Finally. After years of working just around the corner from Yasuda and looking longingly through the window on my lunch breaks, my dreams have come true. I've had sushi every which way -- in a goblet, on an oyster shell, with mousse, blow-torched, wrapped in cucumber, topped with yuzu -- and I was ready to just have it done RIGHT. Good sushi. Good rice. No extras. No filler. No room for creativity. Just sushi, simple and perfect.
I knew I was in for a treat (I mean, I'd been anticipating this meal for years) but I had no idea sushi could be this amazing. Every piece was clean, pristine, disappeared like a cloud in my mouth. Even the taste was so pure it needed a little something -- soy, wasabi, salt, whatever -- to make the flavors stand out just a tiny bit more.
My only request in the omakase was to start with sashimi. Prime our palates a little. Our private sushi chef got right to work, slicing ultra thin pieces of tuna, yellowfish, Alaskan trout (I think?), with chewier bits of orange clam and squid. We had a little coarse sea salt for the clam and squid, making two of my lesser favorites something I couldn't get enough of. Wow. Now we were excited for sushi.
I didn't write down anything or
take many pictures. I really just wanted to experience and enjoy. The
sushi chef would plunk it down. We'd pick it up with bare fingers and
toss it back. And so it went. There were playful pairings that really
made you pay attention to the subtle flavors of each fish: there were
three types of salmon, different types of tuna (including bluefin,
which I guess I should have morally refused but instead indulged and
unregrettably enjoyed), fresh and saltwater eel. There was scallop and
just-cooked shrimp. Everything piece melted onto the perfect rice
beneath it, slightly vinegared, a little salty, every grain
distinguishable from every other while the fish dissolved into it.
Amazing.
Even the seaweed here was unlike any I'd had before. Not crunchy or jarring. It was soft and fresh and a little sticky between my teeth. It was filled with toro that again, melted into the rice around it. A nice, filling way to end the omakase. I was full and satisfied but not too stuffed to go out for a nice bottle of wine after.
When we were done, our sushi chef -- who started off a little standoffish but had really warmed up to us by then -- asked if there was anything we didn't have that we'd like to. We both asked for uni. He said it was out of season, but put something together for us that worked just as well, if not better, than uni. It was part of a scallop. He said it was only available in the summer and that people went crazy for it. It was really similar to uni but bigger, slick and creamy like a freshly shucked oyster. Our eyes popped open. We asked him to tell us more about it. And so he gave us a brief tutorial of the anatomy of a scallop. It appeared that the part he was indicating was the reproductive gland. "You had male. This part female." Hmm. It was hard to decide whether to be grossed out by what we just learned or happy that it was so amazing. We both had the same "hmmmm" reaction. I guess its just like a big roe. No one had ever told me about scallop roe.
We finished the sake and headed back out into Midtown. This is it, we said. That's the last sushi we can ever eat.
(I might have ruined it with that Karumazushi bit, but, for the blog's sake of food drama, I'm gonna go ahead and say that is that. Forever. Now I'm done.)
Unless you also plan on giving up sushi forever, I have to warn against going here. It really is just that good.
204 e. 43rd St.
Europea wasn't on the list of places to visit in Montreal originally, but after doing some research I knew it'd be the perfect counterpoint to Au Pied de Cochon. The place is a little more upscale, the food is a little more fun, the portions are smaller so you can add some variety to your meal.
I knew it'd be a great dinner, but I can't say I expected it to be quite so memorable. With the parade of creative amuse bouches, it reminded me of our dinner at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, only more fun, less pretentious, and oh yeah -- way more affordable! Three of us had the $70 pre-fixe and shared everything. Since we got to choose from three appetizers and four mains, we got to try almost everything in this range (in case you're wondering, the only thing we missed out on was the cornish hen).
The amuses started with Parmesan lollipops and truffled popcorn. Putting their playful foot forward.
Next, Canadian prosciutto hanging on a miniature clothes line. The smiles had already started by now. Such a cute idea, and the pork had this unique texture like it was laminated flat.
Then came the breadsticks. We were fooled into thinking things were regular again...
Until the woman that was not our waiter (but we wished she was -- she was so much fun!) presented us with a cigar box and asked us with a straight face if we would like a cigar before our meal came. We shook our heads. She asked if we would like to take one home for later. Again we said uh, no, thank you. Then she opened the box and asked if maybe now we would change our minds? It was three mozzarella sticks. Easily the best mozzarella stick any of us had ever had. I didn't know anyone had ever even attempted to gourmet-ify a childhood favorite of mine!
Now the bread and butter. I don't think the bread was necessarily better than APC's, but the butters were on par. The plain was great, but there were also three flavors -- a colorful flower butter, a creamy rum butter and a salty seaweed butter. Check out the beauty of the flower power!
You might think the amuses are done, but you're wrong. Now there's a tiny olive muffin. And rice crisps in a takeout container.
And then the best one! A lobster cream cappuccino, which I thought was loads better than the one we had at the Modern a few years ago. It was like a foamy bisque, and the truffle oil added an extra element of decadence.
But we're still not done. My favorite amuse bouche was the final one. Our fun lady jester of the evening gave each of us a book that we were invited to open when we were ready. The anticipation heightened. We opened the books and a cloud of smoke poured out. When the smoke cleared, we saw a tiny freshly-wood-smoked salmon tartlet on lemon cream. Reminded me a bit of the amuses we frequently get at Annisa, but with chicken liver mousse. Something about those little bite-sized cups that get me every time.
Okay. Finally, the starters. As Frank Bruni once said, everyone always has a special affinity for whatever it is they order when sharing with a group. It was true for the appetizers in this case. Soup made with chestnut and porcini cream with artichokes, burrata and crunchy fried quinoa for texture.
Now the surprise of the starters -- the calamari, which I typically cannot stand and was blown away by here. Somehow they make the squid into tender noodles that aren't unlike pasta (it actually is called "tagliatelle of lemony calamari") and topped with a poached quail egg and squid ink. I can't say I was expecting to enjoy it, and then I was left trying not to eat more than my portion.
And, of course, the foie gras. The foie is placed to sizzle on a hot stone at the table. Then it's covered in a glass case and you have to rely on self control to wait out the four minutes while the crispy lobe caramelizes in ice wine sauce. It's worth the wait. And it's so beautiful to watch the steam billow around the glorified goose liver. It's like something out of Willy Wonka.
The palate cleaner was one of the most memorable parts of the meal. Believe it or not! It's actually one of the few things I knew I had to take notes on because I didn't want to forget. Dig your spoon past the top layer of foam and you'll find bits of granny smith apple with flavors of yuzu and cucumber, and a bit of ice cream at the bottom. Seems like it would confuse your taste buds, right? But really, it sets them up for the second round so perfectly. I would gladly eat a bowl of this for dessert any day.
My favorite main was the scallops wrapped in a "celery veil" with meringue powder, enokis and bleurre blanc. The scallops almost seemed to be enveloped in dough, and the sauce was so addicting it was hard to limit myself to my own two little dollops.
I think I ordered the dud of the group. The tagliolinis were good and all, perfectly cooked and clearly house made, but even with the mushrooms I felt it lacked flavor. There was white truffle oil, but it seemed to disappear as the foam dissipated. There were a few kernels of popcorn, but it seemed out of place. Plus it had that weird consistency of overbuttered-to-the-point-of-stale.
Finally, the veal cheek with salsify roots and more foam. The meaty sauce might have been my favorite, again.
There is no dessert menu. There is only "passport to sweetness." Which sounds a little silly until you realize that the desserts. Never. Stop. And then you don't mind so much. Somebody stamp that sucker ASAP.
First, a GIANT cloud of pink cotton candy. Chocolate lollipops rolled in poprocks. We're kids at the fair again. "I'll be back with the rest," says our court jester.
Then a little pina colada for each of us...
A container full of lemony madelines...
A champagne macaron, a passionfruit marshmallow and a caramel cookie with fleur de sel. One trio for each of us. "I'll be right back with the rest..."
We've circled back around to breakfast: a fried egg and french toast sticks. It freaked me out to see what looked like a peppery egg and tasting... apricot puree inside an emulsion. The french toast was coated marshmallows. Great presentation. Not my favorite though.
And now the desserts for the ride home. Two freshly-baked brioche. A bag of cookies. FOR EACH OF US. With the leftover madelines and two bags each, we walked back to the car with our arms full.
Then we headed over to Au Pied de Cochon for second dinner. Total rockstar weekend.
Okay, so APC was amazing and all, but I have to admit that Europea will stick out in my mind for much longer. The ongoing parade of carnival treats was endlessly entertaining. There was a lot of excitement of wondering what would come next. And, as I write this post, I realize it incorporates components of some of the best of the best meals I've had. Amuse bouches like at Blue Hill at Stone Barns, lobster cappuccino like at The Modern, madelines like at DB Bistro Moderne, soup with intense chestnut flavors like the ice cream at Nougatine, tartlets like at Annisa.
I can't think of another restaurant I could recommend more.
Europea
1227 Rue de la Montagne
Montreal, QC
