restaurant quality pan seared scallops at home

It all began this afternoon. Actually, it all began about two weeks ago when midterm projects and exams began. That was around the same time that J came down with a wicked cold. I remember because it started the day after Yom Kippur and the day before Thanksgiving. The Jewish holy days always come with lots of traditional foods. Yom Kippur is different because it comes with the denial of food for 25 hours followed by a huge binge. I think this was a bit of a shock to poor J's system. This was his first fast and I was very proud of him for making Yom Kippur meaningful in his own way and in his own time. Le sigh.

Anyway, J started to come down with something the day of his mom's family Thanksgiving and spent half of the day trying to sleep in his old bedroom, avoiding his nieces and nephew. Since then, I've eaten more soup than any span of time in recent memory. I took very good care of J making soups from turkey bones, beans, and squash. My dad always told me, a good soup always starts with a mirepoix and a frying pan.

As you might expect, I eventually caught J's cold and had to continue the soup cycle for another week. J made a weird soup that kind of didn't work. I think he just make the mistake of putting too many things in it. One night I tried the Chinese take-out counter down the street, Mirama. Great chicken noodle soup. Cheap and cheerful soy sauce chow mein. Got a couple spring rolls for J and the three things came out to $11. Visit their website by clicking on the link for a take out menu and the number to call. Free delivery over $10! Cash only...

Today was a special day. It was the first day in two weeks that neither of us had an exam or paper and both of us were feeling on the better side of this cold. We walked down to Monkland Village. I am thrilled to say that the bad days are over and the coffee maker that I broke has been replaced with a lovely french press, a grinder, and some freshly roasted Kenyan beans. The coffee came from Le Maitre Boucher, 5652 Ave. Monkland (between Harvard and Oxford), (514) 487-1437. As did a most surprising assortment of goodies.

The shop was very crowded and there were all kinds of treasures inside. I spotted them out of the corner of my eye. In a little, see-thru plastic container, nestled in an open refrigerated case, there sat protected from the world, ten beautiful scallops from Nova Scotia. I should have taken a photo of them all cozy in the package together, each one a beautiful, clean tasting morsel of the sea.

I had to think of a plan fast so I went for some strong, crumbly, sweet blue cheese and a large, firm pear. They will end up in some sort of bruleed masterpiece when I figure out how to use my new blow torch. We quickly dropped off the precious ingredients at home and I leafed through old copies of Cook's Illustrated. I remembered a sweet pea puree that I had seen used under some halibut recently. I know I've read articles about how to complete perfect pan-seared scallops at home, if only I could find the issue.

Out the door again, this time to the supermarket for frozen peas and a couple other key ingredients. Cream for our new coffee. The baby bok choi also looked fresh so we picked some up and figured we'd find a way to cook it later.

The pea puree was very easy to make and left one huge but simple component complete and at the ready. The scallops needed little more than salt, pepper, vegetable oil, and unsalted butter. I wasn't sure of the exact order of what to do when, but I was sure I had read an article about it this summer. I kept looking through the magazines and couldn't find it. That's when I remembered my online membership. I was on the recipe faster than a flash in the pan.

Inside of a minute I had found a cross-referenced article about sauces for scallops and settled on a lemon-herb brown butter sauce. J came into the kitchen when things started to smell good and made himself useful as photographer, sous-chef, and dish boy. The penne aglio olio never would have happened without him.

Next time I make this (which will be at a dinner party near you) I would do a couple of things differently. Rather than boiling them in a high walled frying pan I would blanche and then stir fry the bok choi in ginger and green onion.

I would also add more liquid to the pea puree when I blended it.

We have enough leftovers to turn this into an appetizer for us tomorrow night. If they don't get eaten cold from the fridge as an afternoon snack during the day.


Pistachio ice cream for dessert.

exploring a new kitchen and a new city

When we arrived in Montreal the air was warm and the sun was shining, already a dramatic departure from where we had been. The last month in Edmonton was too busy to recollect in any great detail. Sisters returning home from far away lands like Berlin and the mountains of Appalachia; days and nights spent on a hillside listening to guitars a-plenty; plumbing the depths of my organizational skills as I packed up one life to begin another. Suffice it to say that the events of this past summer will take a while to sink in.

When we arrived in Montreal, we picked up our rental car and made our way to J's best friend's house, which would become the base of our operations for the next week or so. As hard as I tried, I couldn't find us a place to live from the other side of the country, so in that first week we had an important task at hand - find an apartment within our budget and geographical constraints. It was essential that I find a place close to my classes if I was going to make it to any of the ones that start before noon. By some divine intervention or alignment of the stars, we found our place at the corner of Madison and Somerled in just two days of intense looking.

The Madison is a cool building, dating back to 1951. There are a few little retro touches here and there, most obviously the vintage customized welcome mat at the front of the building and art deco steel railings through the stairwells. Our little home had just finished being refurbished with a brand new kitchen and bathroom and refreshed paint and hardwood throughout. There is more than enough space here for J and I to have our own separate work spaces, and miracle of miracles, my office is just off the kitchen with a door that leads out onto our balcony!

The best part of this kitchen, without a doubt, is the brand new gas range. I've never cooked with gas before but I know after just a little over a week that I'll have a hard time going back to electric. The heat is instantaneous and the flame gives a clear read on the actual temperature. No more guessing based on the glow of the coil. J has been something of an angel helping me to make sense of the space. He has a much keener eye for design and somehow found all sorts of clever ways to make my work space (both culinary and academic) function well.

Somerled Avenue is already proving to be an untapped well of gastronomic delights. The other night J, his brother, and I had a late dinner on the terrace at Anancy, a Jamaican restaurant that seems to be a mainstay of the community. Amazing fish and unforgettable festivals. We've found super cheap and delicious calzones at Molisana, the Italian bakery, and delicious food and good conversation at the deli and fromagerie Tranzo. The day we moved in we were also amazed by the expansive menu and friendly service at B & M restaurant. It's sort of a weird throwback to another time. The place looks and feels like an old deli/luncheonette sort of joint. Two senior couples were mulling over their scrambled eggs and toast at around 3 pm. Breakfast, we learned, is served daily until 4. The dessert option was jello or chocolate cake. But they serve wine and smoothies and my meal consisted of homemade chicken noodle soup to start and the daily special of mussels in a garlic and white wine sauce and we were brought hot, fresh baguette while we waited. An enigma, to be sure, and certainly a place I will have to report back on at greater length another time.

To summarize, I am happy, healthy, and well fed. This place is already feeling like our home. I already have the start of a pretty wicked herb garden growing in our living room window (thanks to future mom-in-law slash gardener extraordinaire) and I'm back to blogging again. I hope such a long hiatus will not happen again.

Until next time...

Arriba! Authentic Mexican food in my own backyard.

I was recently called upon to assist a friend with a writing assignment. She had to do a piece for her travel writing class, becoming a tourist in her own city. She told me she wanted to try out a new restaurant somewhere on 118th Ave and I immediately thought of the brightly painted exterior of the Caribbean restaurant that I often pass on my way to the hockey games. In the depths of winter this seemed like an obvious choice to both of us so we made our plans and set a time and day to meet. I picked her up at her house and after a few wrong turns we found our way to the place. Of course, in the spirit of true touristic excursions we did not call ahead to reserve a table. Alas, when we made it through the snowy parking lot around to the front, there was a sign saying that they were closed for a holiday. So now what, we thought. Scouring up and down the main part of 118th we eventually had to turn around and were gloomily facing defeat.

Suddenly I noticed a sign for "El Rancho Spanish Restaurant" and read it out loud while Morgana looked out the window looking for other appealing options. "I thought they closed down," she said. "I guess they just renovated." Just off 118th, in a little commercial strip resides a vacation for your taste buds. El Rancho serves up Mexican and El Salvadorian cuisine made with grandma's love, from scratch. Truly, it's a grandma and mama operation, with no frills or pretense, just really really good food. Our server did not speak much English, but she definitely understood me when I told her I wanted whoever was working behind those swinging doors to teach me to make their tortilla soup. "It's easy," she told me, and then proceeded to walk me through the steps to her own version, using descriptions and hand gestures when the vocabulary failed. Start by boiling a chicken. Add celery and onion to the stock pot. Strain the liquid into another pot. Add tomatoes. Simmer until flavour is rich. Then finish with cilantro, avocado, queso fresco, and sour cream.

When we walked in there was only one other table occupied, not always the best sign. But it was already quite late in the afternoon and a Wednesday at that. The adobe coloured walls and solid wooden tables were warm and welcoming and the sturdy leather chairs were very comfortable. I've already told you how greatly I enjoyed the flavours of the tortilla soup. It was spicy but not overpoweringly so. The flavour base was chicken, onion, celery, and tomato and it was finished with fresh avocado, cilantro, homemade sour cream and crunchy tortilla strips. It tasted so homemade, as if my own grandmother (if she were Hispanic) had dished it out for me on a visit at her house. A great way to warm up and at $6.95 for a very large bowl it was perfect for sharing as a starter.

Though I had not had many that impressed me in the past, Morgana urged me to try the fried plantains. I am so glad I went against my instincts there because I think they were my favourite part of the meal. I've never had plantains like this - plantanitos, chewy, gooey, sweet and salty. Amazing. They were served with the same homemade sour cream. This sour cream was unlike any I've had before. It was a bit salty. It cooled the heat from the spice in the soup and added an even richer dimension to the plantains while cutting their richness with its acidity. Good to know that a dish of heaven can be yours for $5.95.

The spicy grilled shrimp came next, served with mango salsa and a little green salad. The mangoes were well ripened but diced just small enough not to become the focal point of the dish. For an appetizer, this was also a very large portion and could easily have been a main course if paired with a smaller appie to start or the soup. Priced more like a main dish too at $10.95.
The only other busy table was occupied by three Spanish speaking men. They said "hola" to us as we came in and carried on chattering away and joking with the server as she brought them more food. One of them was whistling and singing along to the salsa music playing cheerfully in the background.

When the next course arrived, I could hardly stifle the giggle. Our chicken quesadilla was smiling right at me, with sour cream and salsa for the eyes. I took this as a good omen and went right for one of the pieces in the middle. Melted cheese and refried beans oozed out onto the plate. As I took my first bite I was surprised to discover that unlike the usual cubed pieces of grilled breast meat I was enjoying sumptuous morsels of slow cooked meat, pulled from the bone. One after the other, each dish was making me fuller and happier. The quesadilla was smiling back at me as I smiled at Morgana and she smiled at the friendly men at the next table. This dish also came with a green salad and I think next time I will try the tofu version, just to see how they do it. Chicken quesadilla, $8.95.

Since we had a little extra room left and were still craving more from that incredible, mysterious woman in the kitchen, Morgana and I decided to each order a dessert and share those too. I ordered the flan (not the kind with crust and gelled fruit topping, more like a creme caramel) and Mo ordered the Mexican fried ice cream. Our server told us it would be a bit of a wait because the kitchen had to heat up fresh oil. Heavenly! We didn't mind waiting at all. The flan came out with whipped cream on the side and a stewed strawberry sauce on top. Morgana's ice cream was utterly delightful, totally fantastic, and wonderfully decadent. The coating was crunchy and the whole dish was doused in sweet syrup of some kind.

As we swooned over our desserts, saying very little to one another but exchanging looks of deep satisfaction, a family of four came in with two young girls in pigtails between 2 and 5 years old. As mom and dad looked over the menu we heard squeals of delight. I turned to see what was going on and the mother looked up and said in an accent, "Sorry, we just haven't had these foods in so long." Reading the menu out to her daughters in Spanish, she paused here and there as her husband nodded eagerly in agreement and I couldn't stop myself. "You should really try the plantains. The best I've ever had. Amazing." They took my advice. Both the parents and Morgana and I were clearly on the same page - nothing ventured, nothing gained.

combatting brain drain with smoked meat sandwiches

I saw a very delicious story on the news the other day. Amid stories of natural disaster, corrupt bankers and politicians, and a flailing economy, this warmed the cockles of my heart.

Click here to watch the news piece

I turns out that the greatest smoked meat sandwich to be had in New York is found at neither Carnegie nor Katz's delis, but at a new spot called Mile End Delicatessen that opened last January in Brooklyn. CBC reported that the deli received its top rating from Zagat, the authority in food and travel guides, described by CBC's David Common as the "gastronomic bible of New York City."

Owners Noah Bermanoff and Rae Cohen are Montreal ex-pats who sell the iconic smoked meat as well as St. Viatur bagels, hand delivered either by FedEx or quite often by friends who drive through the night from Montreal ensure their fresh and speedy arrival each morning.

The main attraction at the tiny hot spot is their beef brisket smoked meat. Also on the menu: poutine with real cheese curds, borscht, and sandwichs names like the "Ruth Wilensky" which is sliced salami on an onion roll (10 cents extra for no mustard) and "The Beauty" - lox on a bagel with cream cheese, tomato, red onion & capers served either open or close-faced.

The format is simple, the price is right, and the food looks amazing. It looks as though they've come up with a winning strategy as they are currently planning the opening of a second location. Too bad it's not up the street from my house. I miss Montreal smoked meat all the time.

Photo Credits:
Daniel Kreiger
Michelle V. Agins/The New York Times
brownstoner.com

Cafe de Ville, what a thrill!

Yesterday I went for lunch with one of my oldest friends. Our visit was long overdue and we planned on a long lingering lunch, so I immediately thought of one of my favourite places, Cafe de Ville. It's such a cozy little place, complete with fireplace and little shaded lamps at each table. They also have wonderful coffee and that was the prefect pretext to allow us to take our time with lunch.

Looking at the prints of Paris on the warm yellow walls I realize that this place is one of the only morsels of the pink city that Edmonton's got. One thing that I love about this restaurant is the breadbasket that comes at the start of the meal. Warm croissants infused with orange and baked with lots and lots of butter, these sweet pseudo-brioches are what people remember about Cafe de Ville.

Our server brought us coffee from a fresh pot and milk and cream for each of us. He was very patient as we visited, neglecting our unopened menus on the table and gave us time to consider our options and the specials of the day. He returned when we were finally ready to order and I got a cup of the two feature soups - beef tenderloin broth with caramelized onions, pear, Pernod, and Sauvignon Blanc. The broth was rich with caramel and buttery fat from the onions and beef. The slivers of onion were cooked perfectly, firm but still soft. The flavours combined to make an intense start to the meal. The other soup of the day was a carrot apple.

For my main I got the pollenta soufflé, made with spinach, Stilton, herbs, feta, and a wild mushroom ragout. This is one of my very favourite things to order whenever I come here and I'm happy to report that it was every bit as scrumptious as always. The wild mushrooms were chewy and robust with aroma. The portion was large enough to be a main dish at lunch, especially paired with a cup of soup to start and one or two of those delectable brioches.

My friend-date had heard very good things about the build your own pizza here. The dish starts with a base of herb crust, Roma tomato and garlic basil sauce, and a blend of fontina, asiago, provolone, and sprintz cheeses. She ordered spinach and artichoke as toppings. The final product was very cheesy, as you might expect, and the dough crust was flaky, almost like a French flatbread. Neither she nor I could finish our meals so our server packed everything up to take away.

Though the restaurant does not have a set dessert menu they do have an in-house pastry chef and every day they present diners with an exquisite display of a dessert platter to choose from. It wasn't the chocolate mousse or the cheesecake that lured us. We went for the Earl Grey crème brulée. The custard was grey, almost lavender in colour. The hard candied sugar top was garnished with carved strawberry, blackberry, gooseberry, and mint leaves. The dish was carefully prepared and the custard was smooth, not eggy.

rags to riches

Sometimes I marvel at the vicissitudes of life. When I last wrote, my whole family was together, it was summertime, and I was simply blissful having spent an afternoon picking raspberries on a farm just outside of Edmonton. Today I'm sipping Remy Martin XO, looking out over Lake Edith and swooning adoringly into my love’s eyes, not a sister or great aunt in sight. I’ve been dreaming of Italian adventures and doing everything but praying that I get into grad school. Maybe I should consider praying… I suppose it couldn’t hurt.

Normally I spend Labour Day weekend watching the Eskimos play in Calgary and taking in pier sections from a near-freezing lake. You'd be surprised how fetching hip-waders can actually be... This year I decided to get out of town completely.

We spent last night at the Chateau Lake Louise, driving out after I finished work. It was a late start by the time we actually got on the highway and it rained intermittently the whole way up. A rather impressive flourish of rain came down at the end. We drove through the dark woods on either side and were awestruck as the illuminated windows of the castle came into view. We had planned to spend hours whiling away in the Walliser Stube fondue lounge, but by the time we got in all we wanted was room service and a big comfy bed. Unfortunately we were so overwhelmed by the splendour upon our arrival that I forgot my camera in the car that night.

But in case you were wondering, I had a grilled salmon pita with a side salad and Joey had a rather extraordinary grilled vegetable wrap with roasted pepper spread and perfectly cooked homemade french fries. Together we polished off a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir from Oregon made by Wine by Joe, 2008. The salmon was cooked perfectly and came apart with my fork in delicate but firm flakes. We didn’t have dessert, but at that hour it’s probably a good thing. It was only the one night that we stayed at the Chateau, but it was altogether memorable.

Yesterday we slept in a little and came down for lunch in the lounge, gazing out at Lake Louise from the wide, Palladian windows that line the main floor façade. Though my onion soup was generally forgettable, the wild boar bacon and chanterelle mushroom quiche was rich enough to share, leaving Joey's roasted vegetable sandwich as a snack for the road, which we packaged up and took with us. He also had a soup of the day, which was a creamy potato and parsnip. I like the idea of this soup better than we liked the actual thing in front of us, so now it’s going into my bank of things to experiment.

The drive from Lake Louise to Jasper is a lot longer than I remember. Not realizing the distance, we had to make good time once we got moving. Before we got back onto the highway we stopped briefly in the village for a coffee and a snack. Do yourself a favour and get an almond macaroon or a pizza bagel from Laggan’s Mountain Bakery. I got both and was not the least bit sorry.

(Right: the only bite of the legendary macaroon I was able to capture before devouring the whole thing)

Arriving late again in Jasper we checked in, unpacked in the room, and went straight for the room service menu. I decided to go big. I figure, when will I ever again be able to go all out in a place like this? Heck, I can only afford such an extravagant holiday because I work for the company. Next time I visit these places, I’ll likely be sleeping in a tent. So I ordered the 7 oz. filet mignon with buttered mashed potatoes. Joey got the spinach and ricotta cannelloni with a tomato sauce, which came with the additional cream for the sauce on the side. A very thoughtful touch, we both thought, being able to add as much or as little cream as he liked. My steak was cooked to perfection. It can’t be easy to prepare a steak for transport to a little cabin away from the central kitchen and ensure that it still arrives cooked rare, pink in the middle. The meat was tender and seasoned simply with salt and pepper, slightly charred on the outside adding a caramel flavour to each juicy bite.
Even a small cut like the filet I found a bit too much for me, but I never feel bad leaving things on my plate. I just don’t think it’s healthy to insist on cleaning one’s plate, nor was it ever insisted by my mother that I do so. I hate it when people remark at how much or little I eat, that’s my own damn business.
Oh yes, and we paired the late supper with a Chilean Syrah, very good value for dollar on this bottle – spicy, bold, and a little supple in the mouthfeel, a great food pairing wine.
(Right: My perfect room-service steak)

Anyway, we had thought about getting the big to-do brunch delivered to the room this morning, but decided to not be lazy bums and got our asses into comfy seats at the window’s of the lounge, just off the main lodge’s lobby. Looking out over yet another beautiful lake, we relished at the arrival of a big french press full of fresh coffee. We were hungry, but I knew I couldn’t eat anything too rich after last night, so we decided to split the smoked salmon Eggs Benedict. It was taking a long time, but our server brought us fresh orange juice and a fresh press of coffee, apologising for the delay. We weren’t really bothered, having found ourselves in such a paradise. When the food finally came, I was amazed by what lay in front of me. The egg was perfectly poached. Breaking it open let loose a flow of rich creamy yolk, and the hollandaise was lemony and quite light. The roasted fingerling potatoes were well cooked too – fluffy inside, but slightly crispy on the outside, the feel of the skins breaking between my teeth as I sunk them in. On the side was half a roasted roma tomato. A perfect meal to split, especially washed down with freshly squeezed orange juice and more hot coffee.
(Right: A half-order of the smoked salmon Benny)

Currently I’m sitting in front of that same window overlooking the lake, having gone for a swim and cleaned myself up a bit. Alert, but relaxing next to a warm snifter of Remy Martin XO, I don’t think I can honestly say that I’ve ever been more content. Tra la… I wonder what the soup of the day is…(Centre: view from my window in the Emerald Lounge at the Jasper Park Lodge)

what do you mean it's summer? it's started already? cool, let's have a picnic!

I swear, no one told me. I've spent so many back-to-back summers away, either in Ontario, Quebec, or Italy that I've forgotten what it feels like to experience an Edmonton spring followed immediately what I'm beginning to remember as Edmonton summer. I am guilty of falling victim to the intoxicating wafts of fresh blossoms and then greedily planting a garden before the Victoria Day long weekend. I also took a holiday in New York and didn't tend to my garden, as I should have in the days leading up to my trip. I was working extra hours at two jobs, training at one of them, and preoccupied with other writing I've been working on. So of course, bad things happened to the garden while I was away and shortly after my return. But I'm getting sidetracked. I'll tell you those stories in the next instalment of "planting a garden". The point is, I haven't written in a while nor have I been cooking, and so I must retrain myself to get back to those things, and to you, dear, loyal readers.
All right, yes, New York. It certainly felt like summer as soon as I got off the plane. The mercury did not dip below 30 degrees any day that we were there. At nights it cooled down slightly to around 25. That being said, it was rather difficult to maintain a high energy level to go go go the whole time. The vacation was a great deal about leisure, so we took our time. We loved choosing restaurants as it meant pouring over their online menus and dreaming of what kind of night might follow a meal at each place. Rarely did I find myself eating the entire meal (which was always at least twice as much as I could eat), but I didn't sweat it. One night we actually gave our leftover curry and rice to a homeless man on the way back to the hotel. Also, the heat made me realize that making sure we saw the 5 or 6 galleries, 2 museums, not to mention all the shopping,
Crab cakes and cucumber salad on the patio grill at the Boathouse in
Central Park
theatring, and fine dining as we could - not so realistic. There were a number of delightful food moments and memories, too many to share them all with you.

Some of the brightest food highlights (indeed in the darkest
places) I've captured with my Nikon D40. I've got a good old lens, but she's a bit broken and needs to be fixed. She kept conking out on me, so I was very happy to have had my friend's macro lens on loan for the trip. I've been playing around with that a lot since coming home and starting to cook again (!) I welcome your input and suggestions on updating my lens for my DSLR. I am thinking right now that I'll just send the warranteed lens away and pick up a well-made low price range macro lens too.

Wild blackberries that I noticed were growing on an island on the lake
in Central Park. I don't think the birds, ducks, and turtles will miss
these few we nabbed.

I want to tell you about this one meal I had though... I was given loads of advice and suggestions for where to eat and what to do while in New York. Thank everyone who offered me his or her precious info. One suggestion that I am particularly thankful for was from my sister who used to live in New York. Based on her recommendation I took my companion and another friend who now lives in New York down to Chelsea and we ate at August on Bleecker. It would be easy to walk right by it. In fact, our cab driver wouldn't pull over right away. Peering through the big front window, the restaurant appeared to be empty. I trusted my sister, though, so in we went. A shiny, hot wood-burning oven with endless piles of orange glowing coals was obviously the first thing I was drawn to. Soon after I looked around I heard laughter and tickling glasses coming from somewhere further into the restaurant. The sommelier (and I assume also an owner or manager) greeted us and took us through the narrow restaurant into the glass-roofed patio in the back. Large plants hung down and lights were suspended across the courtyard-like space.
The dinner menu was small, but the food was divine and wine list was sensational. Our sommelier friend came over when we asked our server a rather odd question. My friend likes Pino Grigio and I made the assumption that something called Fie Gris would be rather similar. Our server hadn't tried this bottle, so she called in backup. The sommelier began to describe the wine without seeming to be able to put his finger on just what it was like or could be compared to. He called it "rich", and kept repeating that characteristic over and over. "It's a bit citrusy, yeah, but it's just so... rich." It's indescribable, but he was exactly right. Not quite like anything I have tried before, but deliciously rich without being buttery and still with lots of nice fruit and blossoms. I must write to them and find out the exact name of the bottle. In all the deliciousness I plum forgot to write it down...
We also enjoyed some wonderful oysters from Saddle Rock, Long Island. Don't believe that old hoohah about only eating oysters in months that have an R in them. This dates back to a time when we had poor refrigeration. Besides, these were harvested not too far from where I was dining, even better!
I thought when I ordered the salad with arugula and lamb's quarters that I would be getting something with pieces of lamb meat... yeah, lamb's quarters are actually wild spinach, I have learned. It was still delicious, but because I had imagined some incredibly rich, heavy salad course, I was actually a little disappointed. The chefs at August made up to me, though with the stunning main course that was created as the nightly special. It was a sea bream grilled and served with fresh microgreens and tarragon in a light cream sauce strongly flavour with lemon. The brine from happy little green olives commingled with the sauce and the natural smoky flavour and oils from the grilled fish. It was rustic, inventive, and incredibly satisfying. I ate a whole fish. Minus the head and the eyes, which I secretly kind of want to try.

My dining companions each got one of the pizzas that were on special that night. Every sunday they have a pizza and beer deal. Something involving a bucket of beer, it actually looked pretty cool. My friends gave mixed reviews to their main courses. The one who eats meat said his was fantastic. I tasted some and it was pretty damn good. Lots of good quality Italian cured meats crumbled over a wood fired pizza crust with lots of fresh mozzarella. The one who is a vegetarian said her pizza had too much going on and it certainly looked that way to me - peppers, greens, and fava beans all sort of thrown "rustically" onto the crust without all concern for the mixture of textures and flavours.

We finished the meal with a couple of desserts which we all sort of shared. My veggie friend and I shared the hot rhubarb crumble with black pepper ice cream on top and the carnivore had a trio of gelato. We all had a contentedly (almost uncomfortably) full walk down to Union Square and after one more cold drink in the hot heat, headed back into a cab, uptown, and into the night.

montreal delights

Montreal. It evokes in my mind a city of light, of culture, and most certainly of some of the best food in North America. The most common refrain of its utterly European style and lifestyle makes you feel like you are in a place where everyone is zigging in a country where people are known for zagging. Montreal is groovy. It's old and up late and may boast some of the best ethnic food in Canada. Even its high-end designer, haute cuisine establishments are serving up artistic creations topped with infused foams and strange and exciting fungi.
Montreal, not unlike Toronto in this respect, strikes me as one of the brunchiest towns I've ever had the pleasure of dining in. Very good eggs and toast places with charm and character pop up all over the place. Visiting this city with sisters as my guides, I have eaten some very yummy late-morning-breakfast-lingering-into-long-afternoon-coffee-and-walking-around meals. This time I returned to L'Anecdote on Rachel and Saint-Hubert. The inside of it is deceptively large. The front area is very retro and has big cosy red leather booths with wide windows that look out onto Saint-Hubert. Further back bigger tables are available for larger groups. In the front, dessert and chrome sparkle to greet the new customers.
An old friend from art history met me by the Sherbrook metro and we walked over together. The trouble is, we got so wound up in visiting and coffee that I sort of forgot to take a before shot. This is what was left of a very large and tasty diner breakfast. Delicious.


Then we continued strolling and ended up on a mission for beer. My friend was about to move and the occasion definitely called for a couple cold ones. We discovered a very interesting deppanneur on Duluth. Lots of locally microbrewed beers at a very good price with mix and match deals. Ultimately, we found a very pretty little spot to get ice cream on Saint Denis called Au Festin de Babette. He had orange chocolate and I had pistachio.
Later in the afternoon, I met two of my very best friends at the bus terminal, down the street from my sister's apartment where I had been staying. We wrapped our arms around each other, said a quick hello while they freshened up back at my sister's, and we were back out on Saint Denis. We stopped for a quick bite and a slice of pie at Rockaberry (mocha tiramisu, which we saved for later) and then shopped the afternoon sun away. As it set we headed to our hotel, The Queen Elizabeth, and checked it. After another quick recharge, we returned to the Plateau where my fabulous sister was waiting to join us for dinner at one of my favourite restaurants in Montreal.
Just a short walk down Saint Denis from my sister's house is Chuch, a vegan Thai restaurant with the most remarkable fake meat I've ever eaten. The textures are so real and the sauces are so flavourful that I enjoy it as much if not more so that non-vegan Thai food. The four of us went crazy. Though there was only one vegetarian among us, I would describe the lot of us as more or less flexitarian. The vegetable dumplings went so fast I didn't get a chance to take a picture of them. When the rest of the food arrived, I was sure to keep my wits about me before having at it like the lost boys in Hook.
We each chose a non-meat or a sauce that sounded scrumptious and got a few helpings of rice to round things off. My sister was incredibly helpful in recommending her favourite dishes, and I usually take my cue from experts when they know more than me in a resto. The four of us shared Chicken in red and green curries, Beef in three sauces, and duck with deliciously guilt free crispy skin.We shared two bottles of white wine - a Gewurztraminer than needed to be way more chilled than it was, but was still quite promising - and a Pinot Grigio.
At this point in the story I should probably tell you that I was in Montreal celebrating my birthday... that officially began at midnight and was rung in with mocha tiramisu pie for the birthday cake. Sorry dear readers, that I have no picture of that magical moment either. But I can tell you that when the three of us friends woke up in out big comfy beds in the Queen E the next morning, and before we checked out and left town, we said goodbye to Montreal in style, with room service.