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!

Instead of entertaining thoughts of roasted turkey and bowls of cranberries this past Thanksgiving weekend, Andrew and I hopped in the car and road-tripped away from Montreal, dipping into Ontario and parts of New York.

Driving through the Adirondacks

Metropolitain Brasserie (700 Sussex Dr, Ottawa): First up was Ottawa, where we had spent the night so that I could relive high school nostalgia and watch Eric’s Trip rock out at Barrymore’s. Friday was an abnormally warm day – we were walking around the city in short sleeves – but by Saturday it was rainy and chilly.

One of my co-workers had recommended The Metropolitain to me, a cute French brasserie on Sussex, and it was a cozy place to drink coffee and eat in. I ordered a French toast sandwich stuffed with cheese and ham, served with a side of cranberry compote and fresh fruit. It was the same kind of thing I had ordered at Dame Tartine the week before, but this version was a revelation: sweet from the French toast and (free, real) syrup, salty from the cheese and ham. Smeared with the compote was even more heavenly. Andrew had an equally swoon-worthy open-faced omelet.

Putnam Market (435 Broadway, Saratoga Springs): We randomly chose Lake George, New York as a destination without realizing that it was one of the tackiest towns in the Adirondacks. I like tacky, but food-wise the place wasn’t very promising, and that night’s dinner was takeout Domino’s pizza and Adirondack Ale. Instead of attempting breakfast, we shopped at the outlet mall, and then headed east, ending up in Saratoga Springs. We were running a little later than expected and grabbed sandwiches from Putnam Market, a bustling gourmet store and deli, to sustain us. The sandwich selections were amazing. I had a roast beef + mango chutney while Andrew had roast turkey and bacon. I also picked up a bottle of sparkling Saratoga Springs water and a few chocolates from Burlington, Vermont. With the strong Canadian dollar I also took the opportunity to buy a nice pouch of Maldon sea salt and a box of Café du Monde beignet mix.

Hot Dog Heaven (216 Lark Street, Albany) and Daily Grind (234 Lark Street, Albany): Albany is eerily deserted on the weekends, and as we strolled through the large empty streets surrounded by a blend of ornately architectured state buildings, abandoned hotels and churches, and monolith structures, we wondered if something had happened to the rest of the world while we had been outlet shopping in the Adirondacks. When it came time for dinner, the only place we could find open and relatively busy was Jack’s Oyster House (42 State Street, Albany), a little fancier than what we had been planning. We accepted the situation and happily slurped down some oysters, but our waiter, who recognized that we didn’t quite fit into the average Jack’s customer, told us to check out Lark Street. Breakfast the next day was a combination of coffee from Daily Grind (there is no need for Starbucks when you can get a pumpkin spice latte from them) and cheap, greasy sandwiches from Hot Dog Heaven, which we went to mostly for the name.

The sandwiches were satisfying – big and eggy on soft, toasted rolls – and paired with the fresh coffee made for a good breakfast.

Polly's Pancake Parlor672 Route 117Sugar Hill, NH 03586: Quebec is spoiled in June with two back to back long weekends (St Jean Baptiste, followed by Canada Day), and despite having just returned from a two week vacation, it seemed a shame to pass up a perfectly good travelling opportunity. So, on Friday night Andrew and I packed up the car and drove through Vermont, slept at a rest stop somewhere in New Hampshire, and then ended up bright and early on Saturday morning in Boston. Most of our time was dedicated to seafood, including the most amazing Island Creek, MA oysters at B&G Oysters, amazingly succulent fried clams from Kelly's Roast Beef on the beach at sundown in Revere, MA and a sampling of chowders at Chowderfest. Note: If you want good chowder, you probably shouldn't go to chowderfest (our pick won, but we've had better). Unfortunately all of these gifts from the sea add up and despite finding ways to save some money (see: slept at a rest stop somewhere in New Hampshire), by Monday we needed to stick to the land.

We took a route home through New Hampshire. Our love of Vermont has caused us to neglect New Hampshire, so we decided to ease up the pace a little. I have always been charmed by their dramatic state slogan: LIVE FREE OR DIE. And there's still something mildly shocking in finding out that the seatbelt law does not apply in New Hampshire. A wild and crazy state, right? Not exactly, but it is beautiful with its forest flanked highways and the gorgeous expanse of the White Mountains. There's even a Shaker village in Canterbury where, if you don't want to pay admission to enter, you can still buy herbs and heirloom tomato plants grown in the Shaker gardens. There is also a town called Sugar Hill, and if you're lucky enough to get there before 3 pm you can stop for pancakes at Polly's Pancake Parlor.

We each ordered a pancake sampler platter where you can order three different types of pancakes with different kinds of "fillings". Cumulatively we had plain blueberry, buttermilk oatmeal walnut, cornmeal coconut, whole wheat chocolate chip and apple cinnamon. They're served in groups of three to make sure the other half is kept warm while you're eating, and all of the maple accoutrements (syrup, spread, sugar), like everything else (i.e. the flour) is produced by Polly's family. It's cozy and friendly, and the pancakes were perfect. Definitely worth a return trip if we're ever in the area again.

I also eat elsewhere: In Niagara Falls it's practically impossible to avoid chain eateries. The night before, for dinner, we walked all over the city trying to find something independent, but found only tattoo parlours and seedy bars. Fun, yes, but not what we were after. We fared a little better at breakfast, and decided to eat at Niagara Falls' famous German restaurant, The Happy Wanderer (6405 Stanley Ave). The restaurant is small, and packed with German folkart, including incredible wooden chandaliers dangling from the ceilings. Jungle-like growth creeps across the walls at the entrance. The waitresses all wear traditional German dress. Awesome. So far it seemed promising. I ordered apple cinnamon pancakes, and they were ok, just a little blah, with big slices of apples cooked in. The biggest disapointment were the potato pancakes which, in print, seemed heavenly. In practice they were greasy and had the oddest consistency: they looked crispy, but were chewy, gelatinous - as if the potatoes had been soaked in water too long before frying. We should've just ordered the $3.99 breakfast special.

This past weekend, I was in Montreal where I had two satisfying egg breakfasts, first at The Toasteur (1310, avenue Laurier Est) and then at Shed Cafe (3515 St Laurent). Shed Cafe has a bit of an edge because I got poached eggs with ham and this interesting maple sauce instead of hollandaise, and I ordered a special blueberry/rasberry juice to wash it down. While I stuck to eggs, Caro had pancakes. At Le Toasteur, nutella and bananas, and at Shed Cafe they came with a generous portion of pecans. And the portion was huge. I am getting excited at the thought of trying out more Montreal breakfast places.