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?

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.

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.

Throwback in West Philadelphia

Before the Internet, every major city used to have a cluttered, somewhat disorganized store that sold local and international newspapers, intellectual journals, and every kind of magazine. Rewarding browsing was possible for hours.

And before the Smoking Nazis, every major city used to have multiple quality tobacconists, who sold exotic cigarettes, loose tobacco and quality cigars.

Now, sadly, the first kind of shop is almost extinct and the second is dwindling fast (even legendary Nat Sherman’s gave up its primo Manhattan corner location [42nd St./5th Ave.] to move midblock).

But life always seems to move a little slower in Philadelphia, which sometimes means we keep good things here that are gone elsewhere (trolleys, for example).

And out in West Philadelphia, nestled amid the chain stores that infest Penn’s campus, is Avril 50: a survivor in both categories.

The debonair, worldly, sardonic gentleman who is in charge of this properly cluttered little treasure, sells all kinds of newspapers, international and local, every magazine imaginable (including a superb collection of wine journals, justifying my posting about him), and quality tobacco of all sorts. He also carries quality greeting cards, a dizzying array of chocolates and sweets, coffee strong enough to rip your fillings out, and even hookahs you can smoke on his patio.

It’s a classic little shop, and I am guessing the kind of cultured people who read this blog and enjoy life’s finer things will love this place the same way I do. Next time you want a magazine or a cigar, skip the chain store and head out to Sansom St. If you’re already in the area and have a caffeine craving, skip Starbucks and get his coffee. Or, for those newspaper lovers out there, buy The Guardian, sit on his patio with a cigar and a coffee and experience the decadent luxury of opening the paper out to its full size, a wingspan that will leave you breathless in this age of mini-papers. You may see me there, too.

Avril 50, 3406 Sansom St., Philadelphia, 19104; 215-222-6108; avril-fifty@verizon.net. M-F 7:30 a.m.-6 p.m., Sat 10-5.