Breakfast at home: Now that the weather is nicer, there is something satisfying about a nice weekend breakfast at home, puttering around in pjs, windows thrown open, sunlight streaming in. Saturday morning, pre-market, I noticed we had a half loaf of day old bread, a few eggs and not much else. So, French toast via the lovely Everybody Likes Sandwiches blog.



And then on Sunday it was warm bread, butter and grape jelly.



Warm, homemade bread, thanks to Jim Lahey's no knead bread, which I finally, finally, got around to making this weekend. At about 6 pm last night I was convinced the dough was dead and flat (I've been scarred - my last bread making attempt was at Christmas, when I accidentally misread the recipe and added 3 TABLESPOONS of sugar to the flour). I resigned myself to bread making failure and drank a glass of white wine. I had used active dry yeast since I didn't have instant, and assumed this was my mistake. So, I was surprised Sunday morning when I realized that the dough was actually yeasty and springy. I folded it for the second rise, and low and behold it rose again. When it emerged from the oven, I was triumphant. I took pictures of it like it was my first child and held my head close to the crust to listen to the crackle of the bread as it cooled. And then we ate it.

Reservoir (9, avenue Duluth Est): Reservoir is a thing of beauty: all gorgeous rustic wood and big, sunny windows looking onto Duluth. Most people come here for the microbrewed beer, but Reservoir also serves these amazingly gourmet brunches. For instance, their take on the classic bacon and eggs is sophisticated: perfectly fried eggs with lurid, bright yellow yolks paired with thick slices of smoked lard. Smoked lard has a pillowy fatness to it that can be a bit much for people, so be prepared. I’ve had a nice thick stack of pancakes topped in a banana caramel sauce here once, and freshly baked brioche another time. It’s spendier than most brunch places, so you probably won’t be coming every weekend, but it’s perfect for those mornings where you’re feeling a little indulgent.

A Reservoir meal:



Don’t be fooled by the photos – the portions make look small, but the food rich.

It’s sugaring off season in Quebec and after a scoop of tire à l'érable ice cream from Bilboquet earlier in the week, Andrew and I had maple syrup on the brain. We woke up late on Saturday morning and decided that the best way to kick off the weekend would be a traditional cabane à sucre lunch. We did a little bit of Internet research to avoid a place teeming with bus loads of people, that wasn’t too expensive (because face it, whether the meal is $15 or $25, we knew we were going to feel ill by the end), that wasn’t too close, but wasn’t too far. So, Erablière La Tradition in the Lanaudière region it was.

A traditional cabane à sucre meal is not for the faint of heart. Especially the vegetarian faint of heart. We settled into one of the long benches and started tucking into the food.



Soft rolls spread with cretons (let the pork begin!). Packaged rolls are kind of gross, but occasionally we get cravings for them.


The only flash of colour in the meal came from the pickled stuffs.


The lightest course: pea soup and coleslaw.


Pork rinds, fèves au lard and whole roasted potatoes. Despite my love of fried, horrible foods, pork rinds are just a little too much for me. Andrew happily chowed down, though.



More pork! Oddly mushy and unattractive sausages that I strangely enjoyed, especially drizzled in syrup, ham, and eggs.


Just in case you're still craving pork, a nice porcine stew.

And don't forget desert! Fried dough with maple syrup and maple tarts (the tarts not pictured).


When we left they were just preparing the tire sur la neige, which we ate despite full bellies.


With all that food in our systems we were ready for a day of chopping wood or heavy farm work, but instead we drove back to Montreal and napped until it got dark. Whoops!

Maam Bolduc (4351, avenue de Lorimier): It's nice to have a decent place for brunch down the street the morning after a major snowstorm.

I've been to Maam Bolduc's too many times to count in the past two years, initially lured by the promise of Best Poutine Ever. Unfortunately, I don't think this place holds the title, but for lazy Sunday morning brunches when the last thing you want to do is dig out your car, it's perfect. The food here is basic diner style - not amazing, but cheap and it hits the spot. Plus, the waitresses are always sweet, the decor is that comfy-trippy Plateau style, and in the summer you can sit outside if you're lucky.

Dusty's (4510 Avenue du Parc): It's no secret that I've been spending more time at home cooking, even more now that my kitchen is equipped with a beautiful silvery Kitchen-Aid mixer and a life-saving Cuisinart food processor (/end brand name dropping). As a result, I just don't go out as much to eat, breakfasts included. And recently, when I want breakfast out, I want something I can't make at home. I want grease. Dusty's is a diner at the corner of Mont Royal and Parc, with booths and greasy food galore. The other day someone found my site with the following keywords "Montreal waitresses attractive or sexy or hot". Not sure if they found what they were looking for, but hey, the waitresses at Dusty's are definitely cute and friendly.

La Boîte Gourmande (445, avenue Laurier Est): This new breakfast joint near the Laurier metro was still a bit empty when me and my girlfriends paid it a visit one Saturday morning, but the people working were sweet and let us sit there and chat for a good two hours, long after our food had gone cold and as the place slowly filled up.


The restaurant is bright and sunny, with wooden tables and church pew seating. I had a lovely melty Oka cheese, apple and walnut sandwich, and the regular bacon and eggs were good too. The yogurt came with a pumpkin compote and the coffee was yummy.


The aftermath

They also sell frozen meals that might come in handy if you live in the area and pass by on your way to the metro. There was something virtuous about this place.

Dame Tartine (1652, rue Ontario Est): I live a short walk away from a long stretch of tattoo parlours, piercing places, a big Portuguese Catholic church, a hydroponics supply store, thrift shops, laundry mats and seedy bars. Oh, Ontario Street! Foodwise there is not much to choose from this side east of Papineau – mostly a disappointing flurry of Lafleur’s or shady looking pizza parlours – but there are options, like the decent Mexican restaurant (La Guadeloupe, 2345, rue Ontario E) and one of my favourite French bistros, especially on snowy Montreal nights when we don’t want to attempt digging the car out of a snowdrift (Au Petit Extra, 1690, rue Ontario Est). One recent Saturday morning, looking for a quick breakfast and wanting to stick close to home, we ended up at the charmingly named Dame Tartine with its cutesy cartoon rendering of the dame herself on the sign and poem on the back of the menu with pertinent details of her life, starting with her home (a castle made of butter). The place was big enough that we got a table right away, but what was supposed to be a quick breakfast ended up an hour and a half affair, waiting endlessly for our meals, and finally just paying up at the counter instead of waiting even longer for the bill. But okay, I generally enjoy drawn out meals, and even though we were on a schedule, we were flexible. If the breakfast tasted good, I wouldn’t mind as much. But… I wasn’t particularly impressed. I was excited by the prospect of my French toast breakfast sandwich (Two pieces of French toast sandwiching a fried egg, tomatoes and ham) – what a high calorie, eggy, but awesome combination! When it came down to it, I would’ve rather just had a regular breakfast sandwich and forsaken the extra eggs and syrup (More on syrup below..). Andrew had the self-titled Dame Tartine eggs benedictish concoction, and it was similarly uninspired. I might give the place another chance on a snowy winter morning but for now I’m neutral on the whole thing.

The Maple Syrup dilemma: Say you order crepes or French toast, you just assume you’re going to get syrup with it, right? Obviously. But what about when you’re asked if you want either the regular (I guess "fake") maple syrup or the fancy REAL maple syrup? Do you spend that extra $1.25 to get a small paper cup of the real stuff? And if you do (because REAL maple syrup just sounds and tastes better), do you feel resentful at having to pay that extra dollar? Even if it’s just $1.25 and you should get over it already? Because admittedly, I am. I don’t expect free, real maple syrup at the diner around the corner, or in Texas, or in London, England, but I don’t think it’s much to ask for from a place that specializes in breakfast, especially in Quebec, where over 75% of the world’s supply of maple syrup is produced and where you can easily buy a $5 can of the good stuff at the grocery store down the street. I wholly support paying premiums for good, hard-to-get food, but sometimes it doesn’t seem reasonable.