Season to Taste
Born and raised in Montréal, celebrated Sydney chef Serge Dansereau returns to discover a new focus on fresh local produce.
Fast food. two words guaranteed to strike horror into the heart of most self-respecting Québécois foodies. French Canadians don't really do fast food, you see. Slow food, yes. Food lovingly grown and brought from farm to plate; certainement. If possible, French Canadians revere good food even more than the French who call France home (just don't mention that to a Parisian).
Which is what brings us here, to the Canadian province of Québec, at the confluence of the Saint Lawrence and Ottawa Rivers: to trace the journey from garden and farm to table and find out what it is that makes Montréal one of the best food scenes around. It's also a journey of a more personal kind. My companion for the week is Serge Dansereau – the feted chef behind Sydney's Bathers' Pavilion restaurant and before that at the pioneering Kable's at what is now the Four Seasons Hotel, Sydney – and Dansereau is coming home. This is where it all began for the man who was one of the early champions in Australia of the locavore movement, the now au courant philosophy of using seasonal, organic ingredients from local and small-scale producers.
Dansereau was not only born and raised in Montréal, he spent his formative kitchen years here, learning technique from the city's classically trained French chefs and absorbing a love of honest, earthy food from his family. "My parents were growing asparagus in their garden before it ever turned up in the markets," Dansereau explains over shots of espresso in Old Montréal – an atmospheric tangle of cobblestone streets and brooding grey stone buildings that recalls European cities – when we meet to plot our first day. "Rhubarb, artichokes, tomatoes … all those things were considered exotic back then."
Serge's grandfather owned a combined butchery and grocer, while his grandmother would make pies from the fruit she'd grown in the garden and sell them in the store. His uncle was a dairy farmer and his father a seasoned fisherman.
With a pedigree like that, it was no wonder Dansereau broke away from the stuffy confines of 1980s Montréal cooking (weighed down with the baggage, and brutally rich sauces, of European culinary traditions) and fled to the other side of the world. In 1983, a 26-year-old Dansereau arrived in Australia, where he went on to helm the kitchen at Kable's; in the process, helping oversee the first emergence of a distinct Australian cuisine based on developing close collaborations with quality local producers. Of course, things have changed on the Montréal culinary scene since the '80s. Dansereau has heard rumours of a bold new revolution taking place in this city's kitchens and he wants in.
A movement that Dansereau dubs "neo rustic" has taken hold of Montréal. It owes a huge debt, certainly, to the Slow Food movement, with its emphasis on seasonality and artisan produce, but also has antecedents in the rustic French cuisine that the early settlers brought from the homeland three centuries ago. Gabriel Riel-Salvatore, president of the Québec Slow Food convivium, sees this trend as simply a firming up of ideas that were already entrenched here, at least outside the fancy restaurants. "Five new conviviums have been created outside of Montréal since the creation of Slow Food Québec in 2000," he says, "which really reflects the enthusiasm and commitment of artisans from Québec towards their culinary traditions and emerging gastronomical explorations. Québec has always prided itself on being unique, which is why a movement such as Slow Food, that promotes local specialties, is so successful here."
As Dansereau sees it, the neo-rustic trend is all about traditional French country cooking (like his mum and grandma used to make) with a contemporary veneer. Instead, chefs here are obsessed with the finest, market-fresh produce cooked in ways that pay homage to each food's essence. A braised pork shoulder, for instance, will be just that: a hunk of the finest free-range pig cooked simply and presented without flourish. An artichoke will be left whole, its delicate yet earthy flavour allowed to shine.
"We must go to the markets," Dansereau declares, seemingly more Gallic since arriving the day before, "that is where it all begins." On the way, our homecoming chef points out Montréal landmarks, like Mount Royal (or Mont-Royal, thought to have been the origin of the city's name), an arresting mountain of greenspace in the centre of the city. Our first port of call is the Atwater market, in the erstwhile industrial suburb of Saint-Henri, near the Lachine Canal, which he explains is more geared towards the home cook, with its fancy specialty shops and beautifully presented produce. Jean-Talon Market, in Little Italy, which we'll visit later in the trip, is the chef's choice for its wide array of wholesale goods. We wander around Atwater's two storeys of covered hallways, marvelling at the incredible quality and variety of produce.
Downstairs in the fruit and vegetable aisles, Dansereau points out cardboard cartons of tightly coiled bright green fiddlehead ferns; huge globe artichokes; misshapen bulbs of celeriac; and fat spears of white asparagus. Upstairs he stops and quizzes the butchers and cheesemongers, thrilled to find favourites from his past like boudin noir sausages, rillettes and the kinds of raw milk cheeses he can't legally source in Australia. "It's fantastic to see they can still do this here," he enthuses, caressing a lump of cheese rolled in ash. He's also impressed to find that the biologique or organic/free-range trend is taking off in a big way here, something he's keen to push back home. "Aussies are becoming much more concerned about where their food comes from," he says.
When I ask him about how the organic movement has progressed here as opposed to its evolution in Australia, he says: "I feel there is a very rural aspect to French-Canadian cooking. Like the French, they have a love for anything that is wild or grown by small producers that have a story to tell."
Our visit to the market inspires Dansereau to take us on a detour to a raw milk cheese producer out in the country that he's heard great things about. "My parents, who live nearby, said they're very committed raw milk producers and excellent cheesemakers," he confides. We take the bridge south out of town over the Saint Lawrence River, passing flat stubbled fields on our way to Fromagerie Au Gré des Champs. Husband-and-wife team Suzanne Dufresne and Daniel Gosselin greet us at the door to their red-roofed showroom and cafe. We tour the property, meeting the docile herd of 70 Swiss Brown cows, admiring a pasture where the ruminants spend their days feasting on 15 different kinds of grass and herbs – an important factor, it seems, in creating high-quality cheese. This is true artisan production, and Dansereau is clearly impressed: "This is very typical of what's happening in Québec, this farm-to-table idea," he says over samples of the couple's extraordinarily good cheeses. "The restaurants are using these local suppliers who are making world-class product."
I am surprised to find, through Dansereau's tales of the Québécois cheesemaking traditions, that French Canadians have been making their own quality raw milk cheeses for more than 150 years, thanks to the early French settlers who quickly established dairy farms and fromageries. One of the most famous areas – and a sentimental favourite of Dansereau's – is Île-aux-Grues, an island in the Saint Lawrence River north of Québec City with six dairy producers who've been creating Tomme de Grosse Île (a soft, raw milk cheese), Riopelle (triple cream) and cheddar since the 1850s.
That night we eat at Kitchen Galerie, a newish restaurant in Little Italy. The three young chef/owners not only cook in the open kitchen, they also take orders, serve and wash dishes. It's located mere steps away from Jean-Talon market, and each day the chefs go there to pick the best of the season. The restaurant itself is narrow, cosy with a kind of upscale butcher shop ambience, a fitting enough motif given the devotion to carnivorous dining, from foie gras served four ways to a decadent côte de boeuf dish for two that arrives at a table next to us looking like a Fred Flintstone prop. Dansereau orders foie gras and a beef dish, and declares them both hearty and perfectly prepared.
The next morning we hit Mile End, a historically Hasidic Jewish neighbourhood, for a Montréal staple, the bagel. Like most other once-gritty suburbs of Montréal, it's rapidly gentrifying. St-Viateur, a single shopfront stacked with bags of flour, sesame seeds and sugar is the place to go for a traditional bagel. Unlike the more famous New York bagel, these are more a cross between a pastry and bread, sweet and crunchy on the outside.
Back in the old town we have a date at L'Epicier, an elegant restaurant on rue St. Paul, a picturesque cobblestone street near the Old Port, a once-crucial hub for the fur trade that thrived here in the 17th and 18th centuries. There's a certain reverent hush about this part of town that may owe something to its proximity to one of Montréal's great sights, the magnificent Gothic Revival Notre-Dame Basilica. L'Epicier itself is more chic than rustic – narrow blond wood floorboards, linen-covered tables, one original slate stone wall – but there are also quirky touches, like the light fittings made from twisted chicken wire and bread that comes to the table in a white tin bucket. There's a gourmet providore section up front, which sparks memories in Dansereau of his grandparents' grocery shop as he tucks into a seared guinea fowl served on potato rosti.
Dinner seems a little extraneous after that, so Dansereau suggests visiting one of his old haunts for a "snack" when the sun goes down. This is Schwartz's, a Hebrew deli open since the 1930s in the hip Plateau Mont-Royal neighbourhood, that does a roaring trade thanks to its super-secret smoked meat recipe. There's a retro, nostalgic feeling and every table is packed with locals soaking it up. "I often dream about this back home," says Dansereau when his sandwich arrives, bursting at the seams with layered, glistening ribbons of smoked meat.
The carnivorous theme continues at Pied de Cochon, star chef Martin Picard's brasserie-style homage to nose-to-tail eating that's one of the city's most feted restaurants. We arrive early but it's already elbow-to-elbow with fashionable Montréalers studiously working their way through the offerings. Here we sample fried pork ears – served in a paper cone – elk carpaccio and braised pork. In spite of the dedication to serious food, there's a playfulness to the cooking that's a welcome antidote to the sometimes stuffy nature of upper-echelon dining. We find the same thing at Cluny, a converted foundry space that's buzzing with urbane locals choosing from a selection of salads, soups, antipasto plates and sweets (like the classic Queen Elizabeth cake), which play on hyper-fresh ingredients served up canteen style.
The next day, we're determined to capitalise on the buzz we've been hearing from Montréalers, both dedicated eaters and restaurateurs alike, about the debut of a new restaurant, McKiernan. Two of the hottest restaurateurs in town, David McMillan and Fred Morin, are behind the new joint, located not far from Atwater market, in an area that was once a haven for the city's black jazz singers. They own two other restaurants on the same block, Liverpool House and Joe Beef, which have a reputation for French-inspired bistro food, as well as a certain savoir faire on behalf of the owners that keeps the places full.
It's McKiernan's opening night and the tiny space is reminiscent of an old-time corner deli. Plate after plate of rustic, hearty dishes appear for the table to share – snow morels sautéed in cream and herbs; fried artichokes with tangy aioli; a square of silky foie gras beside stacked points of toast.
Dansereau observes: "These restaurants, Joe Beef, McKiernan, Kitchen Galerie are such an education of what you can do in Montréal. You don't need a million dollars, you just need to be inventive and really in tune with the market."
Every place we've eaten in Montréal could be said to trace its roots back to the tenets of slow food but in this unassuming space it reaches its natural apogee. Here, nostalgia and modernism come together in a perfect fusion, from the slab of Jamón Ibérico on the bar to artfully simple, market-inspired salads.
Earlier, Dansereau and I had talked through his impressions of the city: he was deeply impressed by the "produce is everything" attitude and the fact that chefs here are able to "let the food speak", as he puts it. As for his own debt to this city that raised him and set him on his stellar path, he felt that it still, to a degree, informs everything he is doing at Bathers'. "I cook and write my recipes with a certain rusticity, as this is what I believe my food should be," he says. "I am not a constructor of piled food and I am not trying to be a food chemist or engineer. I like my food to be fresh, regional and truthful to its flavour and history … and that speaks to my roots here."
I look over at him now, laughing, raising a glass and conversing with the other chefs in rapid-fire French, and he looks to me like a man who's come home.
Guide to Montreal
GETTING THERE
Air Canada flies daily from Sydney to Montréal. Australian citizens do not require visas to visit Canada. aircanada.com
GETTING AROUND
Although Québec is officially bilingual, don't expect everyone to speak English. Most people can, but French is the language of commerce and the hospitality industry, so it doesn't hurt to brush up on a few phrases before you arrive. Montréal is fairly compact and easy to navigate, and taxis fares are reasonable. If you're staying in the old city, many of the best hotels and restaurants are within walking distance of each other.
WHERE TO EAT
Kitchen Galerie
Expect hearty French favourites such as foie gras – done four ways – and duck confit. 60 rue Jean-Talon east; +1 514 315 8994; kitchengalerie.com; dinner for two $144.
Au Pied de Cochon
Every city has its infamous celebrity chef, and Montréal 's is Martin Picard. 536 Duluth East; +1 514 281 1114; restaurantaupieddecochon.com; dinner for two $155.
McKiernan
Sit at the bar and watch the expert oyster shucker work his magic. 2485 rue Notre-Dame West; +1 514 759 6677; dinner for two $95.
Chez L'Epicier
Snare a window table at lunch and feast on extremely well-priced dishes such as pan-seared guinea fowl. 311 St. Paul East; +1 514 878 2232; chezlepicier.com; dinner for two $72.
Cluny
A converted foundry in the industrial suburb of Griffintown that acts as a gallery/cafe. 257 Prince St; +1 514 866 12 13; cluny.info; dinner for two $72.
Schwartz's
Don't expect fancy service: the frenetic pace, steamy heat and cacophonous noise level are all part of the fun. 3895 Saint-Laurent Boulevard; +1 514 842 4813; dinner for two $30.
Toqué!
Montréal 's most awarded and revered restaurant bucks the trend for rusticity and simple flavours and instead goes for high drama. From the plush red carpets to the 8000 bottle wine cellar, this is serious dining. 900 Place Jean-Paul-Riopelle; +1 514 499 2084; restaurant-toque.com; dinner for two $360.
Markets and specialty producers
Markets are one of the great joys of Montréal, thanks to the enormous variety and quality of produce on show, from cartons of quail eggs to dozens of varieties of wild mushrooms. Marché Jean-Talon (7070, Henri-Julien St) is a chef and local favourite for his terrific range and competitive prices, while Atwater market (138 Atwater Avenue) is more upscale and carries specialty items such as raw milk cheeses.
For a truly rustic experience, head about an hour's drive out of town to Fromagerie Au Gré des Champs (+1 450 346 8732), a family-run cheese producer whose raw milk product - courtesy of the herd of happy Swiss Brown cows - drew raves from Dansereau.
WHERE TO DRINK
Garde Manger
This hip, cavern-like bar/restaurant is buzzing with energy and full of beautiful people tucking into seafood and steak frites. 408 St-François-Xavier; +1 514 678 5044.
Bu
The slightly retro styling of this relaxed, distinctly grown-up wine bar, with its Jacobsen chairs, mint green walls and bank of sparkling wine glasses, lends itself perfectly to a quiet night sampling wine flights. 5245 St-Laurent; +1 514 276 0249.
Pullman
This wine bar was the talk of the town when it opened several years ago, and it's still swinging. The clever design of the three spaces and a statement chandelier are the hallmarks, but the wine list is excellent too. 3424 du Parc Ave; +1 514 288 7779.
WHERE TO STAY
Loews Hotel Vogue
Close to all the downtown action and high-end shopping, this 142 room hotel has the feel of a private club and spacious suites with the largest bathrooms in the city. The luxuriously comfortable four poster beds almost guarantee a good night's sleep. 1425 rue de la Montagne; +1 514 285 5555; loewshotels.com; doubles from $330.
Hotel Nelligan
Boutique hotel in the old city with rooms looking either on the picturesque streets below or a central, light-drenched atrium. The rooftop Sky bar has panoramic views of the St-Lawrence River. 106 St-Paul West; +1 514 788 2040; hotelnelligan.com; doubles from $300.
|