L’Express: Montreal’s Bistro

I didn’t get to l’Express for 4 years because I assumed it couldn’t live up to its hype. I figured it’d be just okay. I figured I’d get out of there without breaking the bank, but I’m more into food than wine, and I figured my money wouldn’t be well-spent overall since I thought it was known for well-priced wine more than well-priced food.

But I was wrong. It’s classic. It’s well-priced. It’s polished. It’s not intimidating but it’s efficient and beautiful and delicious. It’s got class but it’s friendly. It’s everything a true bistro should be. It feels Parisian. The black and white, checkered marble floor, the bustling atmosphere. The abundance of helpful servers in sharp uniforms. The baguette. The early morning breakfast hours and the late-night after-concert, romantic date, dinner with friends, casual, special, or cover-all-your-bases hours. The self-serve jar of cornichons on every table. We could be just inside a terrasse off the Seine. A stroll away from the Louvre. A high-speed train from Milan, but why would you go there when you’re in Paris?

The wine list was as impressive as I expected – all private imports and unique French bottles, and very reasonably priced. But the food won me over. It was seasonal. Sure, the ubiquitous duck confit salad was there (preserved duck is always seasonal), but I didn’t expect the fiddleheads, or the arugula and crevette de matane salad, or the ridiculously tender octopus stacked salad.

It was art. I’m sure the duck confit (which I didn’t order) was stupendous, and I wish I could eat bread so I could have had the marrow bones and scooped the rich fat from inside the giant log-like skeleton onto bread, sprinkled it with salt, and savoured every bite.

I also didn’t expect the menu to be so practical, listed top to bottom in order from least to most expensive dish, skipping the traditional appetizer and main separation. It’s written in cursive writing and oh-so-quaint.

And the elusive “secret” wine list I’d heard so much about – for those in the know – seems to be a thing of the past. Now there’s the list of bottles and the one-page of by the glass or half-litre. And a half-litre for two ladies enjoying a night out was more than enough.

Only twice have I had such professional service in Montreal – the first time at MAS Cuisine in Verdun, the second at Le Club Chasse et Peche. Two youngish women treated respectfully, without the assumption that they’re not worth the server’s time because they’re not going to spend a fortune. And what do they know about good food?

We knew enough to enjoy and appreciate.

And I remembered to thank the server at the end, explaining that it had taken me 4 years to get to the restaurant and it had surpassed my expectations. He beamed.

THE FOOD

Octopus is often tough and chewy. This was not. Even the tentacle garnish with the roasted red peppers and olive slices were lovely. Toss in some briney cornichons from the giant mason jar to cut through the richness of the diced octopus salad in homemade mayo, hidden inside that lined tower of octopus, and eat with the fresh baguette – crusty on the outside, chewy but not soft, on the inside.

One more stacked wonder in the form of black beans topped with oil-kissed and softened arugula topped with sweet and juicy local shrimp (’tis the season, though they’re available frozen year-round). Plus a few non-local, less sustainable shrimp (I think) on the side. Garnished with chives and lemon. Beautiful. Fresh. The only thing that didn’t make sense were the black beans, but maybe bistro dishes have a tradition of pairing meat or fish with legumes (not just lentils or white beans with lamb)? I don’t know where the black beans came from, but maybe I don’t go to bistros – or Paris – enough. There is an obvious solution to this problem.

Of course, you could skip all this salad nonsense and go right to the steak-frites. Yes, French fries are very French bistro. And here they’re very perfect. With a composed chive butter and the requisite Dijon for dipping. The server didn’t even grimace when we asked for medium – the standard perhaps being a little bloodier. Points for decorum.

And look at those fries. Those are not anorexic potatoes. Those are also not Belgian gluttons. No adornments, such as vegetables. If you want those, order the fiddleheads. Just a sprig of parsley to contrast the rich meat.

The pickle-free, bistro way to cut the richness is with wine. White or red; there’s no rule here. Just something you’ll enjoy. I suppose that’s the (best) rule. We enjoyed red – a Bordeaux (of course?) from Chateau La Tuilerie de Puy. Any Bordeaux on the menu would probably have worked, and this was a very reasonably priced suggestion from our server, who by now had us eating out of the palm of his hand while still not over-selling us. I’m actually about 90% certain that every red on the by-the-glass list would go just fine with the bavette, since half the customers probably order the bavette, and the sommelier will hedge his bets by creating a wine list surrounding this assumption to help diners not mess up.

Dessert was too much for us after such a lovely meal, but I was very happy to not see just creme caramel or mouseux au chocolat on the menu. The pastry chef must be a much happier person here, given his liberty to create. $40 each including tax and tip – you can do a lot worse. Cafe Cherrier is cute. Au Petit Extra is satisfying. But this…this is Paris.

L’Express
How Much: $40 including tax, tip and a half bottle of wine
Where: 3927 St-Denis (north of Sherbrooke metro)
When: Mon-Fri 8am to 2am, Sat 10am to 2am, Sun 10am to 1am
Why: Did you read above? This is not the Coles Notes section of the review (that’s my Parisian attitude)
514-845-5333