27 April 2013

5 ways Montreal should be more like Philadelphia

These were harder than the reverse, I would say.

1) Ice is not a luxury item. It is infuriating watching Montreal bartenders and servers practically counting cubes individually for your drinks. Guys, get a nice big ice machine, eh?

2) As in most French-influenced cultures, a lot of restaurants and bars don't carry extensive selections of liquor; even Philadelphia dive bars have more. In Montreal, yes, they have Scotch - one kind. Gin? Beefeater. And Beefeater. And Beefeater (this was so at one of the fanciest places in the city). Montreal joints do have, delightfully, extensive selections of aperitifs, liqueurs, digestifs, fortified wine, and the like -- but liquor? Not so much. Four or five bottles of each major liquor would make Montreal bars and restaurants worlds better. This does not apply as much in Anglophone-area bars, btw.

3) Be polite in the Metro. Montrealers are pleasant, friendly people everywhere else, but I have never seen such rudeness and nastiness on a subway/Metro. New York is Courtesy Central compared to Montreal, and Philadelphia a paradise. I watched one man throw an old woman out of his way on the platform as he was getting OFF a train. Seats are not yielded to the elderly or disabled. People are shoved, slammed, and buffeted even when trains are not crowded. Surliness rules. Take the bus.

4) Get a chain of convenience stores such as Wawa that understands concepts such as "broom", "scrub" and "mop". Montreal brims over with "depanneurs", as they are called, but most are a mess and some are appallingly filthy. Wawa does clean very well, even if Philadelphia does not.

5) Make your train station special. Dowdy Central Station is pleasant enough, but feels like an Amtrak stop in a place like Fort Wayne or Omaha, not a cosmopolitan metropolis such as Montreal. Philadelphia's 30th Street Station makes a grand entrance to the city -- Montreal deserves one too.

26 April 2013

Five ways Philadelphia should be more like Montreal

There could be quite a few more, but let's stop at five. There will be a companion post to this one -- the reverse -- tomorrow.

1) A modern public transportation system, starting with an easy, convenient smart card. Subway cashiers who -- gasp -- sell the cards and -- yes -- make change! There's also plenty of machines that sell the cards in every station too. Most stations have a newsstand kiosk, too. At every bus stop a schedule is posted. Very visitor friendly.

2) An 18-year-old drinking age. If 18-year-olds can vote, buy a gun, and fight for the U.S.A. they can have a beer. It was a thrill for me to see 18-year-old kids in a jazz club enjoying the music, and they weren't sloshed or out of hand in the slightest. In fact, I was out every night for eight days and did not see drunken younger kids. No reason this couldn't be in Philadelphia too.

3) Related to 2), selling beer and wine in convenience stores. Convenience stores don't sell Chateau Latour, to be sure, but most offered at least drinkable stuff, and were open until midnight for booze. The beer selections varied; lots of Molson and Labatt's everywhere but some had excellent craft beer lineups.

4) Stay open later. On weeknights Montreal restaurants are still humming at 10, 10:30, even 11, which is almost incomprehensible in Philadelphia. Montreal is a later city than Philadelphia -- bar time is 3 a.m. in theory but many places run later -- but if you're not open, people can't come. I think 11 p.m. should be a minimum closing times.

5) Free museums. The main art museum in Montreal is free. So are several smaller ones. Meanwhile in Philadelphia the Philadelphia Art Museum charges hefty fees while the Barnes is jacking up its entrance to $22 (so much for Dr. Barnes' idea that art should be available to the common man). Art is part of our heritage as human beings, and it should be available to all free or at very low tariffs.

25 April 2013

Brad's Montreal/New York Odyssey -- Days Nine and Ten


Said goodbye to my hotel, where I would happily stay again, though my advice would be to skip the "free" breakfast, which was dreadful (tasteless croissants, awful coffee, third-rate orange juice) and not worth the price. Much better to walk 10 minutes to Brulerie St. Denis for the best cafe au lait I have ever had.
To Central Station for the train back to New York. VIA has men to help with baggage, the station is roomy and pleasant -- so much better the third-level-of-hell that is Penn Station in New York.
The ride back is long, but lovely scenery along Lake Champlain and the Hudson River. I saw a huge wild turkey strutting serenely in a field near Fort Ticonderoga. I can't imagine a better train for scenery east of the Mississippi.
Amtrak uses old Amfleet I coaches on the Adirondack, which are weary and tired (the carpeting in the cars is badly worn) but quite comfortable. The car was about half full and I was able to stretch out. U.S. customs was no more annoying than usual.
Amtrak sometimes gets a bad rap for indifferent service, but on this train both the train crew and the cafe car attendant were friendly, witty and helpful. Amtrak's cafe-car food is awful -- its dining car food can be good, though -- but then again the food is dreadful on FRENCH trains, so maybe Amtrak gets a pass.
I only need the beverages from the cafe car, though, which are OK (even the coffee is acceptable, if barely so) because I have a picnic packed of raw-milk cheeses, hot Quebecois sausage and crackers. The Langres, from Champagne, was stinky and runny and gooey and yuuuuuuumy. Also had well-aged Prince Edward Island cheddar, a wonderful Camembert, a ripe St. Marcellin and perfect Pont L'Eveque.
Due to Canadian Pacific track work we were about 20 minutes late into New York, but so what, I got more reading done. Cab to my hotel, The Jane, along the Hudson in the Village and chill for a bit before a short walk for dinner at the Corner Bistro.
The Bistro, one of the last old landmarks of the pre-zillionaire West Village left, is slightly misnamed; it's a dive bar with a cool neon sign, cheap booze, an ancient and sagging wooden bar, a jukebox packed with jazz and blues and a menu that offers chili, grilled cheese, a grilled chicken sandwich (which in 20 years of drinking there I think I have seen one person order), french fries, and burgers.
Dinner at the Bistro is an easy call: a bowl of chili, meaty in a rich stewish broth, topped with onions and cheese and best with about 6 serious jolts of Tabasco, followed by the Bistro Burger, which you want medium rare. It comes with lettuce, onions, tomato, cheese and bacon and is the best burger you will ever have. Period. I like extra onion on mine. I'd skip the fries, though they can be good later to soak up booze. They have wine, which I wouldn't order.
Wash it all down with a mug of McSorley's Dark Ale, have a Bushmills for an after-dinner drink and you have not spent $25. This would be a deal anywhere, but in Manhattan it is an epochal, epic bargain.
It helps that the place is often full of oddball Village characters, and the bartenders are classy, clever, fast and characters themselves; one is a playwright and actor, another a superb photographer who has had gallery shows of his work.
The Bistro is open until 4 a.m. every night, no matter what, and the kitchen closes at 3:30 a.m.
Manhattan has been Disneyified, gentrified and transformed by staggering amounts of money into a playground for the world's wealthy, but if you look the old Manhattan is hanging on in a place or two. The Bistro is as old-Manhattan as you can get.
Next day, sleep late and decide to have breakfast at the Cafe Gitane in my hotel before going to an art exhibit.
The cafe tries for, and pretty well hits, a French Mediterranean vibe. High ceilings, lazy ceiling fans, walls painted in soft-pastel washes, big windows, lots of sunshine. A gleaming and glistening full bar is attractive. A neat place to sit and while some time away.
Breakfast was very good. I had a carrot salad, grated carrots in olive oil, orange juice and mint, that, topped with fresh pepper, I could have eaten a huge bowl of by itself. Main was three eggs baked in tomato and basil and topped with grilled merguez sausage, a tasty combo though the sausage was a bit overcooked. Cappuccino was fine, and my Ricard pastis - a necessity in such an environment, which may as well have been Marseilles, if a rich neighborhood there, was served absolutely perfectly, in a Ricard glass with clear ice cubes in a small basket and water on the side in an adorable yellow Ricard-branded pot. This was the best Ricard service ever outside of France. Service in general was friendly if a bit languid; there's another Cafe Gitane in NoLita but the Jane location is far superior.
Off to the Asia Society for a terrific and highly-recommended exhibit of 17th century Chinese painting - running through 2 June; a real eye-opener for me about Chinese art, which I know little about. Also enjoyed an exhibition of statues and pottery from their permanent collection.
To Grand Central via cattle-car No. 6 train for lunch at -- where else? -- the Oyster Bar. The name tells you what to eat there: the raw bar, stews and panroasts; the fancier seafood is probably to be avoided.
A dozen perfect oysters - Cotuits and Martha's Vineyards from Massachusetts, Blueberry Points from Prince Edward Island and East Beach Blondes from Rhode Island, which is where, I must say, my favorite oysters, briny and richly flavorful, are coming from these days.
Unfortunately, the glass of Sancerre I chose to drink with the oysters - Domaine Fournier 2011 - was a dud. Sancerre goes with oysters because of its flinty minerality but this example was far too sweet and lacked any acidity. Very poor, and surprising at the Oyster Bar, where the wine program is outstanding. Stick with Muscadet or Chablis there.
Ran an errand or two then off to Carnegie Hall for the Staatskapelle Dresden under Christian Thielemann delivering a marvelous Bruckner 8th Symphony. Finished up with a late dinner at the Bistro, same as the previous night, then drive out of Manhattan and back to the real after a glorious vacation. Sigh.

Corner Bistro, 331 W. 4th St., New York. 212-242-9502. Open until 4 a.m. daily, kitchen closes at 3:30 a.m.

Cafe Gitane at the Jane Hotel, 113 Jane St., New York. 212-255-4143. Open 7 a.m.-midnight, until 1 a.m. Friday and Saturday.

Oyster Bar, Grand Central Terminal, 89 E. 42nd St., New York. 212-490-6650. Open 11:30 a.m.-9:30 p.m. Mon-Saturday. 


21 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyssey -- Day Eight, 17 Avril 2013

The eighth of the daily blogs, featuring food and drink, from Montreal!

Last day, always kind of melancholy. But lots to do.
More wonderful cafe au lait and almond croissants, this time with fresh-squeezed orange juice, at the Brulerie St. Denis then off to the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.
I spent a lot time there and didn't see some of what I wanted to, such as the design collections and Asian art. What I saw was pretty good, including paintings from Matisse, Rembrandt, Monet and Brueghel the Younger, a Calder mobile, sculpture by Henry Moore and Rodin, a good Napoleon exhibit and a dazzling display of old-master drawings from Bernini, Tiepolo, Fragonard and Brueghel the Elder. And all free, too.
Lunch was at the museum's cafeteria, which was a good if strange whitefish-and-artichoke sandwich on tasty black bread. I had tomato juice, advertised as specifically Canadian which was intriguing and was fine, sparkling water and a very good maple-syrup cake. Recommended if you're in the museum and want to save time on lunch.
I then went to one of the province's "signature" liquor stores to look around and was dazzled as a wine geek. Five magnums of Latour, all from different vintages. Every first growth Bordeaux in multiple vintages. D'Yquem in all kinds of vintages in every format. Imperials of vintage Champagane. Mouton Rothschild's marc. Every great Burgundy name (except for DRC) such as Vogue, Roumier, Jayer, Leflaive, Leroy, etc., every Grand Cru red or white. Alsace, Port, Italy, the Loire, all the best vineyards and Crus. Top California wines. It was amazing.
No purchases there -- are you kidding? -- and went on to the free night at the Montreal Museum of Contemporary Art. Their collection and exhibits were a little disappointing; a large exhibit of Quebecois abstraction was colorful and well-crafted but very derivative; you went to painting after painting and just called out the influences: 'Pollock. Newman. Rothko. Motherwell. Kline.'
They did have a great film by the Swiss artist David Weiss called "The Way Things Go" which is 30 minutes of the world's biggest Rube Goldberg contraption and highly worth watching. That alone was worth the trip to the museum..
Dinner plans called for me to go back near my hotel because I wanted to hear the jazz band at Diese Onze. I had seen a sign outside an average-looking bar on Rue St.-Denis called Brasserie Cherrier advertising Alsatian cuisine at very fair prices. I'd be craving choucroute garnie lately, so off I went.
The situation was a bit unusual. Brasserie Cherrier is your average neighborhood bar where locals of all ages (18 to 65 or older, from what I saw) come to play pool, drink Molson and watch the Canadiens, who were losing to Pittsburgh this night. The place looks like just what it is.
But inside the bar was a restaurant, Restaurant Flamme, run in theory independently from the bar. The bar man brings you your drinks and you pay him for those; the waiter, in my case a chef moonlighting because they didn't have anyone else, handles the food.
The wine list had seven wines, all available by the glass, three whites, three reds and a rose. Two of the whites were Alsatian -- Willm's 2010 Riesling and 2011 Pinot Blanc -- which seemed like a nice coincidence until the waiter told me that the bar man had changed his wines to help the chef out. So the operations, while independent, look out for the others' interests.
The menu had bar snacks (they cook the nacho chips to order for each other), burgers (they grind the meat to order), the wonderful Alsatian snack pie called flammekueche (which I saw rolled to order as a pizza man would toss dough to order) and some other Alsatian mains with sausage, chicken or pork.
I ordered the choucroute ($15), which, for $4 more, was turned into a meal with soup, dessert and coffee.
I started with a glass of rose, a 2011 Lamura Casa Girelli from Sicily, which had a strawberry nose, a lovely deep-pinkish color, and all kinds of sun-splashed fruit on the palate, with a wash of acidity at the finish. A lovely aperitif and good with strongly-flavored salads, fish, or poultry.
The meal was a true bargain. The soup was a minestrone much like a Philadelphia friend makes, bursting with fresh veggie flavor in a tasty, homemade stock. The choucroute was enormous - a massive pile of well-flavored sauerkraut and two boiled potatoes with slabs of Canadian bacon (of course), regular bacon, and pork shoulder plus a frankfurter of high quality and a big link of fresh, chunky, spicy pork sausage. Filling and flavorful.
Dessert was a lemony pound cake with creme anglaise, light and refreshing., Coffee was fine. For less than $20, a terrific bargain.
I drank two glasses of the Willm which was drinking perfectly now; limpid, golden, luscious, bags of Ries appley fruit, enough structure to avoid preciousness, just perfect. I find Willm's basic wines to be very fine in their category.
Service could not have been friendlier, if a little harried and scattershot, and can be summed up by the bar man's leaving the Ries bottle on my table after my second glass, saying, 'there's not enough for a third glass here, finish it off if you like.' That is what they call a lagniappe in New Orleans, something you neither asked for or deserve, but is welcome.
The place is recommended if you can stand the vibe of eating around tables of hockey fans -- Philadelphians who are rightly horrified at the thought of doing so with Flyer fans should know that Canadian fans are much more civilized -- in a neighborhood bar. The food is worth the trip.
I finished up the night at Diese Onze, listening to The Jan Jarcyzk Trio -- the playing of Jarcyzk, the 60-ish piano player, reminded me of Tommy Flanagan, and I have no higher compliment -- enjoying that wonderful stout from McAuslan and chatting with my friend Gary. A terrific way to end what was a magical week.
Returning to the U.S. -- but not home -- loomed. Stay tuned for a report from New York!

Restaurant Flamme and Brasserie Cherrier, 3638 Rue St. Denis, Montreal. Food 1100-2200; Bar until 0300.








18 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyessey -- Day 7 , 16 Avril 2013

The seventh of the dailuy blogs, featuring food and drink, from Montreal!

Tuesday it rained.
A lot.
Pelting down, cold rain. Not a day for exploring neighborhoods, though I had the foresight the day before to buy a cheap umbrella on St. Viateur Street at a Jean Coutu, the Duane Reade of Montreal.I had a concert at night too so dinner plans had to take that into account.
Still, I had plans for a rainy day. I went to the Marche Atwater in the Little Burgundy neighborhood, a more "Anglo" area, as they say, west of downtown. It was a short, but soaking, three-block walk from the Metro. Once there, I found a smaller version of the Jean Talon market, perhaps more upscale. It had some hardy maple syrup vendors in outside, but covered stalls.
I wound up buying cheese at Fromagerie Atwater, including a Langres de Champagne that was the disovery of the trip among French cheeses, plus some Saint-Justin, Montreal's local sparkling water I saw only at this shop the whole trip and quite good, coffee and Cuban (!) chocolate, rich and silky and not too sweet, 70 percent cocoa.
Then I got a baguette at the city's premier local bakery, Premiere Moisson, and that was one awesome piece of bread, ttangy, good crust, nicely chewy. VERY friendly ladies work there too, tolerated my French (most Francophones just broke into English when they heard me speak French).
Lunch, or really breakfast the way things went, was a delicious sandwich from a stand in the market called Charcuterie de Tours that had every kind of sausage and cured meat imaginable. I had a strong German-style sausage with really good, sinus-clearing Dijon mustard and topped with fresh sauerkraut and pickles on a tasty hard roll. Washed that down with the Saint-Justin.
On the way out I bought a can of Quebec No. 1 maple syrup and a bit of maple syrup candy, a tasty sucker-style treat.
Slog through the rain to the Burgundy Lion pub to watch my Everton boys play Arsenal, a game Everton should have won but ended in a scoreless draw.
The pub was pure English. They could speak French, but the lingua franca here was English and I heard little French. Awesome selection of Scotch and Irish whisk(e)ys - but oddly no Dewar's, which is really rare in Montreal, and apparently no one drinks Scotch and sodas because when you order one people ask if you want it with Jameson. Uhhhh....
The beer selection was strong and I had pints of the Quebecois Blanche de Chambly -- crisp, refreshing, not sweet as some wheat beers can be -- and of Okanagan Spring ale from British Columbia, which seemed under-hopped and under-powered, kind of bland.
Ate dinner at the Lion after the game. Stayed with the beer for a vegetable curry, nice and spicy and served piping hot over rice. The veggies could have been more varied, seemed like a lot of eggplant.
Bangers and mash was two house-made crumbly pork sausages with a coriander tang, very fresh and nicely cooked over good chunky mashed potatoes to covered with a very dark but perhaps underseasoned gravy. Service from two very, very attractive young lady bartenders was very friendly, even chatty, and prompt with refills of my beers and soda water.
I'm not sure I'd schlep too far out of my way to eat at the Burgundy Lion but if I lived nearby it would a fine local. Also finding soccer bars in Montreal is not all that easy so I'd certainly recommend going for that, big TVs and good beer.
That summed up the food day; I enjoyed the eclectic and nicely varied concert of the Montreal Chamber Orchestra that featured a concerto (more or less) for a 2-stringed Chinese instrument called the erhu (pronounced, as we were told by the soloist. errrrrrrrhhhh---WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) on themes written around 200 AD in western China. It's the kind of thing I usually hate but this was enjoyable and didn't outstay its welcome The rest of the program was pleasing if not profound even if the Mozart 1st Symphony seemed flattish and tossed off. The  orchestration of Debussy's Petite Suite is always welcome.
Went home, ate some cheese and that good baguette as a snack with a couple of glasses of 2011 La Sablette Muscadet Sevre et Maine Sur Lie, a cheapie pickup at the liquor store and a good example of its kind. Tangy, lemony, some exotic spices on the finish. Paired well with aged goat cheese. In its price range ($12) Muscadet is the best white going these days.
Not bad for a rainy day eh?

17 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyssey -- Day 6. 15 Avril


The sixth of the daily blogs, stressing food and drink, from Montreal!

After Sunday's extravaganza of a day, Monday needed to be a bit more laid back, casual, etc.
Plans were to explore some neighborhoods with a definite idea for lunch but nothing definite for dinner.
So, after cafe au lait at the Brulerie St. Denis on a bright sunny day, I headed to the metro to explore the Mile End neighborhood and some Montreal classics.
After a wrong turn and then a bit of confusion, I eventually wound up at my lunch destination: Wilensky's Light Lunch.
This place is a living fossil.
Run by the same family since 1932, Wilensky's is essentially a nine-seat soda fountain that sells, really,  one kind of food: their "special" sandwich. This is beef bologna and beef salami grilled on machines that date to the 40's, smashed together, put in a grilled roll with some mustard, and cheese if you want, and served hot.
As they - the founder's grandson waited on me - will tell you, it always comes with mustard and it's never cut in half - I actually saw them refuse to do that for a customer.
It doesn't sound delicious, but it sure is, meaty and rich and tangy. Frankly addictive. I had two, one with cheese to see the difference, and I preferred without cheese. I could have had more, but went with a dill pickle - really really good; where do these places get such good pickles in Montreal? - and a bright half-sour pickle.
They also sell hot dogs grilled, slathered with mustard, and jammed into an onion roll, either the top of the roll with onions or the bottom, the part without. These are ordered as "tops" and "bottoms". They sell egg sandwiches and cheese sandwiches, candy bars, and a overgrown all-beef Slim Jim called a karnatzel.
And that's it, food-wise.
Ah, but to me the main attraction was the soda fountain, an absolutely untouched and unchanged classic of the kind that existed in every town and now is almost extinct. They make their own syrups - yes -  and they have at least a dozen. You can mix and match - I got pineapple-vanilla, sinfully tasty, plus their No. 1 seller, cherry cola, to go.
And in between I had a classic chocolate egg cream. If egg creams were Burgundies, this one would be Grand Cru - perfect. Perfect blending, rich syrup, heavy-duty fizz. Again, I could have had three.
Service, such as it is, is lightning-fast and perhaps a little standoffish at first to a stranger, but once I chatted with them a bit and mentioned I was a sportswriter from out of town, suddenly it sounded like good bar talk, as the staff, four of them, bemoaned the state of the slipping Canadiens, mourned the loss of their beloved baseball team, denounced the Olympic Stadium, recalled Jarry Park fondly, called Jeffrey Loria every name in the book, and denounced the Toronto Maple Leafs, Bud Selig and Gary Bettman with a passion. I entered as a stranger, I left as a friend.
Cost? Two specials, two pickles, two sodas, an egg cream: $16. Oh, they don't accept tips, and if you do leave change they donate it to charity. It is also solidly Anglophone; they can speak French, but the language of the shop is English, perhaps appropriate for a neighborhood where Mordecai Richler grew up.
And this is no kitsch joint kept alive as a tourist trap, not the recreated "Colonial Williamsburg" of soda fountains. Quite the contrary. First of all, not many tourists would ever get there. And locals and regulars filed in constantly, one guy ordering six specials at a time. And the place's fixtures, much like Schwartz's, are ancient.
What it is is a living fossil, a place frozen in time sometime around 1943 that somehow has survived and prospered and found a niche it can prosper in. I am quite sure there's nothing quite like it in North America. Don't miss it.
I wanted to go see the site of Jarry Park - "it's a tennis stadium now", the Wilenskys said sourly - but first there was another Montreal legend to try: bagels.
I walked right by one of the two legendary spots, Fairmount Bagel, which is practically next to Wilensky's, to St. Viateur Bagel a few blocks north so I could see a new area.
There, I got a sesame seed bagel hot from the oven and a poppy seed bagel. I was considerably more impressed with the sesame, which was awesome. The poppy was good, not great.
Montreal bagels are different than New York style; they are smaller, sweeter, denser and much more covered with toppings. They don't need butter or cream cheese to be good, though that'd be tasty too. I can see why NYC bagel devotees would sneer - Montreal has many fewer flavors, for one, no garlic or onion or pumpernickel, etc. - but these were really tasty and fun to eat, hot and almost gooey. I can attest the cute fox-eared squirrels at Jarry Park liked the poppy-seed leftovers I fed them.
After more exploring in the Mile End neighborhood, including a terrific espresso at the very cool-looking Arts Cafe on Fairmount, looked like a fine place to eat as well - a long bus ride to Jarry Park and a long stay in the park, also called Jarry Park - yes, the swimming pool is still there in right-center, or what would be right-center if Jarry were still a baseball stadium - I headed downtown  to see the Guimard Metro entrance at Square Victoria and pick a downtown restaurant for dinner.
That proved difficult as my first five choices were all "ferme Lundi", closed on Monday. Grrrrr.
I wound up at Brit and Chips, a chippie joint on Rue McGill and a solid continuation of the day's keep-it-simple mode.
They make the classic fish and chips out of several different fish with different batters. I chose haddock in a maple-syrup batter, which seemed appropriate in Quebec and a curried fish cake to start with a glass of their house ale to go with it.
Home runs, mostly. The fish was very fresh and the batter, faintly sweet, matched it well. Currying a fish cake is an idea somebody in Philadelphia, land of fish cakes, should copy; this one came spicy, moist and made a real contrast to the sweetish fried fish. The ale was bitter and hearty and went down smoothly.
Only snag was the chips, which were tasty but too soggy for me.
Service was friendly and casual.
Feeling tired from a lot of walking, I skipped a nightcap and had some cheese and wine, an indifferent 2010 Cahors from Comte Andre de Monpezat that was quaffable, short, lacking generous fruit but with some cassis and dark cherries, good gripping finish, about worth the $11 I paid, at my place.
A different day of dining, simple and fun. But special. Wilensky's rocks.

Wilensky's Light Lunch, 34 Fairmount Ave. West, Montreal, H2T 2M1. Open Monday through Friday, 0900-1600; Saturday, 1000-1600.

Arts Cafe, 201 Fairmount Ave. Ouest, Montreal. Open 0900-2100 Mon-Fri, 1000-1800 Sat-Sun.

St. Viateur Bagel, 263 Rue St. Viateur Ouest, Montreal. Open 24/7. There are branches around the city with different hours, BTW.

Brit and Chips, 433 Rue McGill, Montreal. Open 1100-2300 Sun-Wed, 1100-0000 Thurs-Sat.   








16 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyssey -- Day 5


The fifth of the daily blogs, stressing food and drink, from Montreal!

Sunday was tourist day. I had an extensive self-guided walking tour of Old Montreal from a guidebook lined up. That required a real lunch.
So after cafe au lait at Brulerie St. Denis, I returned to L'Express - mainly because it's right down the street from the Brulerie - for a lunch of oeufs mayonnaise, soupe de poisson and a Lyonnaise salad.
The oeufs, hard-boiled, came in a tarragon-scented mayo and were luscious; I sopped up the mayo with some bread. The soupe de poisson had an intense fish flavor, with really good crackers that you cover with a garlic aioli and float in the soup; as the cracker absorbs the soup, its flavor becomes distinct from any of the three ingredients by themselves. The salad was typical of its kind, though the lardons weren't overly bacon-y. Good light dressing though and a perfect poached egg.
Wine was a lovely half-bottle of 2010 Jurancon Sec 'Cuvee Marie' made by Charles and Marie Hours, the kind of white wine that rarely makes it out of France and hardly ever to North America; what a treat that a bistro would have it but as I have said L'Express' wine list boggles the mind. Gorgeous golden color, honeysuckle noise, minerals and a light touch of sweet fruit on the palate and a refreshing finish with a tart acidity right at the end. 14 percent alcohol, but incredibly well-balanced. It's mostly Gros Manseng with a touch of a rare, Southwest France-only grape called Petit Courbu that adds sweetness and body to the Manseng. If you see it, drink it with fruit, fish, chicken, pork, cheeses and finfish or shrimp.
The walking tour was thorough, quite enjoyable and rather exhausting. I took 4 1/2 hours on it, stopping for a rest now and then, once for espresso and once for some yummy cider dosed with maple syrup - a big thing here - from a stand in Place Jacques Cartier. The tour took me past a legendary French restaurant, Chez Queux, that every foodie reference in Montreal raves about but was totally out of my price range ... but in the window they had posted a three-course menu that would, even with wine, be in my budget with a tweak or two. And since I wear a coat and tie every day when I am on vacation, I was already dressed for dinner, which at this place seemed necessary.
So I made a reservarion and hopped a bus after the walking tour ended - at a 106-year-old tugboat, would you believe - and, well, wow.
Chez Queux is precisely the kind of white-tablecloth, elegant, classy, completely and unreservedly and proudly French cathedral of dining that used to define fine food and is now seemingly going extinct because, we are told, people want "casual dining" and "small plates" and dislike formality and having to dress up beyond sneakers and jeans.
That may all be, but I have never lost my love for such places and the way they can make you feel as if you are the most important person in the world for two hours. It's not every-day dining for any number of reasons, but when you want a Chez Queux you hope they are still around.
What followed was one of the great dining experiences of my life.
For a cocktail, I enjoyed a Beefeater and tonic served with a lemon, and with little pitchers of extra tonic if I wanted. Those are the kind of little touches that make Chez Queux so much fun.
I sat with a view of the St. Lawrence River. An amuse-bouche of lusciously intense salmon mousse was followed by the menu and wine list. The menu offered five or six choices for each course and was not merely the soup/salad, chicken or cheap fish and ice cream or sorbet selection bargain menus can be in some joints, as you will see.
I selected an appetizer of duck foie gras served in 'creme brulee' style and deer steak with foie gras in a pepper sauce.
The wine list was mostly French and quite thorough and impressive. I chose a glass of Chateau Raymond-Lafon Sauternes 2004 for the duck foie and a half-bottle of La Terrasse de La Garde 2010, the second wine of Chateau La Garde, a solid Pessac-Leognan producer in the Graves region south of Bordeaux.
My waiter, Leon, 60-ish, whose English had a pleasant Quebecois French accent, had been the classy and elegant but formally distant waiter that these kind of places have employed for decades. But when I ordered my wine, he asked, politely, 'You like French wine?.
Yes, very much so, I replied.
"Let me get you the other wine list, you might like to see it,' he said.
What arrived was a book of some of the world's finest wines at fair prices. Multiple vintages of all the Bordeaux first growths including Petrus. Classed growths from every Bordeaux commune. White Bordeaux, sweet and dry, of the highest quality. Champagne of the highest class from the best vintages. Alsace Grand Cru, Loire Valley gems, a complete sweep through the Rhone and the greatest collection of white and especially red Burgundy I had ever seen from all the best houses, DRC, Rousseau, Ravenau, Leflaive, Roumier, Jayer, you name it, from all the Grand Crus from Chambetin to Chassange.
What was striking was that almost all of the bottles had years of age on them, and at prices that, while way too high for me, were exceedingly fair. Assuming you can find any Rousseau 2002 Ruchottes-Chambertin around, and good luck with that, you're going to pay a lot more than the $220 Chez Queux was getting.
I was speechless. I pored over the list for a long time.
Then the food. The duck was a silky mousse under a salt/sweet crust of butter and sugar with a velvety texture, a hint of liver, and all that
foie richness that got better with every taste. It came with light, airy crisps of good bread, housemade port jelly and a few eggs of caviar, all of which, especially the jelly, complemented the foie.
The wine did too; with nine years of age the sweetness had become complex, with a classic Sauternes nose, caramel and roasted honey on the palate, even more complex fruit later and then a firm finish with plenty of acidity to support the sweetness. Raymond-Lafon has always been a favorite of mine and this was terrific, I drank half and set it aside to finish with dessert.
The Bordeaux had been decanted and was served with my main, a hefty slab of grilled Bambi cooked to precisely my order - as rare as the Chef thinks it should be - and covered with two huge slabs of duck foie gras. A nice vegetable array, including roasted baby bok choy, and a square of pommes dauphinoise too.
At this point I noticed the assistant filling my water glass with Canadian bottled Eska and I said to him I hadn't ordered bottled water. Leon, nearby, said, "Monsieur, we serve only bottled water; it is like your bread, it comes with your dinner.' Well then.
The main was perfection all around. The potatoes, rich and amazingly tasty yet light and tender on the tongue. The veggies, cooked as well as my friend Bernard used to do in Chicago at the much-lamented Chez Bernard, a very high compliment from me. The foie, lightly seared and rich and gamey. The sauce, again rich but light, adding flavor but not smothering the meat, which came with a firm crust, tender, spicy, rich and flavor that lingered after each bite.
The Bordeaux was young and tender too, full of fruit and Graves earth and cassis and leather at the finish. It went splendidly with the meal and was ready to drink, thought it has a few more years left; say 2016?
With my plate cleared, Leon said more asked, 'You want some cheese, I give you some cheese,' and almost before I could say yes slabs of three Quebecois cheeses - a Comte-like cheese, a Brie sort of thing that was as good as any Brie I have ever had and fresh, rolled in ash goat cheese - arrived with walnuts and a fruit compote. Leon then said, 'Something to drink with the cheese,' and appeared with a bottle of Sandeman Vintage Port 1997 and poured me a hefty slug of this racy, fruity, intensely sweet and alcoholic Port, a pleasure if not quite my preferred style.
I went to the men's room, and returned to find my Sauternes glass topped off, indeed completely refilled and then some - "I gave you a little more,' Leon said with a wicked smile - and an orange-flavored creme brulee, not too sweet, with candied orange peel and a grown-up vanilla wafer that melted in your mouth. Sheer elegance.
Then came perfect espresso, which was included in the meal, and a glass of Boulard's wonderfully appley, not hot at all, why-don't-we-drink-more-of-this Calvados to finish. I should note that in Montreal Calva is tossed back by bar workers and the like the way Jameson is in Philadelphia. I know which I prefer.
The bill came, and while not small, it was affordable - and the cheese, Port, extra Sauternes and Calvados did not appear on it.
I expressed my deepest thanks to Leon, left a huge tip, and departed enriched in body and soul.
Unreservedly recommended for those who can manage to eat with a tie on and love the old style. Ask for Leon.
I then went to a string quartet concert that was intense and heavenly and stopped by L'Express for a nightcap of Poire Williams des Monts de Cote d'Or eau de vie from Joseph Cartron, a Burgundian spirit of 49 percent alcohol with an intense pear flavor and a searing finish, but balance and class all the way; one of the best of its type I have ever had, and I didn't know they grew pears on the Cote d'Or. Now I do.
As a fine a day as I have in a long time. How do people not take vacations?

L'Express, 3929 Rue Saint-Denis, Montreal H2W 2M4; 514-845-5333. Open from 8 a.m. until at least 2 a.m.

Chez Queux, 158 Rue St. Paul Est, Montreal H2Y 1G6; 514-866-5194; open Tuesday through Sunday for dinner at 5 p.m.


14 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyssey -- Day 4, 13 Avril 2013


The fourth of the daily blogs, stressing food and drink, from Montreal!

The idea today was to get up and watch Everton flog Queens Park Rangers at a footie bar at 10 a.m. but the previous night's Scotch bar adventures sank that concept pretty quickly. Everton won 2-0, yay!!!!!!
I had to take care of some work things once I did get up, so I headed to what, according to a business card, was a Brulerie St. Denis location at 1587 Rue St. Denis near the University of Quebec at Montreal, the world's largest French-speaking university, in what they call the Latin Quarter - Paris' version is more distinctive. Montreal's seems scruffy more than anything else.
Unfortunately that location is now a Second Cup franchise, a much less distinguished coffee chain. However, they had a seat, WiFi, and coffee, so I took care of the work. The coffee was OK, the croissant pretty good. I wouldn't go out of my way for Second Cup but I wouldn't skip them if they were in my path, either. I feel the same way about, for example, Wawa hoagies.
Time for lunch, and Le Brioche Lyonnaise was just up the street and recommended by a guidebook. This pleasant French-style cafe has been around for 25 years and I can see why. I had a delicious Caesar cocktail - gin, Clamato, spices, like a Bloody Mary - to start, then enjoyed a classic Croque Madame - paneed ham and cheese sandwich with an egg on top - on REALLY good toasty bread like the kind I remember from Lou Mitchell's in Chicago but better. It came with a small but fresh and varied salad with sharp mustard dressing,
I enjoyed a glass of white wine, identified as "Vin Maison", and further attempts to discover precisely what it was seemed to confuse the pleasant if scattershot wait staff, so I gave up. Tasted like some kind of Chenin Blanc, a hint sweet. A small strawberry tart wound up a very enjoyable lunch.
The blog needed to be updated, so I hopped on the metro heading to the area around Concordia University, an area new to me, to explore and find a cafe. But I got off the Metro into a cloudburst of chilly rain and settled for the Starbucks 10 feet away. Their black iced tea, unsweetened, has become a mainstay with me. Have to say the staff at this one, at the Guy-Concordia Metro, was as friendly as I can remember any Starbucks crew being.
Blog done, still raining, I catch a cab to McGill University for a terrific all-Wagner concert by their impressive university orchestra.
What I hadn't thought about was dinner, and post-concert, 2130 or so, I am suddenly without any plans. I tried a few places that were "complet" - booked - before I decided to junk getting a reservation and make this night my trip to Schwartz's, perhaps Montreal's most famous place to eat with its legendary smoked meat sandwich.
Schwartz's is the real deal, no tourist trap. It sits along Boulevard St. Laurent, "The Main" in local lingo, and, frankly, looks like it could use a new floor, a fresh coat of paint and a general scrubbing of every surface in sight. But then I suspect it wouldn't be Schwartz's.
Schwartz's, which has some ludicrous name forced on it by the Quebec language police that  no one uses, has a counter down one side of a narrow room, family-style tables on the left. I sat at the counter and looked at a coffee pot that would have been old 40 years ago bubbling away.
The staff is old white Jewish men and a few younger men. There is absolutely no pretense to the service - "Waddaya have, guy?" - which was slap-it-down, wisecracking, witty, sassy, kind of like a Jewish Wiener Circle in Chicago and certainly had more character than most Philadelphia places along these lines. Patrons could speak English or French  or, one suspects, Swahili and not be abused unlike at certain racist Philadelphia cheesesteak stands. Bilingualism is a GOOD idea!!!!
Schwartz's offers a fairly extensive menu, including liver, chicken and steak, but everybody orders the same thing - smoked meat sandwich. It comes in a heaping sandwich on rye bread with a smear of yellow mustard.  It does not come with cheese; it's a Jewish deli, after all.
To me, it tasted like a richer, more intense and more flavorful version of New York deli pastrami. You order "lean", "medium" or "fat" - I had medium, which was moist and tender - and a chubby older man who looks like he's been in the same spot since he was 6 slices to order from a selection of huge chunks of, I suppose,  brisket. One. Awesome. Sandwich. Some might want more mustard, and there are big squirt-jugs of it on the  counter and tables.
I had one of the best dill pickles in years with it, along with a huge plate of fresh-cut fries - they had vinegar to dress them - and two servings of the "house wine", Cott's black cherry soda, which for a Philadelphian brought back fond memories of Frank's Black Cherry Wishiniak and, especially, Levi's Champ Cherry.
With tip, I spent $20 and was well-sated. Do not come to Montreal without hitting Schwartz's, which is open early and open late every night. I am told a queue is common, but I didn't have to wait.
Went home, had some cheese and wine as a nightcap. What started as an iffy day had been a blast.

Second Cup, 1587 Rue St. Denis, Montreal. Open all day, more or less.

La  Brioche Lyonnais, 1593 Rue St. Denis, Montreal, H2X 3K3. Open seven days, breakfast through dinner.

Schwartz's, or, if you insist, La Charcuterie Hebraique de Montreal, 3895 Boulevard St.-Laurent, Montreal H2W 1X9. Open 0900-0030 weekdays, 0130 Friday and 0230 Saturday.




13 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyssey -- Day 3


The third of the daily blogs, stressing food and drink, from Montreal!

I have never vacationed  in a blasting, full-grade, kick-ass winter storm.
Until Friday.
The manager at the jazz club, Diese Onze, that I was Thursday noted as I left that eight to 10 inches were coming Friday. I didn't pay much attention, it wouldn't storm on my vacation, would it?
It would. And did.
A pelting, heavy, slippery, wet, messy snow, very difficult to walk in.  Howling winds. Thank goodness I had packed my heavy winter coat and a scarf but no gloves.
Slept late again, after Scotches and local Quebecois stout at the jazz club. Headed for a highly-recommended coffee shop just past L'Express, which had been a pleasant walk Wednesday night. Not so in the storm. Yuck. Montreal doesn't much believe in shoveling snow, apparently. A-slippin' and a-slidin' I was in a sleet-ish snow.
But Brulerie St. Denis was worth every snowflake that trickled down my neck. A true coffee heaven for devotees of the bean, this. A huge room filled with beans and baked goods opened into a pleasant seating area. I enjoyed a rich, perfectly-drawn espresso, a perfect, touch-sweet bowl of cafe au lait and a smallish but sweet almond croissant while catching up on blogging and my journal. I couldn't imagine better cafe au lait, which is often thin and too milky, so I had another bowl.
Then, caffeine-fueled, I made probably the day's worst decision. I was determined to get to Fromagerie - cheese store - Hamel, highly recommended by everybody, for cheeses to have in my hotel room. It didn't seem that far from the Jean-Talon metro station.
But -- here's the mistake -- instead of walking south to the Sherbrooke metro I walked north from the Brulerie to the Mont-Royal metro, which seemed just a but further but was in the right direction.
But "a bit" further on a nice day was sheer agony in the teeth of the storm. I did get there, looking like the Yeti, and then at Jean-Talon slogged more blocks to Hamel.
This had better be good.
Good? No. Great? No. The fromagerie of my dreams? Yes.
Nothing against Philadelphia mainstays Claudio's and DiBruno's, but Hamel simply blows them away.
And it's not just because they can sell imported raw-milk cheeses, mostly from France, that the stupid, nanny U.S. Department of Agriculture bans from America - now that's big government to hate!  They do sell those cheeses, though they have less Reblochon, Epoisses, Camembert and  Maroilles than they did Friday.
It's the whole operation - a number system for orderly service, a huge selection of French, Italian, Canadian, English, and American cheeses, sausages, salami, hams, all of sorts; a wall of mustards; mind-blowing bread: a full selection of bottled waters and the like; and a helpful, knowledgeable staff that offers generous tastes of anything you like. The staff will ask you, when you buy St. Marcellin, say, if you mean to enjoy it today; if so, they sell you a ripe one. If it is for later, you get one that needs time. Ditto with other cheeses; the clerk recommended against me buying his Munster because it would not be ready by Wednesday.
And it's all done at reasonable prices - the French cheeses that are available in the U.S., such as Pont L'Eveque, were cheaper here.
Now weighted down by a heavy sac of cheese, I went into the adjacent Marche Jean-Talon, one Montreal's several - really - versions of the Reading Terminal Market.
I was much more tired than I thought I was so I just gave it a cursory glance. I will be back, but I saw some awesomely marbled pork, brilliantly fresh fish and all kinds of ciders, cheeses, spices and produce. I want to go when not exhausted and soaked.
The trip back to the hotel was sheer misery, with the gutters flooded with water and slush, the sidewalks extremely slippery and the wind blasting snow in your face. I didn't fall, but my feet were soaked and I was drenched to the skin.
After drying out at my hotel and a lunch of baguette, spicy mustard, Badoit sparkling water and Louis d'Or, a Tomme-esque cheese from Quebec and lusciously nutty, I read for a bit and then headed out.
I was heading to break one of my oldest rules - don't eat at a jazz club. In New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Toronto, Antwerp, and Paris, this has consistently proven to be a terrible idea.
But Gary Tremblay, the manager at Diese Onze just north of the Brulerie, had talked me into coming for dinner. I wanted to see the band - the Matt Herskowitz Trio, Herskowitz is a pianist who combines classical and jazz. And the music was terrific, original, respectful of both genres, exciting, and furiously rhythmic. Herskowitz mixed adapations of Bach, Chopin, Beethoven and Gershwin with original compositions including a stunningly beautitful ballad 'Bella's Lament', and the occasional blues.
But you know the music in a quality club - this one is small, downstairs, atmospheric, dark, what I like in jazz clubs, with a reasonable noise level, in a city with perhaps the world's best jazz festival - will be good.
The question would be, how was the food?
The French-inspired menu had a selection of small plates - "appetizers" is what they used to be called - five mains, with additional specials.
The wine list was smallish - this was a small place, after all, with little storage - but had a good selection across France, Italy and the U.S. and there were 10 wines by the glass. The bar was well-stocked with bourbon, rum, gin, cordials and liqueurs but was very short on Scotch and Irish. My aperitif was a well-served Ricard.
I opened with chicken liver mousse whipped with port, which came with warm rounds of bread, a nice touch, and a small salad. The portion was generous. The mousses was light, with a fruit accent from the port but still earthy., It went well with a glass of 2007 Loupiac from Domaine de Noble, which was sweetish more than sweet, a touch of acidity and a really firm, grapey finish.
My main was risotto with mushrooms, topped with sliced parmesan. It was served hot as could be, again a generous portion. It needed some fresh black pepper to come alive, but there were a nice mix of mushrooms amid the well-cooked and tasty rice. If not as creamy as some  risottos, this one was deeply flavored and intensely satisfying. The glass of 2010 Coudoulet de Beaucastel Cotes du Rhone that went with it, though, was very disappointing; flat, with little acidity or grip, just  barely enough fruit to maintain interest. A stiff from a prestigious producer. Wine by the glass is always a crapshoot, but I saw a lot of wine being opened, so my guess was that this hadn't sat around very long; it just was not very good.
No dessert, instead I had a couple of pints of St. Ambroise Oatmeal Stout from McAuslan Brewery in Montreal - one fine stout.
Service was well-paced and efficient but since the manager and I had become friendly the evening before and he had reserved me the best seat in the house while pointing me put specially to the bartender, I certainly may have received special treatment.
So guess what? You CAN eat in this jazz club, and the music is great. You could dine better, sure, but the convenience of eating where the music is, and the quality of the food, earns Dieze Onze a solid recommendation.
The manager then invited me to join him at a bar near my hotel for a nightcap, which he drove to to spare us a slog through the slush. L'Ile Noire had a fine beer selection, cider on tap and over 140 single-malt Scotches at reasonable prices. I enjoyed a half-dram of Highland Park fifteen-year-old and a couple of pints of Quebec cider. Service was warm and fast. Visiting Scotch hounds, make a beeline here!!!
I got back to my place at 4 a.m. and had a bite of cheese,. Quite a day; I am glad I didn't let the weather snow on my parade!

Brulerie St. Denis, 3967 Rue St. Denis, Montreal H2W 2M4. Open 0700-2200 daily.

Fromagerie Hamel, 220 Rue Jean-Talon Est, Montreal, H2R 1S7. Open 0900-1800 daily, 1900 on Fridays.

Diese Onze, 4415-A 3967 Rue St. Denis, Montreal H2W 2M4. Music nightly. Covers under $10. Open until at least 0200.

L'Ile Noire, 1649 Rue St. Denis, Montreal H2X 3K4. Open daily 1500-0300.

12 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyssey -- Day 2


The second of the daily blogs, stressing food and drink, from Montreal!

Slept late after a long day of travel topped by L'Express. That meant, though, that I was at the mercy of what would be near my 2 p.m. classical concert for lunch, in an area of town I had not researched at all.
I wound up at a local chain, Van Houtte, for a completely forgettable jambon-et-brie sandwich - if that was Brie, I am Hillary Clinton - and pretty good espresso.
The concert was terrific, in an old church converted to a concert hall called Bourgie Hall and filled with Tiffany stained glass windows by the Museum of Fine Arts, indeed adjacent to the museum. After a much-neededd haircut, sightseeing downtown and more coffee, I wound up in a provincial-run liquor store to get some wines for my room for nightcaps.
Beer and wine can be sold almost anywhere here - and they are - but the government stores have a monopoly on hard liquor, and have an extensive wine selection too. Lots of labels we don't see in the U.S., from which I selected a Cahors and a Muscadet, will report on them later in these updates. Prices were on the high side of reasonable, as Quebec and federal taxes are killers - they add close to 15 percent to restauarant bills, but you are not expected to tip on them - but smart shoppers could find bargains. And there are BYOB spots, which I will be hitting.
But not tonight. Near the liquor store, on Rue Peel, exists the kind of establishment common to Francophone areas and only such areas as far as I can tell - places that serve steak and nothing else, such as La Relais de Venice near Porte Maillot in Paris, now with branches in New York and London.
One of Montreal's versions of this - there are several - is the L'Entrecote St. Jean downtown, where I wound up. For $28, you get: a large bowl of tomato bisque; a bibb-lettuce salad with a sharp vinaigrette and walnuts; a strip steak, cooked to your order, with a pile of fries; and profiteroles.
A bargain, to be sure. And pretty good. The soup was pleasant, not too thick or rich but enough of both on a chilly night and the salad was quite good, but maybe that is because I love Bibb lettuce.
The main item, the meat, was cooked the way I like it - saignant, 'bloody', in French; very rare - with a good, firm crust on the outside. Tasty meat too.
I noticed some Internet reviews of the place complained of tough steak. Two comments: 1) at $28 for 4 courses, Angus prime beef is unlikely to be on offer; 2) these people probably ordered overcooked beef. A well-done steak would have been tough. Mine was not.
Fries and dessert were fine, without being special. The wine list was mostly French and fairly priced, but not wanting a whole bottle, I had 500 milliliters of the house red, a tangy Spanish red.
Started with a Ricard pastis served perfectly and finished with a Calvados and coffee, the coffee was just OK.
The service was simply outstanding. I was sitting at a table in the window, the farthest spot in the restaurant from the kitchen, but never lacked for bread - crusty, tasty bread - and water refills. The table itself was slightly shaky but the manager insisted on fixing it.
The waitress was warm and friendly, even tolerating my horrible French, but her main skill was pace. She served my aperitif and then let me enjoy it - far too often one gets an aperitif and food is dumped in front of you two minutes later. There was space for recovery and relaxation between courses, and seeing that I was enjoying my wine, she asked if I wanted to wait for dessert. Yes. The pacing was especially impressive because other than the steak, everything was already made and ready. As she said, "prendre le temps".
This was some of the best service I have had in a restaurant in years. Five stars.
I'd recommend the restaurant as long as you understand what you are getting - a good, hearty meal that is not 'gourmet' in any way in a convival atmosphere, and you obviously have to like steak since they have nothing else. They are open late too, though in Montreal everything seems to be.
After dinner took in a fine jazz quartet near my hotel and that turned out to be a superb move; more on that place in the Day 3 blog.
 
L'Entrecote St. Jean, 2022 Peel Street, Montreal,  514-281-6492. Open 1130-2300 weekdays, 1700-2300 weekends.



11 April 2013

Brad's Montreal Odyssey -- Day One, 10 Avril 2013

The first of the daily blogs, stressing food and drink, from Montreal!

Arrived via Amtrak's Adirondack, a very pleasant if very long train ride - but we were 40 minutes EARLY, wow -- from New York.
Enjoyed a lovely selection of cheese and sausage and bread on the train -- of course I brought it myself, Amtrak cafe car food runs to Jimmy Dean reheated sandwiches and the like. Cabbed from Montreal's Central Station - not a very memorable major-city station, but better than Penn Station in New York --to my pleasant if minimalist hotel - Auberge Montréal Espace Confort, imagine IKEA running a place and you have this spot -- on the Rue St. Denis.
Unpacked and spent some time settling in, took a brief nap and went in search of dinner around 10 p.m.
I found dinner -- wow did I.
The problem with hitting L'Express on your first night in Montreal is that it's hard to imagine anything better afterwards.
That's how much of a winner this Parisian-style bistro is, friends.
Located on what is, at 10:30 when I arrived, a relatively quiet sector of the Rue St. Denis on what they call the "Plateau" here, L'Express looks like what it is, with black-and-white tiling, a long wooden bar, and tables covered in that white butcher's paper that in some Parisian spots is where they write down l'addition -the bill.
They don't do that at L'Express but in every way other this is Paris. The waiters, dressed in white shirts, black vests, ties, and black aprons, are friendly in the French manner of being so - they are professionals,  courteous and when they want to be charming. Service was prompt and attentive without hovering, and the check did not come until I asked for it.
Atmosphere was pleasant, comfortable, with a lively scene at the bar and plenty of people enjoying themselves at tables, but not loud.
The menu is French classics all the way and the massive and very impressive wine list is mostly but not entirely French and has some oddities - an Italian red from the South Tyrol, for example.
I enjoyed a generous portion of a rich gratin of leeks to start. Also on the table appeared a jar of mouth-puckering cornichons, a crock of good hot mustard and lovely bread.
My main was something I adore but can't get often -- rognons de veau en sauce moutarde. Veal kidneys in mustard sauce, which the waiter smiled broadly when I ordered. These were far better than the ones I had in Luxembourg in 2011. Mushrooms were mixed in and tasty roasted potatoes surrounded the plate - they needed a brief shake of salt to wake up, the only time in the meal I reached for seasoning.
Wine was a split of Chateau Thivin's 2010 Cote du Brouilly, served at perfect cellar temp for Beaujolais, which told me worlds about L'Express's commitment to its wine service. The wine's earthy, slatey nose and finish coupled with cassis-like fruit went perfectly with the kidneys, and a glass lasted to go with my Vacherin cheese to.  Thivin is a sure bet for great cru Beaujolais.
Finished a wonderful meal with a kirsch eau de vie from Massenez.
They are open until 2 a.m., later on weekends, with full menu.
This place earns my highest possible recommendation, the kind of place I would kill for in Philadelphia. A gem to be treasured -- do not miss if you visit Montreal!

L'Express, 3929 Rue Saint-Denis, Montreal, QC H2W 2M4, Canada
+1 514-845-5333. Open from 8 a.m. until at least 2 a.m.



02 April 2013

Avalon wine report

Always pleasant to spend a couple of days at The Lemon Drop in Avalon with my mother. And always wine around, too, making it even more pleasant, even if the weather largely was not.! A brief report:

Donnhoff Oberhausen Leistenberg Riesling Kabinett 2011
Safe to say I have never had anything else than an outstanding wine from Herrmann Donnhoff's brilliant domaine in the Nahe region of the Rhineland. This is a 'basic' wine of his, but one brimming with life. Pale, a tad sweeter than many Kabinett wines, with all of what the great Michael Broadbent likes to call "fruit salad" in the winem, and grapey, mouthfilling midpalate. Elegant and refreshing. Long, fruit finish, with a hint of austerity right at the end. 10 percent alcohol. A steal at $23. With Galatoire's Crabmeat Maison and a pork roast. Now-'2020. ****  (at the The Lemon Drop, Avalon, N.J. 3/2008).

Chateau Les Fromanteaux Clos du Poyet Muscadet Sevre et Maine "Vielles Vignes" Sur Lie 2010
Just perfect. Citrus yet earthy nose, some golden color, lemony and crisp and lots of complexity on the end from the "Sur Lie", I am sure. Palate-sweeping finish. All-purpose seafood wine, thought good with chicken too. Just 2 bottles left in my case - sigh. 12 percent, perfect for food. With deviled clams and Brad's Shrimp Tarragon. $16, a bargain. Just wish there were oysters. Now-2017. ***1/2 (at the The Lemon Drop, Avalon, N.J. 4/2008).

NV Ferriera Ruby Porto

Bought for a dessert  - peaches soaked in port, then ladled over ice cream -- and drank with it. Those used to aged tawnies, LBVs or Vintage Port will be disappointed here, but this is fine for the basic item: darkly purple color, spirity nose, not itensely sweet, satisfying fruit, good strong alcoholic, but not too much, finish, not cloying. Probably could pay less than the $16 I did at Fred's Avalon Liquors. Once opened, 2 weeks at then most. Good with English farmhouse cheeses or dark chocolate And with a dark chocolate Easter bunny -- always eat the ears first!. ** 1/2 (at the The Lemon Drop, Avalon, N.J. 4/2008).

Why I will never buy another bottle of white wine from the Pennsylvania state stores

I've had it.
In the last two months, I purchased four bottles of white wine that turned out to be oxidized and undrinkable.
One, a Macon-Villages, was from Fred's Avalon Liquors near my mother's house in Avalon, N.J. Fred's is a reliable shop with a good selection, if a bit pricey due to being on a resort  island. I have bought dozens of wines from them over the years and had one or two bad bottles. So, a corked Macon was upsetting, but it happens.
The other three  -  another Macon , a Vouvray and a Trimbach Riesling, all 2010 or later - all came from the Pennsylvania LCB operation, indeed from one store, the rather spiffy one on  Columbus Boulevard  in South Philadelphia. All were awful. All poured down the sink, along with about $60 of my money. My lovely homemade choucroute garnie had to be paired with an inappropriate wine rather than that Trimbach.
I suppose it's possible all three wines were bad from the time left the domaines in France, but I suspect  that's not so. All were from quality producers with long histories of success.
What I suspect is that the dunderheads of the LCB have no idea how to store white wine. Red wine can take a bit of a beating and still be OK, but not whites; temperature and proper storage are critical. Look at the 1994 Ampeau Meursault that I have been drinking that is heavenly -- stored properly in  Burgundy, in transit, in Moore  Brothers' store and in my wine cellar.
So no more whites at the State Store for me! No reason to gamble that much cash on potential garbage.


01 April 2013

Restaurant report: Bella Cena

It's hard to write about a friend's restaurant, usually, because you hate to say anything critical or that may be ill-received.
But this is a good time to write up Giancarlo Frusone's long-running Italian joint on Spruce Street in Center City Philadelphia, for two reasons: 1) he needs the customers and 2) it's going very well right now.
The place was shuttered for months due to a fire in an adjacent restaurant, and judging from the three tables occupied at 8:30 p.m. on a  recent Thursday, the word has not gotten out that 'Carlo', as he's well-known in the community, has re-opened.
The issue at Bella Cena has never been the food. Carlo buys good ingredients and his kitchen staff is always superb. The issue has been service -- long delays in getting food, mixups, etc. However, with the place not busy, this is much less of an issue, and one gets the idea that maybe the service issue has been fixed, anyway.
And this is a good time to drop in because Carlo's colorful brother, Sandro, is manning the stoves and the man can flat-out cook, especially seafood. I had a scallop appetizer to die for, three big sea scallops cooked a point with sauteed veggies and a light wine sauce, and a terrific piece of rare-ish salmon topped with a tangy livornaise sauce. The menu is full of Italian favorites, more Roman and Northern than Southern, pasta - the gnocchi are always good - and some big meat dishes such as rack of lamb or ribeye steak for carnivores.  
Sandro's creative too -- a mixed-green salad topped with fresh mango and a mango-laces dressing was worlds better than it sounds. I could have eaten a double portion. 
Desserts are basic, but Sandro's tiramisu is light and airy and his "chocolate souffle" -- I would call it a molten-chocolate cake -- was sinfully rich yet appealingly not-too-sweet. Espresso was fine, though it hasn't always been.
The Bella Cena wine list is pretty much Italian with a few U.S. bottles thrown in, which I would avoid. He has plenty of high-end Piedmontese and Tuscan reds at fair prices, and some decent quality value wines too; I'd avoid the house wines, though. I had a luscious, lemony and long 2010 Castellari Bergaglio Gavi Fornaci Gavi del Comune di Tassarolo, perhaps my favorite Italian style of white, at $39 a bottle. Served a little too cold, but still a refreshing and tangy bottle.
Service was fine except when Sandro yelled at my server for offering me black pepper for a dish, that he, Sandro, deemed it unnecessary for -- "that dish need-a nothing" -- Sandro is, um, shall we say, a gent who knows what he likes. And the bread could be a lot better in a city filled with quality bakers.
There's a pleasant and well-stocked bar to enjoy port or brandy in afterwards.
Near the Kimmel Center, you won't do much better for value or quality. The mercurial Sandro may not be around for long, but don't miss his cooking. He's special. And, right now, so is Bella Cena. 

Bella Cena, 1506  Spruce Street, Philadelphia, (267) 858-4600. Reservations at opentable.com. Dinner nightly.