The Platonic crème brulee

So how wonderful is this? The sun is finally out here in Montreal (although it’s still not warm enough to go walking at the Botanical Gardens), and I’ve just watched a matinee at our favorite movie theatre, Ex-centris (where buying a ticket is what Jude likes to call a HCI experience...). Am now sitting in a cafe along Ste. Laurent (that doesn't appear to have a name) enjoying a deep dark coffee with what can only be described as the mother of all crème brulees, the Platonic crème brulee, the crème brulee that all crème brulees look at in envy before curdling up in inadequacy. The custard was chilling in the display case and torched just as I ordered it- golden and crusty on the outside, rich, smooth, creamy and cool as silk on the inside. Unspeakably marvelous... I think I’ve found my death-wish dessert** (this and my sister’s warm chocolate pudding). The only thing spoiling the whole experience is watching this old man in front of me unceremoniously gulping down his coffee (with four creams!) in between large mouthfuls of his baguette. Mouthfuls. Very large. At least have the courtesy to close your mouth as you chew sir…

The movie was good- Barbiers: Une histoire d’hommes. I made the mistake of not really checking the language it was going to be in and it ended up being in French with no subtitles. Amazingly, I understood more of it than I would have imagined, not because of any language abilities on my part (my French vocabulary is limited to food items- surprise, surprise- “please”, “thank you”, “exit”, and “sale”), but great camera work and cinematography that really captured the heart of these simple men. And here you thought you couldn’t have a genuine film about real men without the horses, guns or cars. The 20 percent I understood was a fascinating insight into the dying trade and a group of men who still think of their job as a craft. It was a portraiture that was sometimes incredibly sad (one man faithfully leaves his shop open from 7am to 7pm everyday only to be lucky to have two customers a day) but mostly heartwarming, especially the scenes where they all come together and talk about how no one really understands the skill to do what they do, and what finesse it takes to trim a person’s eyebrows and nose-hair…

[Status report on crème brulee: I’m on my last spoonful- of if my taste-buds had emotions, they would cry from sheer sadness. I wonder if anyone would notice if I licked the dish…]

Going to walk along for a while more. Want to see if I can find a good second-hand book store to find something to read. All along the Latin Quarter of Ste. Laurent and Ste. Denis, you can find wonderful gems of bookstores and vintage clothing places which are a refreshing change from the larger and sometimes more jarring establishments on Ste. Catherine. It’s a bit of a hike from anywhere and there isn’t really a Metro station nearby, but the weather is good- I’ll survive.

[Status report on crème brulee: It’s all gone. I think I’ve scraped the dish as clean as humanly possible with a spoon. Body parts would have to be operationalized if I want any more of the residue custard…]

Okey dokey, think I should get going. There’s no point in sitting here pining over the empty crème brulee dish- it’s not like it’s going to magically refill itself. Right? No? Please? More?... Till tomorrow if I find time (and the connection) to blog, this is the mournful dessert fiend reporting from Ste. Laurent, Montreal, Quebec!

** My way of describing the dessert I would want to have at my death-bed, the absolute last thing I want to remember this world by, a.k.a. all that is gastronomically sweet, good and pure.