Merci, Montreal!
Behold the wonder that is Poutine - a strata of crisp french fries, creamy gravy and squeaky cheese curds. This peculiar French-Canadian creation is curiously perfect, whether one is sober, drunk or desperately hungover. It is also a terrific lunch on Thanksgiving day (US). Hey, if it has gravy, it qualifies.
We couldn't make it to see family in Utah or Seattle. We couldn't make it to Europe. We didn't want to hang around Broad Brook. It is only a 4-hour drive to Montreal... Voila! Thanksgiving in Quebec, here we come!
We stayed at Le Petit Prince, a fantastic B 'n B in the heart of the city, run by an engagingly eccentric innkeeper with a mouth like a sailor and a flair for fantastic breakfasts. In addition to making a terrific cappuccino and delicious curried eggs, she mapped out a walking tour of the city for us, starting at the Marché Jean-Talon - truly one of the greatest open-air markets in North America - and ending up back at our room, where we warmed our chilled bones in our over-sized tub.
Along our way we stopped at St. Viateur, to pick up a dozen of the finest bagels ever. Chewy, moist even, but with the snappy crust and the smokey flavor of the fired oven, these bagels are the hit. All of that bagel-shaped bread one gets at Dunkin Donuts or Einstein's or god knows what chain? Those are not bagels. THESE are bagels, and I insist that you try them if you are ever in Montreal.
Another stop on our Thanksgiving walk - post-poutine but pre-dinner, and with a dozen bagels still warm in our bag - was Dieu du Ciel (God in Heaven), a wonderful brew-pub handcrafting a surprising array of fantastic beer. I had the Pénombre, a black IPA. I had never heard of black IPA, apparently because it is a rather new invention. It has the hoppiness of IPA, which I love, and the earthy sweetness of a porter. Put another way, it was so delicious I could have drunk it all day long. However, one was enough and we still had more walking to do.
As one might guess, it was cold. The temperature hung in the low thirties and a stiff breeze made it feel colder. But with our HEATTECH long-johns and down coats - as well as the hand-knit hats a la Marissa, we managed to stay warm. Plus, we stopped into a lot of shops during our walk, warming our numbed lips while eyeing the merchandise.
We also lucked out in that it did not snow. I awoke in the middle of the night to see that a good quarter of an inch of freezing rain was covering everything, but by the time we had to make the drive back south, the weather had warmed and the ice had melted.
A final note on the poutine. If it is your first time - and every one we asked confirmed this - you must go to La Banquise. This is the epicenter of poutine goodness, and it is where we partook of our plate. It has kind of a Denny's feel to it, but with more local charm and mom-and-pop-ness. It also sports a diverse clientele. I am pretty sure poutine is the great leveller of Montreal society, as we saw every type of person imaginable in the short amount of time we were there.
This was our second time to Montreal, and it cemented the place as one of my favorites. With the Jean- Talon market, a great Little Italy, many other diverse neighborhoods, excellent bagels and great beer, this is a place I could live. Well, okay, the cold scares me. But give me a plate of poutine and an extra large bathtub and I bet I could manage.
