I know fish isn’t for everyone, but you can’t get away from the media brainwashing us with the health benefits of fish as though we’re some fatty-acid deficient zombies. The jingle ladened commercials of my youth never mentioned the Omega-3s that we have become such perverts for – they only preached consuming our strawberries if it came rolled up in plastic, listening to some red-headed clown and his posse pedal a nutritious family McMeal, then washing everything down with monosyllabic neon coloured drinks packed with wholesome goodness that ate holes into your teeth while you slept. I mean, eating healthy isn’t all about twigs and berries and stuff you’d line the bottom of a hamster cage… where was I going with this? Oh yeah, fish. You don’t like fish? Hack it.
Tag:
fries
French fries and French toast, my mussels spoke French too – Restaurant Leméac
by Jason
written by Jason
I’m not even going to pretend that I’m not glad the snow is melting and the weather is getting nicer, but what I’m not excited about is the unthawing of the mounds and piles of dog shit my neighbour leaves on our front lawn. Born and raised in Montreal, you’d think that either I’ve gotten used to this or at least tolerate it. I do tolerate the snow, just not the regression of humanity when it starts snowing during rush hour and idiot drivers kiss each others ass and crawl through red lights in solidarity with the car in front of them. I took the opportunity on a rare sunny and warm March day to go out and breath in the ranky air and take advantage of the sun.
When I say “pub grub” what do you think of? An old dusty basket packed to the top with gloopy-suaced chicken wings and recycled carrot and celery stick? Fries fried in oil that’s probably as old as the recipe for the stout they have on tap? Now what do you think of when I say “Gasto-Pub”? Contrary to what the name implies, it’s not a place where you’ll get some stomach bug and forced into isolation from friends and family and treated like you own a Clay Aiken album.
My “vanilla couple”, (the ones who like to order the same thing unless I yell at them – as illustrated in my post about dinner at Osteria Venti) and I hit up this spot overlooking the Jean Talon Market. I cornered them and bullied them into ordering different things this time, I refuse to try a new menu and have only 2 different meals amongst three people! We went to check out Le Pourvoyeur – gastro-pub to grub on the menu and try to decide if they were pub, or restaurant, or proverbially, chicken or egg.