31 Oct 2015
Petite Nation
415‘000
people: That is approximately the population of Laval,
the strip mall-and-suburbs city taking up the island north of
Montréal. It is true that Québecois are no strangers to
secessionism, and most Montrealers scoff at the “bridge and tunnel”
people living on Laval island. But nobody would seriously suggest
making Laval its own country.
Elsewhere
in the world, however, there is another island, with about the same
number of inhabitants, and the status of a fully sovereign nation.
Unlike some micro-states such as the Vatican or Monaco, this one
comes with the trappings that Frank
Zappa famously declared
to be required for a proper country: A beer
and an airline.
It even has its own, surprisingly tasty, soft
drink,
a unique language, and one side of its coins.
All
very impressive, then. But more than any of the above, I was
attracted to the island by the prospect of finding it replete with
the eponymous Maltesers. Inevitably, I was in for a disappointment:
As it turns out, Malta is not inhabited by small chocolate balls with
a crispy centre. Instead, the island nation hosts a diverse
population of native Maltese, British retirees, Italian tourists,
German language students, and Brussels Eurocrats (to which each EU
member state seems to be entitled in equal measure).
Even
if not made of chocolate, this mix was tasty: Where else could you
stock up at Lemon Curd and Shortbread from Marks & Spencer,
before ducking into a gelateria
to get
some stracciatella ice cream to lick by the beach? My morning runs along the
seafront promenade served as scouting trips for culinary excursions
later in the day. They did not include any Laval-style chain
restaurants.
Having
been prized for over 5000 years due to its strategic location in the middle of the Mediterranean and
its perfect natural harbors, Malta played host to many rulers. The most
famous were the Knights
of Malta,
which built most of the fortifications and infrastructure around the
scenic capital, Valletta. While a Grand
Master’s Palace
would refer to a tacky nightclub in Laval, the one in Valletta has
been the seat of the government since it was completed in 1569.
Around it, Europe’s smallest capital offers narrow alleys,
picturesque lookouts and lovely coffee bars.
But I could not help but
chuckle as I wandered the streets: Seemingly every other building was
home to a Ministry of something or a Department of another, flags
fluttering and all. Clearly, the state must be a major employer on the island. In that, perhaps Malta is not so different from Québec.
Even with the warm winds from Africa whipping up the ocean too much for a late October dip, I enjoyed a relaxing island getaway to the bite-sized nation. It may not have been covered in chocolate, but unlike Laval, Malta certainly gave me an appetite for more.
15 Oct 2015
Restaround
Montréal is rightly famous for its vibrant, diverse and passionate dining scene. Even my colleagues in Toronto admitted, on a recent visit, that many of the Queen City's restaurateurs are primarily in it for the money, while apparently their counterparts in Québec seem to genuinely care about food.
They better do, given the realities of running an eatery here: Commercial rents are creeping up, regulations are tedious, produce is expensive, competition is fierce and patrons are notoriously fickle. But - and that is key - urban dwellers in Montréal share their chefs' love for good meals, and spend an above-average amount of their below-average incomes on eating out.
Countless food blogs are abuzz with the latest and greatest venues, and the city's entrepreneurs are constantly pushing the limits of imagination. In just the last few months, I have eaten Philippino street food, Chifa, Portuguese take-out, Japanese-Canadian fusion, modern Mexican, Québec tapas and classic French bistro fare. The newly discovered Restaurant Vaudois on the books for tomorrow's lunch appears reassuringly normal in comparison.
I've seen Montréalers stand in line on freezing cold Sunday mornings in front of the brunch spot du moment, and accept dinner reservations at half past ten on a weeknight, because that's what we've got, ok?
This phenomenon is strictly urban, though. Take any bridge or tunnel, and you find yourself in a predictable wasteland of bland chain eateries and fried-everything casse-croûtes. And the affection is fleeting: Much like in fashion, what started as a secret little gem quickly becomes mainstream, with prices rising, service declining and the hip crowd moving on. The high restaurant mortality rate is the result.
Shortly after arriving in the city in 2009, I bought a guidebook to the city's best BYOB restaurants. Leafing through it today, I realize that more than half of the places I tried have since closed. The others tend to be described with the terms "classic", "institution" or "stalwart". It seems, then, that while 80% of restaurants have a boom-and-bust life, a few lucky ones manage to truly entrench themselves.
I like both kinds. And I cherish Montréal's ability to constantly surprise and delight me with new dining choices. It's why I don't live in the suburbs. Or in Toronto.
And now if you'll please excuse me: I've got to go eat while it's hot!
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]
