Old Montreal

I rise at 8:05 again. I was in bed before midnight, though. I need to get my rest.

I write for about an hour. I've been so diligent, so far.

Dan. I can feel a cold coming on. Exactly what I don't want: being ill on holiday.

Alexei knocks on my door at 10:30. Andrew is getting up, he assures me. I go down to check. Andrew is, indeed, in the process of getting up.

We've decided that Universel Déjeuners et Grillades looks like a good spot for breakfast. It's a bit of a walk, but not too bad.

"It's licensed, so Andrew will be pleased." I say.

“Very funny, Dad.” Andrew responds.

“I thought so.” 

“You always think you’re funny. But you aren’t.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“But true.”

The walk is mostly on the level. Thankfully. Montreal is annoyingly hilly. I really can't be doing with hills. Not with my lungs.

We mostly walk along Sainte-Catherine St. West. Parts of which have some rather colourful characters hanging about. I prefer not to know what they’re up to. I hang on tightly to my phone. Wouldn't want to have it nicked.

It's 11:30 when we get there. Which is a good time. A bit late for breakfast, too early for lunch. So it isn't too busy. The internet describes Universel Déjeuners et Grillades as a diner. Though it's rather more upmarket than that label implies. Quite posh, in fact.

We park our arses at a table and peruse the rather long menu. Drinks first. As it's before noon, I get an espresso martini. Andrew goes for an Irish coffee. Alexei gets a chocolate milkshake.

“Do you want to try my Irish coffee, Dad?”

“Fuck me, that’s strong.” I say after taking a sip.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“It’ll definitely wake you up.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Like my espresso martini.”

“That’s just because you’re a pisshead.”

“What’s your excuse, sorry, reason?”

“Like I just said: to wake me up. Your memory has totally gone, hasn’t it?”

I go for a typical egg and bacon affair. Alexei has eggs Benedict. Andrew has a milkshake, as he isn't feeling hungry, but wants to get some calories in. A big milk shake probably is almost as many calories as a breakfast.

My espresso martini is really good. So good, I get a couple more. The breakfast is pretty tasty, too. And large. I feel totally stuffed. The kids have a couple of beers. Some sort of craft Lager.

We walk back to our hotel. Where we chill in my room for a while. Our plan for this afternoon is to take a look at the cathedral. And wander around Old Montreal a bit.

The cathedral is an impressive gothic pile. Unfortunately, partly covered in scaffolding.

Happily, there's an SAQ (offie) directly opposite. Where I pick up a bottle of Canadian Club Rye. And a cheap bottle of wine. Unlike in the LCBO in Ottawa, there's no beer. Andrew has to make do with cider.

Old Montreal is pretty cool. Varying between old stone houses and massive classical public buildings. All rather European in appearance. We have to shelter in a doorway for a while when there's a brief flurry of rain.

Our next destination is 3 Brasseurs. Part of a chain of brewpubs which, I believe, started in France. I've been to one in Lille, for example.

It's rather large. And rather full. We led to seats towards the back. I order an Ambrée, the kids go for some Lagery thing. My beer isn't great, to be honest. I switch to espresso martinis.

“What’s your beer, Dad?” Andrew asks.

“Ambrée.”

“Is that, by any chance, the strongest beer on the menu?”

“It could be.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. You’re so predictable.”

“I call it consistent.”

“I call you a consistent pisshead.”

“Fuck off.”

“Well, that settles the argument.”

“The beer is pretty crap, actually.”

“Serves you right, Dad.”

The kids - even Andrew - are quite hungry and order burgers. I just have a fried squid starter. A combination of that monster breakfast and my cold have mostly killed my appetite.

“Can you find where there's a chemist nearby. I need some cold medicine.”

“OK, Dad.”

Andrew manages to find one on the way back to the hotel. Which is where we head after a couple more rounds. Arriving shortly before it closes. It’s a bit tricky to find, located inside a hospital. Someone has to open the exterior door to let us into the building.

The medicine perks me up a little. We watch some random shit on the TV. Including baseball with a French commentary. Which is novel. It’s the Blue Jays, of course. They’re the only Canadian team. And they’re losing again. Of course.

"Don't drink all of the whisky, Andrew. I'll need some of it for breakfast." I warn. To no avail.

“Fuck off.”

“How am I supposed to wake up without a whisky eye-opener?” I beseech.

“Try not being an alcoholic.” Andrew replies.

“OK. I’ll try.”

“Really?”

“I didn’t say how hard I’d try.”

“Right.”

“Not very hard. Hardly at all, really.”

“Very amusing. You at your wittiest. That is, not funny at all.”

Despite Andrew’s taunts, sleep doesn't play the stranger, ignoring my cold.

 
Universel Déjeuners et Grillades
359 Sainte-Catherine St. West,
Montreal, Quebec H3B 1A4.
http://stecatherine.resto-universel.com/


3 Brasseurs Saint-Paul
105 Rue Saint-Paul E,
Montréal, QC H2Y 1G7.
https://www.les3brasseurs.ca/fr/trouver-un-3-brasseurs/saint-paul/