Montreal. As a child growing up in Vancouver, one of the first things I learned to associate with Montreal was its reputation for good food. If you were looking for a day of strolling down cobblestoned streets, drinking glasses of crisp white wine during lunch at a sidewalk cafe, Montreal was the place. To me, Montreal symbolized a formal city of class, of finery, of high-end goods. In my mind, these imagined luxury lunches were of course followed by a marvellous, white table cloth, cloth napkin dinner. The allure of a city so often described as ‘European’ had a young gourmet-in-training such as myself absolutely foaming at the mouth.
The summer preceding my move to Montreal, I spent five weeks living in Quebec City. It was here that I was first introduced to the notion of the ‘casse-crôute’ or ‘snack-bar.’ Classic casse-crôutes are typically small establishments situated on the edge of a highway, with limited to no seating. Such spots are the perfect setting for a late night snack, a road-trip stop, or even the reason for a long car ride. Their menus may vary, but every respectable establishment will always have poutine - the casse-crôute staple. Once a week, my friends and I made a point of returning to our favourite snack bar for poutine, letting the greasy glory of this perfect food further ignite the magic of a night out.
Yet, it was Montreal where my love for the casse-crôute truly blossomed. Montreal is home to many a diner, places often dubbed with the term casse-crôute. Not only will you find poutine on the menu, along with its endless variants, but Quebecois diner favourites, including spaghetti and chicken souvlaki. Some of these locales, like the Greenspot in St. Henri, boast a menu with all of these offerings, the pages of goodies coated in sticky plastic sheets. Others, like Greenspot’s neighbouring Restaurant AA, serve poutine almost exclusively. Here, your poutine will have a french-fry darker in colour, one that leaves a sweet aftertaste in your mouth, a characteristic of only the most traditional poutine outposts. Topped with gravy, or a sauce brune, in addition to pillows of gooey cheese curds, poutine possesses the ultimate ingredient trifecta.
When people think of Canadian food, and when Canadians think of Quebecois food, the first dish that comes to mind is almost always poutine. Throughout my years in Montreal, poutine was not just a snack to stop for at the end of a night - it was a snack I went out of my way for. Venturing out to spots such as Gibeau Orange Julep, to be awarded with a steaming plate of poutine at the end of the pilgrimage, felt homey and comforting. I can’t decide if poutine is a food best served in winter, when it warms your insides until you are once again ready to face the horror of Quebec snow. Or in summer, when journeying out to one of these farther and more antique locations in the cooling evening feels like the only way to end a day. No matter the season, poutine is the answer.
However, one of my biggest culinary discoveries while living in Montreal was not poutine. Instead, another item on the menus of casse-crôutes never failed to delight me: the hot dog. In Quebec, and more specifically, Montreal, hot dogs are served on what appears to be a slice of white bread. When that bread is toasted, the resulting dish is a toasté, and when it’s steamed, a steamé. This Montreal-style hot dog is on the menu at just about any classic casse-crôute in Montreal, and at any diner. During my first year of university, my first foray into the Montreal-style hot dog was at one of the dog’s most famous homes, The Montreal Pool Room. Heading down St. Laurent, on an icy but brilliant day, experiencing my first Montreal winter, the joy of hot dogs awaited me. I enjoyed my steamé with a side of fries, washed down by the greatest diner beverage of all time, the Cott black cherry soda. It was this little meal that sparked in me such a deep fondness for this cuisine. Sure, the glamour of Montreal high-end restaurant culture was exciting, but it was the casse-crôute that first charmed me. For a broke and tired student, sick of eating in a university cafeteria, and often with a raging hangover, the cheap, fast, and tasty casse-crôute soon became the medicine for all ailments.
As my four years at McGill pressed on, my love for the casse-crôute only grew. Diners have often been romanticized throughout much of Canada, their kitschy aesthetics serving as the backdrop for a long evening that stretched into the morning, fuelled by endless coffee, conversation, and comfort cuisine. The accessibility of diners, with lower prices and late night hours, often creates a sense of community within their hallowed halls. These spots have become entwined in the folklore of Montreal, their communal feel being the reason many of these diners have been around for so long.
During the last year at McGill, on every Thursday morning, my best friend and I would meet at Le Vieux St. Laurent for the early bird special. This special, served only from 6-9 in the morning, greeted us with a glass of ice water, and the first of many mugs containing that never-ending diner coffee. My order, 2 eggs over easy, sausage, home fries, and white toast, accompanied by Piri-Piri sauce and mayo, was quickly memorized by our server. Before I even had the chance to get the words out, my breakfast plate would appear before me. Time seemed to slow during these mornings, as we ate and chatted in the chairs of our favourite window table. A blinking beacon of hope during my week, such diner breakfasts provided a regularity and oasis of normalcy that student life often fails to provide. Punctuating the weeks, these diner breakfasts seemed nostalgic before they even began, with a setting and plate of food providing instant familiarity. This was not the chic Montreal a younger me would have expected, but it was the one I fell in love with - a Montreal full of paper placemats, paper napkins, and piles of steaming hot potatoes.
Hannah Murray is a recent graduate of McGill University’s Liberal Arts program. She is passionate about the stories food is able to tell, and is eager to share her personal stories with the readers of Graphite through her column, Eating Alone. @__eatingalone
Feature Image: Pogo poutine from Chez Claudette on Laurier