Our jaunt to Montreal

I thought I had better describe the Otto Dix exhibition in a separate post. Apart from that worthwhile but upsetting experience, we spent a very cheerful time in Montreal.

Carol, Don, Elva, Laurie, Jill, John, Chris and I had seats booked in the business class car of the outward bound train on Thursday evening. The fare included the cost of a very nice meal, a choice of drinks (wine, beer, whisky...) on board and the use of a "Panorama Lounge" offering complimentary hot drinks and newspapers before departure. I don't want to sound like an advert for Via Rail, but we appreciated this. We sat together, served by a suitably obsequious waiter who had to deal with only four other people at the far end of an otherwise empty coach, so he was in a good mood. He gave us an extra box of chocs at the end which we set aside for the economy class return leg. Since we didn't set off until after nightfall, we saw little of the scenery in either direction.

The meal, lasting for half the way to Montreal, began with cheese with grapes. Then there was a Thai curry with Jasmine rice with "a water chestnut and red pepper-bean medley" and a chocolate square with caramel and almonds. At the end of the journey, all we had to do was find the correct escalator from the station concourse up to the lobby of the Queen Elizabeth hotel, lavish with poinsettias and Christmas trees, and check in to our rooms on the 15th floor. Ours had a good view.

We met for a walk under the Christmas lights around the McGill University area, entertained by the tottering high heels and mini skirts worn by the young females of the city, before retiring for the night.

We had breakfast next morning at Nickels on Maisonneuve, a 1950s style diner decorated with icons of the '50s, the picture on the stairway to the washooms being this one. After that Chris and I headed towards the exhibition at the Beaux Arts Museum via a bookshop where he picked up some more resources for his latest history studies. Reeling from our immersion in Otto Dix and his art, we stopped at Wrapcity Gourmet before wandering back to our hotel room to put the books down, where I lay on the bed and didn't wake up again until nearly 5. Meanwhile, Chris joined the others' shopping spree and, encouraged by Carol and Elva, would have bought himself a new jacket if it hadn't been for the long queue at the cash desk.

After my siesta, Carol, Chris and I swam in the hotel pool and sat in the whirlpool, meeting the others in the lobby at 7. Most of our party had walked for miles round the Vieux Port that day so during our 4km walk to supper at Plein Sud I must have been the least footsore. Jill, who had made the booking, promised us a good supper. The night was mild, the snow beside the damp streets rapidly melting. With Laurie's iPhone GPS and Jill's memory of her home city for guidance we made our way along rue Sherbrooke, crossing St Urbain, St. Laurent, etc., crossed the Carré St Louis, then went up lively rue St Denis for six blocks till we found our destination street, Ave. Mont Royal. We arrived at the restaurant on time, just before 8 o'clock.

Our supper, cooked by the family from Bordeaux and served with three bottles of wine, not to mention the Kir, was nothing less than superb. From the menu displayed on a blackboard behind our table, I had the ...

KIR ACCOMPAGNÉ DE SES TAPAS (the tapas being little tarts filled with foamed goat's cheese––espuma de chèvre frais––and finely chopped herbed tomatoes) 

BOUCHÉE AUX PETONCLES ET PLEUROTES CREME AUX POIREAUX AU VIN BLANC LIQUOREUX (a vol-au-vent with scallops and mushrooms) 

A blurred picture of our supper table

SALADE DE ROQUETTE AUX DES DE FOIE GRAS, JAMBON DE MAGRET ET POMMES CARAMELISÉES (wonderfully flavoured arugula leaves) 

FILET DE BŒUF AU FOIE GRAS CRU ET SEL DE GUÉRANDE, DEMI-GLACE A L’ARMAGNAC, POMMES DAUPHINES ET HARICOTS VERTS (mmm! the meat tender beyond words)

MILLEFEUILLE AU CHOCOLAT ET CREME DE MARRONS AU CARAMEL A LA FLEUR DE SEL

The mysterious balls at midnight

The "caramel" and other garnishing sauces were blobbed onto our plates (none of them circular) in various interesting ways. What a work of art. The restaurant was quiet and cosy, besides, and we sat near the window through which we could see that it had begun to pour with rain. We did Chris' annual New Year's Predictions quiz between courses and found out who'd won last year's. It was Chris, who ceremoniously presented himself with the prize: a book about Ancient Persia. You can imagine the comments around the table.

Though the others opted for a ride home on the metro, Chris and I decided to return to the hotel on foot, a romantic walk through a quiet old quarter of the city (rue Laval) with midnight fast approaching. As 2010 switched into 2011, having wished one another a total of 40 happy new years to date, we were talking of transience and constancy in spite of change, and at that very moment were passing the fantastic glowing art installation at the Place des Arts, huge inflated balls that glowed from within and changed colour, blue, turquoise, purple and green. The rain was gently falling, but our coats dried out overnight.

On our way to and from the greenhouses

In the morning, another breakfast with the friends chez Nickels, after which I bought a mustard coloured, knitted tunic dress on sale in the hotel shop, and then we all took the metro to Pie IX for the Botanical Gardens, the greenhouses and Insectarium being open on New Year's Day, even though the cafeteria wasn't. I loved what I found in the greenhouses: the jungle plants that produce exotic spices, the hundreds of orchids in their subtle variety of shapes, textures and colours, the bamboo bridges, the little bananas growing on their stalk, the cacti displayed like a children's choir and the Chinese Garden of Weedlessness, the next best thing to being in China itself, where little Bonsai trees, some of them Chinese elms 75 years old or more, with tiny leaves, were displayed among the bamboo and the pointed rocks.

Chris liked the beetles best.