Honorable Mention: Cafe Cluny's Breakfast Club

I'm a firm believer in the age-old adage that "everything tastes better when cooked by someone else." Not only that, but I'm also convinced that identical foods (even packaged ones!) mysteriously taste better when eaten out of the confines of one's own home. Whether it's whimsy or scientific fact, Cafe Cluny's breakfast club is the perfect example of a dish that's easy to reproduce but impossible to nail.

Flanked by egg-washed wooden benches and, on this day, an ice cream cart addition, Cafe Cluny straddles one of the quaintest corners in the West Village. The French-ish bistro is reminiscent of what you would suspect a Paris bistro to look like if you had never actually been to Paris - bright and airy, and staffed with mime-looking, Breton striped shirt-wearing servers. Except their outfits are most likely from J.Crew, not Petit Bateau. I've only ever been to Cafe Cluny for brunch, but I hear they pull their weight for lunch and dinner, too, serving ricotta and green garlic pesto stuffed handkerchief pasta (that just sounds delicious) and a supposedly awesome tuna burger.

Cafe Cluny's breakfast club w/ fried egg, lettuce, avocado, tomato and spicy mayo
(I left out of the normally included bacon) - $15

The breakfast club is the model embodiment of brunch - breakfast elements served in a typical lunchtime vessel. Its makings are simple, common provisions likely found in your kitchen, but don't fool yourself into thinking it would taste half as good chez toi. What really brings this brunch megamix together is the spicy mayo. It provides just enough kick to ignite your taste buds for the day. As well, it pulls double-duty as the perfect emulsifier to blend all of the ingredients together into holistic brunch bliss. Another of its high points is the seemingly non-choice you have regarding the bread. Your server won't ask you what type of bread you would prefer (white or brown), alleviating the need for that racist debate of good vs. cardboard. Fewf.

The sandwich comes with a choice of fries or salad. While I'm not big on skinny fries (I'm sure we can all agree that McDonald's has just set the bar too high), they are far better to dip into the surplus spicy mayo than pieces of lettuce.

Overall, Cafe Cluny is a safe bet for any time of day. With a frisée salad on the regular menu (you know how I feel about that), the place isn't the most Plebe out there, but in terms of bang for buck, portion size and reliability, it's par for the course.

Cafe Cluny
284 W. 12th Street
NY, NY
(212) 255-6900
http://cafecluny.com
I don't believe they take weekend brunch reservations via Open Table, but with two dining rooms (and the ice cream cart during the summer), the wait is bearable. Reservations are suggested otherwise.

Honorable Mention: Leméac's French toast dessert

Pas mal

I feel like I've put on weight recently. Rather than be horrified and use my toothbrush for purposes other than dental hygiene, I've decided to take a more positive mental (and physical) approach. As I write this I am looking over the Crete Senese, a Bob Ross painting-like area in Tuscany. Google it. I had a hunk of parmigiano for breakfast (and a bit more for lunch), I won't deny it. Life could be worse than an extra 5 pounds.

Rewind three weeks. Two of my best pals and I are finally in the same area code after weeks of traveling for work (or in my case, to put in some face time with Samburger in D.C.). We decided to reunite at the lovely Leméac on Laurier to fête the belated birthday of B, a trooper of a clothing sales rep who's been peddling her wares on the road for weeks (with only hand luggage, no less!)

I hadn't been to Leméac in years, but as resident restaurant chooser I figured it was a safe bet, and it was. I know they have that Plebe-friendly $25 after 10 p.m. deal, but there was no way we were waiting until the double-digit hours to commence our evening.

We ordered well:

To start:

-Mushroom ravioli with cream sauce, pine nuts and arugula ($15)

-Panko-crusted goat cheese, apple and walnut salad ($12)

Mains:

-Classic tartar ($25 - a bloody fortune for something that does not come with a side, or BMW) with potato puree ($6)

-Truffle oil tartar ($25), which tasted no different than the Classic, with fries ($6)

-Mussels & fries (oddly not on the online menu, unless I'm visually challenged)

The food was nice, don't get me wrong. It just wasn't the type of meal I'd write home - or on the internet - about. For those prices I far prefer either of the Tavern locations (Monkland or Westmount). However, there was one major standout: the famed French toast dessert.

Aside from all the picci, pizza, parmigiano, Prosecco, prosciutto, and all the other P (and other letter) foods I've been inhaling while in Italy, Leméac's French toast dessert is the reason I now need Spanx.

French toast w/ milk jam ice cream and maple caramel - $12

First you have the hunk of bread. I'm inclined to say it's brioche (correct me if I'm wrong). Perfectly charred, perfectly plump, perfectly puffy on the inside - the Pavarotti (RIP) of French toast. Then there's the generous scoop of "milk jam" ice cream. I use quotes because I don't get this whole milk-flavored ice cream trend. I recently sampled NYC's Momofuku Milk Bar's "milk jug" iteration and was equally confused. Call me ignorant, but it tastes like vanilla. Either way, it was ample enough to provide a frosty reservoir in every spoonful of the French toast. To top it off you have the maple caramel - the ultimate hybrid of warm sugars - which cascades over the French toast and pools beneath it. 

My birthday is next month (April 15th, to be exact). Instead of the perennial Loblaws cake, I think I'll opt for Leméac's French toast. Think they'd mind if I just dropped in for dessert? I'll need a table for three - me and my love handles. 

Leméac
1045 Laurier O.
Montreal, QC
(514) 270-0999
www.restaurantlemeac.com
Reservations through OpenTable

Scarpetta

Before planning a special meal, especially in NYC, I do so much research I inevitably render myself into a state of analysis paralysis. I Chowhound, I blog, I Yelp and I cross-reference until even the most appetizing of options gets nixed. 

I really need a hobby.

Nevertheless, after my hopes for reservations at both Locanda Verde and Marea were squashed I decided to take a gamble on Scarpetta. I'm always reluctant of restaurants with multiple outposts (there's a Scarpetta in every city rappers rap about, or own property), but I was too frustrated to keep clicking.

Fast-forward two weeks.

My travel companion, Mother Plebe (MP), and I hopped in a cab and got dropped off at the corner of West 14th and Hudson St. Pirating the celestial light from the adjacent Apple store, I consulted my phone to get the exact address. The damn map showed it was on the corner! It was cold and my new shoes were pinching.

We finally found the place by sheer miracle. The entrance was so dimly-lit the only thing I could see clearly was the glaring B grade from the Department of Health posted in the window. I know the letter grading scheme is so sensitive that even a paperwork snafu could affect a restaurant's standing, but still. Eek.

We check in, give our coats to the hostess and shimmy over to the bar. It's so friggin' dark that I briefly lose my mother in the crowd. I use my phone to navigate the territory. Surprisingly, MP is less bothered than I am. All of a sudden she makes a spotting: Monica Lewinsky. Her hair totally gave her away. You'd think her layers would've grown out by now.

Image via camillesdish.com

Finally it's time to sit. We score a cozy table by the window replete with natural light and a banquette to spare our purses from the floor.

Naturally, we begin with a bread basket. I had read about the meat and cheese-infused bread, but never in my life did I imagine something so divine. Ironic, because to me it totally tasted like Bar Mitzvah hors d'oeuvres (the amazing kind). I was too entranced to take my own pic, but here is one I borrowed off the interwebs.

(Please excuse the less-than-stellar quality pics. I was too shy to use flash considering I would've likely blinded someone.)

Seared sea scallops - $19

I'm normally not wooed by scallops, but these were impressive. The two honkers, smothered in a sweet, almost honey-like sauce, were the perfect preview to the evening's meal.

Spaghetti with tomato and basil - $24

I should've trusted my gut, and the internet, on this one. This dish is supposed to be a Scarpetta staple, but I read a handful of reviews citing major "over-hypedness". Over-hyped, indeed! It's friggin' spaghetti and tomato sauce. Sure, it was tasty and satisfying, but for $24? The one thing I will say is that the sauce was really nice. I'm no tomato sauce aficionado, but this was sweet and coated the noodles evenly and generously. Nothing I hate more than those watery sauces with isolated glops of tomato.

Was I missing something here? If so, enlighten me. PS. Doesn't it totally look like a brain?

Black taglioni w/ seafood ragout
and basil bread crumbs - $28

MP loved this dish. I only managed to score a few bites, but from what I tasted it was
well balanced - not too seafood-y, not too creamy - and nicely complemented by the bread crumbs. I was also pleased to notice the generous chunks of seafood (for $28 they better be!) Although dwarfed by the giant bowls, both pasta dishes were fairly portioned.

Chocolate cake w/ salted caramel gelato
and chocolate butterscotch - $11

Oh, ma damn, I am still thinking about this dessert. I never really got the whole "salted" dessert bit until I tried Lindt's Fleur de Sel bar; what a novel concept. That being said, the real star of this dish was the salted caramel gelato. This was dead sea style salty, but it worked well - amazingly well, in fact. Coupled with the "this is soooo worth not fitting into my leather leggings" molten chocolate cake and the I'm-Skor's-younger-bitchier-cousin chocolate butterscotch, this was literally the perfect dessert. Except for the fact that I had to share it with MP. Lame.

Overall, our meal was lovely. Nothing awe-inspiring (except for that dessert), but solid, delicious food with super attentive service, to boot.

Price: Mother Plebe paid. Gd bless her.

Scarpetta NYC
355 West 14th Street
NY, NY
(212) 691-0555
www.scarpettanyc.com
Reservations are a good idea
www.opentable.com/scarpetta-new-york

Rubirosa

I'm really sorry I didn't snap a pic of Rubirosa's facade. It was cold and I was about to gnaw off my arm from hunger. Imagine an old school barbershop, pizzeria, and Rag & Bone store all in one. Totally hipster apropos.

The first thing I remember about my evening at Rubirosa was the Brawny man/Ryan Reynolds hybrid seated at the bar with his date. She was fawning all over him and understandably so. Dude was a fox! I may or may not have tried to nuzzle him while we waited (earmuffs, Samburger). Fifteen minutes past our 9:45 p.m. reservation my four pals and I were seated in the restaurant's middle dining room. 

Fun fact: Rubirosa is deceptively roomy; there are three separate dining spaces. 

Next to us was a party of 20-somethings celebrating a birthday. The girl seated at the head of the table was straight out of Black Swan, the vulture part. Girlfriend did not touch a bite of food all night! (I know because I kept looking to see if she was growing black feathers.) Barring the possibility that she may have been lactose intolerant, that was the greatest exercise of willpower I have ever seen.

Never hearing of such a word, our table went hog wild. One of my co-diners and I had even mentally concocted our orders earlier that afternoon.

Bruschetta: Meatball - besciamelle, tomato parmigiano; Tomato - mozzarella, balsamic, basil;
Mushroom - ricotta, parmigiano, pignoli nuts ($3/piece) 

We decided to amuse our bouches with some bruschetta. I opted for the standard tomato. I'm partial to the traditional diced variety so I was a bit disappointed with this "deconstructed" version. Either way, it was super tasty. The real star, however, was the meatball offering. I had major order envy after another of my pals was gracious enough to offer me a bite (read: she turned her head for a moment and I snagged that sucker). Wow wow wow. The meat was so tender, the sauce so meatballicious, and don't even get me started on the cheese. I contemplated ordering one, but then felt myself being judged by Black Swan girl. 

Arugula salad: tomato, ricotta salata, lemon vinaigrette ($10)

I normally hate arugula, but this was lovely. The lemon vinaigrette made it super zesty and light. 

Rubirosa salad: arugula, tomato, mozzarella, croutons, parmigiano, balsamic

Look at those slabs of parm! I so appreciate a restaurant that doesn't skimp on parm. We know it's expensive; we know your Mulberry Street rent is high. So kudos, Rubirosa, on going big where it counts. Despite my puny portion given the five-way split, I absolutely loved this salad. 

Ricotta ravioli: butternut squash, brown butter, sage ($25 - large portion)

Ricotta? Check. Butternut squash? Check. Happy Plebe? You betcha. It's hard to hate on something that combines two of my all-time favorite ingredients. The ravioli plus the squash was surprising light, but bang-on in flavor. I'll admit, though, I would've loved to see a little more cream in this dish. I'm gross that way. 

Vodka pizza: vodka sauce, fresh mozzarella ($16 - smaller portion)

Rubirosa had me at Vodka pizza. I had never seen such a novelty! I easily could've polished off the entire thing, but again fell victim to the five-way split. Sometimes having friends is a major inconvenience. I'm generally not a thin-crust gal, but this pie holds its own without the bulk. Not too crunchy, not too floppy. All-around incredible. Rubirosa's Vodka pizza will no doubt be a repeat offence.

Bianca pizza: ricotta, fresh mozzarella, parmigiano ($16 - smaller portion)

It was weird, I had a completely adverse reaction to the Bianca. What's there not to love about this orgy of dairy all-stars? I guess I'm just spoiled by Jane's rock-my-world version. My pals, however, greatly enjoyed it.

The menu boasts several stellar-sounding dishes, so if you can bear to share I suggest going with your gang and chowing down on as much as possible.

What makes Rubirosa so Plebe friendly are the gargantuan-sized portions. Those "small" pizzas easily fed five of us, as did the heaping platter of Ravioli. And despite the hipster crowd and uber-cool Soho address, the place is super casual, cozy and totally unpretentious.

Price: $110 + tip, split five ways.

Rubirosa
235 Mulberry Street
NY, NY

(212) 965-0500
www.rubirosanyc.com
Definitely make a reservation, but call instead of using Open Table. 

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