Montréal has several public markets; I’ve been to Marché Atwater, which was quite upscale. I’d heard that the Marché Jean Talon was more ethnic, so on Friday, after finishing a bulk of work, I decided to go check it out.
It’s a short walk from the Jean Talon métro stop, though there aren’t any signs directing one to the market, so I got a little lost at first. I ended up going in the opposite direction and accidentally discovered the promenade of Plaza St. Hubert, which is several blocks along Boulevard St. Hubert lined with shops and cafés and edged with wide sidewalks topped with a glass canopy that has large heat lamps along the top edges. I explored for a little bit, and eventually found the market by asking a woman on the street for directions.
The market is in the Little Italy section of Montréal, and is a little more working-class than the more trendy Atwater neighborhood, but the neighborhood around Jean Talon has much more life – Asian grocers, noodle houses, Italian bistros, Thai and Filipino restaurants, Middle Eastern grocers, shawerma stands …
My first stop was the Fromagerie Hamel, a very well-stocked artisinal cheese shop. I was quite impressed with their wide selection of Quebecois and French cheeses; if I hadn’t been flying out the next day, I would have purchased a few cheeses for a nice tasting plate for myself and the guy. They also had unique patés and terrines, one notably was rabbit with blueberries and maple syrup. A few years ago, my friend Alban in France treated me to a homemade rabbit terrine, so that brought back good memories. I’ve definitely bookmarked this shop and will return.
I purchased a tin of Twining’s Queen Mary tea, which I haven’t tried before and was intrigued by its description: “fine Darjeeling tea with Muscatel flavourings.” I also purchased some Chambly (a Quebecois brew) beer vinegar (merde, they had Maudite vinegar, too!) and a tin of violet candies (which I developed a hankering for when I visited Madrid in 2003.)
Then I discovered the artisinal ice creams. I whipped out the Sidekick and asked the boy via Instant Messenger, “So, should I get peach tarragon, strawberry basil vodka, or maple ice cream?” His response: “BUY THEM ALL!!!” So I did.
In this store, they also had a bottle of lobster oil or huile d’homard, which I promised myself I will purchase in 2 weeks when I go back to Montréal.
I wandered around the market for a bit – I love seeing rows and rows of shiny, colorful vegetables neatly arranged in baskets. I purchased some maple tea and maple hot chocolate as well, and a bunch of glistening green grapes to eat on the flight home. Large winter squashes were cut in quarters, orange flesh and white seeds exposed; miniature, black-purple eggplants with green stems tantalized me to chop them up and make ratatouille; and homemade meat and fruit pies with perfect brown crust coverings and piles of mushrooms made me wish I wasn’t leaving the next day. There was a Middle Eastern bakery that had the most mouthwatering honey-drizzled and nut-stuffed pastry confections, and a bookstore devoted to only cookbooks. A patisserie had tartlets in various flavors, perfect for just popping in your mouth in a single bite, and the fresh seafood store had a fry vat where they would fry up your seafood purchase of choice; calamari, fish, shrimp, clams, or giant scallops nearly the radius of a tennis ball.
Damn, I love markets. Montréal still has a few more that I have not explored yet.
And, those ice creams were delicious.
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