Bonjour!
A few weeks ago, I took a road trip to Montréal with my very good friend Nicole and her childhood friend Erin. Much credit must be given to Erin for selflessly providing/driving the set of wheels that whisked us urbanites north to Canada. As I started explaining earlier, getting my passport stamped was definitely on my trip To Do List. I've had this slight feeling of International Travel Inadequacy for a few years now, stemming from the fact that I've only been to one foreign country. Montréal has long been a city I've wanted to visit and a part of me was thrilled by the notion of that official documentation. However, neither by entrer nor sortie did border patrol produce a stamp. Am I the only pathetic American traveler who so badly wants her damn passport stamped when she actually leaves the country? Sigh.
I know I've gone on a tangent about this one minor discrepancy, but suffice it to say our trip couldn't have gone better. We stayed at L’hôtel Le Dauphin, a cute little hotel just a few blocks away from Old Montréal on Rue de Bleury. We spent most of our days traversing the city, eating crêpes and pronouncing the names of every Rue ((street)) with mediocre French accents. By the end of our trip we had sufficiently exhausted the phrases Bonjour, Merci Beaucoup and Bonsoir all said with, what we thought was, the perfect French, sing-songy inflection.
The Old City was definitely the most touristy neighborhood during the day, but we happily accepted the charm of the cobble stone streets and European architecture. We payed a visit to the Notre-Dame Basilica, which you may or may not remember as the church Celine Dion was married in. It really is breathtaking.
About a month before our trip, Nicole secured us a reservation at Garde Manger. I will fully disclose a major impetus for this trip: Chuck Hughes. For those who may not know, Chuck is a French Canadian chef with a show on the Cooking Channel called Chuck's Day Off. Nicole and I are both pretty enamored of him (those dimples!) and his cooking. While we were getting ready to make our way to the restaurant, I decided to tweet at the chef himself. To my delight, he actually tweeted me back confirming he would be there. The northern stars had aligned for us. We finished primping and made our way to Rue Saint-François-Xavier where, lo and behold, he was.
Forgive my gushing, but he was an absolute sweetheart and greeted us all so warmly. It turns out he actually does his own tweeting, and for someone who used to tweet for a restaurant professionally, I found that extremely refreshing (and it made my inner chef groupie swoon). The food was phenomenal; from a traditional French poutine - fries, cheese curds and gravy - to a savory roasted chicken with shrimp and veggies over garlic mash potatoes. Nicole was especially smitten over her potato croquettes. Our waiter Mike was not only thoroughly knowledgable about the seasonal menu, he also gave us some fantastic bar recommendations that took us down a less touristy path.
Our first taste of Montréal nightlife was at a bar called Philemon. While we waited at the bar for our drinks, a guy standing to my left began speaking to me, in French. Just my luck; I go all the way to Montréal, a nice guy strikes up conversation and we don't speak the same language, haha. We spent the remainder of our night there, met some other NY-area travelers and went to bed pleased with our night.
The next day we walked from the Old City, past McGill University to the top of Mont Royal. The panoramic views from the top of this park (created by the same Frederick Law Olmsted who built Central Park) are beautiful. It was also a lovely spot to chat with some super friendly locals.
After scaling Mont Royal, we walked through the surrounding neighborhood and ate sandwiches at the very bohemian cafe, Santropol. Their signature sandwiches are made with cream cheese-based spreads on rustic dark bread. I had the chicken salad sandwich with an olive-cream cheese spread, and while it was tasty and I ate the whole thing, it was a bit heavy on the cream. My favorite part of Santropol, however, was the vibe and this nifty hand sculpture. After lunch we did a little shopping and took the metro back to our hotel.
That evening, we ate Downtown at an Indian restaurant called Le Taj. We enjoyed a perfectly spiced meal and equally perfect Indian white wine, the first Erin or I had ever tried. After filling our bellies, we mosied on down to Rue Crescent. My friend Korn went to the University of Vermont and offered some suggestions after spending many a night there during college. Our first stop was Brutopia, but we ultimately decided we wanted less bachelorette party and more laid back. Mike from Garde Manger had told us about a speakeasy-type bar called Big in Japan, not to be confused with the restaurant a few blocks down. **Spoiler Alert: this impressive bar can be found on Rue Saint-Denis and is a wonder to behold after the craziness of Downtown**
A graffiti-splashed door is the bar's only indicator and easily passable. The entry opens onto a velvet curtain-lined corridor, at the end of which stood a tuxedo-clad host. We waited about 15 minutes before being led into a chic - but at the same time seriously relaxed - candle-lit room. We each ordered old classics; Tom Collins and the like. The mixologists all sported handlebar mustaches, suspenders and bow ties but never seemed contrived. It was perfect.
We were grateful for being tipped off about Big in Japan; it gave our trip that little something extra - as if meeting Chuck Hughes didn't do it for us alone. The weather was sunny, the food delicious and people friendly. I guess the stamp really is no biggy. No hard feelings Canada, I'll be back. *When I'll hopefully get my stamp ;)
