Paris Nostalgia: Chez Gladines

I woke up this morning missing Paris, so much so that I went in search of Comté at 10am. The closest thing I found at my local fromagerie was a Gruyère. Despite its Swiss origins, it did the trick.

For those of you who don’t know me, earlier this year I had the great fortune of living in Paris for 6 months with my boyfriend, Samburger. I know living in Paris is far from Plebe, but I did work three jobs to make it happen.

Our favorite restaurant was a little Basque place in the 13^th arrondisement called Chez Gladines. I had always been into food, but my obsession hit a fever pitch once I moved to Paris, mainly attributable to this Plebe's paradise. 

My first memory of Chez Gladines has nothing to do with food; it’s of Hervé, the tall drink of water behind the bar with the manliest hands I’ve ever seen. Those hands were made for hacking baguettes, among other things. Several visits into our tenure at Chez Gladines, Samburger remarked on a gash on Hervé’s hand, presumably caused by his mid-air slicing acrobatics. From then on the surly barman had a bit of a penchant for us, or so we thought.

Chez Gladines espouses the sort of convivial spirit you would expect from a Bavarian beer hall. Think clanking Beer Steins and accordion players, but without the Beer Steins … or accordion players. They open at 7, are full by 7:06, and stay full until well past midnight. Considering the lengthy wait for a table, it’s not unusual to see people camped out on the sidewalk drinking €2.50 cups of Sangria and smoking their “clops,” even on the coldest nights. 

Salade Complète: Cantal, tomatoes, egg, potatoes, goat cheese subbed in for ham (€9)

My go-to was always the Salade Complète sans jambon, plus chèvre (no ham, plus goat cheese, for you English monoglots). My attempt at being Kosher, I suppose. Anyone can throw lettuce, tomatoes, potatoes, cheese and egg into a serving bowl, but it's the anonymous dressing and potatoes that make this dish special. I dream of those potatoes. They must be fried in the fat of Greek gods. This picture is true to scale; the salad is legitimately served in a metal salad bowl. If that's not bang for buck then I don't know what is. 

Escalope de Veau Montagnarde (€13)

The Escalope de Veau Montagnarde was Samburger's go-to until he realized the veal was deceptively covered with slices of ham. (He, too, prays to the god of Manischewitz and Challah.) Stupid opaque sauce. I kid; that sauce is the stuff foodie dreams are made of. 

There's nothing fancy about this dish. It's a piece of veal covered in ham, the above-mentioned potatoes and mushrooms, all smothered in this Snuggie of a sauce. Multiple Google searches have rendered me answerless as to the ingredients of this nectar, but it most definitely has cream. Pounds of it. I think ignorance is bliss when it comes to this one. 

Canard Roquefort (€13)

Post-hamgate, Samburger switched gears (and mammals) and settled on the Pavé de Canard Roquefort (duck in Roquefort sauce). Forget the meat; once again it's the sauce that reigns supreme in this dish. Imagine getting to swim in a pool of melted Roquefort and cream. Lucky duck. 

If you love simple and delicious grub, are not opposed to eating with strangers or waiting outside for what feels like hours, and don't have an aversion to gingham, then Chez Gladines is for you. 

Samburger and I constantly mimic the fast-paced waiters whizzing by yelling "CHAUD, CHAUD, CHAUD" as we dash from the microwave to the table with our Lean Cuisines. 

We're still paying for Paris, and happily so.

Price: all of the Texas-sized mains are between €9 and €14, a real steal. 

Chez Gladines

30, rue des Cinq Diamants

Paris, 75013

01 45 80 70 10

Metro: Corvisart

No reservations

Jane

Winter has come. I know it's only October, but here in Montreal fall is merely an excuse to buy overpriced cashmere sweaters and consume gluttonous amounts of pumpkin pie. As I write this from underneath my Ninja Turtle Snuggie all I can think about is one thing: pizza. More specifically, Jane pizza. Confession: I think about pizza more than people bemoan the price of gas. If it wasn't for the copious amounts of Halloween candy I consumed earlier today, I'd even consider venturing down to Griffintown to fetch some.

Not only does Jane have the best pizza in Montreal (I'd notarize this if I could), but there's something about this place that beckons you to spend an evening on its cozy banquette or bar-high back table, (the site of last Hanukah's gift exchange among my gal pals. In case you were wondering, I received a very handy pair of Blackberry/iPhone'ing gloves, sort of like these, only less OJ Simpson'ish.) As I was saying, Jane beats the devil out of any restaurant that's ever been described as "warm and inviting."

Maybe it has something to do with my memories of parallel parking into snowbanks on drafty Notre-Dame Street or of klonking into the place with my Sorel boots, but whenever I'm cold I automatically crave Jane.

Last Saturday was no exception. Snow's southern cousin, Rain Storm, was in town and had set up shop for the night. I had been looking forward to our 10:30 p.m. reservation since 8:30 that morning. Samburger, DF (Samburger's BFF) and I rolled in ready to gorge. 

Buffalo fries ($6)

Joined by our friends KR & BG, we started the meal off with two orders of Buffalo fries. Anyone who's ever ordered Buffalo Bills will feel me on the following. Remember how when ordering the "combo pack" the fries would get all coated with wing sauce? Remember how freakin' delicious that was? Well, that's what these fries taste like, but better. 

Taco: Minced beef, salsa, guacamole, cheddar, coriander, sour cream - olé! ($22)

After a night of too much tequila and grappa, a taco and a pizza got together and created this sweet love child. What makes this pie work is the symmetry of the toppings. No one thing overwhelms the other. I particularly love the sour cream; I will definitely experiment with a dollop next time I make pizza at home (Dr. Oetker's, that is).

Bianca: Béchamel sauce, Mozzarella di Bufala, parmesan, pesto, truffle oil ($17)

When most people hear the word "rich" they think of Hermès, Rolex watches and Apple shareholders. I think of the Bianca. And just like the infamous Birkin, the Bianca is a true indulgence.

Mac 'N' Cheeza: Cheesy macaroni, tomato sauce,  3 cheeses (ominous), truffle oil ($19)

One word comes to mind when I see this picture: bulbous. It's practically giving birth! Unlike some other crusts, these orbs are far from hollow. This perfectly puffed pizza platform is all dough through and through.

The Mac 'N' Cheeza may seem like overkill, but it actually makes sense together. The macaroni adds a wacky layer of texture to this otherwise "normal" plain pizza. Don't get me wrong, Jane's so-called "plain" offering, the Rossa [not pictured], is far from normal. It's a revelation. 

The nice thing about Jane, aside from it being all-around awesome, is that tax is included in the prices. Hence, no need to pull out your abacus come cheque time.

In terms of price, this place is definitely Plebe-appropriate. Each pizza easily feeds two. But what really makes it Plebe is the atmosphere. In a zip code where mortgage-breakers like Joe Beef and Liverpool House reign supreme, anyone can waltz into Jane (with a reservation) and be treated to an incredible meal for under $20. 

Price: $20 per person + tip. Samburger paid. 

Jane

1744 Notre-Dame West

Montreal, QC

(514) 759-6498

Reservations are a must!

Le Cartet

It feels strange to be writing about brunch for my inaugural blog post. For one, as a currently unemployed plebe, I tend to save what scarce resources I do have for dinners out (my favourite meal of the day). Secondly, those times I do venture for the day's introductory meal, rarely is it to a yuppie place like Le Cartet. I say yuppie for a few reasons: 

1. My bill was over $25 (my meal, pictured below, plus a mimosa). Way too expensive for a meal that should cost less than one hour of minimum-wage work.
2. The words "organic," "frittata" and "flaxseed" appear on the menu.
3. The front of the restaurant houses a cute little "épicerie & prêt à manger" (their words, not mine) packed with ready-made "boîtes à lunch" and dark chocolate bars from pirate-ridden, far away lands.
4. The handful of tables outside of the restaurant were occupied by affluent hipster-types, the this-jacket-is-John-Varvatos-but-totally-looks-thrifty type of folk who tend to live in this she-she, über-gentrified part of town (Old Montreal). Did I mention the abundance of canine companions tethered to the tables, slurping up (insert fancy water name here)? True story.
5. The interior is reminiscent of an industrial loft. In true yuppie/hipster fashion, one wall is painted-over exposed brick.
6. My meal was supposed to come with an amuse-bouche (I swear), OJ, fruits and coffee. I never saw any of the four. Major service fail.  

Lies

Despite the above-mentioned pitfalls, I freakishly enjoyed my meal here. So much so that I have unofficially vowed to come here and only here for brunch from now on (every second leap year).

Brunch Santé: Organic ginger granola with yogurt and blueberries, poached eggs on mesclun on country style bread, cheddar sticks with figs and assorted fresh fruits ($11.95)

This may sound overdramatic, but my meal was perfection. First off, the fresh fruits were legitimately fresh. No packaged, day-old crap. This stuff was farmer's market worthy. Second, the not too mild, but not too ancient cheddar sticks were served at the ideal room temp. I don't eat figs so I have no idea how that tasted, but I'll assume it was par for the course. Third, the subtly sweet organic ginger granola (another flag for the yuppie radar) was plenty and well dispersed. Coupled with the tangy yogurt and the molecular-sized blueberries, this was a lovely side dish. Now on to the star: the country style bread topped with mesclun and poached eggs. What really brought this all together was the anonymous green shmeer you see poking out from under the egg. Was it some form of cream cheese? Was it a mayo? I'll never know, but man did that fill a void.

My dining companions were equally enamoured with their selections. The "Toasta Mixta" (Portuguese grilled cheese stuffed with eggs, ham, brie, onions and mustard, served with a mesclun salad) won rave reviews.

This place may be the furthest thing from Plebe, but I whole-heartedly advocate stepping out of the milieu every once in a while (if you can afford it). Sans mimosa, this meal would ring in under $20. I'm just a lush.

Price: a bank-breaking $27 (tip included). 

Le Cartet
106 McGill St. 
Montreal, QC 
(514) 871-8887
www.lecartet.com
No reservations