speed limits at cca

Speed Limits, the current show at the Centre Canadien d’Architecture, is thought-provoking and disconcerting. Using a variety of media - posters, lithographs, video clips, and artifacts - the expo displays in detail, and calls into question, the pace of modern life.

The show opens with the image of a snail crawling across the ceiling, while urban motion/commotion is projected across the floor. The juxtaposition, both luminous and biting, hints at the complexity of the subject.

Demonstrating how architecture and design aided our desire for speed in the 1950s, a series of videos show a woman at work in an efficient kitchen. Watching, I felt nostalgia for that idyllic era, and the continuing promise that technology creates both more time and more possibility. Then I cringed with embarrassment.

With sleek drawers and streamlined, labeled bins putting everything within her reach, and electric appliances making cooking and cleaning faster, what registered ultimately was the housewife’s increased servitude.

A large screen showing date-stamped photographic sequences of the construction of the Irving Trust Building in New York, the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and the China Central Television Building in Beijing were amazing - until subsequent sequences showed the fast, horrifying razing of other structures.

A display based on Claude Lelouche’s “Rendez-vous Paris” consists of several videos playing at once - each a sports car driven at top speed through a different major city. The viewer’s perspective is from the driver’s seat, the angles are sharp, and the sound of revving motors fierce. Motion-sickness trumped my curiosity here, and I didn’t linger.

A quieter gallery showed sleep aids (great design, and again the promises of advertising) against gorgeous footage of Usein Bolt’s record-breaking sprint in the 2008 Olympics. Here the contrast was less jolting, and the examples reminded why I visit museums: to experience sheer, uncomplicated beauty.

Bolt’s movement was pure perfection - not a sentiment I shared with the other examples (though likely others will.)

Immersed in the speed of the modern world, I yearn for… not slowness, exactly, but quiet, and simplicity. This show was perhaps more complicated than I bargained for. But its contrasting, multilayered approach to an abstract design idea is one reason I love the CCA.

If you go:

Speed Limits runs until Oct 12, 2009, 1920, rue Baile.

Free tours look closely at the expo, held Wed - Sun, 2pm in English, 3:30pm in French; meet at the information desk.

Photograph courtesy CCA.

café serafim - organic to go

Vegetarians, vegans and health-foodies rejoice: Café Serafim serves high quality, organic food in a great location - including your kitchen.

The year-old café is 100% organic, with lots of vegetarian and vegan options. The highlights: breakfast (fresh squeezed oj, omelets, crêpes, scrambled and poached eggs) served all day long. Prepared salads, cold lobster, lemon chiffon and chocolate layer cakes.

Pita sandwiches made from organic, kosher Kamut flour and filled with smoked salmon, tzatziki, grilled tomatoes and onions. Cold, sweet, organic root beer. Chai latte to die for.

On a Sunday morning we ordered inside at the register and enjoyed our food at a round marble-topped table on the sidewalk opposite Chapel Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours. While we lingered under a beautiful blue sky, there were plenty of people reading the paper, eating breakfast, and listening to jazz in the large high-ceilinged café.

And what could be better than stopping for a bite on the weekend? Calling for delivery after a long day at work - or stopping to pick it up on your way home (pick up and save 10%).

If you go:

393 St Paul Est & Bonsecours

514-944-6718

david’s tea opens

On a street of fair-trade coffee and cafés, (my favorite being Café Expressions for its bookish clientele and generous café au lait), I felt like a traitor entering Les ThésDavid - David’s Tea, Ave Mont-Royal’s newest tea salon.

But when a yogini recommends a tea shop, it makes sense to listen. I entered Les Thés David late one afternoon in May, just after the shop opened, based on the recommendation of Carmen, who owns Centre Kinesphere, just up the street.

The sleek white David’s Tea interior is visible from the street, through tall windows which are more like oversized, modern French doors than the typical garage openings up and down the street. As I approached the counter, a smiling young woman greeted me with a sample of strawberry iced tea in a shot glass, followed by a short list of questions: Did I prefer my tea fruity, spicy, or creamy; caffeine or no?

I liked this easy precision, and settled on red tea. My guide took a series of round brushed stainless canisters from shelves behind the counter, shaking each slightly before opening it to release its aromas.

It turned out there were 8 kinds of rooibus - with apple, marigold, pear and caramel flavors, vanilla, coconut, coriander - each varying in color and texture. I settled on the Rooibus de Provence, with half-inch sprigs of lavender. I was intrigued by the juxtaposition of the wild African bush and the genteel landscapes of Aix and St Tropez.

My tea, served in a tall white porcelain mug, was red indeed - medium bodied, with earthy, red tea undertones, not too different from others I’d tried. Yet the lavender changed the tea’s disposition radically. The aroma was the soothing, familiar scent of lavender, and the finish a lasting reminder of the Provençal influence. These were nice counterpoints to the spicy base, and made the tea equally wild and genteel, relaxing and refreshing.

Sweets are not the focus here, judging from the two small plates (lacking attention-catching labels) sitting on the end of the counter. Hungry, I ordered one from each plate.

The lemon - poppy seed cookie was delicate, rich and textured. It reminded me of shortbread, though it was less crumbly, and each bite sung with wisps of lemon peel, followed by a chorus of sober black poppy seeds.

An Argentinean dessert called alfamajores de maice resembled a dull-colored macaron, with 2 crumbly sugar cookies joined by a layer of buttery caramel. The caramel was dusted with slightly sweetened coconut, resulting in a yummy combination of flavor and texture: sweet and dry, chewy and slightly crunchy - very satisfying with my tea.

While I don’t think of myself as a tea snob, I know that origins, water temperatures and steeping times result in very different teas. Yet none of this was mentioned chez David.

As for ceremony, macha accessories and an Art Deco flat-topped Ottoni bouloir were among many nicely designed, some unusual, products lining the boutique shelves. Books, teapots, sachets, and mugs (including a double-walled mug that was comfortable to hold) all pointed to uncomplicated goodness.

Tea, chez David, is easy and straightforward, enjoyable without ceremony or fuss. The trouble-free selection process and resulting new flavor adventure have left a mark on my predominantly coffee mentality.

If you go:  1207 Mont-Royal Est @ La Roche

point g macarons

I rarely use the word “macaroon” in English (I had to look up the correct spelling). But the French “macaron” is a different story - and seeing it on a sign in the Plateau the other day stopped me in my tracks.

The sign was affixed to the bottom half of the vitrine at the year-old Point G, on Mont-Royal Est. The shop colors are raspberry and pistachio, and the vitrine reveals an Eiffel Tower, covered in bright, round cookies.

The combination of form, color and language did just what it was meant to do. Standing on the street, I was transported to the Paris Ladurée macaron counter, smelling almond paste and pondering the magic of sugar and egg whites.

Macarons are not just French, but Parisian - as Dorie Greenspan so beautifully describes in her Paris blog. Lusciously perfumed and subtly decadent, macarons are equal parts cookie, candy, sandwich, and style.

The shop was sparely furnished, with two tall counters at the front; a cooler holding bagged waffles, jars of chocolate spread and other produits maison at the midpoint; and a cheerful young woman at the register at the back - or what seemed to be the back until she indicated the kitchen, half hidden behind her.

In front of her, two display cases beckoned. I concentrated on the macarons first, and chose dark chocolate, raspberry and pistachio (only afterward did I realize the subliminal power of the color scheme. I wonder if the latter are the most popular flavors).

Then I turned my attention to the 25 flavors of ice cream, settling on a scoop of red grapefruit sorbet - a counterpoint to the sweet macarons. La Glace (the first of three Gs) was served in an oversized waffle cone, with a tiny plastic spoon perched on top. It was tart, smooth, slightly astringent, and immensely refreshing.

The cone was slightly chewy, more waffle than cone - and a brilliant marketing move. Once my tongue touched the cone’s square ridges, I was back in Paris, this time at the edge of the Tuilerie gardens, ordering street food: thick, warm, crusty waffles, served on a square of white paper, topped with chantilly and melted chocolate.

Gaufres are the second in the shop’s trio of Gs - Gourmandises, i.e. macarons, being the final Guilty pleasure (Point G translates to G-Spot). After finishing my cone, I opened my white paper bag of macarons, and inhaled the aroma - thinking of the scene in Sophia Coppola’s film Marie Antoinette, where the sweets are piled high on three-tiered silver platters.

Biting into the round treats, I found delicate shells giving way to an ambrosial, chewy inner layer, then a sweet creamy center. The chocolate was the least sweet of the three flavors, indicating a good dark chocolate at the base.

As I sat at the counter sampling and indulging my memories of macarons past, passersby wandered in. Everyone admired the La Tour Eiffel.

The young cashier filled gift boxes with assorted flavors of macarons. She answered questions about flavors with unwavering enthusiasm, and seemed to take vicarious pleasure in each treat she handed over, each sample of sorbet requested.

Two pastry chefs, dressed in pink uniforms, emerged from the back. One had a thick pink highlight in his upswept bangs. Whether he was the owner, Thierry Andrieux, former chef at the Montreal Casino, I don’t know. They sat at the counter next to me, drinking water, talking rapidly, stopping every now and then to smile at the steady stream of pleasure-seekers.

sidewalk sales, street fairs, and more

Yesterday was a glorious day to be out and about in Montreal. After four days of rain, the sky was blue, and the city sparkled. I wandered with friends in The Main, the Plateau, the Botanical Gardens, and Vieux Montréal…aahh, what a treat.

The Main - closed to traffic between Sherbrooke and Mont-Royal for the first of three summer sidewalk sales - was in its glory. Street food included chow mein, hot dogs and espresso (with chocolat chaud as a holdover from the preceding rainy days) - supplemented by café terraces, filled to overflowing.

Friends chatted in groups, couples walked hand in hand, and just about every breed of dog padded through the happy crowds. In sidewalk sale tents, prices plunged - and we got two swingy, Georges Lévesque nylon skirts at Scandale for half off.

Ex-centris had a free viral/visual project going. Apparently, there is still confusion about whether the state-of-the-art complex is still open. To promote the still intact Cinéma Parallèle, a friendly, goateed young man invited passersby to peer through a hole in a painted board, kind of like they do with Mickey Mouse at Disney. A professional photographer recorded the images.

I can’t say I understood the visuals (at first glance, a donut, with a bullet on trajectory toward the participant’s head), but I love the place - a cultural treasure, full of fun and surprises all year long.

In the Plateau, it was all about biking. Folding bikes, hybrids, and faithful old road models rolled along with the cars on Ave Mont-Royal. Bikes (and calmly panting dogs) waited in front of stores and cafés as their owners enjoyed the confluence of free time and good weather, shopping, brunching, and hanging out in puddles of sun.

Every BIXI station in and around Parc la Fontaine was empty - and the bike path between the park and the Botanical Gardens streamed with riders. At the gardens, bike parking was easy to come by; cars, packed with families and poussettes, were not so easily accommodated.

We saw a black tandem bike locked to a post, and imagined the couple who owned it: middle aged, helmeted cyclists wearing slim-fitting Pearl Izumi jackets, who had once toured Ireland, Italy and elsewhere under their own power.

Near the entrance, a pair of twenty-something cyclists leaned duffle-laden steeds against a tree, while he took her picture with a disposable point-and-shoot. Not in front of the joyously spattering fountain, or the ruffled yellow snapdragons - but in front of the Olympic stadium, with her left hand raised to shoulder height, and held flat, as if she held the white stadium tip in her palm.

In Vieux Montréal, a long line waited at Musée Point-à-Caillière, in honor of the city-wide Free Museum Day. On the grass near the science museum, aerobics instructors led warm ups for a walk benefiting Alzheimer’s patients.

We watched a parade of snare drummers wearing tri-cornered black and gold hats, and wandered through a food festival featuring lobsters and sugar on snow.

Finally, we staked out a table at Café Serafim, soaking in the sun, nursing lattes, and admiring Chapel Notre-Dame-de-Bon-Secours.

Across the street, wearing period dress, the Musée Marguerite Bourgeoys staff announced the free tour. Eventually we succumbed and climbed the 69 steps to the tower - breathing in the blue sky and the view of the harbor, watching our fellow revelers from above.