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http://sandiego.eater.com/2015/2/2/7963755/real-deal-montreal-style-bagels-poutine-for-hillcrest Our beloved Eater Street Team spotted a sign posted on a Hillcrest storefront at 142 University Avenue, Suite C and asked us to sleuth out the story behind the Montreal style authentic poutine and bagels being advertised as coming soon. Mess Royale Poutine & Bagels will in fact serve the real thing when it opens in March— hand-rolled St-Viateur Bagels from the legendary bagel bakery whose flagship store is located in the Mile End neighborhood of Montreal. The new Hillcrest eatery will be receiving shipments of the bagels, which are boiled in honey water then cooked in a wood fired oven, three times a week. Owner Hugo Tassone says that initially, the bagels will be used as bread for sandwiches and offered with cream cheese or butter for breakfast before being able to be purchased by the dozen. Tassone, who hails from Eastern Canada, has a background in food industry and has been visiting San Diego for the last 20 years. He hopes that Mess Royale will be his first of many shops to feature Montreal-inspired gourmet comfort food. Other specialities will include poutine, made with twice-cooked fries, cheese curds and homemade gravy, available as is or topped with everything from bacon to chicken and lobster. There will also be grilled cheese sandwiches, pulled pork sandwiches on brioche buns, four ounces of thick cut bacon on a stick and Montreal-style hot dogs, which come on either a steamed or toasted bun with mustard, relish, onions and a special slaw. For dessert, Mess Royale will serve a "treat royale", also known as a Canadian beavertail, which spreads sweet toppings on a paddle of fried dough.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/smartertravel/10-most-fattening-foods-i_b_5107205.html?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000063<header style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; font-family: Arial, FreeSans, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"> You might think that the United States, with its super-sized portions, absurdly high obesity rate, and uniquely American innovations like the Doritos Locos Taco, is home to the world's most fattening foods. But you'd be wrong! Our national dishes have nothing on these artery-clogging bad boys from around the world. Here are 10 of the most decadent foods you'll find in other countries. </header>Acaraje, Brazil You know what's really not great for you? Palm oil. A mere tablespoon of the stuff contains a whopping 7 grams of saturated fat—which is too bad, because saturated fat makes food taste really great. Case in point, Brazil's acaraje: black-eyed peas formed into a ball, deep-fried in palm oil, and then stuffed with vatapa and caruru (spicy pastes made from dried shrimp, ground cashews … and more palm oil). Churros, Spain Forget your boring breakfast of Special K and skim milk. In Spain, a popular way for locals to start the day is with a meal of churros. These fried-dough pastries are dipped in sugar and cinnamon and then—here's the fat kicker—dipped in a thick hot-chocolate drink. Talk about a morning sugar rush! Poutine, Canada On its own, the humble potato is a relatively healthy starch. But in the hands of Canadians, it becomes poutine—French fries smothered in gravy and cheddar-cheese curds. This cheesy dish is so popular that it's even sold at Burger King in Canada, where (according to the chain's nutritional information) the dish contains 740 calories and 41 grams of fat. And that's just the traditional version. There are entire restaurants that solely serve varieties of poutine. Smoke's Poutinerie dishes up Triple Pork Poutine (with chipotle pulled pork, double-smoked bacon, and Italian sausage), Nacho Grande Poutine (with homemade chili, salsa, guacamole, sour cream, and jalapeno peppers), and Bacon Cheeseburger Poutine (with prime ground beef, double-smoked bacon, and cheese sauce). Khachapuri, Georgia Eating off a plate is so boring. What if your food were served up inside a bread boat instead—and what if the bread boat were filled with melted cheese? Georgians have the right idea with their khachapuri. It's a bread bowl that is stuffed with melted cheese and topped with an egg and a large pad of butter! Nutella Crepes, France Just one serving (2 tablespoons) of sweet, chocolaty Nutella spread has 200 calories (110 of which are from fat). And when using a spoon (or a finger) to eat the hazelnut spread straight out of the jar just isn't enough, you'll want to head to France for a Nutella crepe. There, many street carts and restaurants fry up batter in butter and make thin pancake-like pockets in which to deliver your Nutella. Even better, the crepes are usually topped with powdered sugar and sometimes even whipped cream. Aligot, France You know the stereotype that French women don't get fat? We have to wonder how that's possible when a dish like aligot is served up in the country's L'Aubrac region.Aligot is made with mashed potatoes, butter, cream, garlic, and melted cheese, all whipped together into a thick, rich dish. According to calorie-counting websiteFatSecret, 1 tablespoon of aligot contains 6 percent of the recommended daily amount of saturated fat. Deep-Fried Mars Bars, Scotland After you've tried the deep-fried fish and deep-fried potatoes in Scotland, what should you have for dessert? A Mars bar—deep-fried, of course. Who wouldn't love a chocolate bar gone all melty and encased in a satisfyingly crunchy shell of fried dough? Answer: The Mars candy company, which reportedly feels that the deep-fried dessert is not in line with the company's goal of promoting a "healthy, active" lifestyle. Because, you know, nothing says healthy like chocolate candy! Jalebi, India Sure, plain ol' fried dough is unhealthy on its own. But India really steps up the game with jalebi, deep-fried dough that is soaked in a sugary syrup. Funnel cake, you're on notice—a sprinkling of powdered sugar just doesn't cut it anymore. Calzone, Italy Did you know that a traditional calzone uses the same amount of dough as an entire pizza—and that it's meant to serve four people? Or did you, um, think that the whole delicious calzone was all for you? We have the Campania region of Italy to thank for birthing this version of pizza that is even unhealthier than the original. In a calzone, tomatoes, mozzarella, and other traditional pizza toppings are stuffed into an easy-to-eat dough pocket and then served. Ramen, Japan Ramen has exploded in popularity over the last few years—and we don't mean the sad, dehydrated Cup Noodles kind of ramen, either. We're talking about the traditional Japanese soup dish, consisting of noodles in broth, topped with a variety of meats and vegetables. Soup is basically a health food, right? Unfortunately, the broth (often made with beef, lard, and oil) really packs a fat punch, even if the noodles aren't fried. —By Caroline Morse Read the original story: 10 Most Fattening Foods in the World by Caroline Morse, who is a regular contributor to SmarterTravel.

Read more: http://www.montrealgazette.com/life/Montreal+school+pizza/4423732/story.html#ixzz1GSJTeJ7g There is also a video with the link

At #10 its La Salle à Manger (Courtesy of Enroute) For all other restaurants click on the Link I know the article from 2009. I do hope Enroute updates it soon.

Torontonian chills out in chic Montreal Posted: August 20, 2009, 4:25 PM by Karen Hawthorne food, travel Slow down: Linger at sidewalk cafes, stroll the neighbourhoods and eat some cheese Karen Hawthorne, National Post Most days, I embrace the go-go mentality of Toronto, but every now and then I need a break. A getaway to Montreal, lingering at the sidewalk cafes, strolling the neighbourhoods and eating good cheese sounded like the perfect late-summer diversion. Montreal has a chic but easy-going attitude, so even A-types don't feel the pressure to see everything or get everywhere. (...) Read the article http://network.nationalpost.com/np/blogs/toronto/archive/2009/08/20/torontonian-chills-out-in-chic-montreal.aspx

Cirque du Gourmet Montréal’s Jean Talon Farmers’ Market is a feast for the eyes, too By Matt Scanlon You can’t beat the people-watching at Café Italia on Boulevard St. Laurent in Montréal. From the coffeehouse’s small sidewalk tables, an observer can take in the city’s swirling blend of color and culture: a Rasta-capped dad pushing a tandem stroller; a reed-thin, ghost-pale city girl; a man-sandaled Red Sox fan, presumably from the States; a fiftysomething Asian woman in a sky-blue business suit. One thing unifies this disparate urban crowd: loot from the Marché Jean Talon. Grasping sacks filled with guava, pineapples, wedges of cheese and the requisite torpedoes of French bread, the shoppers spill out of one of the best open-air farmers’ markets in the city . . . some say the continent. To those who’ve fallen prey to the Jean Talon addiction, the place is much more than an opportunity for bag filling. Since its opening in 1933, the market has been an impromptu park: part “Where am I?” landmark for tourists, part political forum and part all-day hang-out for everyone from skateboard kids to fashionistas. Think of a circus with much better food . . . and no clowns. Situated between avenues Casgrain and Henri-Julien, closest to the Jean Talon metro stop, the Marché Jean Talon is one of only two large farmers’ markets in Montréal — the other is Atwater in the Westmount neighborhood. However, many locals feel Jean Talon represents a more faithful adherence to the “buy local, sell local” motto. Its 300-odd stalls — shaded from the sun by a roof without walls, train-station-style — overflow with cheese, meat, produce of virtually every shape and description, freshly cut flowers, fish just plucked from the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and Québec crafts such as hand-woven hats and rugs. The outside edges of the market hold restaurants, larger food stores and a raft of cafés. Though the market resides on the northwestern edge of Little Italy, the neighborhood vibe is more Gallic than Latin, and the happiest customers are those who can at least introduce their inability to speak French . . . in French. Stylish epicurians are quick to note that the Atwater market, with its tonier locale, has more cachet these days, and for people less eager to immerse themselves in Québécois culture, its largely Anglophone location is certainly American-friendly. But that’s just the point: When we go to Montréal, it’s because we want to get away. And Jean Talon has plenty of exotic tastes, including Québec favorites such as Rougemont and Mont-Sainte-Hilaire apples, lamb and pork from the Rigaud hills, and chèvre and Pied-de-Vent cheeses. Open year-round, a market of this size naturally has its share of imports, too. You can grab a Florida orange for nostalgia’s sake, but really. Fromage fans in particular have good reason to make the journey to Jean Talon. Though we have plenty of fine unpasteurized cheeses in Vermont, the market is a prime place to sample Québec’s offerings. Purists believe heat kills much of the earthy texture and place-presence (or terroir) of cheese, and after a hockey-puck-sized serving of a goat’s milk variety called “Tome,” it’s difficult to argue the point. Grassy, sharp and with a white-wine-like finish, it’s a revelation. Such bliss comes with a side order of caution; unpasteurized milk is more prone to have listeriosis and E. coli passengers on board, and pregnant woman should abstain. Though there are at least a dozen great places to buy, Fromagerie Qui Lait Cru — a nifty pun that means both “raw milk” and “Who would’ve believed?” — has a particularly garrulous staff when it comes to answering questions. There are few better examples of Jean Talon’s emphasis on local flavor than Porc Meilleur. Supplied by a family-run farm of the same name in the Maskoutan region, its hormone- and antibiotic-free meat comes from pigs that are fed a combination of grains, yogurt and milk — the proportions are a house secret — and the results are the stuff of local legend. It’s not uncommon for shoppers to come from as far as Ottawa for the bacon, and a shortage of chops can be cause for a near-riot. If veal is your thing, Veau de Charlevoix, just a stone’s throw from Porc Meilleur, is just as passionate about animal raising and quality. Les Délices de la Mer has the unofficial designation of the go-to place for fresh fish in the market. You’ll know it by the number of people standing nearby eating fried fillets out of paper wrappers, eyes turned heavenward in appreciation. Les Délices sells and cooks what’s in season, of course, and at the moment turbot is in abundance. A relative of the flounder, this 10- to 30-pound bottom dweller is prized for delicate (if firm) flesh and a decidedly non-fishy flavor. More than anything else, though, what you see in the market is produce, and again, as long as the harvest lasts, local fruits and vegetables are the stars of the show. For sheer scale and diversity, start with Sami Fruit, just off the market on Rue Jean Talon South. Portage potatoes look appreciably different from their Idaho cousins, while Reliance peaches and Nova Scotia grapes put many in the States to shame. Though these staples of Jean Talon anchor the day, the best part of the market is the unexpected. One day an intrepid shopper might find a small stall offering fresh lobster; the next, a display of crayfish; the next, kosher pickles manufactured by the remnants of the area’s once-sizeable Jewish community. Each visit is different, and as you dip your baguette into a jar of brandied strawberry puree over the low notes of a Mexican guitarron, suddenly the ennui of the border crossing seems worth it. Fruit Flight What’s the point of filling your bags with the wonders of Québec if they end up in the hands of customs agents? Crossing the border is nervewracking enough without worrying about the rules regarding the legal importation of Canadian goods, and the trouble is that these regulations change constantly. With every new potato worm, fruit fly or blight, products that were acceptable yesterday become illegal today. Generally, though, things play out like this: Prepared items such as jam, jelly, sauce, olive oil, mustard, honey, wine and vinegar are permissible, with the very strict exception of anything containing meat. Importing a meat product of any kind is forbidden. For the sake of your stomach, and because it generally falls under the meat heading, leave the fish on your plate, too. The rules are a bit more relaxed regarding Canadian fruit and vegetable importation than with flora of Mexico, Central America or Europe. As long as your plunder is not exotic (eat the last of that pineapple before you leave) and/or bears a “grown in Québec” label either on the fruit or on the bag, you’ll most likely be OK. To be safe, don’t mingle different types of fruit in one bag. Hard cheeses, even those containing raw milk, are generally allowed, but no soft varieties — sorry, Brie lovers. Be further advised, though, that any customs agent can decide for any reason that an item is inadmissible or exceeds the maddeningly vague “reasonable amount” rule. Don’t press your luck by proclaiming your rights — you really don’t have any when it comes to this stuff — or doing your Alan Shore impersonation from “Boston Legal.” Smile, surrender the olives, and move on.

Je ne suis pas sûr que c'est un compliment de se faire dire que Montréal goûte la poutine! Et les clichés sur notre supposée "joie-de-vivre", juste parce qu'on parle français, c'est un peu éculé, mais comme l'article est positif, on va leur pardonner... A foodie's guide to Montreal USA Today By Michele Kayal For The Associated Press Montreal may sound like Paris, but it tastes like poutines. A mess of french fries, gravy and cheese curds, this signature dish of French-speaking Canada's largest city captures its engaging and independent culinary personality. Originally inhabited by Native Americans, later populated by hunters, trappers and missionaries, and eventually battled over by the French and British, Montreal offers gutsy, creative and hearty fare that honors its diverse forbears. "There is a tradition of English cooking and French cooking, but it's taken on that lusty explorer, wilderness, joie de vivre," says Catherine MacPherson, a food columnist for Canadian Broadcasting Corporation radio. "It's rib sticking, and it's got that independent spirit." That wasn't always so. Until the early 1990s in Montreal, "good" cuisine meant "French" cuisine, and all the local stars had trained in France. That's also where they got their ingredients — lamb, lobster, artichokes, nearly everything. Until a young chef named Normand Laprise returned from the Continent more impressed by the freshness of ingredients in France than by their Frenchness. He began cultivating farmers and ranchers and launched a movement toward fresh, local ingredients that drew from Quebec's rich landscape. His restaurant, Toque!, opened in 1993, and remains the standard-bearer for upscale Quebequois cuisine. "When you come in Montreal, you feel that the food is more about us, about Quebec philosophy and Quebec roots," he says. "It's our produce, our chefs." Today, Montreal is "bigger and better," Laprise says, as the scene has filled with choice, from bistros to sandwich shops to corner grocers and cheese shops that offer fresh, delicious, local foods. The city claims 6,000 restaurants spanning 80 cuisines for its scant 2 million people, making it a city of foodies, by foodies, for foodies. The food scene could take weeks to explore, but with just a few days — and a big appetite — a dedicated eater can make a thorough and delicious survey. Start the tour at L'Express, a traditional bistro in the Plateau neighborhood where the floor is checkered, the ceilings are high and French is spoken all around. The steak of steak-frites is juicy and fatty, crowned with herb butter. The frites are crispy and light. Pistachio-studded pate literally melts on the tongue leaving hints of thyme and cognac behind. The chocolate tart is so glossy and thick with flavor that the otherwise stone-faced waiter is moved to speak, telling two diners that it is made with 76% cacao. Montrealers have made L'Express their local hangout for nearly three decades, but recently it's gotten some company. Around the corner, Au Pied de Cochon plumps up the bistro concept, making traditionally thrifty Quebecois cooking richer, fatter, heartier. Chef Martin Picard offers pickled venison tongue; a salad of rich, bitter greens topped with crunchy bits of fried pig cartilage; and nearly everything stuffed with foie gras, from peasant food such as pig's foot to the famous poutines. Picard's menu honors the region's sweet tooth not only with the famous tarte au sucre — literally, sugar pie — but even with a playful take on breakfast that features buckwheat pancakes, thick bacon, and yes, foie gras, all of it doused with maple syrup. On the other side of town in the Petite-Bourgogne neighborhood, Restaurant Joe Beef redefines the British pub with a decidedly modern take on roasts, puddings and other delectables. Named after a legendary tavern keeper known for scoring rations for his fellow British soldiers, the tiny restaurant's menu changes with the seasons and the whim of chef Fred Morin. But Joe Beef traffics in items such as fresh lobster tossed with bacon, baby peas and pasta, and dishes for two, such as sliced rib steak with marrow bones, or a whole rack of Quebec lamb with mint sauce. Tucked in the back, but at the establishment's heart, is the oyster bar, a half-dozen seats crowded around a dinged-up counter where three-time Canadian oyster-shucking champion John Bil recently popped dozens of briny bivalves mostly from the waters of Prince Edward Island. No matter where or what a visitor eats in Montreal, it's likely to be decadent. Butter, sugar, lard: these ingredients do not scare Montrealers. "There's never been a fear of indulgence or fats when it comes to their food," MacPherson says. "They see no reason for self-flagellation at the dinner table." Which brings us back to poutines. Gravy-and-cheese slathered french fries, are, perhaps, a dish best understood when inebriated. Or when you're very, very cold. "Imagine yourself being here in February, you're on a ski hill and it's minus 27," says Nathalie Cooke, a culinary historian at the city's McGill University. And she's talking Celsius. "You'd be amazed how good poutines can taste." Au Pied's foie gras-laden poutines are revered by gourmets, but students and bloggers seem to favor the slapped down version at Patati Patata, a tiny corner joint near McGill whose name roughly translates as "blah blah blah." But poutines aren't the city's only casual food. A flourishing culture of quick but delicious — and above all real — food can be found at patisseries, fromageries (cheese shops), and places that fall somewhere between bakery, sandwich shop and grocery store. At Olive et Gourmando in the Vieux-Montreal neighborhood, flaky palmiers are delivered alongside dense Valrhona brownies and hot sandwiches dripping with caramelized onions and succulent pork. "We're not interested in how many tables there are," Cooke says. "We're quite willing to go to a place that has two tables, or even to stand." At Au Pied de Cochon, chef Martin Picard offers a playful take on breakfast that features buckwheat pancakes, thick bacon and foie gras, all of it doused with maple syrup. Chef Yann Laguna puts the finishing touches on a salad at the McCord Cafe in downtown Montreal. The city is packed with bistros, bakeries, markets and cutting edge eateries.

DURING the 2000 presidential campaign, the candidate from Texas fielded a question from Canada: “Prime Minister Jean Poutine said you look like the man who should lead the free world into the 21st century. What do you think about that?” When George W. Bush pledged to “work closely together” with Mr. Poutine, Montrealers fell off their chairs laughing. It wasn’t so much that the Canadian leader was, in fact, Jean Chrétien, but that the “reporter” — Rick Mercer, a television comedian — had invoked the city’s emblematic, problematic, comedic junk food dish: poutine. A gloppy, caloric layering of French fries, fresh cheese curds (a byproduct of Cheddar making) and gravy, poutine goes deep into the Quebequois psyche. Somehow, Quebec’s rural roots, its split identity (Acadian farmers or Gallic gourmets?) and its earthy sense of humor are all embodied by its unofficial dish. This may be one reason that until now poutine has not traveled well. True, it was on the menu for years at Shopsin’s, the quirky West Village restaurant that closed this year, but so was nearly every other known foodstuff. But recently, it has materialized in a handful of cities across the United States. In New York City, it is on the menu at three highly divergent establishments, and this time it shows signs of taking hold. Andy Bennett, the chef at the Inn LW12 in the meatpacking district, recalled his reaction on being told (by the Canadian faction of the inn’s owners) that poutine must be served. “I said, you’ve got to be kidding me. Then I realized I wasn’t going to be able to get away from it.” Mr. Bennett, however, was converted. “You have to embrace these things,” he said. “Now it’s our biggest selling item by a long stretch.” “I think it’s going to be across the city soon,” he said. “It’s going to stick without a doubt.” Mr. Bennett’s choice of words was apt. Poutine is an extreme stick-to-your-ribs concoction, whose name is said to derive from Quebequois slang. According to the dominant creation myth, in 1957 a restaurateur named Fernand Lachance, when asked by a customer to combine fries and cheese curds, said it would make “une maudite poutine” — an unholy mess. (And this was pre-gravy. Another restaurateur, Jean-Paul Roy of Le Roy Jucep, claims to have first served fries with gravy and curds in 1964.) Since Mr. Lachance’s death three years ago, poutine’s de facto spokesman has been Bob Rutledge, creator of the Web site MontrealPoutine.com. Mr. Rutledge, a professor of astrophysics at McGill University specializing in neutron stars, black holes and gamma ray bursts, first heard of poutine on moving to Montreal in 2004. He was instantly smitten. “When I started asking about it, I got one of two responses,” he said. “It was either: ‘Oh here’s my favorite poutine place; you must go...’, or else it was: ‘Oh my God, why do you want to eat that stuff?’ It’s a veritable food phenomenon; half the people are embarrassed it exists.” Siobhan O’Connor, a journalist who moved to New York from Montreal five years ago, has a different view. “The only people who don’t like poutine are people on a diet,” she said. “It’s the first thing you want when you go back, a real late-night post-drinking thing.” Ms. O’Connor recently sampled the new batch of New York poutines. The classic version at Sheep Station, an Australian gastropub on the western edge of Park Slope, initially struck her as too dry. But, on discovering that the Quebequois chef, Martine Lafond, had secreted further curds and gravy under crisp, hot fries, she warmed to it, declaring the gravy authentically peppery, salty and meaty, and the curds as fresh as could be expected so far from home. At Pommes Frites, an East Village storefront that traffics in Belgian fries but now has a sideline in their Canadian cousins, neither the rubbery, yellowish curds nor the lukewarm, flavorless sauce met with Ms. O’Connor’s approval. But Mr. Bennett’s four varieties at the Inn LW12 did, despite distinctly unorthodox stylings. “I’d come back here just for this,” she declared of the plate with five-spice gravy and chewy strips of pork belly, though she found the Stilton cheese in the rich, toothsome braised beef with red wine version to be overload and the herby marinara sauce on the tomato version — called Italienne back home — disappointing. Though somewhat overshadowed by its glitzy sisters, the classic, too, more than passed muster. Ms. O’Connor explained that poutine really belonged to the French speakers — her Irish-Montrealer mother, for instance, had never tried it — until “around 2000, when people started messing with it: green peppercorns, Gruyère, truffle oil...” According to Professor Rutledge, variations on the theme are fine. “They strike me as creative and interesting so I give bonus points,” he said. He is, however, from Southern California. The average Montrealer seems to be more of a purist. The chef Martin Picard, one of Montreal’s most high-profile culinary figures, embraces poutine at his restaurant Au Pied de Cochon. “That dish becomes an international passport,” he declared. “It’s not haute gastronomie, but it permits Quebec to get more interest from the rest of the world.” Mr. Picard said he occasionally offers classic poutine as a “clin d’oeil” — a wink — to Quebequois cuisine, but his version with foie gras is what everyone remembers. For this, the regular poutine sauce — a thick, highly seasoned chicken velouté, which Mr. Picard enhances with pork stock — is enriched by foie gras and egg yolks. The dish is crowned with a four-ounce slab of seared goose liver. Whether Montreal’s embarrassing but adored junk food does take root in New York, it may never attain the status it achieved earlier this year when the CBC revealed the results of a viewer poll on the greatest Canadian inventions of all time. Granted, poutine came in only at No. 10. But it beat, among other things, the electron microscope, the BlackBerry, the paint roller and the caulking gun, lacrosse, plexiglass, radio voice transmission and basketball.