Bagel Wars

Posted on June 12, 2012 by Val

Fairmount Bagel and St-Viateur Bagel Shop
Montréal QC, Canada

A sesame bagel from Saint Viateur Bagel Shop

A sesame bagel from Saint Viateur Bagel Shop

Through the ages, mankind has been faced with difficult choices: paper or plastic; Mary Anne or Ginger; Almond Joy or Mounds. One of these disputes that has yet to be settled is who gets the heavyweight bagel championship title or earns the right to call themselves the crowned prince of Montréal-style bagels. If you’re unfamiliar with the genre, the Montréal bagel is a whole different animal; they bear little similarity to their Big Apple cousins to the south. The dough wheels are hand-cut and joined, making them lumpy and irregular in shape; the water they are briefly boiled in (and the bagel dough) is sweetened with honey, giving the finished product a cake-like taste and consistency, partially due to the reduction of salt in the manufacture. Montréal bagels are typically baked in an open wood-fired oven that could easily bake a pizza the size of Rhode Island and usually the manual assembly line process is all performed out in the open and around the clock. Although the heavy hitters ship their product throughout Canada and the U.S., there is no experience quite like queuing up to get a hot one right out in the oven with its slightly charred crust enveloping the soft, spongy goodness within. Runs of specialty bagels (cinnamon raisin, blueberry, etc.) are made at various times during the day but for the most part, three varieties are churned out en masse: sesame seed, poppy seed and plain.

Cutting bagels from dough by hand

Cutting bagels from dough by hand

It isn’t well known who introduced the bagel from Eastern Europe to Montréal, but most historians attribute the first commercially available bagels to either Chaim Seligman, who originally sold his bagels from a cart and then later moving into a brick-and-mortar next door to Schwartz’s Deli or bagelmeister Isadore Shlafman, who had been making bagels in Montréal since 1919. For a while Seligman partnered with Mayer Lewkowicz and Jack Shlafman (son of Isadore Shlafman), but the trio split into competitive factions – Seligman and Lewkowicz (who later founded Saint Viateur Bagel Shop) and Shlafman (who took over Isadore’s Fairmount Bagel). Although there are a baker’s dozen of decent bagel shops in Montréal, the forces to be reckoned with are the two old timers.

Dipping bagels into sesame seeds before baking

Dipping bagels into sesame seeds before baking

The Shlafmans had been bageling for about 30 years before Isadore knocked down the walls on the first floor of a home at the current location on Avenue Fairmount and installed the gigantic oven in 1949. The entrance to the round-the-clock operation is located at the original front porch of the house; once inside, the queue starts in the cramped customer space where patrons can watch the full production of bagels – while one baker is cutting and forming bagels from a coffin-sized mound of dough, another is boiling the bagels, rolling them in the appropriate accoutrement and feeding them into the oven’s gaping maw on what easily looks like a twenty foot long wooden oar. Once the fleet of bagels have been flipped to toast evenly, they are tossed into a giant bin where they are bagged, or (if the temptation is too great) quickly transferred from the bin into your eager hand while still piping hot. The process of removing the bagels from the oven is quite the spectacle – some of the bakers have developed a spectacular flip of the wrist that transfers the bagels from the “bagel peel” into the bin in a high sweeping arc with nary a baked good missing its target.

Fairmount Bagel's cinnamon raisin bagel

Fairmount Bagel's cinnamon raisin bagel

St-Viateur Bagel is approximately the same size as Fairmount Bagel, but it has resided in an old storefront with huge picture windows where you can watch the bagel manufacture from outside. Like Fairmount Bagel, St-Viateur operates around the clock, baking and bagging thousands of bagels daily for shipment; there are three other bakeries in addition to the original location as well as a couple of cafés in Montréal. Bags of St-Viateur Bagels emblazoned with the lumpy, misshapen bagel-man mascot are available throughout Québec Province, stuffed into baskets at Marches Atwater and Jean-Talon, stacked and at the ready for sandwiches at Bagel Bar at Montréal-Trudeau Airport, and even available in the gourmet epicurean grocery J. A. Moisan in Québec. St-Viateur Bagel appears to have a fairly large orthodox clientele, and it’s not uncommon to see patrons in payot and beard come in for freshly baked matzo. A sample of the three traditional bagels (black, white and plain) at St-Viateur Bagel demonstrates that although the product is the same, the taste is different.

Saint Viateur Bagel Shop is not just for bagels

Saint Viateur Bagel Shop is not just for bagels

As for which is the superlative bagel, if Montréalers haven’t laid that quandary to rest after 50 years, I’m not about to levy judgment – you’ll just have to try them yourself. If you don’t have a truck to ship them to New York fresh (as some folks do to sell at considerable markup as “real Montréal bagels”), you could order a bag online, but I doubt the experience would match sampling one straight from the oven. A trip to the Great White North makes for an expensive bagel, but is quite frankly worth every penny. What, you want I should settle for Noah’s?

Fairmount Bagel
74 Avenue Fairmount Ouest
Montréal, QC H2T 2M2
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’22.38″N 73°35’42.89″W

St-Viateur Bagel Shop
263 Rue Saint Viateur Ouest
Montréal, QC H2V 4G
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’21.54″N 73°36’6.95″W

GALLERY: See images from Val’s visits to Fairmount Bagel and St-Viateur Bagel Shop in Montréal, Canada

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Chili Today, Hot Tamale

Posted on June 7, 2012 by Val

Chili John’s
Burbank, California

The horseshoe bar is the only place to sit at Chili John's

The horseshoe bar is the only place to sit at Chili John's

From the hand-painted, neon-accented sign on the top of the curved corner building to the Dorothy Gale red gingham checked curtains in the window, Burbank’s Chili John’s looks like a slice of Americana frozen in time. Although a neon clock above the kitchen door at the center end of the single room advertises that Chili John’s was established in 1900, the unchanged decor dates it back closer to the 1950s. What is billed as Chili John’s of California has, in fact, been at the same location since opening and very little has been modernized (the cash register is a chrome push-button dinosaur with pop-up letter tiles). Although not completely accurate, the centenarian claim is fair – just after the turn of the last century, John Isaac ladled out what he dubbed Texas-style “range” chili at his bar in Green Bay, Wisconsin – by 1917 so many people dug his chili that the bar was renamed Chili John’s and is still in operation (albeit at a different location). In 1946, John’s son Ernie brought the brand to a burgeoning Burbank in 1946 to feed hungry workers at Lockheed; he painted one wall with a mural that dates as far back as the restaurant and depicts a mountain lake region very much unlike the Verdugo Mountains that rise in the distance over Burbank.

Chili with spaghetti and beans, about to become a 5-way

Chili with spaghetti and beans, about to become a 5-way

The restaurant changed hands in the 1970s and then again when it was sold to the Loguercio family in 1990. Although patriarch Gene Loguercio recently died, the business is still maintained by his wife and two sons, who appear to be the only employees. Although a menu is cheerfully handed to you when elbow an orange vinyl seat at the horseshoe-shaped bar (there are no tables), the fare is just as described on the front of the building: “As You Like It”. All dishes incorporate the chili that is still prepared with respect to Isaac’s original recipe, although the choices have grown to include a bulgur wheat-based vegetarian and a chicken chili that cook Alec Loguercio points out originated during World War II when beef wasn’t always available. In addition to the three varieties, each can be ordered with a medium or hot spice level (although the hot has a mellow, flavorful burn without scalding the tongue in a blaze of flaming stupidity).

Chili John's, Burbank, California's oldest restaurant

Chili John's, Burbank, California's oldest restaurant

Fans of Cincinnati chili will enjoy Chili John’s as you can order two-way up through five-way, or even a Coney (although you won’t need to study the vernacular as the menu only lists the items you can crown with the chili, including spaghetti, beans, hot dogs, etc.). Conspicuously absent are French fries, although leaving them off the menu keeps Chili John’s from having to man a Frialator. The handmade tamales are stuffed with chili and love, although something in the preparation leaves the masa with a somewhat spongy consistency. The menu lists sandwiches but there is nary a ham and cheese to be found – all are variations of the Sloppy Joe, appropriately christened “The Sloppy John”. Debbie, Anthony and Alec Loguercio won’t even flinch if you decide you want spaghetti with tamale, chicken chili and a bun on top – if the component is listed on the menu, they’ll slap it together for you.

The works at Burbank's Chili John's

The works at Burbank's Chili John's

As customers file in, they’re generally greeted by name; even though the age range of the patrons spans about 50 years, the Loguercios appear to remember everyone who comes in. Expect to strike up a conversation – to one group of patrons, Alec described a motor he’s building and then switched to the history of chili with me. Ask him where chili originated in the United States, how to make Cincinnati red, or why you want to cook the beans separately and Alec has got you covered. The service is a throwback to a smaller Main Street America of days gone by; your order is written on a green pad of guest checks and your meal is assembled from ladles and forks dipped into vegetable inset pots on a steam table island inside the horseshoe. Bowls are served medium and large (the same bowl is used but filled to capacity for the large portion), but unless you have the appetite of the Von Erichs I recommend the smaller portion to allow room for the ample supply of sport peppers, onions, cheese, and oyster crackers. As Alec was my server, when it came time to pay, he surveyed my bare dinnerware, did a quick calculation in his head, and then levied the damage (which was pretty reasonable for the fiery feast).

As for the chili itself, Alec confided that it cooks for 8 hours; the muscle fiber breaks down to a dusky brown, almost paste-like consistency with a rich and hearty flavor. I opted for a five-way that started with pre-cooked spaghetti that was neither al dente nor reduced to a gelatinous Chef Boyardee mush; the spicy oil from the chili eagerly clung to each strand. Beans were added and then topped with a generous helping of the chili onto which I added chopped onions and grated Cheddar. The chili was outstanding; the family atmosphere and retro ambience resulted in a relaxed and casual lunch that I’d easily repeat any time – it was the perfect meal for a chili day.

Chili John’s of California
2018 W. Burbank Blvd
Burbank, California 91506
GPS Coordinates:  34°10’48.08″N 118°20’1.56″W

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Machine Head

Posted on June 4, 2012 by Val

Musée Mécanique
San Francisco, California

A toothpick amusement park in action

A toothpick amusement park in action

Those old enough to remember the plethora of amusement parks and piers along the east and west coasts will undoubtedly recall the arcades and fun houses that were well-stocked with manual pinball machines, Skee Balls, nickelodeons, mutoscopes and a variety of coin-operated mechanical games and devices. There were games where you squeezed a lever and lights would indicate your sexual prowess, and the familiar animatronic “fortune teller” that would dispense a card with a cosmic advice from the great beyond. Many of these places had been around since the mid-nineteenth century and by the end of the 20th century had fallen into disrepair or went belly-up trying to compete with technologically advanced amusement parks such as the Six Flags chain, electronic games at modern arcades like Dave and Buster’s and the ultimate gaming machine – the personal computer. A handful of these emporiums still exist in places like Salem Willows, Hampton Beach, and the Atlantic City Boardwalk, although many of these now consider their ancient machines video games like Centipede, Asteroids and Space Invaders.

The humorous and creepy Laffing Sal

The humorous and creepy Laffing Sal

If you’re lucky you may still find places with boxes containing mechanical, hand-carved figures that dance or perform in a wooden pageant, “peep show” mutoscopes that flip still pictures through a viewer fast enough to give the impression of motion, or one-man bands – player pianos with other mechanical percussion or stringed accompaniment, all of which briefly entertain with the insertion of a coin or two.  One such place that has amassed an impressive collection of machines dating back to mid-1800s is San Francisco’s Musée Mécanique, located at Pier 45 at the end of Fisherman’s Wharf. Approximately 200 machines are assembled in a warehouse-sized building, each of which has been restored to full functionality. In their former life, these machines would have been housed in a penny arcade (one cent was usually all that was required to animate the devices); the denomination required for a single play today has skyrocketed to at least a quarter deposited in their updated coin boxes. Admission to the museum is free, although a pocket full of quarters is a must (don’t be a cheapskate and mooch your mechanical entertainment off of others’ hard-earned cash).

The total collection (not all machines are on display) were gathered over a period of almost 100 years; Ed Zelinsky began purchasing and exhibiting the devices as a boy in the 1920s. Many of the games were featured at the now-defunct Playland amusement park at Ocean Beach until it closed in the 1960s, at which time the collection was moved into the basement of San Francisco’s Cliff House. In 2002, the collection was moved to its present location on Pier 45; after Ed’s death, his son Dan took over the maintenance and restoration of the amusements.

A 1912 Wurlitzer Style B Orchestrion

A 1912 Wurlitzer Style B Orchestrion

One of the more prominent pieces on display is the original Laffing Sal from Playland (her identical twin sisters were featured in fun houses across America). The deposit of two quarters sends the wooden giantess into mechanical convulsions while recorded maniacal laughter blasts from inside the box. It’s hard to imagine that old Sal would make people laugh – her motions and laughter can best be described as creepy. There are several mechanical music machines; in addition to coin-operated player pianos, these centenarian boxes contain woodwinds, tambourines, percussion instruments and even a mandolin. If hammering out your frustration is in order, fret not, as there are at least two of the infamous Whac-A-Mole machines onsite; video game representation in the collection ends where it began – with a console version of the original video game – Pong. One would assume that with the 3-D realism of modern role playing games there wouldn’t be much interest in this electronic dinosaur, but the ridiculously simple paddle ball-style game still somehow manages to generate a waiting line for play.

The change machines are the most popular devices at Musée Mécanique

The change machines are the most popular devices at Musée Mécanique

In a world in which virtual reality has led us to the point where the most talked-about performance at a recent music festival was the holographic image of long-dead rapper Tupac Shakur, it’s a refreshing departure to be able to be transported back to a time when all you need to keep yourself entertained for an afternoon is a pocketful of coins. Now where’s the salt-water taffy and corn dog shacks?

Musée Mécanique
Pier 45, Shed A
Fisherman’s Wharf
San Francisco, CA 94133
GPS Coordinates:  37°48’33.40″N 122°24’57.31″W

See images from Val’s visit to San Francisco’s Musée Mécanique

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A Fine Mess You’ve Gotten Us Into

Posted on May 14, 2012 by Val

Poutine
Canada

Chez Ashton's classic poutine

Chez Ashton's classic poutine

The United States purports to be a strategic partner and ally to our neighbor to the north, but if we hope to improve relations between the two countries, we’d better start producing a better homage to the de facto national dish of Canada – poutine.  Although the most basic poutine is widely referred to as classique, the sloppy dish (named from the Acadian slang loosely translated as “a mess”) is a relatively modern contrivance. Folklore credits Québec restaurant owner Fernand Lachance as having invented (or at least named) it in the late 1950s; in later years, the dish’s popularity spread across Canada, although Québec Province is still credited with producing the best poutine. Poutine is a relatively simple dish, a casual item better suited to being served in a cardboard, plastic or Styrofoam bowl than on fine china; this is a food of the people, street food extraordinaire, and although it has evolved later in its life to include a variety of toppings, you will always be able to get the classic dish wherever French fries are served.

No explanation necessary in Vieux-Montréal (Old Montreal)

No explanation necessary in Vieux-Montréal (Old Montreal)

Classic poutine adheres to some very basic rules for authenticity, regardless of where it is served. The potatoes used are generally freshly hand or machine cut into thick fries, although some of the fast food chains will use frozen pre-cut fries. In addition to franchises with household names to Americans such as Burger King, A&W, McDonalds, and PFK (Poulet Frit à la Kentucky), the classique is available at homegrown chains like Montréal’s Lafleur and Québec’s Chez Ashton (where most Québécois on the street will direct you).

The cheese makes all the difference in the world (or at least in the north of the Western Hemisphere); by Canadian law, anyone caught dribbling Velveeta or Cheez-Whiz over the potatoes is staked out in front of a bear den and covered in maple syrup. Traditional poutine uses only fresh Cheddar cheese curds; the true test of authenticity is determined by the teeth. When properly manufactured, the cheese nuggets will squeak with each bite – while this can be off-putting to some tastes, it is what will prompt a true poutine aficionado to take that second bite. The curds are a critical ingredient; any substitution leaves you with cheese fries, unworthy to bear the poutine title (you might as well layer Kraft American slices on your Freedom Fries and call it a day while you dine alone on a park bench outside Disneyland).

Yes, even Burger King has poutine

Yes, even Burger King has poutine

The final component to the traditional classic poutine is the medium-thick, savory, brown sauce that coats the fries and curds. The sauce (referred to as sauce, chicken gravy, or just plain “gravy”) can vary in consistency and taste between different vendors. Although the sauce is brown, if differs drastically from the gravy Americans douse their mashed potatoes with or the familiar bottle of HP Sauce found on the bar in most British pubs. The gravy is chicken-based with some basic spices and onion, but the irony is that while only freshly made cheese curds are acceptable, the sauce is generally made from a dry, pre-packaged mix reconstituted with water. Although the thought of cloaking the dish with a powdered mix sounds unappetizing, the result is usually sturdy nectar that you’ll be sopping up with the last of the remaining French Fries.

Poutine Duleton with ground beef and onion (F) and Classique (R)

Poutine Duleton with ground beef and onion (F) and Classique (R)

Poutine is winter fuel, drunk food that finds a sharp increase in popularity after last call in Montréal (at 3 AM). High in calories and carbohydrates, the mélange is a warming, filling treat on a cold day, an alcohol sponge, and a comfort food best enjoyed in moderation. If you find yourself a considerable distance from the casse-croûtes and potato shacks that dot the Québec countryside, the “eenie, meenie, minie, moe” method will get you to a superlative dish of poutine anywhere in the urban centers. Many restaurants offering the dish feature poutine in their name (with the “Least Imaginative” award going to Vieux-Montréal’s “Montréal Poutine”) but you’ll have to do some menu browsing to find some of the more evolved variations. The Mecca of poutine in Montréal is La Banquise, the first destination recommended by native Montréalers. Part of La Banquise’s popularity stems from the fact that it’s open 24-hours a day; the busiest time (when the line stretches out the door) is when the pubs empty out. In addition, the menu features close to 30 different versions of the dish including poutines that will comprise the same ingredients regardless of where you order them:

  • Italian poutine (substituting a meaty tomato sauce for the chicken gravy and occasionally topped with sliced Italian sausage)
  • Poutine Dulton (topped with ground beef and sautéed onions in addition to the traditional ingredients)
  • Galvaude (with chunks of turkey or chicken and green peas, often without the cheese curds)
  • Michigan poutine (accompanied by sliced hot dogs)

Each comes in two sizes, and unless you hang with Adam Richman, I highly recommend the smaller, Frisbee-sized portion.

Hachoir's "The" poutine with duck confit, Grosse-Île tomme and mushrooms

Hachoir's "The" poutine with duck confit, Grosse-Île tomme and mushrooms

Other restaurants in Montréal feature a single, unique, signature poutine dish that is can frequently be described as “upscale”; Montréal’s chef laureate Martin Picard is renowned for his legendary foie gras poutine which is served at his Au Pied de Cochon, and at around $25 this ain’t Joe le Plombier’s poutine. Restaurant Hachoir on restaurant-laden Rue Saint-Denis offers a dish simply known as “The” poutine – this generous bowl is stocked with fries buried beneath dark, rich gravy laden with duck confit, sautéed mushrooms, and Grosse-Île tomme (a cheese curd manufactured in the style of Grosse Isle, a tiny island north of Québec on the Saint-Laurence River). The tender pieces of duck fall apart on your tongue and complement the earthiness of the mushrooms and the hearty sauce, providing a contrast in texture to the squeaky curds. Lester’s Deli (a Montréal landmark since 1951) features a menu item that embodies the spirit of two famous local dishes – the smoked meat poutine. This dish crowns a poutine classique with a mound of chopped smoke meat that renders the rest of the dish invisible; in fact after consuming the proliferation of tender brisket you may not have room left for the underlying poutine.

Portland, Oregon's Potato Champion's poutine-to-go

Portland, Oregon's Potato Champion's poutine-to-go

American attempts at poutine usually approximate upscale chili cheese fries; some of the nobler endeavors use fancy ingredients such as short ribs, pork belly, kimchi and a variety of other items that would leave a Québécois shaking his head. As much as these bistros and food writers tout these tributes as “ultimate” poutine, or describe the restaurants as places where you can “eat like a Canadian”, very few capture the essence of the dish. I have found several exceptions to this sad state of affairs, and undoubtedly there are others lurking around the U.S. (most likely in the northern states). In Southern California, the one place that is overlooked in local reviews of poutine destinations is Redondo Beach Cafe. The retro 50’s diner with its Postmodern NHL decor was founded by two Montréal expatriate siblings, Chris and Kosta Tsangaris, and in addition to both poutine classique and Italian poutine done right, they also feature a close approximation to a traditional smoked meat sandwich almost as good as you could expect to find in Montréal. Farther north, Potato Champion has been selling classic poutine from its food cart at the Cartopia pod located at Southeast 12th Avenue and Hawthorne Boulevard in Portland, Oregon. Like the other food carts that inhabit Cartopia, Potato Champion stays open until 3 A.M. (many of the other pods in Portland close with the business day), able to service the outpouring of nightlife driven out by a 2:30 A.M. last call. The cart only sells potato items, and although they only feature the poutine classique, it is done properly with freshly cut fries waiting patiently in a gigantic mound beside the fryer and topped with fresh cheddar curds. They also feature a vegan option, but if you’re that concerned with what you’re putting in your body, you probably shouldn’t be eating poutine; I don’t even want to know what vegan cheese curds taste like.

Gravy Train's traditional poutine

Gravy Train's traditional poutine

In March of 2012, Evan Goldberg and Tum Rotbard put the Gravy Train Poutinerie on wheels in Los Angeles County; although the menu is laden with Americanized poutines that might raise some eyebrows in Québec Province, the first item is their take on the poutine classique, “The Traditional”. The dish was reverse engineered after an early morning encounter with poutine in Montréal, but over time it has been tweaked it to their specifications. The cheese curds are shipped frequently from a dairy in Wisconsin that manufactures the white lumps of Cheddar in what operator Joe Nacion calls “Mozzarella-style”; rather than make the brown sauce from a mix, Gravy Train uses a bacon-based brown gravy. Russet Burbank potatoes from Idaho are cut, quickly parboiled and then flash-fried on demand. The resulting dish is a rich, salty mess that could easily rub elbows with Montréal’s best. Although the custom curds in my dish seemed to have a milder squeak, the superlative brown sauce more than made up for it. Gravy Train has also created a fried curd side dish that is fried tempura-style using their own recipe for the batter – even though the golden bites are scalding hot, the centers still have some teeth to them.

Redondo Beach Cafe's Danielle loves poutine and it shows

Redondo Beach Cafe's Danielle loves poutine and it shows

Poutine is a blue-collar comfort food that runs in the same circles as mac and cheese; from fast food joints to gastropubs it is spreading like wildfire across North America, and although there is an eagerness of celebrity chefs to transform it into an unrecognizable dish featuring French fries, sometimes keeping something simple is the best option; after all, as good a singer as Josh Groban is, you wouldn’t want to see him singing for The Guess Who.

La Banquise
994 Rue Rachel Est
Montréal, Québec H2J 2J3
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’30.96″N 73°34’29.47″W

Pub Mc Carold
5400 Chemin de la Côte-des-Neiges
Montréal, Québec H3T 2A9
GPS Coordinates: 45°29’48.45″N 73°37’24.86″W

Restaurant Hachoir
4177 Saint-Denis
Montréal, Québec H2W 2M7
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’18.57″N 73°34’40.90″W

Lester’s Deli
1057, rue Bernard Ouest
Outremont, Québec H2V1V1
GPS Coordinates: 45°31’19.66″N 73°36’25.42″W

Redondo Beach Cafe
1511 South Pacific Coast Highway
Redondo Beach, CA 90277
GPS Coordinates: 33°49’14.39″N 118°23’7.74″W

Potato Champion
1207 Southeast Hawthorne Boulevard
Portland, OR 97214
GPS Coordinates: 45°30’44.62″N 122°39’12.46″W

Gravy Train Poutinerie
Los Angeles County, California

P’tit Soleil
1386 Westwood Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90024
GPS Coordinates:  34° 3’19.64″N 118°26’30.25″W

GALLERY: Images of poutine Val has sampled and where to get it in the U.S. and Canada

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Orange You Glad You Stopped

Posted on May 10, 2012 by Val

Gibeau Orange Julep
Montréal, Québec, Canada

The 40-foot orange monster

The 40-foot orange monster

Florida and California are synonymous with citrus fruit, and in particular, oranges; it would be a fair (yet incorrect) assumption that the sweet and juicy orb originated there (it is thought to originally have been first cultivated several thousand years ago in China). Both states have an Orange County and countless place names that pay tribute to the fruit, while there are orange trees in virtually every back yard. Each has had their fair share of historic orange-shaped buildings and shacks that Anita Bryant would be proud of, most of which vended orange juice in their former lives; few remain. Once such stand located conveniently along Route 66 in Fontana, California is labeled simply “Bono’s Historic Orange”.  It was originally built in 1936 to quench the thirst of those who decided to motor west on the route that’s the best through the desert towards the oasis of Los Angeles but has stood freshly painted yet unoccupied for years.

Bono's pipsqueak orange in Fontana CA

Bono's pipsqueak orange in Fontana CA

Although the defunct juice stand in San Bernardino County has come to be known as “Bono’s Giant Orange”, one juice stand in the Great White North of Montréal makes it look like a kumquat. Gibeau Orange Julep was originally built on Boulevard Décarie in the 1940s at a respectable two-stories high as a restaurant from which Hermas Gibeau could sell his unique Orange Julep drink to thirsty Montréalers and travelers alike. Gibeau also maintained other stands and restaurants in the Montréal area, with some also shaped (and colored) like oranges; however, the stand on the corner of Décarie and rue Paré is the only one remaining. When the boulevard was expanded in 1966, so was the globe – by the time it was completed, it had attained a forty-foot diameter and was (and is) visible from miles away.

The menu isn't important - the beverage is

The menu isn't important - the beverage is

The restaurant portion is the only part of the structure with windows, with the entrance wrapping partway around the outside as if the orange had simply rolled on top of it. The gunite and plastic panels covering the colossal fruit are bereft of dimples and there’s no obligatory stem and orange leaf on the top; with no signage on the outside of the structure it could easily be confused for a ball or a small planet. Inside, the counter wraps about halfway around with a ceiling and walls which hide most of the interior, allowing conjecture to take over – what’s back there? A grove of orange trees? Orange-squeezing Oompa-Loompas? A series of tubes, chutes and raceways where oranges have their citrus lifeblood extracted in some Rube Goldbergesque mechanical juicing monstrosity? To further add to the mystery, foil-wrapped tubes extend from the back and deposit the frothy, orange beverage into tall, cylindrical glass holding tanks reminiscent of an old gas pump.

The creamy, frothy Orange Julep

The creamy, frothy Orange Julep

The menu runs the length of the back wall in 2×2 backlight squares, featuring illustrations of a cornucopia of roadside dining menu items – hamburgers, hotdogs (listed as Nathan’s), poutine, sausages, Michigans, grilled cheese, all which I’m sure are tasty and nutritious. If that’s your cup of meat, by all means, indulge and enjoy; however, one should not descend into the bowels of a giant citrus fruit only to order something more suited for a dockside visit to Coney Island. The term “orange julep” conjures images of drinking a nearly clear beverage while watching a horse race in a ridiculous hat or getting a case of brain freeze gulping that pulpy treat Julius Freed decants into paper cups at your friendly neighborhood food court, and although neither is accurate, the latter is probably closer. The actual ingredients appear to be more of a well-kept secret than the recipe for Coca-Cola; the beverage is sold commercially in plastic bottles, and although the website doesn’t really tell you where to get it (or what’s in it), the picture appears to have a more even color and consistency than the real deal. The nutritional information lists 24 grams of carbs and 22 grams of sugar in a power-packed 96-calorie 250 ml (about half a pint) serving, but again, you didn’t bore into the orange for a lecture from Jamie Oliver.

The drink itself (at the stand at least) is a cold, satisfying vessel of pulpy delight, whipped into a golden froth that almost defies a straw. The Orange Julep doesn’t have the firm body of a frappe or milkshake, although there is a definite suggestion of dairy – it’s probably more akin to Southern California’s Orange Bang than Orange Julius; it has a smooth, cooling finish echoing a Creamsicle blended with orange juice. In the sweltering heat of the Montréal summer, it’s comforting to know that refreshment is just an orange’s roll away, 24 hours a day. There’s no indoor seating, but there are a plethora of community picnic tables at which to enjoy your golden liquid banquet in a parking lot that looks like it could double as a used car lot (a quality amplified during the occasional classic car show beneath the shade of the massive orange).

I wouldn’t encourage a the cost of a plane ticket to Montréal simply to pay homage to the citrus giant and sample it’s orange bounty, but it bears visiting while you’re on a quest for the perfect poutine, superlative smoked meat or best bagels. Squeezing in a side-trip for an Orange Julep at Gibeau’s giant orange is an act that requires little concentration.

Gibeau Orange Julep
7700 Boulevard Décarie
Montréal, Québec H4P 2H4
GPS Coordinates: 45°29’44.45″N 73°39’24.38″W

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