Well hello. It's been quite some time since I've posted anything and, I'd like to think, for a somewhat acceptable reason. Between now and my last post I've moved to a new neighbourhood, been to Europe and back, and then made a quick trip down to Nashville. And let me tell you, I've fallen in love. Not with the suited up tattooed gentleman of my dreams, no. With another city. La ville de l'amour, la ville des lumières, where else but la belle Paris.
"Attention, Paris c'est une ville très séduisante," our waiter warned us as we sat down to our first meal in Paris. Be careful, Paris is a very seductive city. We laughed and sipped our Sauvignon Blanc and lit up a couple of Lucky Strikes on the terrace of Le Mondrian, a bistro on Le Boulevard Saint-Germain in the 6e arrondissement. My friend and I were visiting for two weeks, and on our first day, so far, we were not too impressed. The city was beautiful, the wine was cheap, but after a 7 hour flight, a train workers' strike, two and a half hours being stuck in traffic and an outrageous cab fare from the airport, it was difficult to believe that here was a city that could lure me away from my own. Oh la la, how very wrong I was.
Le Mondrian was a mere ten minute walk away from our rented apartment in Saint-Germain des Près, a heartbreakingly picturesque neighbourhood with Paris prices to match (meaning, heartbreakingly expensive). But Le Mondrian's prices are fair, and like I said, the wine is cheap, though that is true most everywhere. It became my favorite bistro in Paris during my short visit, not because of the food (which is good, but not impressively so,) but because of the waiters. Before coming to Paris, I had heard nothing but horror stories of brusque Paris waiters, their rudeness, their pretentiousness. I was prepared for the worst (and was proved right, on occasion, elsewhere). But our waiter was charming and helpful, not mocking our Montreal accent enough to be offensive, and giving us the names of good places to go out in the area. I walked away from the meal feeling decidedly warmer towards Paris, and more than ready to discover and devour more.
We went back a few times to Le Mondrian during our stay, but those are different stories, for a different day.
Paris is to be continued...
Le Mondrian
148 Boulevard Saint-Germain
Paris 6e
+33 1 46 33 98 35
Monday, 21 July 2014
Friday, 16 May 2014
The Great Unifier
Montreal tends to be a city full of divisions. English and French, natives and immigrants, neighbourhoods, generations, sometimes it feels as if everyone has a bone to pick with someone else. It makes for a tense atmosphere sometimes, no matter how much I love the city. Add to that a dreadfully, depressingly long winter like this year, Montrealers could use a break. And we got one this year - beating the Boston Bruins in the Stanley Cup playoffs.
I'm not a die-hard hockey fan by a long shot. I can't name more than 3 or 4 players on the Montreal Canadiens, I can't tell you what position they play, or if they're good or bad. But living in a hockey-crazed city like Montreal, some of it can't help but rub off. There's one time every year that I become a Habs fan, and that's the playoffs. It's the atmosphere that I love. The city lights up red, white and blue (literally - La Tour McGill's triangle penthouse is lit up in team colours for the length of the playoffs) and there's a palpable excitement in the air. People who would usually never speak can have a conversation about last nights game and get excited for the next one and this year especially, high five over kicking Boston's ass. Because for as long as I have been a semi-hockey playoff fan, Boston has been the team to beat. They are the team that kicks us out of the playoffs every year, and this season's 'win in 7' gave the city a reason to celebrate. And believe me - we f****** celebrated. Granted I was working, so I missed the winning game, but I could here the craziness during the entire game from the sports bar all the way across the street. Just that cheering put the entire staff in a better mood. And from the second the Habs scored the winning goal at least until the end of my shift at midnight, cars were streaming by honking their horns, flying flags out the windows, cheering at the people in the street.
I love the joy that hockey brings to this city, if I don't love the actual sport. The first nice weather of the year and a real shot at the Stanley Cup and Montreal becomes a different city.
I'm not a die-hard hockey fan by a long shot. I can't name more than 3 or 4 players on the Montreal Canadiens, I can't tell you what position they play, or if they're good or bad. But living in a hockey-crazed city like Montreal, some of it can't help but rub off. There's one time every year that I become a Habs fan, and that's the playoffs. It's the atmosphere that I love. The city lights up red, white and blue (literally - La Tour McGill's triangle penthouse is lit up in team colours for the length of the playoffs) and there's a palpable excitement in the air. People who would usually never speak can have a conversation about last nights game and get excited for the next one and this year especially, high five over kicking Boston's ass. Because for as long as I have been a semi-hockey playoff fan, Boston has been the team to beat. They are the team that kicks us out of the playoffs every year, and this season's 'win in 7' gave the city a reason to celebrate. And believe me - we f****** celebrated. Granted I was working, so I missed the winning game, but I could here the craziness during the entire game from the sports bar all the way across the street. Just that cheering put the entire staff in a better mood. And from the second the Habs scored the winning goal at least until the end of my shift at midnight, cars were streaming by honking their horns, flying flags out the windows, cheering at the people in the street.
I love the joy that hockey brings to this city, if I don't love the actual sport. The first nice weather of the year and a real shot at the Stanley Cup and Montreal becomes a different city.
Saturday, 3 May 2014
Marché Jean-Talon
If you ask me where my happy place is, at least in Montreal, I would name two places. One is the Tiffany & Co. store in the Ritz Carlton. There's something uplifting about those diamonds and little blue boxes. The second is the Jean-Talon market. The market is situated in the heart of Little Italy, or (officially) Villeray, with the main entrance on Rue Henri-Julien. Open year-round, 7 days a week, beginning at 7 in the morning, vendors pile their stalls full of beautiful fresh produce and local artisanal products, sold at very tempting prices.
Until I moved out of my mother's house, I had never really appreciated the market. A trip was always fun, but I never thought of coming on my own. Then by a perfect coinciding of circumstances, I began to need to buy my own groceries, and my mother moved to a beautiful duplex just steps away from Marché Jean-Talon. I wandered over a few times and for the first time started really noticing what was being sold. All of it looked amazing. I had never had to really think about what I wanted to eat before, just assuming there would be something in the fridge. Now that I had to actually *gasp* fill the fridge myself! I needed to figure out what I wanted to fill it with. Here was my chance to start actually paying attention to what I was putting in my body, and on top of that all of this was just so damn cheap! Christ, a single avocado costs 2$ at the grocery store - here you get a pail of 4 or 5 for 3,50$. Instant addiction. Weekly trips from my 'hood to my mother's place to visit became my produce-shopping days as well.
It's become a ritual for me, my weekly visits to the market. I love walking through the aisles, just looking at first, potatoes of every shape and color, hundreds of stalks of slender green asparagus, berries so ripe they sweeten the air, the fragrant herb stalls and the apple vendors surrounded by bushels of shiny Cortlands and Macintoshes. I always buy a bottle of cider from Les Vergers Eric Tanguay to sip while I do my shopping. The ladies who work there have the best tricks for a kick-ass apple pie. I've learned to go during the week if possible - weekends see the place packed with families, tourists, and everyone else. Weekdays are much quieter. It's easier to find what you want, and easier to speak with the vendors and ask questions, not to mention infinitely easier to wander around aimlessly, without having to worry about being crashed into by frantic shoppers in a rush to get Sunday dinner on the table.
Occasionally my mother will join me and we'll end our shopping date at one of the cafés or restaurants surrounding the market. It's the perfect end to an always pleasant activity and I can't help but wonder why everyone doesn't come here. Everything is so beautiful there. Between the food and the people, the pride in good products and the palpable potential for an amazing meal, it's impossible to walk out of Marché Jean-Talon without a smile (and a heavy grocery bag).
Until I moved out of my mother's house, I had never really appreciated the market. A trip was always fun, but I never thought of coming on my own. Then by a perfect coinciding of circumstances, I began to need to buy my own groceries, and my mother moved to a beautiful duplex just steps away from Marché Jean-Talon. I wandered over a few times and for the first time started really noticing what was being sold. All of it looked amazing. I had never had to really think about what I wanted to eat before, just assuming there would be something in the fridge. Now that I had to actually *gasp* fill the fridge myself! I needed to figure out what I wanted to fill it with. Here was my chance to start actually paying attention to what I was putting in my body, and on top of that all of this was just so damn cheap! Christ, a single avocado costs 2$ at the grocery store - here you get a pail of 4 or 5 for 3,50$. Instant addiction. Weekly trips from my 'hood to my mother's place to visit became my produce-shopping days as well.
It's become a ritual for me, my weekly visits to the market. I love walking through the aisles, just looking at first, potatoes of every shape and color, hundreds of stalks of slender green asparagus, berries so ripe they sweeten the air, the fragrant herb stalls and the apple vendors surrounded by bushels of shiny Cortlands and Macintoshes. I always buy a bottle of cider from Les Vergers Eric Tanguay to sip while I do my shopping. The ladies who work there have the best tricks for a kick-ass apple pie. I've learned to go during the week if possible - weekends see the place packed with families, tourists, and everyone else. Weekdays are much quieter. It's easier to find what you want, and easier to speak with the vendors and ask questions, not to mention infinitely easier to wander around aimlessly, without having to worry about being crashed into by frantic shoppers in a rush to get Sunday dinner on the table.
Occasionally my mother will join me and we'll end our shopping date at one of the cafés or restaurants surrounding the market. It's the perfect end to an always pleasant activity and I can't help but wonder why everyone doesn't come here. Everything is so beautiful there. Between the food and the people, the pride in good products and the palpable potential for an amazing meal, it's impossible to walk out of Marché Jean-Talon without a smile (and a heavy grocery bag).
Sunday, 27 April 2014
L'Avenue du Plateau
Wednesday morning, I was in need of a good pickup brunch with good friends. Mid-week blues I guess. We decided on L'Avenue du Plateau, on Mont-Royal. It's small, always crowded and there's always a line, but frankly, I don't care. Their pancakes never fail to cheer me up.
It's one of those places that everybody goes, classic 'hip' Montreal, and I'll admit sometimes it's a bit of a turnoff. It takes too long to get a table, and as in a lot of very busy restaurants, the quality of service is sometimes lacking. The staff isn't rude, only I think a little too laid back for the speed at which they should serve. But the food...oh the food, it lives up to the hype. Fluffy pancakes that taste like vanilla cake with bananas, greek yogurt and honey, specialty eggs benedict, fruit cocktails... Mon dieu. It makes up for any shortcomings. I'm determined to try their dinner (it closes late on weeknights - around 1AM), though it never crosses my mind when I'm making plans. One day it will and I doubt I will be disappointed. Though even if it does, I'll still be back. What can I say - I'm a sucker for a good brunch spot. After all - brunch is just a fancy way of saying I want pancakes in the afternoon.
Restaurant L'Avenue du Plateau
514-523-8780
922 Avenue du Mont-Royal Est
Monday, 21 April 2014
Voro
For some reason, I get a little lost every time I am meeting someone at Voro. I can never remember which street off Parc it is on, and somehow end up wandering around the Mile-End for twenty minutes before finding my way back to its doors at 275 Fairmount West. Fairmount - must remember that next time. Because there always is a next time.
After looking at their menu online, I realize Voro must serve dinner, though I've never been. I prefer to go on a Saturday or Sunday morning for a kick-ass brunch (served pretty much all day). Whether you prefer sweet or salty, you won't be disappointed, even though the selection isn't very wide. The food is just that good. Even the bread they bring you with your coffee (or mimosa!) is yummy - homemade focaccia either with raisins and powdered sugar, or herbs and oil. I always start with the greek yogurt parfait - made with a different granola and fruit compote every time. As for the rest of my meal, I've tried something different every time, and never have I been let down.
The restaurant is surrounded almost entirely by windows, and even on a rainy day, it's a calming way to spend a weekend morning, watching the busy neighbourhood wake up slowly. I come here to catch up with old friends, and it's where I bring family from out of town when they come to visit. It's never crowded (god knows why, but I'm thankful) and the atmosphere is relaxed. The staff always seem to be cheerful, though not forcibly so, which counts for a lot with me when I'm deciding if I like a place.
Voro has become my favourite brunch stand-by. If I can't come up with someplace new, if another one is full, Voro is my first suggestion. I will always be indebted to my old friend who introduced me to the brunch spot where there is never a wait and the bowls of cafe au lait are bigger than your face.
Voro
514-509-1341
275 Fairmount West
After looking at their menu online, I realize Voro must serve dinner, though I've never been. I prefer to go on a Saturday or Sunday morning for a kick-ass brunch (served pretty much all day). Whether you prefer sweet or salty, you won't be disappointed, even though the selection isn't very wide. The food is just that good. Even the bread they bring you with your coffee (or mimosa!) is yummy - homemade focaccia either with raisins and powdered sugar, or herbs and oil. I always start with the greek yogurt parfait - made with a different granola and fruit compote every time. As for the rest of my meal, I've tried something different every time, and never have I been let down.
The restaurant is surrounded almost entirely by windows, and even on a rainy day, it's a calming way to spend a weekend morning, watching the busy neighbourhood wake up slowly. I come here to catch up with old friends, and it's where I bring family from out of town when they come to visit. It's never crowded (god knows why, but I'm thankful) and the atmosphere is relaxed. The staff always seem to be cheerful, though not forcibly so, which counts for a lot with me when I'm deciding if I like a place.
Voro has become my favourite brunch stand-by. If I can't come up with someplace new, if another one is full, Voro is my first suggestion. I will always be indebted to my old friend who introduced me to the brunch spot where there is never a wait and the bowls of cafe au lait are bigger than your face.
Voro
514-509-1341
275 Fairmount West
Saturday, 19 April 2014
Schwartz's Deli
Montrealers take their smoked meat seriously. Never having been a fan myself (too much meat for my taste, at half a pound of brisket per sandwich), it took a legend to convert me; Schwartz's Deli, an iconic Montreal hole-in-the-wall serving up heart attacks on a plate. Ask any Montrealer worth their salt where to get the best smoked meat in the city, the answer will almost unanimously be Schwartz's. The restaurant has stood in the same place for almost 90 years (86 to be exact) and uses the same spice rub recipe as the day it first opened its doors. Briskets are marinated for 10 days, smoked for 8 hours then steamed for up to 4 hours before being sliced up and stacked between pieces of rye bread and mustard. 11 days to make a sandwich that (in my experience) will last no more than 10 minutes on a plate before being completely devoured.
The restaurant is small and line-ups are inevitable, especially for lunch, weekends, any day in summer or with somewhat nice weather - basically any time, so cross your fingers and be prepared to wait (up to an hour on a busy day, even for take-out, the line stretches around the block). If you're like me, and refuse to wait in lines, come during off hours or off season (opening and closing hours are good times, as well as the months of January, February and March).
The menu is simple - smoked meat. Get a steak, or even liver if you're daring, but don't ask for a cold cut sandwich unless you want your waiter to spend 10 minutes trying to convince you otherwise. Believe me if you won't believe him - smoked meat is what you're there for. Tender, savory and filling, it's a taste you can't find anywhere else and the smell of the restaurant alone is enough to make you want to move into one of the industrial steamers behind the counter.
A word of warning - eat quickly. Turnover is fast-paced and the waiters won't thank you for moving in at a table for six during peak hours. Also keep in mind that the restaurant accepts cash only, so come strapped beforehand.
The service gets a bad rap, but in my experience, you get what you give. And what you should give is a big smile and a good tip - the food is excellent and the staff has a rough job in an absolute madhouse, believe me, they deserve it. Good customers are always welcomed back like family.
Schwartz's Deli
514-842-4813
3895 Boulevard Saint-Laurent
The restaurant is small and line-ups are inevitable, especially for lunch, weekends, any day in summer or with somewhat nice weather - basically any time, so cross your fingers and be prepared to wait (up to an hour on a busy day, even for take-out, the line stretches around the block). If you're like me, and refuse to wait in lines, come during off hours or off season (opening and closing hours are good times, as well as the months of January, February and March).
The menu is simple - smoked meat. Get a steak, or even liver if you're daring, but don't ask for a cold cut sandwich unless you want your waiter to spend 10 minutes trying to convince you otherwise. Believe me if you won't believe him - smoked meat is what you're there for. Tender, savory and filling, it's a taste you can't find anywhere else and the smell of the restaurant alone is enough to make you want to move into one of the industrial steamers behind the counter.
A word of warning - eat quickly. Turnover is fast-paced and the waiters won't thank you for moving in at a table for six during peak hours. Also keep in mind that the restaurant accepts cash only, so come strapped beforehand.
The service gets a bad rap, but in my experience, you get what you give. And what you should give is a big smile and a good tip - the food is excellent and the staff has a rough job in an absolute madhouse, believe me, they deserve it. Good customers are always welcomed back like family.
Schwartz's Deli
514-842-4813
3895 Boulevard Saint-Laurent
Friday, 18 April 2014
Zyara
Like most Montrealers, I am sceptical of 'La Rive-Sud'. It's the suburbs. It's developments. It means crossing a bridge, and for us who get around town solely with our precious monthly OPUS bus/metro cards, it means a million transfers and requires exact change. Until recently I honestly didn't believe I could fall in love with a restaurant in the suburbs. They all seemed to be Boston Pizza's and St-Hubert's and the occasional Steak Frites. Then came Dix30. Insane shopping and a surprisingly good selection of restaurants, especially for what is essentially an outdoor mall.
This friday I went to dinner with family at Zyara, a Lebanese-Mediterranean restaurant on the second floor of a some building in Quartier Dix30. We got there early for our reservation but were seated right away. The dining room is huge, airy and light, not to mention beautiful. The menu was a little overwhelming at first glance, but we all chose appetizers to share and try more of everything. One word - damn. The best falafels I've ever had, hands down. Shrimp perfectly cooked. Beautiful hummus. Every plate was wiped clean.
I loved the laid back ambiance, we went relatively early for a friday night so the dining room was half-empty for most of our meal and the waiters had time enough to give a good service. Towards the end of dinner, the place was filling up, and the vibe changed. The music went up, a belly dancer came out, everyone was laughing, shaking along with her and having a good time. It was a good end to a fun meal, and I walked out with a smile on my face - straight to the tea store across the way to buy the fruity tea I had just enjoyed in the restaurant. Yum.
Zyara
450-812-0235
9140 Boulevard Leduc #205, Brossard
P.S. - In Dix30 on a weekend night - ALWAYS have a reservation. The ENTIRE South Shore flocks here for dinner and drinks, don't be caught with an hour and a half wait to be seated!
Sunday, 16 March 2014
Though not technically my hometown, Montreal has always felt like home. For over a decade, I have thought of it as my city; the place where I have grown up from a somewhat-shy child to a somewhat-less-shy twenty-something city girl. The place, its culture and its people have shaped me and raised me and will always hold a large place in my heart. However, I've recently felt the pull of what seems to be a genetically inherited wanderlust and am planning the beginning of my departure to wherever my wandering mind will take me. While all these coming adventures are still in the future, and my present still in Montreal, I decided to start this blog, as a guide to any and everyone wishing to discover my Montreal, as well as to remind myself of all the best of this city I love so well. Montreal, je t'aime!
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