Late Harvest (2)

The outdoor vendors were still selling exotic fruits, from pomegranates to pineapples and cactus pears. Aren't they beautiful? It wasn't until this past year that I made the connection between  grenade and grenadine.

Late in the day, prices are reduced...asparagus for $1.00 a bundle is pretty cheap. But these won't last longer than a day; I know, I've bitten the bait before.

There were fresh olives. Unusual.

But I headed inside, to where there are more prepared foods and specialty shops, like this vendor who sells all sorts of olives, marinated in different flavors, stuffed with different things, or dried and cured with spices.

A more local product: cranberries, or canneberges in French.

There were soft fresh farmer's cheeses...

and lovely women selling pastel-colored macarons to little girls. These cookies are in exotic favors: the labels I can see are apricot/black tea, and tire d'érable, which I think we could translate as "pulled maple taffy" -- it's what the French call "sugar-on-snow."

And it's oyster season; these huitres are different prices depending on their origin, all from the Atlantic coast. I wish I could eat them, but I can't! I was amused by the name for the specially-priced box.

But this is where I ended up, after buying a tin of black cumin from Uzbekistan from a spice merchant who gave me a wonderful lecture, illustrated with scents, about the different origins and types of black cumin seeds.

These cheese are all made from sheep's milk; my favorite, along with goat's milk cheeses. Ideally I would have liked one of those white pyramids -- but $9 each? -- instead I bought a small slice of one of the hard, aged rounds at far left after the maker gave me a petit gout -- incredibly delicious. We made it last two evenings, with a glass of wine.

And then, in the twilight, I rode back home on this bike/walking path that goes along the Canadian Pacific tracks at the top of the Plateau.

There are lots of warehouses and old factories along the tracks, like the one where we have our studio, and on the track-side, they ae often covered with graffiti and tags. It looks like a rather unsavory place, but it's actually quite safe, and people are using the path all the time. You can get quickly from the eastside, near de Lorimier and Iberville, over to Mile End, without ever stopping for a traffic light.

And at the end of the path, I was treated to the rising full moon, pink and beautiful over the city, and not made of bleu cheese at all.

Comments

[Frances/Materfamilias]

Lovely! It's been far too long (four years? five?) since I visited Montreal, and you're making me wish I could be there now. . .(and I remember my own moment of making that connection between "grenade" and "grenadine" . . . a-ha!)

[Leslee]

Wonderful! I was going to comment yesterday but was viewing on my phone - too hard. Just as well I waited to Part 2. I just had dinner, yet these photos make me hungry all over again.

[Duchesse]

I'm there about daily, and it always gives me a lift, between the beautiful, unprocessed foods, the eminently watchable crowds (or on a quiet morning, the drifting what-looks-good shoppers), the children- all is well in that world. And, with really good cheese, even a small slice is satisfying and worth the price.

There is always a small treasure to bring home!

[Dominic]

Grenades, grenadine... Then there are "olives", that look like olives, a lot more peaceful, that plumbers put in pipe joints (I did a bit of amateur plumbing recently and had reason to use and to reflect on them).

[Hattie]

This makes me feel like I have had a nice day in Montreal. I really envy the variety of foods you can get there. We eat well here in Hawaii, but our choices of cheeses are limited, and there is no really good bread to be had. Can you get good chicken? I've given up on eating it,because even the organic chicken we buy does not taste good.

[Peter]

I was fascinated by the picture of the trackside wall encrusted with graffiti. I wonder if the content -- aside from the language -- and customs of Montreal graffiti is like to or different from what you might see in New York City. (For me, classic French is hard enough without practicing for 40 years; French-Canadian slang is beyond me.)