Montreal and the Beauty of French Wine

A particularly good Gevrey-Chambertin we enjoyed at Liverpool House in December 2010.

I remember my first excursion to buy some wine at the SAQ in Montréal in 2004. Naturally, I gravitated to the California wines (those were the labels I knew at the time) and I found 1) a tiny selection, and 2) some pretty mediocre wine.

It tainted my view of SAQ for a long time after.

Of course, as my knowledge of wine grew, I discovered that I was complaining about a poor selection of California wine in stores featuring rack after rack of really wonderful French wine. And that was when I understood that good wine in Montréal means French wine. I learned not to fight it; in fact I love it and now I wander through wine stores in Boston (where I live) and wish for a better selection of French wine.

I’ve had several occasions to think about this in the past year: there were the trips to Montréal in December and June; and in January, I read The Art of Living According to Joe Beef: A Cookbook of Sorts by David McMillan and Frédéric Morin.

Let me get this recommendation out of the way now: read the book. It’s great. Yes, there are recipes in the book, which you might re-create at home, or which you might read about and then order the next time you’re at Joe Beef or Liverpool House.

But this is a cookbook that you read, and I love the chapters on Montréal’s culinary history, the romanticism of train travel, the square meals at the casse-croûtes (snack bars) of Quebec, as well as the story of how Joe Beef and Liverpool House came to be in Montréal’s Little Burgundy neighborhood. It’s absorbing reading, but my favorite part of the book is David McMillan’s chapter on French wine, in which he writes, just to start things off right:

“I love red burgundy wine so much I want to pour it into my eyes.”

McMillan writes that he’s opinionated about wine and his restaurants reflect his worldview: mostly wines from Burgundy, Beaujolais, Loire and Alsace. There are a few bottles of American wine and Canadian wine on the list.

McMillan writes: “The air in Quebec is sweet and old, and we’ve been drinking French wine with French food here for more than three hundred years.” Montrealers dine out often and despite the proliferation of cuisines representing the more recent waves of immigration to Canada, and despite the various fine dining trends that have swept North America, Montréal remains a city where the best wine selection on the menu is invariably French.

Here’s what McMillan told Eater National in an interview earlier this year:

There’s been a serious French wine program at our local SAQ wine stores for 100 years, you know. If you give an older French-Canadian person Australian Chardonnay, they’re like, “Get this the fuck away from me—what is this?” And if you say, “Here’s CA chardonnay,” they’re like, “Why?” So we’ve had to keep the path to French wine and old world-flavored wines. Even when we wanted to play ball [with bigger, more modern wines] like the rest of the world, it never worked, so we just gave up.

It’s hard to complain about that, since French (and other Old World) wines pair so wonderfully with food most of the time, but what I take away from the chapter (and, indeed, the whole book) is a deeper understanding of the history and culture of Montréal, and how it expresses itself on the plate.

And there’s the recipe for the famous Joe Beef Hot Oysters on the Radio – that’s just icing on the cake, so to speak.

A New Home for Derek Dammann and it’s Not DNA

Lesley Chesterman has the story in Wednesday’s Gazette: Derek Dammann, one of Montreal’s best chefs and formerly the chef of DNA, will open his new restaurant on the Plateau in mid-September.

Maison Publique will be located in the old Yoyo space at 4720 Rue Marquette. The other interesting detail is that Jamie Oliver will be the investor behind the new venture. But, Chesterman notes, this isn’t the typical Chef No Show establishment: Dammann is in charge, will write the menus and will be on the premises.

This also isn’t DNA: “We’re doing an old-school, British-style tavern,” says Dammann, and Chesterman adds the new restaurant will have a bar, open kitchen, and next year, an outdoor terrasse.

I’m excited about this, and it’s yet another win for the Plateau Mont-Royal, where there are already so many great restaurants.

What Makes Joe Beef and Montreal So Cool?

Why is Montreal so cool? It’s because the city is “the R&D of multiculturalism and hybridity,” according to Yann Geoffroy, a writer and a musician… and a server at the legendary Joe Beef in Montreal.

He’s written a brilliant essay about the mix-and-match quality of Quebec culture – its francophone backbone, filtered by centuries of immigration, and with a layer of working class America for good measure.

Geoffroy uses a perennial Joe Beef favorite for his example: Crevettes de Matane à la Russe:

Here we have a French recipe influenced by Russian taste and made using local ingredients. PEI potatoes, New Brunswick caviar, garden herbs and vegetables from Little Burgundy, Matane shrimp, and B.C. salmon are featured in the dish, bound by a staple of French cuisine – fresh mayonnaise – and conceptualized by vestiges of Russian taste.
It’s French market cuisine, everything done from scratch, except of course those things that are full of nostalgia like Spam, Velveeta, and cocktail sausages. These North American working class charms sometimes find themselves alongside elite cousins such as a duck egg, foie-gras, or Chambertin.

This is a great essay and along the way, you’ll discover some of the secret sauce of Joe Beef, from the chalkboard menu to the tightly arranged tables.

While I’m thinking about it, this is a good moment to recommend The Art of Living According to Joe Beef: A Cookbook of Sorts by David McMillan and Frédéric Morin. Sure you’ll add another cookbook to your collection, but even if you rarely cook (like me), you’ll gain a new understanding and appreciation of life in Montreal and Quebec. There are long, engrossing chapters on the romanticism of train travel in Canada, oysters, a lyrical tribute to French wine that will make you want to open a bottle right now, and a culinary history of Montreal that explains the deep connections among the great chefs like Normand Laprise, Martin Picard, McMillan and Morin.

I don’t read a cookbook from front to back; this was the exception. Highly recommended.

Montreal is One of the World’s 25 Best Places to Visit

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theamericanblondetraveler:

#7 on U.S. NewsTravel 25 of the World’s Best Places to Visit - Montreal, Quebec, Canada 

As National Geographic Traveler puts it, “Like a stripper working on a doctorate in philosophy, [Montreal’s] forever letting slip her unexpected qualities.” With hundreds of shopping venues both above and below ground, a massive park ideal for games of hide and seek and a buzzing restaurant and nightlife scene, fringed by the wrought iron street lamps of the historic district, this bilingual city is a feast for pretty much every type of vacationer.

The Schwartz’s Sale

I’ve held off talking about this because Schwartz’s isn’t a part of my experience of Montréal. But smoked meat in general, and Schwartz’s in particular, is a big part of Montréal for many… hence the turnabout.

The Montreal Gazette, La Presse and other media organizations report that a sale is imminent. The rumor is the price is C$10 million and the new owner is a group of investors that includes René Angelil, the husband of Céline Dion. A confidentiality agreement surrounds all this, so we’re not likely to know much until there’s an official announcement of some kind, if any.

The Gazette article gives the interested tourist or the curious a couple tidbits that hint at the iconic status that Schwartz’s enjoys among many aficionados of smoked meat: first, there is no franchise; there aren’t even other outlets in Montreal – there’s only one Schwartz’s, and it’s on the Main (as boulevard St-Laurent is known locally); second, there’s “schmutz”:

According to the culinary experts, the key to Schwartz’s smoked-meat success is that no chemicals or preservatives are used in the curing of the beef. Nor does it hurt that the Schwartz’s smoke-house has 84 years of spices embedded in its walls – the “shmutz” factor – giving it its unique taste.

That’s 80 years of smoky, herbaceous buildup in the smokehouse, folks. That’s why the locals are touchy about what happens to Schwartz’s but we should note this isn’t the first sale in the deli’s history: it’s changed hands three times before.

Want more? There’s a modest article on Wikipedia about Schwartz’s.

photo: seoulpolaris