Location: Montreal, Quebec, Canada.
Yes, Canada.
Let me take a moment to express my absolute, undying, infinite love for Montreal. The city that I've visited so often as a child with my family but never really explored has been patient with me. This summer I finally carried myself and my notebooks and my adventurous taste buds to Montreal in search of inspiration. On my last day in the city, the sun found me alone on a bench in Old Montreal, near the historic Notre Dame church (more like cathedral!), head tilted back, mouth stretched into a peaceful smile, notebook open in front of me, and content with the decision that yes, I would have to come back and spend more than a week here and yes, I will definitely spend an entire year here, absorbing the French language, admiring the stunning architecture, reveling in this little slice of Europe obscurely lodged in North America. Montreal won me over, with its remarkably kind strangers, beautiful colloquial expressions, and serene mountains as a backdrop to the bustling city center.
On my last evening, after coffeeshop-hopping and walking a total of approximately 12 miles, I made my last stop at Maison Publique, one of Jamie Oliver's restaurants. I had stopped by two days prior with my cousin, only to find it closed, so of course I had to come back. I'm a stubborn girl, and in this case I'm glad I persisted. Jamie Oliver is my favorite celebrity chef, so admittedly I did go into this place with a bit of a bias, but I did attempt to keep a critical eye.
The best way to describe the ambience inside this old building is "elegantly masculine". Deer antlers mounted here and there are functional as paper towel holders (in the bathroom) or Canadian hockey-emblazoned-hat hangers (near the entrance). A few antiqued and tilted mirrors hang high on the walls and contribute the illusion of extra space to the cozy restaurant.
So this is how Jamie Oliver rolls... I think to myself as I admire the sturdy wood tables, the tin ceilings, the contrast of romantic and strikingly feminine lighting against the cool, dark color scheme. Ollie's got style.
I'm greeted with smiles (I wish everybody was as nice as these Canadians!) and I seat myself at a table against the wall. There's a game tonight and Maison Publique has one flat-screen TV above the bar so it's bustling inside, with all guests facing the TV. I chuckle to myself as I recall the hockey fans shouting their team's name in the metro station earlier, with an enthusiasm matching that of my fellow Ohioans about our Buckeyes.
My lovely server, Felix, is knowledgeable and discloses his distaste for marmite when I inquire about the oyster dish laced with the classic British condiment. While I take my time deciding, he suggests two wines and brings both bottle out to me with a tasting glass for each.
Notably, all wines on the menu are Canadian and these two were no exception. I preferred the Pinot Gris over the Rosè. I am no wine expert but as the drinking age in Canada is 19, I decided to begin my exploration of the wine world. This was an excellent start. The Pinot Gris: crisp, refreshing, fruity but not too sweet.
I decided on the Baked Oyster ($10), a mammoth thing under a thick layer of marmite mayonnaise, broiled, served in shell.
The coarse salt base is a nice little touch.
The oyster itself is shucked from the shell, chopped into bite-size bits and its liquor reserved. Sautéed mushrooms and scallions are mixed with the oyster, placed back into the shell, topped with a mayonnaise made with marmite (a pungent British spread made from yeast extract) and the reserved oyster liquor, then it's all broiled and served piping hot. My first bite is hesitant, but satisfying; I detect a bit of tartness, then briny oyster flavor. The third bite reveals the familiar bite of green onions, mild but definitely present. The final verdict: delicious. Bold flavors but kept simple, not pretentious as one could get with such an impressive oyster. Tangy, salty-sweetness of the ocean...I could have done without the extra flavor of the scallions but I didn't mind it.
My next choice is Felix's recommendation, the Maiale Tonnato ($14), a dish consisting of thinly sliced pork loin, tonnato sauce, shaved parmesan, and arugula.
I really wanted to love this dish, but it just did not impress me. It was all richness, all animal fats and nothing to really cut it. The arugula added a nice peppery contrast, but not enough to really lift the dish. I had a grand total of four bites before I had to push it away, somehow stuffed to the brim and un-appetized by this combination of cold pork loin and rich tonnato (a sauce of pureed tuna, capers, mayonnaise, and anchovies). The parmesan was unnecessary; I would have preferred tangy summer tomatoes to counteract the heavy, salty sauce.
Overall, I enjoyed my visit to Maison Publique. I would definitely come back to sample more of their rustic offerings, but perhaps choose some lighter fare. Twas an elegant ending to a fantastic day, and I hope to find myself here again around dinner time not as a visitor, but as a resident of this gorgeous city.
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