Maybe if this blog were called Breakfast with Julie (or Breakfast at Julie’s) I could write in the morning, when my synapses are still firing, and it wouldn’t so often be after midnight, in my pink fleece pajamas, after a big meal and a glass of ten‑year‑old tawny port.
Dinner tonight was at Ferreira. To be honest, I didn’t need much dinner after a cup (and the second half of Sue’s) of molten chocolate at Suite 88 chocolate lounge this afternoon just as dusk was falling. We found the chocolate spot on Chowhound and made a late‑day pilgrimage, discovering it was a little further and a little more uphill than the map suggested. By the time we arrived we were cold and fading, which should have made the chocolate taste even better. We bought one of each truffle but only managed three—our reactions hovered around a polite “meh”—so we packed the rest to send home with Sue.
But the hot chocolate was the real star. I’m a fan of hot chocolate, and this did not disappoint. It was intense and dark without being overly sweet or bitter, with the silky, custard‑like texture you hope for. All I could think of was that it must be exactly what the chocolate river tasted like in Willy Wonka’s factory—the warm, frothy indulgence I imagined as a child when reading about Charlie scooping out a mugful. Lucky, lucky Charlie. After walking almost back to the hotel, my heart was racing from the sugar and warmth and I needed to lie down.
Dinner was more about balancing out all that chocolate and squeezing in as much Montreal eating as possible than about genuine hunger. We had naively thought we could get into Au Pied de Cochon by calling for a reservation that afternoon—no luck. Instead we landed at Ferreira after stumbling into Café Vasco da Gama for breakfast and meeting the owner’s brother, George. Everything at Café Vasco was outstanding. We could have lingered all day, watching chefs slide oiled, herbed sweet potato wedges in and out of the oven and assembling marinated olives and grainy salads. We shared a cheesy omelet with Spanish chorizo, a bowl of fresh berries, a raspberry Danish and a small Portuguese custard tart, accompanied by cappuccinos.
We would have been happy to eat dinner at Café Vasco, but it was closed, and George had already tipped us to his brother’s Portuguese restaurant a few doors down. Our bread basket with olive oil and two entrées (in the European sense: small first courses) would have been more than enough. When you arrive hungry you tend to order immediately instead of nibbling first and calming down, so we ended up with both a gigantic bowl of Bouillabaisse de poissons et fruits de mer en cataplana and Sue’s salted cod special—more than we needed. The standout dish, by far, was the Salade gourmande de homard et foie gras au torchon: generous claw meat, a melting slab of foie gras, baby potatoes, the thinnest green beans, grape tomatoes, frisée and a magical vinaigrette. A close second were the Fleur de sel roasted sardines with olive tapenade. The bouillabaisse was excellent, too, but by then my appetite had waned.
I didn’t manage to find any suitably French cookies today—I had hoped to discover delicate macaroon sandwiches—but we didn’t visit as many patisseries as planned. Tomorrow we’ll be racing to see as many old churches as possible before noon when we must catch a cab to the airport. I have a Stroopwafel recipe ready to type out, but for some reason my computer won’t upload the photo; the weak internet connection is probably to blame, and it’s limiting how many images I can post.
Meanwhile, I’ll point you to a cookie worth discovering. In keeping with the French theme, I recommend Chocolate and Zucchini’s Squeeze Cookies (a roasted‑flour experiment). Roasting flour—as you would toast nuts or oats—deepens its flavor, and these cookies use that to create a new dimension. Because roasting alters gluten, the cookies are sandy sables (a texture that doesn’t rely on gluten) made with fleur de sel. The most delightful part: you form wads of dough in your hand and bake them as is—no rolling, cutting or elaborate decoration. It’s refreshingly unpretentious and very satisfying.