carswell

Sorry to say I ate only once at Les Caprices during Jongleux's tenure there. Portefeuille oblige. But the three meals I ate at the Café were wholly satisfactory and the last one, only a couple of weeks before NJ's death, featured a dish that remains among my top-ten resto experiences: roasted lobster with fresh verbena sauce (more like a glaze, actually). I also loved their winelist: at that last meal, we drank, among other things, a red '97 J.-L. Chave Hermitage that cost a bit over C$100, considerably less than its retail price in the States at the time. My 'Mericun dining companions couldn't get over the food, the wine or the QPR. And when we asked the waitress to give our complements to the chef, she said, "I'll give him a kiss instead." Such a loss...

I haven't trudged up to the second floor to check for myself but that's what I've heard and read. From Ste-Catherine St. the building sure looks dead. A few more restos I miss: Jongleux Café, of course. Vientiane, which may have been the city's first Thai (well, Thai/Laoatian) restaurant. Almost a hole in the wall on Victoria a couple of blocks north of Van Horne. Extremely affordable, very tasty home-style cooking and my introduction to the cuisine. A post-hippie restaurant whose name I don't recall run by a big bearded guy whose name I don't recall (Shawn has suddenly popped into my sieve-like mind). I think they only served lunch and tea. The cooking — vegetarian, maybe? — leaned toward India/Asia and was hit-or-miss but quite adventurous for the time (late '70s?). It probably didn't stay open for longer than a year; I believe the owner had a run-in with Customs over an illicit brownie ingredient found in his bags when returning from a trip to India. What sticks with me is the ambience of the place. It was located in an apartment in the Concordia U. building on the east side of Bishop south of de Maisonneuve that also housed the Cheap Thrills used record store. No advertising; you had to know about it. The dominant shade was pink and the floors were amazing: they'd been wallpapered and then covered with many coats of Verathane. The food was served on a crazy assortment of thrift-shop china. Great soundtrack, mostly jazz divas. Laid-back, friendly service. It was cool taking people there and letting them in on the secret.

The store owners also give cooking courses in a converted apartment nextdoor. The operation is called Mezza Luna. I don't have the brochure handy and at last report they hadn't launched their website. The phone number I have is 514 272-5299. If that doesn't work, ask at the store: 514 271-2057.

Actually, when I asked about this at Nicolas Hoare a while ago, they said it was out of print. Is this a reprint? I think it'd need to be updated. Lazar's Flavourguy book recently hit the shelves, but it's not the same thing by a long shot.

Quincaillerie Dante (Dante Hardware) at the corner of St-Dominique and Dante, a couple of blocks southwest of the Jean-Talon Market, is the store for homicidal foodies, but they sell cooking supplies, not grub. A few blocks to the east, just across from the big church, is the city's best Italian pastry shop (I can never remember the name). The north side of the aforementioned market has several stores frequented by Southeast Asians; there is also an interesting store specializing in Thai and other SE Asian products on the corner of Jean-Talon and St-Denis. The south side of the market has Capitol, an Italian butcher. Another Italian butcher is on the corner of Mozart and Casgrain, a half block south of Capitol. A couple of blocks west on St-Laurent is the Italian supermarket Milano. Several blocks east on Jean-Talon, near the Fabre metro station, is the Baia des fromages, a great shop for Italian cheeses; they also sell decent cold cuts, sausages and pasta. Marché Latina on St-Viateur a bit east of the bagel factory has a good selection of Italian foodstuffs, including some high-end olive and other oils. On the corner of St-Viateur and Park, think Greek: Le Petit Milos with packaged goods and lots of pricey take-out dishes. A half a block north on Park are a couple of green grocers that stock a fair selection of Indian and Asian spices and packaged goods. The closest thing Montreal has to a pan-Asian one-stop shop like you see in California is Kim Phat. There are several branches in the greater Montreal area; the mother store is on Goyer just east of Côte-des-Neiges (Plaza CDN). There are also a few green grocers specializing in foods — including some very odd vegetables — from the Indian subcontinent on CDN to the north and south of Goyer. And there's a small Algerian shop on Lacombe just east of CDN and a Morrocan one just around the corner and south a block on Gatineau. Shopping for Latin American ingredients has never been the same since Marché Latino closed. There's still a store or two in the general area — St-Laurent south of Mont-Royal — but the pickings are pretty slim. On the west side of St-Laurent a few doors north of Fairmount is the Maya tortilla factory. They may not be the best tortillas you've ever eaten, but they're infinitely better than anything else I've found in Montreal. Last but not least, Marché Adonis (2001 Sauve W.), the place for everything Arab/Middle Eastern.

Yes! I was going to mention the Coffee Mill's ludlab but wasn't sure how it was spelt (thought there was a J in there somewhere). Dense dark chocolate mousse studded with brandy-soaked morello cherries and served with a dollop of kirsch-spiked whipped cream: you couldn't get through a piece without a cup or two of strong black coffee, which thankfully they were able to provide (not something you could take for granted in Montreal in the '70s). I also miss Toman's Czech pastry shop on Mackay. A great place for a light lunch followed by a piece of their apple-cranberry strudel. The assorted bite-sized pastries were delicous, too. (Funny those should stick in my mind, as I don't have much of a sweet tooth.) But the resto I miss most is the original Christophe on Lajoie, where Delfino is now. As much as I love eating at Christophe's new digs on Van Horne, the feel just isn't the same; the original was more intimate and had a great terrasse and the food was, if anything, better. But the clincher was the wine policy, the most enlightened I've ever encountered: you could order any bottle on the list and they would charge you only for what you drank (e.g. half the bottle, half the list price). As this was in the days before Private Preserve, I'm sure the policy provided the staff with some enjoyable after-hours imbibing. It wouldn't surprise me if it were one of the factors leading to the restaurant's demise either...

Ha! The side for my most recent CdeC dinner was an adulterated celeriac purée, which I'll detail in my review. Suffice it to say, it was not the marriage made in heaven I was hoping for. The hazelnut oil idea intrigues, however. I started New Year's Eve dinner with a great cream of celeriac soup garnished with prosciutto bits, minced scallion and white truffle oil and have been meaning to adapt the idea to a purée. You shouldn't expect much recoverable fat from the Bélanger legs, btw. Maybe enough to sauté a couple of grelots in...

Are coral lentils the tiny orange-pink ones used in Indian cooking? How do you prepare them? Whenever I've cooked with them, they've disintegrated after a few minutes' cooking, so I tend to think of them as soup lentils. Anyway, feel free to report back any concurrence as well as any divergence. As with any sampling, the more input, the more accurate the results.

Forget the minimalist cool of La Queue de Cochon, the bourgeois chic of Le Mâitre Gourmet and the baronial expanse of La Maison du Rôti. Walking into Boucherie Champfleuri is like entering a time warp: the look and feel of the place probably hasn't changed much since the 1970s. It's a narrow, deep space. A refrigerator counter runs nearly the full length of the right wall and a couple of rows of shoulder-high shelving strectch off to infinity. Pressed for time and a bit put off by the dumpiness, I didn't poke around but left with the impression that if parallel lines converge anywhere in the universe, it may well be at the rear of this store. The glassed-fronted counter contained a large selection of meats, charcuteries, cheese and prepared dishes as well as two types of duck confit. According to the butcher who served me, neither is made by the store and both are excellent. When pressed, he admitted to a preference for the confit made by Les Cochonnailles Chantonnoises, describing it as "un peu plus artisanal." Two smallish legs in a cryovac shell cost $7.99. During their 20 minutes in the hot oven the legs exuded maybe three tablespoons' worth of fat. The skin didn't crisp or brown. In fact, it looked melted-plasticky. Denuded, the meat wouldn't have won any beauty contests either. While the colour of other legs' meat has ranged from light brown to deep red, this was a pale grey-beige. It looked dry and, under the knife, separated into a mass of strings. It wasn't stringy in the mouth, however, as it presented no resistance to the tooth: texturally a write-off. If you could get past the pasty mouthfeel, the flavour was acceptable though salty. I suspect brining is to blame. Our side was jerusalem artichokes peeled, blanched, sliced, sautéed with garlic in olive oil and showered with chopped parsley. It went well enough with the duck but the sarladaise potatoes were even better. The wine, a 1999 Fronsac from Jean-Pierre Moueix, was just the ticket, full of red fruit with a dark, savoury edge and enough tannins to cleanse your palate without stripping off your tooth enamel. Yes, it lacks a strong personality, especially when placed alongside some of the appellation's estate-produced wines. Yet it's more than industrial plonk and I think you'd be hard pressed to find a purer expression of merlot for $17. Supplies of the 1999 are dwindling. The 2000 should be arriving soon and, in an excellent vintage, should provide excellent QPR. Boucherie Champfleuri, 1577 Mont-Royal East, 514 529-0314

Imperialistic, shrimperialistic. What this city needs is an ace chef. Then we'd hold all the aces. We'd ace the food city sweepstakes. Ace, see, ID?

The 15 million is davidkemp's figure, cook-em-all. I agree it seems high. Anyway, the actual number is not relevant to my arguments. I have a problem with your definition. Maybe it's because I'm an avid home cook, but food shopping – for raw materials but also for prepared foods like bread and cheese – is as central to my definition of food city as the number of good restaurants. Of the North American cities I'm familiar with (i.e. where I've spent time eating out and cooking in), New York, San Francisco Bay area and Seattle would make the cut, along with Montreal. Dallas, Los Angeles, Washington and Raleigh wouldn't (which isn't to say that they don't have some great food). But what do I do with a small city like Santa Fe, which probably has more restos per capita than Montreal (several of them very good, none of them consistently great), which has limited access to top-quality French ingredients but which has plentiful access to stupendous local ingredients (chiles, blue corn) and a traditional cuisine as unique as it is delicious? What's on your list? (Or is this topic creep?)

I couldn't disagree more with either claim. Gourmet consciousness is as high here as anywhere in North America. Indeed, as far as the food and wine awareness of the general populace goes, I don't think there's another city on the continent that comes close to Montreal. There are very few neighbourhoods in this city where you can't set out on foot and in an hour or two have bought, say, a guinea hen or rabbit, a fine raw milk cheese, an excellent baguette and a good bottle of wine. Although you can do that in parts of New York and San Francisco, you can't do it in all but the poorest neighbourhoods. How you arrive at the conclusion that Montreal eateries are carbon copies of the great American restaurants is beyond me. Please provide examples. Sure there are some copies (personally, I'd put all the local steakhouses in that category) but the real restaurants -- Toqué!, Les Chèvres, Chez l'épicier, Au Pied du Cochon, Anise, Chronique, to name only six I'm familiar with -- are wholly original, terroir-driven reflections of their chefs and their home turf. No less a "great American" chef than Charlie Trotter has said as much about Toqué!, by the way. If there is a copy-cat problem in Montreal, it's a self-referential one. There are so many great bistros (you know, try as they might, nobody in the States has succeeded in copying the L'Express model) and so few great ethnic eateries. Yet that probably has more to do with language and culture than anything else. Which leads directly to your next point... I hope some of our chef-eGulleters chime in. But my impression is that, except for a few chefs who are interested in running a money-is-no-object-we're-going-for-three-stars kind of joint, you're wrong. First, Montreal has lots of excellent chefs. Montreal's reputation as a food city rests mainly on their shoulders. Second, a number of our chefs are immigrants, have relocated from other parts of the province, from other parts of Canada, from abroad. Sure, the French fact is dissuasive to some; it's also an inducement to others (do the names Nicolas Jongleux and Christophe Geoffroy ring a bell?). And, sure, the community is tight-knit and hard to break into. But, really, where isn't that true? Third, many chefs don't consider the lack of megabucks a drawback or a limitation so much as a challenge. That very attitude is one of the things that makes Brunoise one of Montreal's great buys.

"Frugal" is putting it nicely. Poor would be more accurate. Montrealers have fewer cars and are more likely to rent than own a home than the citizens of just about any other major city in North America. Our unemployment rate, incidence of low-income households and proportion of residents receiving government assistance are among the highest in Canada. Have you compared land values in the Bay area and Napa Valley with Montreal's? I don't have the stats but I'd be willing to bet that the GDP of the Bay area is way higher than that of greater Montreal, even on a per-capita basis. Also, the Napa Valley is increasingly a playground of the affluent and a popular retirement destination for the well-heeled. Your five-million versus 15-million tourists doesn't tell the whole story. You need to consider factors like the tourists' pocketbooks and the reasons for their visits. In Napa, it's all about wine and food and gentrified lifestyle. In Montreal, it's more about sales conventions, hockey games, monster truck rallies, gay bars/raves, music festivals and the like, and many of those tourists wouldn't dream of setting foot in a place like Toqué!, let alone a joint costing twice as much. Also, remember that FL's reputation was firmly established during the dot com years, when many in the Bay area were rolling in money (it's one of the things that drove the prices of top California wines into the stratosphere). That didn't happen here. And as a bright star in an already celebrated constellation, FL has received huge amounts of US media coverage, making it a national icon, a destination restaurant for the well-off from sea to shining sea. Nothing analagous has ever occurred to a Montreal restaurant. And then there's the competition. How many competing restaurants are there within, say, an hour's drive of FL? Three? Five? That's hardly the case here. Montrealers love to eat out but, as a rule, don't have tons of money to spend. If your resto budget for the next couple of months is $800, why blow it on a single dinner for two when it can get you three or four dinners that are excellent by any standard or six or eight that are perfectly enjoyable? In the end, I think that's why Montreal is a non-starter for three stars and so vibrant at the two-, one- and no-star levels (your rating system may vary).

APDC's range of seafood and fish dishes is limited from late fall through late spring, though they ususally have one or two mains in that department. On the other hand, their oysters are excellent this time of year. And their brandade, arguably the best in the city, is available year round as a first or a main. It would be easy enough to make a meal of their small courses and a dessert. Start with a cromesqui, have some smoked fish or ham or oysters on the half shell, move on to starter portion of brandade, dally over the endive, apple and blue cheese salad and end with a pouding chômeur: I bet you'd fairly waddle out of the joint. cinghiale, while their online menu is indicative of the kind of food they serve, don't take it as gospel. Don't think I've ever tried or even seen the quenelles, though I once had some delicious deep fried salmon balls.

Le Maître Gourmet is a pleasant, cram-packed shop on the corner of Laurier East and Fabre. Refrigerators along the right wall and two floor units in the centre are filled with prepared dishes. A couple of display cases at the back hold a variety of French-cut meats and charcuteries. Shelving with some unusual Savoyard pasta and other gourmet products occupies the little remaining space. Made and cryovaced on site, the duck confit runs $6.99 a smallish leg. The requisite 20 minutes in a hot oven rendered very little fat. The skin didn' t crisp at all; in fact, it was rubbery and not particularly appetizing, and when I peeled it from the leg the fat stayed attached to the meat, a first for me. The meat was very firm, drier than I like and salty. The flavour was good, savoury if salty, ducky but with a hint of liver/game. Did I mention the salt? Wine was useless; it took two glasses of water to slake my thirst. · · · · · In the running for the city's top charcuterie, La Queue de Cochon has two branches. I went to the one on Laurier East in the large space it shares with bakery Le Fromentier and cheese retailer Maître Corbeau. Any one of the stores would be worth the detour; that you can hit all three in one fell swoop makes the place a gourmet destination. LQDC's duck confit comes cryovaced with sliced potatoes or without. I chose the latter option, which retails for $21.95/kg. My package weighed 368 g and cost $8.08. It contained two very small legs and a quantity of duck fat. Ingredients listed as duck, salt, pepper, duck fat and ­– surprise! –­ sugar. Best-before date: February 27. The sojourn in the hot oven rendered about 1/3 cup of clear duck fat, which produced plenty of sizzles and filled the kitchen with a delicious aroma. The leg's flavour was pleasing if a bit bland. Search for it and you can just taste the sugar. Texturally speaking, one leg was succulent, the other stringy. The skin was limp and not very flavourful. In short, good if not exactly earth-shaking. Would be a fine addition to a cassoulet, though. · · · · · Our side was one of the traditional accompaniments to confit, pommes de terre à la sarladaise. Peel, thinly slice, rinse and dry potatoes. Sauté in duck fat over medium heat. When done, toss in the pan with chopped parsley and minced garlic. Cover and allow to sweat for 5 minutes. If you start the potatoes just before you put the duck in the oven, they'll be done at the same time. A treat anytime, these went beautifully with the confit. We drank a 2001 Côtes du Frontonnais, Les Hauts de Montauriol, one of the best $12 wines on offer at the SAQ. Negrette grapes give it an unusual aroma and flavour profile. Had me thinking of lingonberries but there's something dark and wild there, too. Light tannins, acidic bite, sourish finish. It worked well with the duck though a bit more heft wouldn't have been out of place. That you can get in its big brother (Château Montauriol) for $7 more. Le Maître Gourmet, 1520 Laurier East, 514 524-2044 La Queue de Cochon, 1375 Laurier East, 514 527-2525

The duck confit pruchased at Boucherie Viau in the Atwater Market differs from the others discussed to date in that it wasn't prepared by the retailier but came prepackaged from Élèvages Périgord, the Montérégie poultry producer known mainly for its foie gras. Price: $5.50 a small leg. Best-before date: April 28. One thing was obvious on removing the leg from its packaging: there's cryovacing and then there's cryovacing. The plastic on this baby hugged ti-ight. In fact, it required a certain effort to peel back the plastic, and, once freed, the leg kept its vacuum-packed shape, even down to creases in the skin. Speaking of the skin, it had a leathery texture and colour that reminded me of nothing so much as that of the formaldehyded fetal pig I once dissected in university. During its 15 minutes of flame, the leg gave off next to no fat, maybe a quarter teaspoon's worth. The skin browned but didn't look particularly appetizing, especially with that crease running down the middle. Not surpisingly, it had very little subcutaneous fat. It was also tasteless. For its part, the meat was dry, tough and salty with an almost brined flavour, more ham than duck. And, while it wasn't inedibile, if some duck confit virgin had the misfortune to be served this, he or she would wonder what the fuss was about. The low point in my survey so far. The meal was saved from being a total disaster by a near disaster. I'd intended to serve the duck with jerusalem artichokes sautéed in olive oil with garlic and parsley. Instead of following the tradtional approach of blanching the 'chokes in boiling water, I decided to try steaming them peeled. Alas, after 10 minutes of steaming, they went – in a minute or two – from undercooked to burst. Since the duck was in the oven, there wasn't time to make another dish. So I pulled out the food mill (next time I'll try a stick blender), pureed the 'chokes into the top of a double boiler, added salt and a splash of heavy cream and, just before serving, aromatized them with a drizzle of white truffle oil. Amazingly good. I poured a 2001 Gaillac, Peyrouzelles, Domaine de la Causse Marine ($17 at the SAQ). Now, this was fun. A burst of pure raspberry and plum, sweet on entry, sourish on exit; light to medium body; enough acid to keep things lively; light, raspy tannins. Nothing profound but outgoing and refreshing, which makes it a perfect wine for confit or cassoulet. Élèvages Périgord 1993 inc., 288 Principale, St-Louis de Gonzague, Quebec J0S 1T0, 450 377-8766

ID, the bio butcher I thought you were referring to is Saint-Vincent (hope I'm remembering that correctly). Anyhoo, the guys at A. Bélanger et fils say the legs in their confit are from barbary ducks purchased from a non-organic farm in St-Apollinaire. Anjou-Québec remains the best French butcher in town but nearly everything else they sell has gone downhill since M. Pastrie left this vale of tears. The cheese, yes, and the pastries (you're right that they used to be fabulous, as I found out once when, in desperation, I bought a tarte Tatin for a fancy dinner I was making and it ended up stealing the show). They're even cryovacing the mesclun now. And they're if anything snobbier than ever. Do you find they seem less busy than they were in the glory days? The flavour of Marché de la Villette's duck confit was in no way objectionable, just unusual, and was probably accentuated by being tasted alongside Anjou-Québec's authentically austere product. As I said, I'm sure I'd buy it regularly if I lived in the neighbourhood. But, based on my investigations to date, if you're going to go out of your way for a modern style confit, I think you're best heading for A. Bélanger et fils in the Atwater Market. Thanks for the input, Robert. La Maison du rôti is on my Plateau shortlist. Will probably get around to it in a week or two.

Located on the corner of St. Paul West and St. Pierre in Old Montreal, Marché de la Villette is a sweet little store with odd business hours (they close at 4 p.m. on weekdays). On a frigid Saturday afternoon, I was greeted with a "bonjour" and smiles as soon as I set foot in the shop. It's a cosy space: a counter and an open refrigerator case with assorted drinks and a few fruits and vegetables on the left; a long glassed-in refrigerator case on the right; a small glass-fronted freezer with an assortment of prepared dishes at the back; and a few café tables and chairs in the middle and behind the front window. Although it bills itself as a boucherie, the selection of raw flesh is limited. They do have an impressive display of charcuteries, however. The confit duck legs were unpackaged, each covered with a thick coat of fat and sprinkled with pink peppercorns. They retail for just under $8 apiece. ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ In more ways than one, the confit from Anjou-Québec is in a league of its own. First, there's the shock-inducing sticker: $11.25 a leg, probably the highest in the city. But what price uniqueness? Forget the styrofoam trays and cryovac plastic found everywhere else. Here two tens and change gets you a one-quart wide-mouth mason jar with two legs, a garlic clove, a sprig of thyme, a bay leaf, some peppercorns and a prodigious amount of duck fat. While they may not follow the Larousse Gastro recipe to the letter, this looks to be the real thing. After struggling to extract the legs from the fat, I gave up and read the instructions: "Warm the jar in a hot-water bath, then transfer its contents to a baking dish. Heat 20 minutes in a 325ºF oven. Recover the duck fat and use it to sauté potatoes." The first thing you notice once the legs are freed is that the bottom half of the drumstick bone, the "handle," has been knocked off, so they'll fit in the jar I guess. ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ ∙ I warmed the Anjou and Villette legs on separate dishes and plated them alongside a bacon-flecked purée of coco beans. I began with the Anjou. The skin had browned but not crisped and wasn't particularly tasty; as I was about to learn, this confit was about meat, not skin. Although the meat on the outside of the thigh was a bit stringy, the rest was succulent, with a silky texture due, I suppose, to its embalming in fat. In fact, the taste of fat was an obvious component of the subtle, rich flavour. All in all, pretty impressive. The Viellette duck leg was bigger. Its skin – golden, crisp around the edges and a bit soggy elsewhere – was salty and otherwise unremarkable. The meat was dark, moist, duckish and imbued with a "green" flavour that I rightly or wrongly attribute to the mix and quanity of herbs they used. Not unpleasant, just a bit disconcerting. If I lived in the neighbourhood, I'd be happy buying this but it's not something I'll go out of my way for. For her part, my dining companion liked both products but preferred the texture of the Villettte leg. By the way, the cost of the Anjou legs is partly mitigated by the cup and a half of renderd duck fat – around $5's worth – left over. With the duck, we drank a 1995 Madiran, Montus, Cuvée prestige. I'm increasingly convinced that, although a good Madiran can age for ten years or longer, it peaks at around five or six, at which point the tannins have softened but the fruit is still vibrant. That was the case here: a wall of sweet plum and chocolate giving way to a grippy finish. Dense, broad, long, this is a complete wine but overkill for a simple dish like confit and probably better saved for fancier fare like grilled duck breast. The 1999 currently on sale at the SAQ is similar to what the '95 was like four or five years ago and, at $40 a bottle, is reasonably priced for a top French wine at a time when many Côtes-du-Rhônes are pushing the $30 mark and equivalent Médocs are on the far side of $100. Anjou-Québec, 1025 Laurier West, 514 272-4065 Marché de la Villette, 324 St. Paul West, 514 807-8084

Carswell, that is some good advice. I don't think it is fair to censure an establishment on the basis of one visit, let alone without having visited it at all. Touché, Walnuts, though I note you choose your words carefully: censure, not review. And there's the rub, bub. The difference with the Modavie thread is that I was responding to obvious spam (his mission accomplished, the newbie Breezer hasn't been heard from since) and so felt no compunction in pointing out that the spammer's claims and the Modavie website's hype didn't jibe with any report I'd received, including from people whose palates and judgement I trust like my own. Having made my point and taken you at your word that you weren't coordinating the spamming operation, I let the matter drop. And having learned in that thread that self-promotion is tolerated on this board, I've not raised a peep about it since, even when confronted with such world-class examples as the two Déli-cieux spams in the Montreal Smoked Meat thread (his mission accomplished, the newbie Joseph hasn't been heard from since). Steve, Lesley can speak for herself, though I'm certain I've read here or elsewhere that she tries to visit an establishment more than once before penning a review. No idea what the policy is at the other papers; maybe Messrs. Tastet and Beauchemin will pipe up. I understand that it was Craig Claiborne who, on taking the resto critic's postion at the New York Times, insisted on repeated visits to establishments that were to be reviewed. That has always struck me as admirable. I also admire the pains Ruth Reichl is said to have taken to avoid being recognized (odds are some NYer is going to come along now and disabuse me of this notion). The problem here is that Montreal ain't the Big Apple and the Gazette and La Presse (not to mention Voir and Hour) ain't the Times. Everybody in the business knows everybody. And local reviewers can do only so much with the budget that's given them. That said, I think reviewers should make a point of noting when their judgement is based on a single visit.

Well, there's an order or two of magnitude between a $300 meal and a $3 latte. Also, there's a difference between deciding never to go back to a place and savaging it in public. That's why conscientious critics – including, I believe, our own Ms. C – make a point of visiting a restaurant more than once before publishing a review, especially a negative review. Whatever. I'm not encouraging you to do so or even defending TM&C, where I haven't been for months except to buy beans. And I don't believe anyone here has claimed their drinks are world-class. My earlier take was simply that for café au lait they're among the best of the Aux Deux Marie/Brûlerie St-Denis class of establishments and a cut above Second Cup, *$s et al. In theory, you're right. In practice, hot milk (to say nothing of cinnamon and chocolate sprinkles) can hide a multitude of sins. But, really, what's so terrible about fair trade coffee and/or the establishments that sell it?

If you read all the posts then you know that most of the thumbs-up for Toi, Moi et Café referred to their milk-based drinks, not their espressos. And what about your not only dismissing but publicly dissing an establishment on the basis of a single experience? A factor no one has mentioned in this thread is the barista, as important a link in the espresso chain as the beans, roast, grind, water and machine. I've had lousy shots from great espresso bars and, once or twice before they replaced their manual machines with automatics, acceptable shots from Starbucks. Much depends on who's behind the machine. And, even then, professional baristas are the first to admit they don't nail every shot. The best sometimes dump an attempt because the grind wasn't right or the water was too hot or the planets weren't in alignment. The leap from fair trade to "take care!!!!!" is not obvious to those of us who are happy drinking dishwater. We are so easily duped. Please enlighten us. - carswell, who wonders what it is about this thread that brings out the "youse guys got no taste" side of certain locals...

Thanks for the details, Lesley. If I can swing it, I'll drop by Villette this weekend. Good suggestion, Kenk. When looking for duck legs in December, I checked out Kim Phat on Goyer (no luck) but didn't have time to scout Chinatown. I also wonder about the flavour of bargain-basement poultry. Industrial duck legs might be fine for red-cooking (Chinese prep that involves braising meat in soy sauce with star anise, ginger and other flavourings) but how do they hold up on their own? And as I mentioned to ace (not that it seemed to have made any impression...), the lag time in making confit is a downside in some situations. It was great to be able to think "I'm in the mood for duck confit tonight" at 3 p.m. on Saturday and then bop over to André's place and satisfy the craving. oceanfish, though I've eaten at Le P'tit Plateau countless times (it's my favourite BYOB), I don't think I've ever tried Alain's confit. Well, maybe in the cassoulet. He didn't have any in his fridge the last couple of times I checked. Will give them a shout in the next week or two. Thanks for the lead.

From the start I had my doubts about the legs from A. Bélanger et fils. Cryovaced two to a pack, they were to all appearances free of fat and already well-browned, browner in fact than many legs after reheating. The 20 minutes in a hot oven only confirmed suspicions; there was very little sizzle and pop and not much fragrance. And when I pulled them out, instead of the quarter cup or so of fat usually rendered, there was less than a tablespoon. All signs pointed to disappointment. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Though parts of the meat, mainly the inside of the thigh, were stringy, most was moist: firm yet giving. The flavour was definitely duck but with the savour that's the hallmark of a well-made confit. While the first bite had me wondering whether it was a tad too salty, the question didn't occur to me again. And, scraped of its fat, the nut brown skin was certifiably delicious (eat your heart out, cracklins!). Tellingly, at the end of the meal, the bones of both legs had been gnawed clean. All in all, more than acceptable. I must not be the only person who thinks so, by the way. There was a vertiable duck confit production line in operation at A. Bélanger et fils on Saturday afternoon. Probably 30 or 40 legs already in the display case and easily another hundred waiting to be cryovaced. Somebody has to be buying them. Our side was a delicious "salad" of roasted potatoes, sweet potatoes and shallots with crispy kale and a roasted garlic/balsamic vinegar dressing, whose sweet sharpness proved a great foil to the salty duck. A 2000 Pauillac, Les Tourelles de Longueville (the second wine of Château Pichon-Baron) was a deluxe match: austere but rich; finely structured with light, tight tannins; classic plum, tobacco, cedar, graphite and forest floor aromas/flavours subtly underpinned with oak (quite the contrast to Sunday's heavy-handed Lamartine); and a lingering finish. If the second wines of Bordeaux are this good in 2000, it must indeed be a vintage to remember. A. Bélanger et fils, 138 Atwater (Atwater Market), Stall 12A, 514 935-2439

Cleanliness is next to ratlessness!

Things are looking up. The preserved duck leg from Terrines & Pâtés was the best I've had in ages. Rich, meaty flavour with real depth to it; surprising, then, that the package lists the contents as duck leg, duck fat, salt (i.e. no herbs or other flavourings). Salty it was but not too. The texture was firm yet, unlike most products tasted so far, not dry; in fact, it bordered on succulence. The skin browned nicely and, once scraped free of its subcutaneous fat, was a treat. What makes the difference? The quality of the duck? The type of salt? The prepping method? The only downside —­ you knew there had to be a downside, didn't you? — is the price. All the other duck legs have cost between C$5.50 and C$6.50. This one weighed in at 355g, slightly bigger than most. At C$25.95/kg, that worked out to C$9.21. Still, this gets a quack from me. Consumed with leftover lentils and the tail end of a bottle of 1990 Poggio Antico, Brunello di Montalcino (praise be to Private Preserve, god's gift to moderate wine drinkers). I suspected the wine's dryish tannins and highish acidity might be just the ticket to cut through the fat. As it turned out, they were, but the dusty cherry-tobacco flavours of the wine did nothing for the salty duck and vice versa. They didn't dance, just sat there staring at each other. So much for mixed marriages... in this case at least! Terrines & Pâtés, 138 Atwater (Atwater Market), Stall 7, 514 931-9559