so long, and thanks for all the poutine

When we awoke on Sunday, we both knew what had to be done. We would return to Au Pied in order to sample the remaining 30-odd dishes we had missed on our first visit. P would spend the rest of the morning practicing his French and psyching himself up to call the restaurant and make a reservation. A would spend her day dreaming up possible appetizer-entree combinations to make the most out of one last trip.

To make room for the meal that lay ahead, we set out to the base of Mont Royal to finally begin our hike to the top. Though it wasn't the peak of fall foliage, the colors were crisp and striking to people coming from the evergreen Northwest. The park was designed by Frederick Law Olmstead, the landscape architect behind Central Park, and it showcased his highly natural style. A lake at the top of the hill provides a space for paddle boats in the summer and ice skating in the winter. Just a pretty view for us. Despite the balmy morning, which made for a stunning view from the hilltop, we ended up huddling under the single umbrella we were lucky to have brought with us.

By the time we were finished trekking up and down the park, we realized that it was well past lunch time and, quite possibly, the longest we had gone without food on the entire trip. We ran (we did not walk) to the other side of town and made it into Euro-Deli Batory minutes before they locked their doors. Your basic neighborhood Polish go-to store (doesn't every neighborhood have one?), Euro-Deli was packed with Polish toiletries, Polish food and Polish DVDs. A had been craving borscht for what seemed like years, because of P's cruel moratorium, so she knew exactly what she was getting. P had a soft spot for Pierogis, likely a result of his Polish (and Ukranian) heritage. The Borscht was excellent - a strong, earthy beet flavor countered by a generous dollop of sour cream - and P happily "helped" A with her meal. The Pierogis were plentiful and delicious with yet more sour cream on the side. On our way out, we grabbed a poppyseed kolachi and then wandered up to Marche Jean Talon. We grabbed a few bottles of ice cider (Quebec's wine industry has recently been receiving recognition, but their ice cider has long been praised) and said good-bye to Olive et Epices.

We walked back towards our B & B and ended up at Chocolat de Chloe, one of the cutest chocolatiers we had ever seen. Chloe infuses all her own ganaches with fresh herbs, fruits and spices. As we salivated over her wares, laboring over how much chocolate we could fit into our suitcases, Chloe herself was busy decorating sugar skulls for Dia de los Muertos. We finally decided on a bag of drinking chocolate fish, a bag of caramel tablets (like a decadent Caramello), and Caramel au Vanille et Buerre Sale (the most incredible caramel sauce made with salted butter, so it has a distinct salty flavor to compliment the buttery sweetness).

When we'd returned from Chloe's, P mustered it up in himself to call and make a reservation at Au Pied. Excitement led him to make it for incredibly early in the evening. So we shortly left for the restaurant in broad daylight, hoping that we wouldn't be the overeager first ones to the restaurant on our second trip in four days. One thing P had done correctly was to specify a place at the bar when he'd called. It had been recommended that we sit at Au Pied's bar for the full experience of the open kitchen, and it was wise that we did. It isn't easy to understand just how much foie gras this restaurant goes through until you see it for yourself. In between placing the final touches on various dishes, the sous chef would absent-mindedly lob lobes of foie gras into a pan to melt for sauces or chop off thick slabs as toppings. The chefs themselves all wore mechanic's button-up shirts with embroidered name tags above the pocket - no chef's whites in sight. In keeping with the rag-tag pirate crew demeanor of the chefs, P got to sit in a bar stool that had a stag's rack in place of a seat back.

But seriously, we didn't return to Au Pied for dinner theater. P went straight for the house beer, brewed by St. Ambroise and A had a glass of the local hard cider. We had staked out the menu through our cookbook and already knew what we would order. A got the poutine au foie gras, which had been our prime reason to return. After all of the other poutines we had sampled, how could we pass up one this decadent? Not only were the fries perfectly crisp and golden with a clear potato flavor, but they top the whole thing with a slab of foie gras. But that, friends, is not enough. In addition to the ubiquitous poutine sauce (brown gravy), Au Pied smothers the entire pile in melted foie gras. For balance, they have a parsley garnish. P could see the tears running down A's face. Or maybe it was perspiration. IT WAS THAT GOOD.

P threw caution to the wind and ordered the canard en conserve:

Duck in a can from stumptownpanda on Vimeo.

The chefs separate the fat from the meat on a duck magret and stuff foie gras in the middle. They then place the stuffed breast in a can with buttery cabbage and demi-glace. After sealing the can, they boil it to order, slap a label on it and bring it to the table with a plate of crusty bread and celeriac puree. They pull out a can opener and, well, the rest is pretty self explanatory from our video (sorry for the orientation - we were excited). Watching them open the can with such grace and finesse was something to behold - you could tell you were in the presence of truly masterful waiters.

What better way to end a rich meal than with a dish even richer than the main courses? There was no question as to which dessert we were ordering. Last time, we had been distracted by the romance of the maple tart for two (we were on our honeymoon, after all), but this time, we went for the true Quebecois classic: pouding chomeur. If anyone has ever tried the British standby, sticky toffee pudding, you have a sense for what this Quebecois dessert is all about. Sugar, butter, and sugary-butter sauce. Au Pied's version was borrowed from a Montreal cafe, "Soup Soupe," and they are lucky to have the recipe. It was like eating butter and maple syrup cooked together and baked to a molten heat. We were enjoying ourselves so much that we didn't even feel the painful burns. Luckily, we now have the recipe, so our scars may never fully heal.

This meal may sound less decadent than our first - there were, indeed, fewer courses - but pound for pound the dishes were richer and even more satisfying. We left Au Pied du Cochon (for the second time) feeling stuffed and euphoric, our cholesterol levels glad to finally bid Montreal adieu.

Ta Da!