Recent news that Starbucks coffee outlets have been struggling (and occasionally closing) in Montreal elicited a shrug from me. I didn’t rejoice — after all, these businesses employ Quebecers. But I wasn’t surprised either.
Within a three-block radius of my St-Henri home I have access to a number of hyper-local, independently owned cafés that serve excellent coffee, often with a unique twist.
From long-established Campanelli (amazing coffee and the best homemade zucchini muffins) to Montreal institution Café Olimpico’s new Westmount offshoot, to newer establishments Pas de problème — a chill Jamaican café with no internet, excellent jerk-chicken grilled cheese and smooth soul tunes all day long — and Maison Aïdo — a patisserie café whose owner from Benin makes excellent bissap (hibiscus juice) and has infused her pastries with the spices of her home — why in the world would I go to Starbucks for some overpriced “Grande” caramel concoction masquerading as coffee?
It’s hard for generic chains to compete with these unique offerings, as well the personal connections, where the regulars often feel like they’re part of a family they’re helping keep in business.
And it’s not just cafés.
In my neighbourhood, you can find: Arthurs Nosh Bar, a modern twist on the Jewish diner; Satay Brothers, a Singaporean restaurant where the party never stops; Elena’s amazing pizza; Tuck Shop’s Quebec terroir cuisine; Tacos Frida, a family-run traditional Mexican restaurant that actor Russell Crowe raved about last year; Park’s phenomenal sushi; Bistro La Franquette’s amazing steak and homemade sourdough bread; Pikliz, with its yummy Haitian griot; and on and on.
I’m not pretending to be former Gazette food critic Lesley Chesterman, who just published a book raving about Montreal’s food scene. I’m just a food-obsessed Montrealer in love with this city’s offerings, and who can effortlessly recite suggestions if someone asks.
What if our politicians took their cues from Quebec’s culinary movers and shakers, who not only welcome diversity but celebrate and champion it?
While there’s no denying this city’s soul is French, if you really want to understand Montreal’s multiculturalism and diversity, all you have to do is check out our food scene. It’s there that you’ll see an organic, from-the-ground-up, unfiltered and non-curated image of what our metropolis is really about.
Yet, despite Montreal’s constantly evolving dining landscape, and each wave of immigration contributing its own signature cuisine and ethnic twists on local dishes, I’ve never once heard anyone lamenting that quintessentially Québécois poutine will be drowned out by other dishes.
On the contrary, la mixité has produced inventive variations of the classic dish: Ma Poule Mouillée’s chorizo-packed Portuguese poutine; jerk chicken poutine; shawarma poutine; Indian poutine; Greek gyros poutine; La Belle Tonki’s kimchee poutine; smoked meat poutine, etc.
I love how Montreal’s chefs and restaurant owners are each others’ biggest champions. How, when they’re asked to recommend places to eat, they’ll enthusiastically start rattling off a long list of names and places to be discovered. “Go here for this!” or “You need to try that!” and “Have you been to so-and-so’s for the pizza or the tuna or the smashed burger?”
What if we let this beautiful culinary kinship inspire us? What if our politicians took their cues from Quebec’s culinary movers and shakers, who not only welcome this diversity but celebrate it and champion it, understanding how it fundamentally makes this city and all of us who we are?
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What if Montreal’s culinary scene served as inspiration for all of us to celebrate our unique contributions to this city, what we each individually do well, without immediately assuming that any new addition automatically amounts to someone else’s loss? Because, in my mind, winning means having access to more of everyone’s heartfelt artistry.
Montreal is what happens when we champion and support a culture of abundance. A place where people not only celebrate their own unique cultures, but also fall in love with and are inspired by the city’s roots and heritage, creating a delicious new whole that honours the best of us all.
Toula Drimonis is a Montreal journalist and the author of We, the Others: Allophones, Immigrants, and Belonging in Canada.