along the way, we made a stop at Brutopia, a micro-brewpub
on lively Crescent Street, for a refreshment.
I’m not a big beer drinker, but Chris enjoys his craft brewed beer
and I was happy to oblige. Customers filled the outdoor patio enjoying the
sunshine, which was fine with us since the air was a little too brisk for our
more southern blood. Much more knowledgeable than I am about the finer points
of craft brews, Chris steered me toward the Cheval Blanc, a chewy wheat beer,
and ordered a house IPA himself. We took a table by the small stage, where
local bands play in the evenings. Might this have been where Arcade Fire got their
start? We finished our beers and Chris gave the place a thumb’s up, filing it
away for future reference.
Later that evening, we met up with Pete and Katie again for
dinner. We had a reservation at Au Petit Extra, one of our longtime favorite
restaurants in the city. What we love about this restaurant is its authentic
atmosphere and classic French bistro fare. In business since 1985, it serves “cuisine
classique et inventive,” with all of its offerings listed on an artful
chalkboard menu. The food is not knock-your-socks-off outstanding, but we’re
always happy when we leave and this time was no different. In a city where most
people are bilingual, this is an emphatically French speaking place. Most of
the staff here don’t speak English (or don’t admit to it), which only
adds to its charms for me; the website also doesn’t provide an English
translation, an indication of the historic struggles that the Québécois
have undergone to preserve their language.
Since the Cahors was such a hit the previous night, we went
with a bottle of that again. For starters I chose the brandade de morue et
poirvron rôti,
a dish I have a hard time resisting whenever I find it on a menu. Popular in
southern France, brandade de morue is salt cod that is reconstituted and puréed
with garlic, cream, and potatoes. It doesn’t sound very appetizing, I know, but
it’s absolutely delicious: smooth and garlicky and imparting a deep cod flavor.
Au Petit Extra served it in small portions wrapped in roasted red pepper,
accompanied by micro greens and toasted baguette to spread the brandade on.
Katie ordered the other appetizer I was tempted by: a salad
with chèvre
chaud, or warmed goat cheese. I fell in love with this the first time I had it thirty
years ago and never tire of it. Thankfully Katie didn’t mind sharing.
For our main course, three of us ordered the roasted lamb
shoulder with white beans and lemon, a Mediterranean dish that was mildly
citrusy and cooked to our varying tastes. Katie went with the steak frites
after seeing it delivered to a man one table over. I wish I had taken photos of
these, but I got caught up in the meal—a sure sign that it was a success—and
forgot; likewise with the dessert. I can tell you that we shared sugar pie, a
Canadian version of pecan pie, and a very dark chocolate cake. When the waiter set
the cake on the table, he exclaimed in halting English for the benefit of all
at the table: “Men love this dessert because your wife, she won’t sleep until
Tuesday!” I can’t say that that was true, but it was an extraordinarily dark
cake, and extraordinarily good.
Before we left the city the next day, Chris and I had one
final stop to make: Schwartz’s Deli, legendary for their “world famous” smoked
meat. Marinated for ten days in a secret blend of herbs and spices (I tasted
coriander, clove, pepper), and then smoked daily, the beef is succulent and meltingly tender.
We got a sandwich to go, the meat spilling out from between rye bread, and
shared it as we pulled out of town.
Wow, Kristin and I have been thinking we need to take a trip up to Montreal. This sounds amazing, thanks for all the ideas.
ReplyDeleteYou're very welcome. It's an easy drive up there from Bristol. I just wish the exchange rate were a little better!
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