The French invasion of Montreal, Montreal Gazette, T'Cha Dunlevy, December 28, 2019

My wife and I got back a couple of weeks ago from Canada—Toronto, Niagara Falls, Montreal—and as usual, I did some reading about the various places we were in. One of the things I looked up was French immigration to Montreal, which an acquaintance there mentioned to me, and which surprised me. I would have figured it went the other way: French Canadians choosing the French over the Canadian, and going to the real thing. But, this acquaintance told me, young French people have trouble getting a foothold in France’s secure but rigid society, particularly in terms of careers. And so I found an article which put numbers and details on exactly this phenomenon:

Sophie Lagoutte, the consul general of France in Montreal, is part of the new wave of French immigration by default, having landed in our city in August to take her post.

“It’s fantastic,” she said of Montreal. “Professionally and in terms of lifestyle, it’s a city that is extremely dynamic, economically and culturally. It’s very cosmopolitan, and the quality of life is exceptional.”

There are some 60,000 French nationals registered with the Consulat général de France à Montreal, living in and around the metropolitan area. The actual numbers are estimated at close to double that, according to Lagoutte.

And:

“We see people of all ages arriving,” Lagoutte said. “There’s no ‘type,’ But what’s peculiar about Montreal is that people settle here for the long haul. We’re not talking about expatriation so much as immigration.”

Montreal offers French citizens a foothold in North America, without the language barrier. They come for school, to find work, launch businesses or just to see what all the fuss is about.

There are also a bunch of profiles of individuals which flesh this all out. Interesting stuff. So close to the United States, but culturally so distinct.

Exploring Canada’s Fertile Niagara Wine Region, New York Times, Florence Fabricant December 17, 2015

Another thing we did was a guided winery tour with a driver. I’ll write more about that, but the short of it was the wine was not outstanding (with the exception of the famous ice wine). However, many people either think the wine is very good, or that the region is maturing and has real potential to become very good.

The area about a half-hour west of Buffalo is home to a wine region of depth, diversity and distinction.

And as delicious as the local ice wine may be, it alone does not tell the story of the region, any more than Sauternes defines Bordeaux. Finally, dry table wines are coming from a country better known for polar bears than for pinot noirs.

And:

In 1974, the first new winery license was issued since the end of Prohibition in the 1920s and ’30s. In 2012, 17,000 acres of vineyards had been planted in Ontario and 86 percent were on the peninsula.

At around 43 degrees, the region is at roughly the same latitude as Northern Italy. Lake Ontario along its northern edge moderates the climate, which is similar to that of Burgundy, France. The terroir and the microclimate suit riesling, chardonnay, cabernet franc, gamay and pinot noir grapes, among others.

That is about when Napa, California really broke out, though they had been producing low-grade wine for a long time.

This bit gives you an idea of what’s made here:

In the nearby hamlet of Jordan, there’s a country inn and a restaurant owned by Cave Spring Cellars. The specialty is riesling; the wines vary from bone dry, austere and tart, to fuller-bodied and off-dry. Also in Jordan, François Morissette is the winemaker for Pearl Morissette, a no-frills winery he owns with Mel Pearl, an entrepreneur. Both share a passion for Burgundian-style wines.

In addition to supple chardonnays, Mr. Morissette is making pinot noirs that he says he’s “not proud of yet,” and gamay. His 2011 pinot noir still has tannic grip. It needs time. His 2013 gamay, made without sulfites, is rounder and burlier. The winery’s chardonnays are complex yet mineral-driven, with well-toned, juicy acidity.

If wine interests you at all, read the whole thing!

Tapping the Flavors of a Quebec Sugar Shack, New York Times, Oliver Schwaner-Albright, February 3, 2009

In what was not our best meal but probably our best dinner experience, we drove close to two hours (50 minutes without traffic on the way back) to a “sugar shack,” a maple syrup producer open to the public, out west of Montreal.

This 2009 review/essay lines up pretty exactly with our experience, except that we didn’t stay in a cabin overnight, which the property also offers. I’m going to write more about this too, so I won’t say too much, but it was a unique and wonderful experience. This sets the tone:

Sure, tapping sugar maples and boiling the sap might be one of winter’s most enduring images. But it’s one thing to glance at the tiny illustration that decorates almost every bottle of maple syrup (trees and snow, buckets and a cabin), and quite another to spend a frigid day visiting a Québécois cabane à sucre, or sugar shack, and discover that it’s all true: the snowy hills and horse-drawn sleigh, the buckets hanging from trees emptied by burly men with beards.

Or at least that’s what I found at Sucrerie de la Montagne, a rustic compound of split-log cabins that’s just a 45-minute drive from downtown Montreal but looks as though it could be from the 18th century.

Give it a read.

California’s Cut: Everything There is to Know About Tri-Tip, Santa Maria Valley

And now for the non-vacation-related piece, on a cut of steak originating in, and mostly known in, California: the tri-tip.

It’s always interesting to me that in different countries—or, here, states—the same, familiar cow is butchered differently, such that there are literally cuts you cannot find in this place or that place. (Wegmans sells tri-tip; I’m not sure I’ve seen it anywhere else.) And part of it is economics too:

Because it comes from the tip of the sirloin, there is only one cut of tri-tip per side of beef—so butchers used to think it was a waste to use display space to display a steak they could only offer 1-2 of. Instead, butchers would ground the tri-tip into ground beef for hamburgers, or cut it into small cubes and sell it to customers as stew meat. (If only they knew what they were missing out on!)

The tri-tip also has a classic preparation style, which predates the widespread use of the cut itself:

The iconic Santa Maria Style barbecue started as top-block sirloin roasted over a red oak fire—a tradition that dates all the way back to the Valley’s rancheros in the mid 19th century.

Apparently, some people question whether this is a legitimate “barbecue” style rather than simply “grilling,” but I’m inclined to let the Californians decide that for themselves.

Related Reading:

New and Old #71

New and Old #72

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