Culture. Cuisine. Cocktails: Summer in Quebec City
Dining, drinking, and discovering in Canada.
Summer 2019: A fortuitous overlapping of my mother's July vacation week and my seemingly interminable unemployment gave way to the planning and ultimate execution of a glorious progression into my 23rd year. In brainstorming cities, we knew we wanted to go somewhere within driving distance, and we did not want to travel south towards the heat. The destination was swiftly decided: Quebec City.
We started off our trip on a mission: food. This would be the trajectory of the entire three night, four day journey, and I would not have had it any other way. I am of the simplistic and perhaps lackadaisical opinion that sitting outside and sipping a cocktail in good company is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Fortunately, my travel-mate and mother, Kath, shares the same philosophy.
We were starving from our six hour car ride, hopped up on caffeine and maybe a little buzzed from our complimentary drinks after a delayed hotel check-in. We set off for the walled city, and navigated throngs of fellow tourists while eyeing storefronts, peeking into windows, sticking our heads in doors, and glancing at menus, desperate for our first meal (the fact that we were seeking a table at 4pm, effectively between lunch and dinner and debatably too early for happy hour limited our options slightly).
LE PETIT CHÂTEAU
We ended up choosing a restaurant adjacent to the famous Château
Frontenac that boasted a spacious patio with plenty of shade and empty tables. Truthfully, if we had kept our raging appetites at bay for a street or two more, we would have stumbled upon a plethora of patios, but that would come later. At Le Petit Château, a whiskered, piratey-looking guitarist strummed away and crooned American classics like “Layla” with a charming French accent. The specialties of Le Petit Château, according to their sign, are crepes and fondue. As the fondue was not available to be served on the patio, and it would have been admittedly a bit too adventurous in our fragile, famished states, Kath and I both opted for La Dufferin, a crepe spread with tomato sauce and topped with chicken, green peppers, onions, mushrooms, and cheese. Essentially, a pizza. We sipped on mojitos as we listened to the singing pirate, because what’s more French-Canadian than a mojito and pizza-crepe? Our entrees notably lacked the promised cheese, taking the pizza factor down a significant notch. I opted for the gluten-free crepe, which certainly took away from the elasticity of the dough, but nonetheless provided the proper vessel for my toppings. Overall, I found the dish to be lacking in flavor: the chicken was plain, and I would have preferred the vegetables to be sauteed more. However, Kath and I still scarfed down our entrees, including the accompanying side salads, which were a welcome extra few bites. We left Le Petit Château sated, if a bit wary that we had stumbled into a tourist trap.
Full of crepes and rum (again, not the most conventional Quebecian combination), Kath and I set off to explore the walled city. My only other romp in our northern neighbor’s capital was in the winter of 2010. Needless to say, Quebec City in July is a completely different place than Quebec City in January. The place is alive with slews of tourists, restaurants are laden with umbrellaed tables and iced beverages. Street performers draw crowds outside the Chateau Frontenac, and couples hold hands while strolling down the boardwalk. People are quite literally shipped in from Levis across the Saint Lawrence River. Kath and I navigated the bustling streets and admired the charming cobblestone aesthetic of the city, which was very much reminiscent of European cities like Budapest (particularly the funicular up to the Chateau Frontenac) and Prague, yet much more quaint. It was hard to believe we were only six hours from home.
PARC NATIONAL DE LA JACQUES-CARTIER
We started off our first full day in Quebec with a trip to the mountains. The Parc National de la Jacques-Cartier is located a mere thirty minute drive from the city, and features a variety of hikes for every skill set. Kath and I chose L’Eperon, an intermediate, 5.4 km loop. This was another example of the necessity of having a car- most of the trails begin several miles away from the visitors center. Despite a handful of cars in the lot outside of our trailhead, we were surprised to find that we passed only a few fellow hikers. The trail was fairly well-marked, and even involved a fair amount of stair climbing, and was broken up with several viewpoints overlooking the river down below. The guidebook correctly predicted that we would complete the hike in a little over two hours.
Q-DE-SAC
Being Americans, it is essentially impossible to suppress a strong craving for a classic cheeseburger. So after our hike, we set off to the gated city to find just that: a juicy, meaty, cheesy lunch with a side of fries. We found exactly what we were looking for on Rue du Cul-de-Sac at the aptly named Q-De-Sac, a “resto-pub”. Kath enjoyed a beer while I downed a sangria. While visually my drink was adorable, filled to the tippity-top in a stylish, lipless glass, adorned with cranberries, an orange slice, and a striped red and white paper straw for flare, the drink itself lacked depth, leading me to suspect it had been made to order rather than marinating. Still, I was parched and can’t resist a cool cocktail. We watched as dozens and dozens of tourists stopped in the middle of the road to have their pictures taken under the canopy of umbrellas lofted three stories above the cobblestone street. It’s certainly an Instagram-worthy spot. Our burgers arrived on slats of faux-wood alongside tin pails of ultra-crispy fries and a salad of mixed greens. The burger itself is cooked to one temperature, so we didn’t get the greasy, juiciness we might have hoped for. Strips of thick, well-cooked bacon made up for it, along with a tangy house sauce I’m guessing was some sort of French dressing. I definitely did not leave a single fry behind, and the burgers were devoured.
ILE D’ORLEANS
After exploring the national park, we knew Day 2 of our Canadian adventure would again involve some amount of traipsing around the lesser visited corners of Quebec. Some key Google searches clued us into the perfect destination: located just twenty minutes outside of the city, Ile d’Orleans is a picturesque island made up of six villages, although it’s easy to pass from one into the other without noticing. The entire island is quaint and easily navigable. One road loops around the entire island, a trip that can take a few hours (the circumference of the island is 47 miles). An initial pitstop at the visitors center upon entering the island is pertinent in order to obtain a map and some suggestions on which route is best. One side of the island is primarily agricultural, while the other is the “beach” side. There is no shortage of shops, bakeries, vineyards, or restaurants on either side, but Kath and I surmised that circling just half of the island, beginning on the agricultural side would be best. After unsuccessfully attempting to get the young tour guide to reveal the best shops on the island, Kath and I decided that we would travel around the island, gathering supplies for a picnic which we would eventually enjoy on the beach. We embarked on our excursion with a few places circled on the visually pleasing but logistically disordered map. Our first stop was a chocolaterie that had only just received a busload of tourists moments before our arrival. We purchased dark chocolates filled with maple syrup, and Kath narrowly avoided buying a sugar-free chocolate bar before heading back to the car to truly commence the quest for food. This artisanal shop has another location on the opposite end of the island, so getting a sweet treat is inevitable at any stage of the journey.
Once we began our loop around the island, beginning with the agricultural side, it became abundantly clear that we would need to stop for strawberries, or “fraises” as dozens of hand-painted signs advertised. We picked up a carton at a farmstand, and despite my distaste for the fruit, even I had to admit that they were perfect: vividly red and plump, and, according to my travel partner, “juicy and delicious”. Apparently we had stumbled upon peak strawberry season.
We continued to pass so many farms and vineyards that the choices were a bit overwhelming- luckily Kath suggested a stop at one of the island’s few cideries, and we were not disappointed. Domaine Steinbach is a stone building with shelves upon shelves of products made from the apples grown on site. And the best part- free samples. Kath and I went to town taste-testing jellies, jams, mustards,and vinegars. I hesitated in trying an onion and maple syrup confit, but immediately fell in love with the savory flavors perfectly balanced with a delicate, maple sweetness. And, of course, a trip to a cidery would not be complete without sampling the homemade ciders. Domaine Steinbach wisely offers flights accompanied by English descriptions and suggestions for pairings. Kath and I shared a flight of five ciders, each one better than the last. Kath, formerly not a fan of hard ciders, was particularly impressed with the variety. Each selection was distinct in both its sweetness and notes. What was perhaps even better than the ciders was the view: we sat out on the Domaine’s porch and took in sweeping landscapes of the Saint Lawrence River, stretches of mountains seemingly grazing the clouds in the sky. We finished out ciders and went back into the shop to make our selections. This is truly a testament to the efficacy of free samples: we left with paper bags heavy with a maple syrup aperitif cider, a blackcurrant cider, maple mustard, the onion and maple syrup preserves, and a bottle of thyme sprigs and garlic clove seeped in apple cider vinegar.
Next, we drove in the general direction of the highly-rated shop, Buffet Maison. In a perfect world, we would have arrived at a bakery at the crack of dawn and hand-selected flaky, buttery croissants fresh from the oven, and probably a baguette kneaded with tons of love too, but, alas, we arrived at Buffet Maison in the afternoon, and so the croissants in their basket were not warm, but they were still fresh. This was definitely the site of our greatest language barrier. I thought we were doing alright with the simple phrase “deux croissants, s'il vous plaît”, but apparently our American accents are more atrocious than we had previously thought. Regardless, we managed to successfully point at a few desserts to be boxed up: Kath opted for a petite almond cake draped in vanilla fondant and rolled in slivered almonds, delicately piped with the thinnest milk chocolate lines, and I could not resist a layered mousse cake: spongy chocolate cake beneath a velvety dark chocolate mousse, under more cake, topped with one layer of milk chocolate mousse, creamy vanilla mousse, spread with seamless chocolate ganache for good measure. Pure decadence. Only one last item stood between us and our beach picnic- arguably the most important thing of all: cheese.
Before I could even begin to get overwhelmed by the assortment of cheeses in Fromagerie (which was a smidge off our designated path, but if there is ever an exception to be made, it’s for cheese), Kath found a cooler stocked with picnic packs. Each was comprised of three types of cheddar, a brie, a cream cheese, a cup of cucumber jelly, craisins, a couple of figs, a triangle of soft cheese heated on a griddle (appropriately titled “grilled cheese”), and a petite pre-sliced baguette. What more could two American gals ask for?
We cut across the island via a country road, and drove past acres of fields to reach the beach side. The Parc Maritime was the ideal stop for our lunch. We sat at a picnic table next to the shipbuilding museum and enjoyed expansive views of the Saint Lawrence River along with sips of cider and bites of cheese.
MONTMORENCY FALLS
Even after touring Ile d’Orleans, it was still only midday, and we weren’t quite ready to head back into the city. As we started towards the highway, we passed a sign for the Montmorency Falls, a trip we had planned to make the following day en route to America, but, of course, there is no time like the present. With the help of pre-downloaded Google Maps and remarkably understandable signage, we arrived at the Falls, thick gray clouds looming overhead. Beginning at the visitors center, an exquisite manor featuring a restaurant, gift shop, and tour guides, we set off along the footpath leading to the Falls, which are an astounding 272 feet high (their claim to fame is that they stand 99 feet higher than Niagara Falls). We walked across the suspended bridge, crowded with tourists and endless stop-and-go traffic as people paused to get their pictures taken at the impressive elevation. It’s definitely enough to make anyone (or me at least) a bit wary of the incredible height and the pounding of the ceaseless stream underfoot, even as brave zipliners sail past. After the bridge, a path leads down to a staircase totaling 487 steps. Kath and I made it down with the rest of the crowd, and lingered at the base of the falls, mist immediately wetting our clothes. A lone fly-fisher stood knee deep in the turbulent waters, casting his line as he was drenched in the spray. We were faced with the decision to either take the cable car back to the visitors center, and our car, or walk back up the 487 steps. It began to drizzle. Kath and I looked up at the overwhelming array of stairs, and started climbing. The rain started coming down harder, and my quads were panging with exhaustion, but at that moment I was grateful for two things: the fact that I had worn my Vans, and the fact that there was a slice of mousse cake awaiting me back in the car.
LE CHÂTEAU FRONTENAC
No trip to Quebec City would be complete without a visit to the Château Frontenac, even if it is just to walk through the halls and admire the stunning interior. The 1608 Bar is honestly a bit intimidating- it exudes sophistication in every detail of the dark, dimly lit space. A round bar at the center of the room is sparsely lit with dozens of petite hanging light fixtures. The nearly-black walls are lined with bookshelves, interspersed with windows overlooking stunning views of the Saint Lawrence River. Kath and I waited two nights before deciding we finally had to celebrate our last evening in the magnificent city with a trip to the 1608. We were quickly and fortunately seated at a table next to a window where we were able to enjoy the fading light over the sweeping Canadian cityscape.
The five-star experience, of course, comes with five-star prices, so the 1608 is the perfect spot to savor a cocktail and appreciate the ambiance. If Jay Gatsby had lived in Canada, I imagine his home would have had a similar opulence. Kath and I both ordered cocktails from their list of signature drinks. My “Jungle Bird” was a super sweet cascade of rainbow juices garnished with a slice of kaffir lime and a purple flower. Kath’s “Winter Spritz” was an elegant take on a traditional aperol spritz featuring pomegranate shrub. We enjoyed the fading Canadian light over the Saint Lawrence before taking our last sips and leaving the five-star hotel for a last evening stroll through Quebec City.
LA BUCHE
Our last day in Quebec was grotesquely humid, and the sky was thick with impending storm clouds, which would not bode well for our return journey. After a final hilly lap around the walled city, a few breaks in boutiques for some heavenly air conditioning, and one more walk along the Saint Lawrence, we were eager for our something to eat and a place to sit. Luckily, we had chosen our last restaurant the night before. La Buche, on Rue Saint Louis, is a Quebecois restaurant serving brunch and dinner options. It seemed like the perfect spot to conclude our Quebec ramblings. Unfortunately, the eatery was lacking in the one luxury we desperately needed: AC. It’s easy to imagine La Buche being the ultimate tourist destination in the winter months when the rustic, cabin-like charm seems warm and cozy on a blustery sub-zero Canadian evening. I can picture troves of fellow tourists packing into the picnic tables or gathering near the fireplace for a stein, but today the windows are opened out onto the street in the hopes of generating a crossbreeze, and Kath and I, drunk on humidity, are dreaming of an icy December draft. The space has the feel of a sugar shack with its wooden paneling, stacks of logs, deer decor and swaths of plaid, and Kath and I are inertly drawn to ordering the sweetest items from the brunch menu (realistically, we would have ordered the sweetest items regardless of the sugar shack ambiance).
As good as Quebec City had been to us on our brief excursion, it was time to head back to reality: for Kath, the blase routine of office life, and for me, the indifference of unemployment. Our vacation had been, like my birthday french toast, a necessary indulgence. And isn't that what trips like these are really all about? A pausing of schedules, a shifting of routines, a compromising of problems: do we want to eat now or later? Which view is best? When is happy hour? How late should we sleep in tomorrow? Kath and I headed back to America with full stomachs, sore legs, and a trunk full of cidery goods. Three nights and four days had gone by delightfully quickly.
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