Of Crêpes, Cats, and Calmness

Café Olimpico wasn't crowded when we arrived yesterday mid-morning, but half an hour later the line for coffee stretched all the way across the room. This little girl waited patiently for her mother; when we left she was eating a croissant and a small container of yogurt, and talking happily between every bite.

While V. and I ordered lattes, the guys went down the street to buy buckwheat crepes, which arrived folded in half and then in thirds to form a point at the bottom, and wrapped in a paper cone. The crepes -- dark, crusty on the edges, and dotted with fine holes -- had been buttered and dusted with plain sugar, and they were just about the best I've ever eaten, accompanied by the strong milky coffee. Our friends, who love food and cooking, had been at the Jean-Talon market, and told us they'd left V.'s mother sitting at the dining room table shelling not one, not two, but four huge bags of fava beans. The mother, who is from eastern Europe and lived for years under Communist rule during which a number of family members were imprisoned or exiled for their anti-Communist activities, jokingly calls these sorts of tasks - common in their fresh-food-intensive household - "labor camp."

After our brunch the friends took off for a visit to R.'s family in the Eastern Townships, and we got back on our bikes and rode over to Avenue du Parc, where J. took pictures of the old Theatre Rialto, and I visited a fruiterie where I bought a small box of Quebec raspberries and two "black velvet" apricots, which looked (and tasted) like dark furry plums. I also visited an excellent poissonnerie where the fish and shellfish were displayed like jewels peeking from a crystalline covering of ice chips: wild salmon; olive green sea urchins; ruffly skate; huge langoustines; snow crabs from the Isles des Madeleines in the Gulf of St. Lawrence; a box of fresh smelt shimmering like coins in a treasure chest; buff-colored pasta clams the size of a man's thumbnail; shining black mussels. We didn't buy anything, finally -- it wasn't cheap -- but will go back some day when we're entertaining. Then a quick ride back through Mile End to Fairmont, where we stopped at the Japanese paper store and I bought three sheets of printed paper for a project, and then rode home through the blocks of brick duplexes and triplexes with their wrought iron staircases, windowboxes and front gardens overflowing with flowers.

Today has been nice too: though the air was very still, and the cathedral was hot and humid, we heard a Lassus mass setting and the sermon (taking off from the Gospel reading of the parable of the good and bad seeds to talk about the un-calm "garden" that is the Anglican Church these days) mentioned the Japanese Garden post from these pages a few days ago. (You never know what will happen when you write these things!) The postlude was very fine -- it was a piece I didn't know: the Bach Allegro from the Concerto in d after Vivaldi.

Then we went off to Verdun and a wonderful lunch at a friend's house, during which we got to meet her beautiful new cat: a different but equally inspiring vision of repose and tranquility. Back home -- a nap -- some email -- a chicken, mango, and avocado salad for dinner, and now an evening stretching before me with no plans but some reading and listening to music.

In other words, a restorative and happy weekend. I needed it and I'm grateful.

Comments

[dale]

Oh, thank God. xoxoxo

[V.]

"Labour camp" yielded beautifully. Last bag of fava shelled today, and now all packed and frozen. My mum was beaming proud at her contribution: it's hard when there is so much you can no longer do.

Just the kind of weekend we needed too... We bought fresh berries and corn at a farm stand in the townships, and were shucking and hulling before even fully there. Foraged for mushrooms--creamed boletes on homemade bread for supper!

[leonardo Ricardo]

You first made me hungry, then you made me sleepy and now I'm fully relaxed...thank you.

[Fr. Scott]

That sermon must have been Joyce's.

:)

What a wonderful calm.

Thank you, Beth.

[Zuleme]

ooh, I would love to go to the Japanese paper store and I would love to try fresh fava beans. And Caturday would sure love to see another photo of that cat.
Sometimes you make me think of moving back to Montreal. It is such a nice, livable city.

[leslee]

Sounds wonderful. Glad you got a refreshing break this weekend.

[Kaycie]

It's good to read the contentment in between your words.