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922 Mont-Royal E, Tel. (514) 523-8780
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his Plateau restaurant always has a very long line up and since I know that Montrealers don’t really like to wait in line, I had to see for myself what the fuss was about, as I continued in my search for great a breakfast. And I think I’ve found it, but these eggs come with a heavy dose of chaos.
prep area on the left, hunky man-nequin, painted wall mural
I visited L’Avenue twice, once on a weekday and once on a weekend, both times were equally as busy. They serve breakfast from 8 am to 4 pm, and the wait for seating doesn’t stop until about 3:30 pm on weekends. You have to accept that there’s a wait, but that it’s worth it. It must be. Why would all these young cool kids, trucker hats, low riding pants, be in line if this place wasn't fabulous? I feel nearly too old to be here, but the couple on my right are in their 50s and they seem to be OK with the blaring alternative music.
First the décor: pale yellow walls (the last 4 or 5 places I’ve been in have all had the same colour walls; it must speak to owners in a voice that says “yellow makes a small space seem larger”). Yellow walls, the above-mentioned dance music, a bright mural on the brick wall, a motorcycle hangs from the ceiling, a nearly naked mannequin in the front window. What else can I say? The kitchen is at the front of the house, with the fruit prep area right in the window, so those in line could watch the bananas being sliced (if they weren't too busy watching themselves in the reflection).
The interior chaos doesn’t stop here. You’ve got to see the bathroom, at least the women’s washroom, forgive me that I didn’t venture into the men’s to compare. You enter, you flick the light, the room brightens slightly but doesn’t light up. A glitter ball sparkles overhead. There’s a wall of moving water. But wait, there’s a TV. In the floor. So imagine you’re sitting, doing your business, and right at your feet, behind a sheet of Plexiglas, is a television. The sounds comes from stereo speakers overhead. I’ve seen segments of “Top Gun” and “Ghost” on my two visits, so we might deduce a late 80s, early 90s theme, but I can’t be sure.
Now to the food. The menu is huge (both in size and length), is coil-bound, laminated sheets, decorated with cartoons and plastic toys. The gay couple on my left have ordered fruit smoothies served in fishbowl cocktail glasses. Drink choices include a long list of fresh squeezed juices, a bit pricy, but interesting combinations. The food choices are endless: sandwiches, crêpes, waffles, fruit salad, Omega 3 eggs prepared a billion ways, and in the glass case I can see desserts. The latté machine runs continuously. My decaf is served layered, how 1990s indeed.
Lest you think this place is all show and has no real point to it, I’d like to make it clear right now that the food is very good. I order Eggs with Fruit (the menu’s in French, this is an inadequate translation). Two eggs scrambled, 3 strips of crispy bacon, 2 small slices of French toast (fresh vanilla), fruit on the plate, fruit cup, roasted potatoes, side of toast. The eggs are cooked perfectly, in butter the way I like it, the bacon is thin and salty, the potatoes cooked in garlic, caramelized onions and fresh herbs (is that fennel seed?), a bit heavy on the oil. The fruit cup is the only weak note, full of late summer cantaloupe, frozen berries, half a strawberry, uninspired. Price: $9.70. My dining companion ordered a whopping 4-egg omelette smothered in marinara sauce (which, to me, smacks of a spaghetti dinner gone wrong) but she says it's fabulous and the serving so generous that she only finishes half.
Shelley's egg breakfast; above the plate you can see from L-R: paper cup of blackberry compote for the toast, water with lemon, my latté, and bottle of all-you-can guzzle maple syrup
eggs marinara (it had a fancier name, like eggs italiano ...)
I wish there was a way to have the same food transported to a less chaotic environment. I wish the music was a bit quieter and that the place wasn’t freakishly busy. I suppose for most diners, the scene is the biggest draw. For me, in this case, for This Girl from Vancouver, the Plateau scene gets in the way of an awesome food experience. I’m not complaining, really. I must just be getting old.
-- Reviewed by Shelley MacDonald
