The Great Whatsit

So, a little over a week ago, Patrice, the Chef pâtissier at Les Chèvres/Le Chou, pulled Michelle aside and told her that not only did he have a surprise for her, but that this surprise "would change her life." The only other thing he said about this surprise was that he would take her to it on Saturday at noon, which meant she had almost a week to stew over what exactly this surprise might be. Now, Michelle being Michelle, the first thing that came to mind was that Patrice was going to take her to "a field filled with baby goats" (?!?!). I guess it could have been worse, though: she could have thought that Patrice was going to take her to "a field filled with baby cabbages." Anyway, she spent days trying to figure out what in god's name this surprise could be, and the more she thought about it, the more excited she got. Then she started to grill Patrice and Camilla about it. "Is it a standing mixer?" "Is it an industrial canning machine?" But all she got was a resounding, "Nope." Finally, with just a question or two left before she hit 20 questions, she braced Camilla and asked her, "Is it really going to change my life?" To which Camilla answered, "Well, not exactly." From that point on, Michelle resigned herself to just counting down the hours until 12:00 on Saturday: she'd just have to be patient.

Patrice, M. Beausoleil, and Camilla picked Michelle up and whisked her down to... Holt Renfrew. Yeah, I know: "Ooh, la, la!" The occasion? Well, it turns out that Holt Renfrew is now stocking an old friend of ours:



That's right: the legendary Poilâne sourdough is now available here in Montreal! Not only that, but the café at Holt's now offers an entire range of sandwiches composed on a healthy slice of Poilâne. These include: rare beef with chèvre, thyme, and a cherry reduction; poached eggs, smoked salmon, and confited tomatoes; grilled chicken breast, baby arugula, cheese, and truffle honey; and shrimp, with carrot purée, matchstick potatoes, and chives [pictured below]. They're not cheap (we are talking Holt Renfrew, after all), but Michelle swears they're fantastic, among the very best she's ever had.



A quarter loaf of Poilâne will set you back $10. Again, not cheap, but the quarter loaf portion is a pretty good slab of bread, and it did get flown in from Paris, and it is among the best sourdoughs in the world.

Somehow, when the dust had settled, we quite miraculously wound up with our very own quarter loaf. You should be so lucky.

Holt Renfrew Café, 1300 Sherbrooke St. W., (514) 842-5111

aj

Croque Madame, pain Poilane

Croque Madame, pain Poilane
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

When you walk the streets in Paris, you'll notice that many of the cafes offer Croques Monsieurs or Madames. Like so many other clichés of French cuisine--French onion soup and the French omelet come to mind--most of these spots advertising their Croques Monsieurs and Madames aren't worth a second glance. However, if you're looking for a honest-to-goodness Croque keep your eyes open for those little signs that read "Pain Poilâne."

Poilâne was started in 1932 by Pierre Poilâne, and what distinguished Poilâne bread was its use of stoneground flour and natural leavener at a time when bread baking in France was rapidly moving away from those traditional methods and towards "modern" baking methods. By the immediate post-World War II Poilâne was already completely anomalous in a country that had fully embraced white breads. Pierrre's son Lionel took over the operation beginning in the 1970s and he began to completely overhaul the way Poilâne baked its bread, introducing an extensive number set of changes that he labeled "retro-innovation." Lionel's program combined a deep respect for the tradition of French bread baking borne out of a profound sense of the history of bread baking with a hard, scientific approach to the technical aspects of making and baking bread. I remember reading a long Smithsonian profile on Lionel Poilâne back in the mid-1990s and being fascinated with the kind of improvements he'd made to the firm's traditional ovens. I also remember spending hours contemplating what Poilâne meant when he said that bread was closer to beer than it was to other foods, including baked goods (or at least it should be).

It's safe to say that Lionel Poilâne's program of "retro-innovation" was one of the principal thrusts behind the international resurgence of artisanal sourdough baking over the last quarter of a century. Sadly, Lionel Poilâne passed away a couple of years ago in a helicopter accident. The Poilâne firm has continued to undergo change since his demise. These days the enterprise includes two stores in Paris and a store in London, as well as a mail order service that ships Poilâne's distinctive sourdough loaves all over the world. The simplicity of the original storefront on Rue Cherche-Midi in St-Germain des Près belies the complexity of the operation, but this storefront is still the perfect setting for Poilâne's rustic loaves sold whole, by the half, or by the quarter.

When our friend Camilla asked us if we wanted anything from Paris just before she hopped on a plane to go on vacation there, we put in an order for a quarter loaf from Poilâne. By the time that loaf got to us it was a little worse for wear, but those traditional sourdoughs are a hearty breed and it was still making for the best breakfast toasts you can imagine. But what we most excited about making with our Poilâne loaf were Croque Madames. We got some Gruyère cheese, some nice ham, and some eggs, cooked up our Croque Madames and served them with a salade composée and a couple of beers. It was a little taste of Paris right in our own kitchen and it was heaven. Thank you, Camilla. Thank you, Lionel.

aj

Highlights: Paris

Just one of the many, many treats to be had in Paris
Originally uploaded by ajkinik.

We were lucky enough to score an apartment in Paris this past August through an apartment swap (Thank you, Benoit! Thank you, Antoine!). We wound up with this wonderful apartment in the 17e not far from Place Clichy. Antoine, our co-swapper, got our rather large (especially by Parisian standards) Montreal apartment nestled in between the Plateau Mont Royal and Mile End, and two highly affectionate cats. We had about two weeks in Paris and we tried to make the most of it. The following are just some of the culinary highlights:

• Confiture aux mirabelles, bergamot candies, honey candies, tea candies, spice cake, and marzipan kitty-cats from à la Mère de Famille (9e): We didn’t actually know anything about à la Mère before chancing upon it during our tour of the passages couvertes. We found out later it was quite famous. We appreciated the fact that it looked as though it hadn’t changed in at least 100 years—both inside and out. We just knew it had to be good. The range of treats they carried—chocolates, fruits confits, candies, nice bottles of wine, spice cake, etc.—was impressive, and everything we tried was amazing, but it was the confiture aux mirabelles that really blew us away. It was as if we’d never tasted plum jam before. With a fresh baguette and some of that lovely French butter every morning for breakfast, we polished that jar off in a matter of days.

• Teas, gelées de thés, and tea sandwiches from Mariage Frères (4e). What can you say about the teas at Mariage Frères? There really aren’t too many other teas anywhere that even come close. Their balance—of flavors, of perfumes—is so perfect. “Eros,” appropriately enough, was our first Mariage Frères love, but we discovered quite a few other loves after visiting the flagship store: “le Voyageur,” “Afternoon Tea,” “Marco Polo,” “Alexandra David-Neel,” “à l’Opera,” “Jamaique,” etc. On our first visit together, I took Michelle for afternoon tea and we went all out. We had two pots of tea, some of their amazing sandwiches de thés (pain blanc et pain Matcha, avec crabe, saumon, foie gras, et terrine de poulet, et une salade composée), and a scone and madeleine duo with their impeccable gelées de thés (“Marco Polo” and “Bourbon”).

• 1/4 loaf of sourdough bread from Poilâne (6e). Even after a death in the family and a shift in business philosophy, a sourdough to be reckoned with, and one that is definitely an inspiration behind our own experiments with sourdough. I still remember learning about Poilâne’s sourdough from an article in Smithsonian magazine back in 1994-1995. This was a trip that was long overdue.

• Carrot pickle, “Cheewa” couscous, and duck tajine with fresh figs, apricots, honey and almonds at Le Souk (11e): this tip came from Hermine and we’re eternally grateful. Le Souk is a truly fantastic Moroccan restaurant. It’s rich in atmosphere and the cuisine is truly superlative. The couscous was plentiful and expertly prepared, with a very nice assortment of condiments, and the duck was to-die-for, but even the carrot pickle left us speechless.

• Sandwiche “le Chaland” at le Chaland (10e): one day I dragged Michelle on what appeared to be a(nother) crazy excursion, this one involving the Rotonde de la Villette. On our way back south we followed the length of the Canal St. Martin, and somewhere along the canal we ducked into a nice little café called le Chaland. We were famished and thirsty and le Chaland looked like a nice little local café. We ordered the house sandwich and a couple of Leffe beers. When we received our sandwich we were rather impressed. This wasn’t the kind of plain saucisson/butter/baguette sandwich so typical of Parisian cafés. Here, instead, was a beautiful sandwich made with duck terrine (with pistachios), cornichons, and oignons confits. We talked about that sandwich for days, and we made sure to buy a jar of oignons confits from la Grande Epicerie de Paris so we could try to make our own versions of “le Chaland” when we got back to Montreal.

• Ice cream from Berthillon (4e): “plombière” (vanilla with fruits confits and eau de vie), “praline de pignons,” “praline de citron et coriander,” “chocolat mendiant,” rhubarb, and strawberry. OK, OK: it was hot for days on end and ice cream was the only thing we craved for dessert and somehow, by some strange twist of fate, we kept winding up on Île Saint Louis.

• Boudin blanc avec pruneaux from le Roi du Boudin (5e). It was late one afternoon and we’d decided that we were going eat dinner at Antoine’s place that night. Our menu had already been chosen, but then we passed a place that not only claimed to be the best boudin makers in town, they also claimed to have won a couple of international competitions for their sausages. We couldn’t resist. We decided to buy just one (!) and share it (!!) when we got home (what were we thinking?). Michelle came out of le Roi du Boudin minutes later with a strange expression on her face. She’d just bought the most expensive link of sausage either of us had ever paid for. On the Metro ride home we talked about that awful feeling you get when you order something blindly then find out it was much more expensive than you ever would have guessed. When we got home we set the table and laid out our dinner, then I started to fry up the boudin. Michelle hadn’t told me she’d gotten a boudin with prunes in it, so I was left wondering why this sausage wasn’t pure white. A few minutes later I decided to check to see if it was cooked through, and when I split it open its aroma really filled the air. And what an aroma! I never would have imagined that boudin blanc avec pruneaux could be so tantalizing. In fact, I’m not sure I would have had the courage to pick that type myself. Then I tasted it—suddenly everything fell into place. What a beautiful marriage of flavors. Even so, when we served it I still couldn’t imagine having it with mustard. There was something about prunes and mustard that didn’t quite make sense to me. I had the first two bites au naturel, and promptly declared this sausage to be the best I’d ever tasted. Then I decided to have a bite with mustard. The flavors just exploded. When flavors come together in unexpected ways sometimes the results can be revelatory. This was one of those times.

• Dinner at à la Biche au Bois(12e). Michelle had read about this wonderful bistro on E-Gullet. Everything she’d read indicated that this place was a must. We passed by one afternoon in late August to check out the menu and we instantly knew that this was “the one.” Plus, they were just about to reopen after their August vacation. On the night of August 26 we had the terrine au porto, recette du chef (served with a green salad), and a salade Niçoise as our appetizers, the coq au vin and a filet poêlé, sauce poivre, avec frites as our main courses, and a sorbet pomme verte with Calvados and a feuilleté poire poché, sauce au chocolat, as our desserts. We washed everything down with a delicious Côte de Brouilly. Everything was absolutely fantastic (the service, the preparation, the execution, the presentation), and calling à la Biche au Bois generous would be to put it mildly. The portions were substantial, the prix fixe was under € 25, and when you take into account the wonderful cheese plate that preceded the dessert, you’re left with a phenomenal value. We’ve rarely been so satisfied after a meal. Afterwards, we drifted back towards la Bastille in a state of bliss and caught a late Metro “home.”

aj