Elegy for Cosmo

  fig. a:  Tony & co. 1

There's a void in Montreal at the moment, and it has nothing to do with the city's mayoral woes.  We lost a great one last weekend, and in the most tragic of ways.  Tony Koulakis, the legendary founder of Cosmo Snack Bar, Montreal's most legendary greasy spoon, was stabbed to death last week at the age of 86 years old.

 fig. b:  Tony & co. 2

Already, that was enough of a shock.  Then came the news that the suspect was Koulakis' 40-year-old son, Johnny, who lived downstairs from Tony.  The circumstances remain unclear, but the word is that the suspect had a history of disturbed behaviour.

We've been enormous fans of Cosmo around here for years.  I had my first taste of Cosmo over 25 years ago, and it forever redefined my understanding of Montreal.  It was like happening upon the Northwest Passage and discovering a New World--in Notre-Dame-de-Grâce, of all places.  The breakfasts, the banter, the style of the place, the scene.

There was never any place like it, even after Tony retired around 2002.  Tony's two Nikis--his son Niko and his daughter Niki--kept the Cosmo tradition running strong.  After that, Tony was only around infrequently, but the breakfasts and the repartee remained just as memorable as ever, and the place had character to burn.  We were lucky enough to see Tony there on a couple of occasions, and he hadn't lost any of the old charm.

The last time we tried to go to Cosmo was just a few weeks ago, but it was a Monday, and we'd forgotten that it was their traditional day of rest.  We haven't had the courage to pass by since the news broke, but we understand that Niko was manning the griddle again last weekend--after the tragedy--out of some kind of compulsion to work.  The storefront has reportedly been closed for the last few days, though, and it's unclear when, or even if, Cosmo will reopen.  It's hard to imagine how it could.

We'll miss Tony greatly, here at "...an endless banquet"--there really was an aura that surrounded him, and it wasn't just the patina of all those supremely greasy greasy-spoon breakfasts.  I mean the man was a true Montreal original, a man who arrived here from his native Crete in 1954, and who helped change the city's food culture when he founded Cosmo in the epochal year of 1967.  If he'd only invented the Mish Mash--a famously gargantuan 4-egg omelette that came stuffed with four different types of meat, plus tomatoes, onions, and cheese (widely imitated, never equalled)--his place in the culinary firmament would have been secure.  But he also concocted The Creation--our personal favourite--a breakfast sandwich whose combination of egg, salami, bacon, lettuce, tomato, and cheese was a true work of art, especially if you chose the right bread for it.  It was--it is--a sandwich so great, it once inspired me to come up with a commemorative t-shirt idea:  an image of The Creation, in all its glory, proudly emblazoned on the front, along with the caption "I'm a Creationist."  I never got around to making that shirt, but I promise I will.

We send love and strength to the entire Koulakis family.

We feel quite certain that Tony is proudly manning the grill in heaven somewhere, turning all his fellow angels onto the unholy pleasures of his own brand of Cosmo-logy (quite possibly to the tune of, "I am the god from the potatoes!"), and simultaneously enjoying a cherished cigarette.

For more testimonials, check out this one in yesterday's Globe & Mail, or this one by Ezra Soiferman, who made a very touching (and highly recommended) documentary about Tony in 2000 called Man of Grease.

R.I.P.

aj

lumberjack special

lumberjack special
Originally uploaded by ajkinik.

"If you want a sure formula, open a can."--John Thorne

Remember that talk of baked beans, eggs, and ketchup aux fruits from a couple of weeks back? Well, this morning our lumberjack special finally came together. Almost a year to the day since the last time I wrote about baked beans, here I go again.

We'd decided that Saturday was going to be the day to make baked beans. I was a little worried about the weather towards the end of the week, because the forecast was for partly cloudy/partly sunny weather and 14 degrees C and I wanted it to be a little chillier for baking beans, but I soaked my beans anyway on Friday night, and when I woke up on Saturday morning it was foggy and downright raw, perfect for baking beans. So I got out of bed, let Michelle sleep a little longer, and stole her copy of John Thorne's Serious Pig so I could bone up on baked beans, Maine-style. You might recall that we used John Thorne's recipe for Down-East Baked Beans last year for our entry on baked beans. We got that recipe from Saveur Cooks American and it was in the pages of Saveur that we first heard of John Thorne and his food writing. I made a mental note to track down a copy of Serious Pig, and when I was in New York in August I finally found a copy at the Strand. When I got back to Montreal I gave it to Michelle with the disclaimer that the title was in no way meant to be a bit of editorializing on her or her eating habits. She laughed, accepted my gift, and has been regaling me with tales of potato stands and orchards in Maine and Dirty Rice in Louisiana ever since. Anyway, I'd been meaning to sneak a peek at Thorne's lengthy chapter on Maine baked beans ("Knowing Beans") for some time. I figured I owed it to myself and to my beans to do so before making this next batch. Pick up a copy of Serious Pig, read the chapter on baked beans, and you'll learn everything from the particularities of Mainers when it comes to firewood and front doors, to the great variety of native beans used in the making of Maine baked beans and the seismic difference between Down-East Baked Beans and Up-North Baked Beans, to how to choose a proper bean pot and the lumberjack camp origins of the Maine tradition of baking beans. Thorne is a truly excellent food writer, and his food writing covers a great deal of ground. Armed with a deeper understanding of Maine baked beans, I whipped up another batch of Down-East Baked Beans, the addition of 1/4 pound of lardons fumés being the only alteration I made to Thorne's superb recipe. Once again I was struck by the perfect balance of flavors that result from following Thorne's method. Once again I was struck by the genius of adding 2 tablespoons of rum in place of some of the additional molasses or brown sugar you find in other recipes.

Later that night, after the beans had baked in a slow oven for some 6-7 hours, we had a very satisfying baked bean dinner with our fresh batch of Down-Easters, a hearty loaf of sourdough, some ketchup aux fruits (as per the Quebec tradition), and a delicious beet salad (with heirloom beets from Patrice's street sale). What I was really excited about, though, was the lumberjack special we had planned for this morning. The spread:

eggs over-easy
fried ham à l'ancienne
baked beans
toast
coffee
ketchup aux fruits
maple syrup (Quebec medium)
hot sauce

The only thing that was missing was a fresh batch of cretons maison. Next time. Otherwise, it was a perfect breakfast, one that fulfilled all our expectations.

My grandfather started his career as a cook in a lumberjack camp in the woods of Quebec. I'm not sure if he ever baked beans in a massive cast-iron pot buried in a "bean hole" the way Thorne describes, but he made his fair share of beans in his time. This meal was dedicated to him.

aj