carswell

Dammit. My first reply got lost in the ether.... If you mean what I think you mean, it's not maple sugar ice cream but maple taffy ice cream or, as Le Bilboquet calls it, crème glacée à la tire d'érable. They make it by swirling pure maple taffy into their standard vanilla ice cream; no nuts, thank you very much. It may be the best ice cream in the world (this coming from someone who doesn't care much for either maple or Le Bilboquet's vanilla ice cream). A couple of years ago on swallowing her first-ever spoonful, one of my friends paid it the ultimate compliment: "Ohmygawd," she exclaimed, "this is better than crème brûlée!" Such is its renown that Le Bilboquet can get away with putting an impossibly laconic sign in their front window — Il est arrivé [it's here] — and everybody knows what they mean. The window of availability is short, usually about a month. According to their current voicemail message, the shop will reopen in mid-March. The message also says that maple taffy ice cream will kick off the season, though I'm sure there have been years when it didn't show up until April 1. Best to call ahead: 514 276-0414.

Yep. It's your classic, same old same old Montreal Indian restaurant. Same old list of dishes (onion bajhi, korma, vindaloo, dansak, etc.). Most of the sauces, meats and vegetables are prepared in advance and combined at the last minute. Not bad but nothing special; get a decent cookbook and you can do much better at home. The waitrons are friendly, though, and they have Double Diamond on tap.

Located on Mont-Royal east of Papineau, La Maison du Rôti may be the city’s most physically impressive butcher shop. The large space is dominated by a central ring of refrigerator counters around an island inhabited by a half dozen butchers. The variety of meats and cuts on offer is huge and includes a large selection of horsemeat and such rarities as raw duck legs. Shelving filled with gourmet products like lentils and jams lines the side walls. Two self-serve freezers at the back contain specialty cuts (paper thin slices of meat for fondues, for example) and game and organic meats. An adjacent room, about the same size, has stations for cheese, free-trade coffee and sandwiches and a refrigerator case holding a wide assortment of stocks, prepared dishes and dairy products. At about the one o’clock position on the ring of butchers’ counters, you’ll find the duck confit along with confit sweetbreads and duck gizzards. The peking duck legs are small, cryovaced with a dab of fat and $4.99 apiece. Ingredients: duck, fat, salt and spices. Straight from the package, the legs are the palest I’ve seen. Twenty minutes in a 400ºF oven doesn’t darken them beyond ivory/beige and the skin is the farthest thing from crisp: limp, flabby, rubbery — take your choice. The texture is unique: soft, almost meltingly tender. The taste? The legs purchased and consumed last weekend had a very mild, not particularly ducky flavour with a slight brininess and little depth. The leg purchased and consumed in early February along with the offerings from Le Maître Gourmet and La Queue de Cochon was similar but had an odd musty smell and taste that put off me and my guest. Let's assume that sample was botched. The verdict, then? Perfectly edible and certainly inexpensive but hardly the end of the rainbow. On Saturday we uncorked a 1995 Canon-Fronsac from one of the appellation’s leading estates, Château Grand Renouil, easily the equal of many St-Émilions. A classy if unsmiling wine but a bit highfalutin for confit. In many ways, Moueix’s generic Fronsac, which retails for less than half the price, was the better match. La Maison du Rôti, 1969 Mont-Royal East, 514 521-2448

Agreed but isn't doing so in ways that are gratuitously insulting to other members ("I pity you", "you too are a 'disaster'") a violation of the eGullet.com User Agreement?

Odd that none of us has mentioned da Marcello (in the premises now occupied by La Gaudriole). It was one of those places that could make even February seem bright. Warm welcome – as of the second visit, you were one of the family – and dish after dish of wonderful food, understated as befitted its Tuscan heritage but full of flavour and executed with real finesse. The squid-ink tagliatelli in red wine and squid sauce remains the best pasta I've eaten in a restaurant. And the nextdoor take-out shop was a treasure; I can still taste a roasted boned chicken stuffed with polenta, porcini mushrooms and pistachios they once offered. The prices were reasonable, too. God, do I miss Marcello's cooking! Nothing has quite filled the void. Anyone know what became of his wife and son?

For what it's worth, the February 26th issue of Voir has a review of Les Délices de l'île Maurice. A not especially positive review, I might add. In case you don't read French, reviewer Paul Gagné complians of oily eggplant, tough chicken and breakfast link-like sausages among the appetizers. With one exception — the honey pork, which he likens to Chinese-style spareribs — he characterizes the mains as disappointing: oversauced, underspiced, often greasy. Dessert, he says, reminds him of Halloween: a few small candies and a bowl of jujubes. "Cons: somewhat brusque service, dishes that lack intensity. Pros: unique ambience, affordability." He also mentions that it's a BYO and extremely popular. Your milage may vary, of course. In their posted comments, several readers disagree with him.

Mild and less gamey are not necessarily advantages in my books. Also, setting aside the special case of game that is left hanging until it falls off the hook of its own accord, a strong gamey taste is often a sign of overcooking. Stews excepted, most game is best consumed rare. But the real reason I'd rather have hunted than store bought is the variety. AFAIK, there is no farm-raised elk, moose, snow goose, grouse, etc.

While it's not quite the same as André Philippot's legendary confit, it's worthy of being ranked alongside it. So, yes, the quest was not in vain. He's a mind-reader!

Duck confit has been on the menu of Le P'tit Plateau since the popular BYOB opened its doors seven years ago. The legs, from mulard ducks, are meaty and cryovaced with a goodly amount of fat (you'll have around a third of a cup per leg left after cooking; do not throw it out). They are sold by weight ($25.00 a kilo) and the two I purchased averaged 335 g, or $8.40, apiece. Chef Alain Loivel was quite specific with his cooking instructions: place the legs skin side down on a nonstick baking dish (I used glazed earthenware) and heat 20 minutes in a hot oven, if necessary removing some of the fat halfway through the process. This produced the desired effect: the skin was crackling crisp, a joy to behold and to eat. Unlike most of the products in this survey, the meat was more deep pink than brown. Moist and tender, it fell into chunks, not strings. It tasted of duck, as it should, but also had the savour that speaks of high-quality ingredients, judicious seasoning and knowledgeable preparation. Salt and fat were in perfect balance. In short, it was a thing of beauty. On frôle la perfection. If my quest turns up nothing better, I won't complain. The Larousse Gastronomique article on confit lists cep mushrooms (porcinis), often prepared à la basquaise, among the traditional accompaniments. Not having any ceps lying around, I roasted a mixture of portabellos, shiitakes and oyster mushrooms with some onion, garlic, olive oil and thyme and decorated the plates with a drizzle of thick veal stock and red wine reduction left over from New Year's. And whaddayaknow, the mushrooms and duck sang in perfect two-part harmony. Visually, the match was less successful: very brown on brown, despite the shower of chopped chives on the fungi. So many of the red wines of Southwest France go so well with confit because of the contrast: their muscular fruit and tannic force cut through the duck's inherent richness. But what do you do when your guest informs you that she doesn't drink red? You don't play off the richness, you play with it. Since the richest of whites, a really winey Champagne, was out of my price range, I went with a still Alsatian: the 2001 Tokay-Pinot Gris from Léon Beyer ($22.80 at the SAQ). The unctuous texture, honeyed pear flavours and less-than-bone dryness worked with duck and mushrooms and pleased my guest, which was all I could hope for. That said, I found the wine a bit bland and the match a bit cloying. Were I to do it over, I'd be tempted to pull out the stops and look for a top cuvée, the Weinbach Sainte Catherine, say. But even then, I'm sure I'd rather be drinking red. Le P'tit Plateau, 330 Marie-Anne East (corner of Drolet), 514 282-6342. (Since it's one of their most popular dishes, the restaurant always has a supply of confit on hand. Sales are at the door, from Tuesday through Saturday, between half past noon or 1 p.m. and closing, around 11 p.m.) P.S. Thanks, oceanfish!

Glad you liked it, ID. To crisp the skin, try cranking up the oven a bit -- you can go as high as 400-425ºF. Also, since the Bélanger legs are relatively lean, you can add a bit of duck fat to the pan. If your pan is nonstick, cook the legs skin side down (i.e. in the fat) for the first ten minutes, then skin side up for the remaining ten minutes. If your pan isn't nonstick, baste the legs with melted duck fat twice or three times during cooking (careful, though; the fat splatters).

Forgot to mention that the restaurant column in current issue of Voir, one of the city's alternative weekly tabloids, features a very positive review of Les Rites Berbères (click here to go to the current restaurant review; come Thursday, you'll have to then click on the restaurant's name in the left column). The reviewer, Jean-Philippe Tastet, likes the décor and sings the praises of the couscous per se (it's true that it's very well done). Readers' comments are uniformly positive, too. My Algerian friends are somewhat less enthusiastic but their standards may be impossibly high. M. Tastet has posted on this board in the past, so perhaps he'll chime in at some point. Like me, he's big on the terrace: "Aux beaux jours, Les Rites berbères offrent l'un des petits jardins intérieurs les plus rafraîchissants en ville.

Steve, I don't mean to say that Au Messob d'Or isn't enjoyable, just that it has yet to provide me with a "wow" experience. That said, I haven't eaten there in a year or two. Anyways, Ethiopian food is a trip: the "plate" is a huge round of spongy flatbread, a medium pizza-sized pancake; piles of various dry stews are placed on the bread; you pull off pieces of bread to pick up stew and put them in your mouth. michaelkingdom, the two restaurants are my only exposure to Ethiopian cooking, so my frame of reference is limited. Of the two, I prefer the food and family ambience of Au Messob d'Or, where I've eaten three times (friends of mine live just around the corner). Also, they've always believed us when we've said we like spice; the one time I ate at Le Nil Bleu, the food lacked fire despite our assurances when ordering that ours were not your typical Canadian palates.

Boucherie de Paris began cryovacing their duck confit only recently; having now compared the B.C. and A.C. versions, I can't say I notice any difference (disclaimer: in this instance the duck had been cryovaced only a day or two before). Two largeish legs and a sizeable chunk of fat will set you back $11.99. Unlike the other legs in this survey, the fat extends as a solid block from either side of the leg, making it easy to break off (leaving some attached, of course), rewrap and stick into the fridge or freezer for future use. The legs cooked up nicely; a delicous fragrance emanated from the oven. The skin — crisp at the edges, soft in the middle — pulled easily from the meat but, while tasty, didn't qualify as delcious. The meat, mostly brown turning redder toward the bone, was firm and separated not into strings but chunks. In the mouth, it was drier than ideal, exhibiting a definite lack of succlence. The flavour was meaty but not particularly savoury: undersalted and lacking any taste of fat. It is obvious that quality ingredients are used but also that something is amiss in the preparation. Correct mais pas plus. On paper, the food and wine accompanients seemed like they'd work. I peeled, quartered and blanched a celery root, then puréed it with some olive oil and a tablespoon or so of black olive paste. A certifiably great pairing with firm white fish, the purée did nothing for the confit. Ditto the wine, the 2001 Marcillac "Lo Sang del Païs" from Domaine du Cros, one of my favouite rustic reds from France and at $15.70 a pretty good buy. Although the appellation is located not terribly far to the east of Cahors and the wine is fine with other Southwest classics like toulouse sausages, the lean fruit and light but hard tannins didn't sing with the duck. At the end of the day, an unexciting meal. Boucherie de Paris, 5216 Gatineau, 514 731-6615

The ones I've eaten at: Amine, 3549 Lacombe (Côte-des-Neiges metro), 514 739-1817 A Lebanese pastry/pizza shop that has opened a grill next door. Both are popular with local students because they're cheap. Foodwise, the grill is OK. The pastries are leaden. Au Tarot, 500 Marie-Anne East, 514 849-6860 One of the city's better coucouseries. BYOB with acceptable wine glasses. Cozy décor. Friendly service. Au Vieil Istanbul, 1247 Bleury, 514 861-6094 Not really African, you know. Half-decent homestyle Turkish food in an uninspiring setting. Totally indifferent service. Lunch is the better deal, dinner a bit pricey for what you get. Le Piton de la Fournaise, 835 Duluth East, 514 526-3936 Will be posting a short write-up of my recent dinner there under the thread of the same name (see below). Pretty good food, closer to Indian than African. Unpretentious décor, casual service, noisy. Les Rites Berbères, 4697 de Bullion, 514 844-7863 A so-so coucouserie (the veggies are way overcooked). The real reason to go is the méchoui, a marinated, spit-roasted leg of lamb. Early every summer, we get together a group of ten, order the méchoui a week in advance, start with an assortment of three Algerian salads, move on to the méchoui with couscous and veggies and end with a couple of platters of three desserts in petits fours-type portions. Under C$50 a person, including taxes and service. It's a BYOB but the owner's a wine lover, so the glasses are good. The interior is kind of threadbare and grey but the enclosed terrace is a lovely place on a warm evening. Am surprised not to see any Ethiopian restos on your list. Montreal has at least two: Le Nil Bleu (3706 St-Denis, 514 285-4628) and Au Messob d'Or (5690 Monkland, 514 488-8620). IMHO, neither is anything to write home about and the latter is the better of the two, though the difference may not enough to warrant the schlepp to deepest, darkest NDG.

Lesley, I don't remember. I have a terrible head for names (though in the shower this morning the name Tip Top popped into my head; I think it may be what that memorable post-hippy resto/salon de thé on Bishop was called). He may well have been an anglo, though if so we spoke French at least part of the time because Martin Picard, among others, was bopping around. Description: 30s, medium-length brown hair, 5'11" or so and, perhaps, recently married or engaged. But this was five or six years ago and we spoke all of ten minutes. Will ask Picard or the Faitas the next time I see him or them.

This brings to mind the following passage from Michael Pollan's morbidly fascinating article Power Steer. The article originally appeared in the March 31, 2002, issue of the New York Times Magazine but can be found on several websites, so if the above link stops working, try Googling "power steer". Required reading for all thinking carnivores.

I stand corrected. Under a special agreement, the caribou are wild, not herded, and hunted, not slaughtered. Tundra Brand Caribou As least I got the lichen bit right...

Which is why I can never remember the name... 277 Dante, 514 271-3013 The church is Nostra Madonna della Difesa. It was built in the '30s and one of its frescos features Mussolini astride a horse.

Well, OK. Except it's herded, right? Also, isn't it slaughtered in an abattoir or at least under Canadian government inspection as opposed to being hunted? And that alone may be enough to domesticate the taste, if the following story is anything to go by. A few years ago, I attended a Mezza Luna cooking class — chocolate, I believe, and given by Mustafa of La Colombe. During the break I struck up a conversation with the guy sitting next to me. Though his name escapes me, he turned out to be connected with the Boileau venison farm (he may have been the owner). After congratulating him on the quality of his product, I asked a question that had been bugging me for a very long time: Why does farm-raised game not taste gamey? If it's a question of diet, couldn't that diet be duplicated on a farm? My interlocutor replied with a story of his own. Having asked themselves the same question and having tried feeding the animals a wild diet with no perceptable result, he and his cohorts decided to try an experiment. One fall day they released a steer into the wild. The next day, they hunted it as they would a deer or moose, tracking it through the woods, giving chase and finally dispatching it with a rifle shot. They then dealt with the carcass like they would a deer's, gutting it on the spot, dragging it overland a kilometre or two to the nearest road, loading it on the back of a pickup, driving it home and hanging it in a cool garage for a week or two, after which they butchered it. They then cooked up various cuts of meat and invited several hunter friends for dinner. They served the meat blind (none of the guests knew what it was) and asked them to guess its identity. The guesses were all over the map — venison, elk, moose — but no one guessed it wasn't wild and no one guessed it was beef. The Boileau people couldn't say why but suspected that the influencing factors included the surge of hunt-induced adrenaline, bacterial "contamination" from the outdoor gutting and transportation and the hanging in a non-sterile environment. That said, caribou is the wildest tasting of the "game" meats and I've always liked to attribute the unique flavour to its boreal diet (lichens mainly I'm told).

This is a subject that comes up from time to time. The first thing to point out is that you'll find no wild game in any Quebec restaurant. To quote myself in another thread, "In Canada, all game sold in butcher shops and served in restaurants must be dispatched in government-inspected slaughterhouses, which effectively means that all game sold for public consumption is farm-raised. ... Given the quality of Quebec's real game — moose is simply the finest red meat I've tasted, snow goose breasts are darkly, deliciously wild-tasting — this is a sad state of affairs, especially for the non-hunters among us." The closest restaurants to what you're looking for are Au Pied de Cochon, which always has excellent farm-raised venison on the menu, and Le Tartarin (4675 St-Denis, 514 281-8579), the restaurant arm of the horse and game butcher Le Prince Noir, which serves a range of farm-raised game meats simply but well prepared. And you sometimes see venison and, more rarely, caribou at other restaurants, including some BYOs (Le P'tit Plateau serves seared venison with a knockout spiced wine sauce; the menu at Le Bleu Raisin often features caribou in some form; etc.). Check out the following threads for more info: exotic/game meats First Trip to Montreal Suggestions please! GastronautQuebec Report - Day 3

On Boxing Day, Taste of Montreal was one of the impulse buy books stacked on the check-out counter of Nicholas Hoare booksellers in the basement of Ogilvy (1307 Ste-Catherine West, corner of de la Montagne, 514 499-2005). They also have a store at 1366 Greene in Westmount (514 933-4201).

You're right, Andrew. I was under the impression that the new book had the word "Flavourguy" in the title. I was thinking of The Guide to Ethnic Montreal, which I kick myself for not picking up when it was in print. By the way, although I haven't done an entry-by-entry comparison, I'd be surprised if there wasn't some overlap between Taste of Montreal and the collected Flavourguy columns on www.montrealfood.com.

Do you know this first hand, Steve, or is it something you picked up off another board? The reason I ask is because someone posted a similar explanation on Chowhound's Montreal forum a while back but it doesn't necessarily jibe with the little I know about Toman's. First, who is the owner who died? The original pastry chef (Mr. Toman, I assume) who retired about ten years ago after training a young man to take his place? And who's the son? It's probably not the young chef; my info is that he was unrelated to anyone connected with the place. And why did they close if they had a well-trained chef in place and a devoted clientele? Did Conc. U. play a direct (forcing them out of a building it owns, not that I know that it does) or indirect (making a mess of the neighbourhood, especially with all that construction) role? Anyway, it's a shame the cafe is no longer open. There was nothing quite like it in Montreal.

Arrgh, the mental floodgates have opened! Kefizia. Greek grill located on the second floor of a dumpy Park Ave. building a few doors south of St-Viateur. Run by a guy named Johnny, who was usually well lubricated by 9 p.m., the time we usually strolled in. You quickly learned not to order from the menu but just tell Johnny to cook whatever was best. He'd bring over a big salad, always with tomatoes and feta, sometimes with lettuce and other veggies. Then you might get a plate of fried squid. Then a grilled fish or lamb chops or, if you were lucky, sweatbreads, smoky/crispy on the outside, etherially light on the inside. With prefect thick fries, of course. Dessert might be a slice of melon or some baklava. Johnny or other patrons often sent a round of Metaxa on the house (Johnny's secret: keep it in the freezer and serve it ice cold). The bill? With a couple of beers per person or a bottle of Santa Helena: under $20. For two. After Johnny closed the place (heard he was working at a butcher's in Laval), we began frequenting a small Greek restaurant that had just opened across the street. Mostly grilled fish. A stickler for quality, the owner was bringing in fish from NYC twice or thrice weekly and would feed to the local alley cats any fish he didn't sell in a day or two. It was inexpensive then but not for long: Milos.

And another: Il Était Une Fois on the western edge of Old Montreal in the mid-'80s. The only great burgers I've eaten in Montreal (still haven't tried Rosalie's) and a killer player piano.