Montréal En Lumière: A Dazzling Food Festival
If you've been wondering what it would be like to party your poutine off inside a titanic, twinkling snow globe, I've got news that'll brighten your day: the next Montréal en Lumière is less than nine months away, and it offers the closest conceivable alternative to making your farfetched, frosty fantasy come true. Mark your calendar.
Even if you've relegated the thought of dealing with low temperatures to the furthest recesses of your memory, you're probably thinking: "Wait a second: Just what exactly is this Montréal en Lumière all a-boot?" (in your most exaggerated Canadian accent, of course). You're also probably like: "Nine months sounds like a long time; what am I gonna do until then if I want a fix of Montréal festivals now?" Don't get icicles in your pajamas: later, I'll tell you about two major fests in the next couple of months that will tide you over 'til February 2015.
(Also, I'm 97% sure you're butchering the pronunciation of "Lumiere" (hint: it's not "Lou Meer") and you wouldn't want to feel the sting of any more dirty looks from French Canadians than they're already going to give you for screwing up their other words, so here.)
Now that you've honed your elocution of Quebecois French, let's delve into the details of MEL via a familiar comparison: it's the Northern answer to Mardi Gras, as they strike around the same time each year, substituting French onion soup, smoked meat sandwiches, parkas, and an enchanting, snowy setting in place of New Orleans' signature gumbo, po' boys, bead necklaces, and boozy parades. Instead of rambunctious crawfish boils at Audubon Park fueled by tipsy tourists, Tulane students, and truckloads of Turbodog, you'll find ski bums, socialites and students from McGill intermingling around public fire pits on Rue Sainte Catherine, toasting marshmallows and roasting cocktail franks on wooden skewers as snowflakes settle on the tips of their noses.
MEL beverages of choice are Labatt Blue and hot apple cider, although anything Molson will certainly do, and a few ice luge shots chased with rum punch will definitely do you dirty if you prefer that path. But let's not get too concerned with alcohol, as this festival is not just about getting wasted outdoors in the dead of winter; it's about evoking the senses through artistry in every possible way. For those who can handle a chill and find thrills in theater, art exhibitions, live music, and food-focused festivities, this is something to put at the pinnacle of your must-do list.
The week-and-a-half celebration spans three districts of the city on the island, and has a program featuring hundreds of chefs and artists, blending gastronomy, art and music in a way that enables attendees with a broad range of tastes to customize their own ideal itinerary. The permutations are aplenty, so if you and your friends can't agree on a plan, it's all good; you'll be able to split up without a hitch until you find an event that no one wants to miss. Most importantly, the city is safe (although be wary of boisterous McGill frat bros and pickpockets in packed places) and easy to navigate, with trains, taxis, free shuttles, and public buses to whip you around with relative ease.
There really is something for everyone. Whether you prefer house and electronic or indie, rock and folk, you'll find sounds to sate your soul. Whether your idea of stimulating art involves charcoal sketches and oil paintings, gargantuan sculptures (made of cardboard, perhaps), stand-up comedy shows, or dramatic plays, you won't have trouble finding any of the above, with an array of options in each category. And whether you're looking for a candlelit dinner with steak tartare and foie gras at a fancy French restaurant, or a raucous feast where you'll feel inclined to make fast friends at your forty-foot-long, fifty-seat-strong banquet table, you'll find culinary happenings to suit your every whim. Don't feel bad for missing it this year — this happens every MEL.
If their schedules allow for it, most guests hope to stick around for the festival's colossal conclusion, the Nuit Blanche. Just like how Mardi Gras reaches full force with a Fat Tuesday finale, the past eleven MELs have ended with this all-night, city-wide celebration that starts on its second Saturday evening. With over 350,000 guests hitting the streets to delight in over 200 events, the Nuit Blanche allows a gigantic group of revelers to each play out his or her own "Choose Your Own Adventure" tale amid Montréal's majesty. And with over 180 of those events being free–ranging from unusual art exhibitions in the Underground City and art auctions administered by grad students from UQAM, to 24 straight hours of vinyl records spinning songs at a dive bar and watching penguins do penguin things on the outskirts of town–it hits higher than Mount Royal on the bang-for-your-buck meter.
But lumière means "light," after all, and the producers of this super-shindig strive to makeover Montréal into a glistening wonderland that gets brighter each year. To provide some numerical perspective, this year over 400 workers used roughly 85 miles of technical wiring and nearly 1,500 projectors to transform the city's cultural center into the most brilliant backdrop they've ever created. Weather-wise, it may have been three-pairs-of-socks-cold sometimes, but it couldn't have worked out any better aesthetically when it counted the most, the city getting peppered with flurries during Nuit Blanche, its avenues and alleyways turning even more dreamlike, with trillions of snowflakes refracting multi-colored, pulsating beams of light everywhere you turned your gaze.
Sure, there were themed dinners, shows and concerts all over town to get worked up about every night of MEL, but the free outdoor site, with its millions of lights–was the place that never failed to leave me with my jaw hanging wide open, awestruck as a kid the first time inside FAO Schwarz. Every night when I arrived after the quarter-mile stroll from my homebase in Hotel Le Crystal, I stopped and stood entranced at the entrance, mesmorized by an incandescent ferris wheel spinning in the middle of the street, its LED lights pulsing to the beat of a DJs techno track.
Beyond the ferris wheel, with the Contemporary Art Museum of Montréal, Théâtre Maisonneuve, Salle Wilfrid-Pelletier and the Montréal Symphony House creating its borders, was the Esplanade de la Place des Arts, an open space with a stage for people to dance to the many DJs performing, fire pits for impromptu weenie roasts and making s'mores, and a winding, luminous "Urban Slide" stretching over 360 feet that allowed riders to emulate Olympic lugers in training, but at a safer speed.
On the opposite side of the museum was the Place des Festivals, the other half of the free outdoor space where more action took place. First, there was the RBC Stage, a much bigger stage where local musicians like Louis-Jean Cormier, DJs like ROUX Soundsystem, and VJs like Brille Brille Collective showcased their talents to a crowd that couldn't care less about the cold. Down on Rue Sainte Catherine, there was a photo booth that projected a magnified image of your best party face three stories high on the side of the Maison du Festivals Rio Tinto Alcan building. In the middle were two illuminated igloos, the larger of which served as a sit-down restaurant (Bistro SAQ) with wine pairings and gourmet food, the other its take-away counterpart (Bistro Express SAQ) serving edibles that were easy to eat on the go. Next to them stood a strange and brand new addition to MEL named Nucléus, a one-of-a-kind interactive game-meets-modern-art-installation that involved three-dimensional laser projections, smoke and lighting effects, and four contestants whose singular goal was to synchronize dance movements to a rollicking original soundtrack in order to generate enough energy to summon a creature made of light.
The main attraction in the Place des Festivals was a structure called the Cour RBC. Built from eighteen 40-foot shipping containers and crowned with a gable roof, it took a 110-ton crane and a team of fifty workers two weeks to set up, and the end result was a massive multimedia art project that felt like part rave, part lounge, part social experiment. The goal of its conceivers was to design different interpretations of Montréal apartments past and present upstairs along the perimeter, along with a centralized "backyard" on the lower floor. Somehow, they managed to execute their unvision down to details most designers wouldn't even consider.
Step inside the Cour RBC and you're immediately in another world. You enter into the wide-open "yard," t-shirts hanging out-of-reach on a clothesline overhead, a glimmering disco ball spinning on the ceiling as bass bumps and beats thump from oversized speakers. Bartenders shake up cocktails and pour pints of Molson Ice from their posts within a square bar girdled by glowstick twirlers, while more revelers dance like drunken fools with their arms in the air in the adjacent open space. When (if?) they tire out, partiers can stop for a rest at a high-top table, zone out watching the TVs lining the walls that continuously rebroadcast earlier shows interspersed with trippy, hypnotic patterns, or they can allow the aroma of cappuccino to lure them to a yet-to-be-discovered caffeine-oasis above.
Navigate through hipsters in fluorescent sunglasses and baby boomers with bourbon breath wearing denim vests to a steel staircase, make your way up and round a tight corner, and all of a sudden the Cour RBC's art project angle reveals itself. Now you're no longer in a rave at all; you've stepped into the light-blue-wallpapered day room of your theoretical Quebecois aunt's house, leftover mess from a game of Trivial Pursuit scattered haphazardly on the breakfast table, a dead giveaway that she was hitting the Canadian Club too hard last night and acting like a sore loser again. Amble through a doorway, and now you're in a totally different house–maybe inside your imaginary older brother's bedroom?– where Expos and Mets pennants are plastered on the wall, muffled announcers from a Habs-Pens game spew out of a static-cursed, vintage TV set from the 70s (momentarily cutting through the DJ's booming bass), and empty beer cans poke out from underneath a tattered recliner dotted with cigarette scars that was probably passed down from your pretend grandpa, Pierre. Pass through the next threshold and there's a teenage girl intensely engaged in a the version of Ms. Pac-Mac where you sit down in a tiny seat to play, and then there's another room with an entire wall filled with slots holding old-fashioned suitcases. After that, you find yourself inside the studio of Montréal's most angst-ridden artist: paint on every surface, tubes of acrylics oozing and tin cans crusted over, and palettes dry as desert dust strewn about as if you just missed walking in on a nervous breakdown.
If you still need more reasons to check out MEL in years to come, this next one's big: Each edition has a special theme that factors into every activity. This year, the producers chose to pay homage to home court for the first time in the festival's 15 years of running, dubbing the official theme "Spotlight on Montréal" after past festivals focused other parts of the world. This led to an array of events where you could eat the food that defines the region, including a showcase of 20 different cheesemakers from 11 regions of Quebec (involving the purchase of nearly four tons of cheese for tasting), and a wine-pairing brunch at Relais & Chateaux-rated Europea that was organized by the original "molecular sommelier," François Chartier, and Grand Chef Jérôme Ferrer. Even the Laurentians, the mountainous region of Southern Quebec, got love.
In addition, each MEL has recurring sub-themes, one being to honor a deserving U.S. city with a series of events. This year, the producers featured one of America's best dining cities, San Francisco, and invited some of SF's most inventive chefs, including Lazy Bear's David Barzelay, Quince's Michael Tusk, and SPQR's Matthew Accarino and Shelley Lindgren, to team up in the kitchens of Montréal's finest restaurants. This inspired the city's top culinary minds to produce eclectic menus that appealed to adventurous eaters.
There was an Alcatraz-themed dinner series at Le Margaux, a fancy forty-seater on Avenue du Parc where chef Jérôme Chatenet's menu told a story of a jailbird's escape from SF's notorious island prison through whimsical plate presentations and ingredient combinations. Chatenet and his staff went so far as to don striped jumpsuits for the occasion, and his sous chef even braved sub-zero (Celsius) temperatures outside to whip up a refreshing lollipop dessert made with two of Montréal's most notable treasures, maple syrup and snow, from the confines of a mesh cage that the restaurant erected on the sidewalk in front, solely for this event. Other SF-Montréal collaborations saw acclaimed chefs Emmanuelle Leftick and Julien Robillard step behind the burners at La Fabrique Bistrot to reunite with their former colleague, chef Jean-Baptiste Marchand, to prepare a five-course dinner that combined the talents they each gained from working under Michelin-starred chefs in the years since they cooked together in the same brigade system.
MEL's planning committee also chooses a different nation to receive spotlight each year, with Haiti receiving this edition's distinction. The sub-theme "Hats Off to Haiti" was built into the program, and esteemed Haitian chefs–like Jouvens Jean and Natacha Gomez–flew north to put together events around the city, including a cafe inside an igloo at the free outdoor space, a tap-tap bus serving authentic Haitian fare, and a performance by one of the island's most notable bands, Boukman Eksperyans.
To top things off, there was a 400-guest convivial meal on the evening of Nuit Blanche held in a sprawling hall in Old Montréal. Supervised by famed Haitian chef Stephan Berrouet Durand, the dinner included homey Haitian dishes like soupe giraumon with lamb (a pumpkin soup that's traditionally eaten on January 1st to celebrate Haiti's independence from France); conch fritters with a chili sauce so spicy it rendered me unable to utter words for several minutes; and bone-in chicken stewed with bell peppers, okra, and callaloo, topped with a rich, brown gravy flavored with black mushrooms. To liven up the suit-and-tie brigade, guests were poured unlimited cups of potent, pink punch spiked with Barbancourt rum (with a miniature umbrella hanging off the glass, of course). Most neckties were loosened after the first hour in.
For the three nights my girlfriend and I attended this year's MEL, which concluded with Nuit Blanche, we went to meals and events nonstop. Everything we did we'd do again, and a few of our picks were more exceptional than the rest. Before we get to them, here's a bit of advice: if you don't speak or understand French (like us), double-check any events you're interested in to see what language they're in, as some are solely in French (this is French Canada, after all). We neglected to pay attention to this, and it led to some funny interactions where I had to bust out my full arsenal of hand gestures. Luckily, it also landed us at an all-French concert that turned into one of the best parts of our trip (see below). As such, don't ever let the spoken language dissuade you from going to an event if it involves music or food, as you may discover an unexpected treasure when you force yourself out of your lingual comfort zone, and it's only a "language barrier" if you make it one.
And now for the highlights:
This themed dinner was held at Restaurant Carte Blanche on Ontario Street East, a 10$ cab ride from the free outdoor space, and it was our first meal in town. Chef André Loiseau took inspiration from the architecture and natural environment of his city, using local ingredients to create desserts that resembled Mount Royal and salads that told a story about Old Montréal. Everything from arugula and goat cheese to maple syrup and foie gras came from Quebec, and Loiseau's hilarious homage to Olympic Stadium, starring a hunk of braised lamb so tender it could pass for beef (and so large there was no disguising its resemblance to the Expos' former home), was just one of the menu's many high points. The wine pairings were spot on for each dish, and the service managed to tread the line between classy and familial with no trace of awkwardness. We'll eat here the next time we visit, for sure.
Agnes Obel in concert
After the above-mentioned dinner, we took a cab to catch Agnes Obel, a Danish singer-songwriter-pianist on the verge of stardom, in concert at Le Gesù, a cozy sit-down theater on Rue de Bleury, a block from the Place des Festivals. We had only previewed Obel's music for a few minutes online before decided we wanted to go see her, but booking tickets turned out to be an excellent bet.
The meal at Carte Blanche (and the heavy-handed pours of wine at each course) had lulled us into temporary food comas, and when we stumbled into the show in the middle of the second song, we weren't quite prepared for how quiet the venue would be and how many stink-eyes would be set upon us as we squeezed our way to our seats. To make matters worse, the usher was one row off when he showed us where to go, causing a moment of complete chaos as we climbed over the seat backs into the row behind us. (Of course, my excessively lanky frame predetermined that I'd take a misstep, the folding chair would snap back in retaliation, and my leg would get stuck during in my initial attempt, earning me some of the most scathing looks ever burned into my memory and a look of panic from my girlfriend that I'll never forget.)
Once we settled in, though, Obel's singing made all the tension melt away. Soft one minute, powerful and haunting the next, her vocals blended with her cellist's and violinist's voices like the smoothest emulsion, forming a triad of sirens that sounded straight from a fairytale. Do a search for her later and check out what I mean; then go tell your friends you discovered her before she really blows up.
Klô Pelgag in concert
I thought I'd fall in love with the food more than anything at MEL, but booking tickets to Klô Pelgag's sold-out show at The Lion D'or was the best shot-in-the-dark we've ever taken on any trip. Talk about a fun and wild show: Klô, aka Chloe Pelgag, is a singer-songwriter from Quebec who also rocks out on the piano and guitar. Her band consisted of seven other musicians: three female strings players–a violinist, violist and cellist–each wearing vintage pink princess dresses and matching pointy hats studded with sparkling sequins; a stand-up bassist (which always scores cool-points) dressed in a superhero cape and a cheap skeleton costume, an oversized safety pin pierced through the center of his schnoz; a bassoonist (yep, she's got one of them in her band) decked out in a stylish suit, and a clarinet player (one of them, too) clad in what seemed to be the opposite uniform, flannel shirt, jeans and trucker cap.
The performance opened with an overhead projector screen unfurling before a bizarre and engaging music video began. The song itself told a story, with parts in different tempos and lots of tension buildup and subsequent easing, but it was the video's odd plot that I found most engaging. Klô, dressed and styled a lot like Princess Leia, was telepathically channeling mysterious powers to a hapless Canadian sushi apprentice so he could impress his highly demanding, physically abusive chef. Let's just call it modern art.
Then, the real show started, with the band going on for nearly 90 minutes, playing the entire new album, The Alchemy of Monsters, to a crowd that seemed to be thoroughly surprised at how awesome the show turned out to be. The music sounds like it was meant to be in a Wes Anderson movie, and it evokes emotions from all over the spectrum. Pelgag's voice may not have the beauty of Obel's, but she makes up for it with soul and daring, often digging deep for low notes and adding a rasp to her tone for effect, other times blasting out high notes and holding them for longer than newbie fans like me would ever expect. She also took incredible pleasure in doing odd things on stage that you wouldn't ever predict to happen at a concert.
Wine Brunch at Europea
Wine pairings from Chartier, plate designs that could pass for paintings, and extravagant dishes conceived by Relais & Chateaux Grand Chef Jérôme Ferrer (like white truffle popcorn, brie and walnut ravioli with peach slivers, and lobster cream cappuccino with truffle puree) elevated this brunch to an affair elegant enough for the most discerning diners. For an amuse bouche, razor-thin rectangles of prosciutto were served on a heavy wooden block affixed with a miniature clothesline, the meat clipped to tiny clothespins to signify it had been hanging out to dry for quite some time. A couple of courses later, cornish hen came doctored up with asparagus, grilled king mushrooms, red pepper puree and fresh raspberries; Quebec lamb was augmented with purple and yellow carrots, crackers coverd with pitchouline olive tapenade, and a gravy infused with star anise; and aged Alberta beef was accentuated by wild rice with coffee essence, Thai basil leaves, and a cinnamon-spiked jus. All these dishes (and more) were yours to indulge in for 60$, with wine pairings costing a supplementary 30$. A small price to pay to taste the cuisine of one of Canada's only Grand Chefs.
If you're already amped up about attending MEL next year, you're not the only one: the planning committee was so excited after this year's success that they already began setting up shop for the 16th edition next February. One major announcement that I can tell you is that next year's spotlighted nation has already been selected (and it's great news if you're a fan of fondue), as Switzerland will receive the honor. That means you can expect a new weight-record for cheese used in the making of MEL.
In the meantime, there are two major Montréal festivals back-to-back this summer that you can attend to quench your craving for the Quebec's party scene: the 26th edition of Francofolies de Montréal, a showcase of French musicians across every genre, running from June 12 to June 22 (where you can see Klô Pelgag yourself!), and the 35th edition of Montréal Jazz Fest, a humongous affair that goes far beyond great music, running June 26 to July 6th.
Even bigger than New Orleans' Jazz Fest, Montréal's top billings this year include legends like B.B. King, Aretha Franklin, and Tony Bennett, as well as up-and-comers like Benjamin Clementine, Kandle, and Shai Maestro. You can leave your scarf, toque, and ear muffs at home, as you'll get to experience the warmer side of North America's most Euro-chic city during these bashes.
So what are you waiting for? Check out what musical acts you'd like to catch at these two festivals (and plan which restaurants you want to visit), book your tickets (it's only a one-hour flight from the NYC area), and get up to Montréal in the next couple of months to tide yourself over 'til winter 2015. You'll get to know the layout of this gorgeous city when it's at its greenest and sunniest, and that will come in mighty handy for navigating the snowy streets during next year's MEL.
All photos courtesy Adeline Ramos.