You'll be happy to know...

Things were pretty quiet when we got to 4455 West Broadway.

fig. a: Spaceship St. Ignatius

There were barely any signs that anything was about to get underway.

fig. b: bazaar bazar

But then, magically, right at the stroke of 11:00, a door opened.

fig. c: enter the darkness

When we got downstairs we noticed things were quite a bit thinner than they had been in the past. Fewer vendors. Fewer attendees. Less food. The kooky mix of used books, windshield wiper fluid, Christmas sweets, and freshly-baked, homemade mitteleuropean pastries was still very much intact, but the good old Czech-Slovak Bazaar didn't seem to be attracting the throngs it used to.

And, horror of horrors, when we looked for our favorite pastries, they weren't there.

We nervously asked a Pastry Lady who appeared to be in charge whether they had any of the yeasted delicacies we're so fond of--"You know, the ones with the prune preserves and the nuts and the cottage cheese inside..."--and she said, no, they hadn't arrived.

Then she nearly gave us a heart attack, because she suddenly got very serious, pulled us aside, and told us in hushed tones, "Actually, the woman who makes them--she may no longer be with us."

This gives you some sense of the demographics of the Czech-Slovak Bazaar, but we were still shocked. "Are you sure? Can you double-check?" She ran off to inquire, and two minutes later she was back.

"Don't worry. It's okay. They'll be here. The woman who makes them--she just hasn't arrived yet."

Phew! We don't like to hear of anyone's passing, but that goes double for those who hold a body of knowledge that's rapidly disappearing--like making yeasted Eastern European delicacies.

So we made our way over to the book table to kill some time.

fig. d: got milk?

fig. e: better robots & gardens

15 minutes later we looked back over towards the pastry table and saw the Pastry Lady waving wildly at us. We figured that was probably a good sign. So we ran back over, and, sure enough, our treats had arrived--two whole trays of them. Then, as we were trying to decide how many dozen to purchase, the Expert Pâtissière in question walked by and the Pastry Lady grabbed her.

Speaking Czech, the Pastry Lady told her. "These people here don't speak any Czech. They came to the bazaar especially for your pastries." (Little did she know that Michelle actually does speak Czech... )

The Pâtissière took one look at us, and in typical Eastern European fashion, god bless her heart, she made a sour face, waved her hand to say "Feh!," and continued on to catch up with her friends. Can you blame her?

All of which is to say, you'll be happy to know that we got exactly what we were looking for.

fig. f: Czech gold

November and early December is the height of Bazaar Season here in Montreal, offering some of the best bargains, the tastiest home-cooked food, and the strangest experiences of the entire year. Support your local bazaars!

Another of our favorites takes place this weekend: the Hungarian Bazaar, Hungarian United Church, corner of Jean-Talon and l'Acadie, November 13 & 14, 10:00 am - 3:00 pm.

aj

Saturday/Sobota/Samedi/Sábado, rev. ed

Saturday's looking busier and busier. Now we've got tacos to look forward to too. Check it out (#3)!

fig. a: it's back

1. It's been flying under the radar this year (no mention in the Gazette's listing of "fall fairs," no mention anywhere except on the Czech and Slovak Association of Canada website), but the annual Czech-Slovak Bazaar is taking place this Saturday, November 6, at St. Ignatius Parish Hall, 4455 West Broadway in NDG, adjacent to Concordia's Loyola campus. The bazaar lasts from 11 a.m.-3 p.m.

Not sure if you're the Czech-Slovak Bazaar type? Well, this report from 2007 might help you decide.

More 411:

Bazar - 6. listopadu 2010, sál kostela sv. Ignáce, 11.00 - 15.00 h
Náš již 55. DOBROČINNÝ BAZAR se bude konat v sobotu 6. listopadu 2010 v St. Ignatius Parish Hall, 4455 West Broadway (Loyola Campus). Bazar je otevřen od 11 hodin ráno do 3 hodin odpoledne. Teplá a studená jídla během dne, domácí pečivo.

fig. b: satisfied customer

2. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, master gardener Patrice Fortier, of Kamouraska's incredible La Société des plantes, brings his annual roadshow to town this Saturday from 11 a.m.-4 p.m. This year Patrice's sale will be taking place at salon de dégustation La QV (29, rue Beaubien) and there will be privately imported wine (courtesy of La QV) and charcuterie (courtesy of Fou du cochon), in addition to a selection of vegetables, herbs, preserves, teas and other goodies.

Again, not sure if you're the Société des plantes type? You can find earlier posts on La Société des plantes here, here, and here.

More 411:

Vente annuelle de La société des plantes : le samedi 6 novembre, de 11 h à 16 h

On renouvelle la tradition cette année : la vente n’aura pas lieu au coin de rue habituel, mais plutôt au 29, rue Beaubien (au coin de St-Laurent) dans le salon de dégustation de La QV où il sera possible de se procurer, en plus de nos produits, des vins d’importation privée à la bouteille ainsi que les cochonailles du Fou du Cochon.

Du jardin :

-Des tisanes (ortie, framboisier, jeunes pousses de sapin, angélique...)
-Des tomates séchées
-Quelques aromates
-Des courges sucrées
-Des pâtissons à purée
-Du chou branchu
-De petites et grosses racines blanches (crosnes, topis, chervis, betteraves, raifort)
-Des pommes de terre sans papiers
-Et ce qui se manifestera d’ici vendredi...

fig. c: Grumman '78 by day & by night*

3. And if all that wasn't enough. The good folks at the new Nouveau Palais and the good folks at Grumman '78 tacos are teaming up to offer two nights of Mexican mayhem, featuring cheap drinks, lo-fi stereo sounds, and, from midnite till 3 a.m., tacos, tacos, tacos (really good ones, too).

times: Friday night/Saturday morning: 12 a.m. - 3 a.m.
Saturday night/Sunday morning (including an extra hour of daylight savings time): 12 a.m. - 3 a.m.

location: Restaurant Nouveau Palais, 281 Bernard St. West, 273-1180 (Mile End)

Happy hunting!

aj

* photo by Sharon Davies

The Czech-Slovak Bazaar, pt. 1

The booty: a selection of pastries from the Czech-Slovak Bazaar
Originally uploaded by ajkinik.

The Czech-Slovak Bazaar

Bazaar culture is a huge part of living in Montreal. Montreal is a city that is literally littered with churches (remember, this was the town about which Samuel Clemens once quipped, “This is the first time I was ever in a city where you couldn't throw a brick without breaking a church window”), and nearly every single one of them—Catholic, Protestant, and otherwise—holds a bazaar at some point in time during the course of the year, with most occurring in the fall. Most everyone has a favorite one, and we’ve got a few of our own, but one of our absolute favorites is the Czech-Slovak Bazaar (formerly the Czechoslovak Bazaar) that takes place every November at St. Ignatius Church (4455 Broadway W.) in Notre-Dame-de-Grace (NDG).

Montreal still has a rather large population of Eastern European extraction, although many of the Poles, Hungarians, Yugoslavs, and others who came here beginning in the late 19th century relocated to points west (especially Toronto and other parts of Ontario) over the decades. It’s safe to say that these days Montreal doesn’t have much of a Czech community or a Slovak community, but that doesn’t stop those that do live here from holding a bazaar once a year, and when you visit this bazaar you suddenly find yourself immersed in a loose-knit, largely elderly Czech scene (the Czech presence far outweighs any Slovak presence) you never knew existed. Show up at 10:55, minutes before the doors open, and you’ll get the false impression that this scene is bigger than it actually is, as you’ll find dozens and dozens of Czechs (primarily) milling about out front, jostling one another, swearing underneath their breaths (in Czech, of course, as they’ve all gotten used to no one ever being able to understand them when they do so in the outside world), trying to establish pole position so they can get first dibs on the pastry table. You’d think you’d need a larger community for there to be this kind of adrenaline rush, but, no, this is the Montreal Czech community in its entirety. They’re all like this, and that’s just part of the charm.

Time stands still inside the doors of St. Ignatius. For one thing, many of the attendees sport fashions that would not have been out of place on the streets of Prague circa 1982. The look can only be described as an Eastern Bloc parody of Western high style, with absolutely no ‘80s-retro-chic irony at play. For another, every year the stands look exactly the same, the vendors look exactly the same, and the attendees look exactly the same—in fact, you recognize a number of people you haven’t seen since last year’s festivities. One of our favorites is the late-40s-ish tall, blonde Adonis figure who sells the brand-name-knock-off auto care products (windshield wiper fluid, motor oil, etc.) at cut-rate prices. Another is the barrel-chested 50s-ish gentleman who helps clear the tables. This year he showed up wearing a pair of Nike Air Flight Elites™ and a knit belt that read “El Charro.”

There are always decent books and baubles to be had, even if the selection is slim, but the biggest reason to visit is the food. One corner of the room features savory Czech treats: steamed Czech sausages with mustard, potato salad, schnitzel, potato pancakes, and best of all, chlebicky. If you’ve been to the Czech Republic and missed out on chlebicky—as many people have—you’ve really missed something. Every family has their own method for making them, and they’re brought out for any kind of special occasion, but you can also find them at the many beer, sausage, and prepared meal eateries that dot a city like Prague. What exactly are chlebicky? Well, they’re just open-faced sandwiches, really, but open-faced sandwiches made with an attention to detail oftentimes lacking outside of the Czech Republic.

Our favorite chlebicky at the Czech-Slovak Bazaar is constructed as follows:
1 slice of bread (preferably a light rye)
1 thin layer of country-style pate
1 slice of ham, folded in half
1 slice of salami, shaped into a horn
1 slice of radish
1 sliver of pickled cucumber
1 sliver of red bell pepper
1 sliver of green bell pepper
1 slice of hardboiled egg
Parsley

As good as the chlebicky are, the real focus of attention at this bazaar is the mammoth sweets table. There you’ll find a vast array of kolaches, including kremrole, babovky, and oriskovy dorty, stretching across a huge, long group of tables in front of the stage, where contributors are always busily trying to put the finishing touches on more pastries so that they can replenish the supply. You choose a box (S, M, or L) and ask the staff to fill it up with whatever your heart desires (This year I was transfixed by the sight of one of the staff members wearing one of those ethnic pride t-shirts in the “Kiss me, I’m Irish” vein. The woman is a fixture at these gatherings that we recognized from years past, of course, but this year she wore one of those big, bold t-shirts with the huge lettering that provides a “humorous” definition of a particular term. The term in question was “Czech,” and the “definition” read that a Czech was someone of [Czechoslovakian tricolored flag graphic] descent, who was known for generosity, “fun,” kolaches, dumplings, and so on. So far pretty banal, but in addition, for some reason the sleeve read “Las Vegas.” It made it harder to focus on the desserts, harder to order). One of my favorites this year was a chocolate icing-covered carrot cake—it was extremely moist and had raspberry jam spread between its two layers. Delicious. We grabbed our usual assortment of Czech treats and made our way out of the madness that is the Czech-Slovak Bazaar, only to hit some more (“much more civilized”) bazaars in Westmount, before going home for tea and kolaches.

aj

Pictured: Babovka (center), Morovske kolache (front, center), tvarohove pirosky (with dark plum tops), odpalovane "puffs" (cream puffs) -- for some reason my parents can't remember what they're called (!).

m