Pâtisserie Belge, La; B+

Next to its affiliated resto, Chez Gauthier, sits a small bakery with simple yet well-done baguette sandwiches. The bread isn’t too hard, and it isn’t too soft. The staff are francophone yet don’t seem to mind communicating in English as well (je veux parle le français, mais quelquefois, c’est impossible). My favorite combination thus far has been brie, smoked turkey, tomato, and of course butter. Prices are reasonable and the pastries look flakey and delicious. There’s no place to sit inside, but you might be able to set up camp at the Second Cup across the street if you buy a coffee.

metro: Place des Arts

3485 Ave. du Parc at Rue Milton

Café Suprême: McGill University Center; B-

Generic Montreal sandwich cafe in the student center, newly opened last year. Enjoy chic stools, lounge chairs, and windows. Usual microwave-warmed selection of sandwiches, a couple salads, coffee counter, and drink cooler. Certainly less crowded than the cafeteria underneath the main library. My salmon pot pie was flakey but bland.

metro: McGill

McGill University, University Center, Shatner Building, 3480 Rue McTavish and Ave. du Docteur-Penfield

Europea; B/B+

The most admirable feature in this upscale resto is by far the striking artisan glass serving plates. That being said, the appetizer was pleasing, a shredded king salmon and Alaska king crab salad with sliced granny apples; the main courses were just ok. The roasted U10 scallops were perfectly seared and tender, but the soupy barley risotto lacked texture and I craved a salty, citrusy, and/or crunchy accent. The underseasoned Boileau deer chop tasted like the grill, and the accompanying wild mushrooms were earthy and flavorful, but the aged cheddar shavings were poorly integrated into the dish.

Service, while friendly, was disorganized and would have benefited from more polished training. Table-side presentation was perfunctory and lacking in that extra flourish only found at upscale restaurants. None of the many dishes served, both ordered and amuse-bouche-style, stood out as wow-worthy. The main dessert was an underseasoned, rubbery panne cotta with passable citrus and marscapone topping (the server said she’d come to explain it and never did). The last part of dessert, which, like the steady stream of amuse-bouches throughout the meal, was an explosion of little things, and more pleasing due to its quantity than presentation or taste. The selection included comfort food blow-backs like fluffy cotton candy, hot mini madeleines, house-made candy and a selection of truffles. The charming take-home mini pound cake was delicious yet dry.

Overall, Europea goes through the visual motions of being trendy, with foams and structures, without flavorful success. There is a chef’s table, but I don’t think I could contain myself from making snide comments about flaccid parmesan crisps or tasteless foams and apple caviar.

metro: Peel or Lucien L’Allier

1227 Rue de la Montagne at Rue St. Catherine O. or at Blvd. Rene-Levesque O.

Butler’s Restaurant and Tavern; B-

It’s hit or miss at this out-of-the-way restaurant in the Essex’s restaurant, Butler’s. We weren’t able to get reservations back in July when we were moving up to Montreal through Burlington, but this time were seated without issue on Saturday night at 5pm. The menu had standard American contemporary hotel fare, and the selection was rather disappointing for the “NECI-trained kitchen” hype.

One could almost say that half of dinner of the evening was excellent; the other was just awful.

The butternut squash soup was thin, but well-seasoned; but the “curry” soup du jour seemed to be a clear vegetable soup with harsh chili spices recklessly thrown in without anything to blunt or round out the soup. My beef tenderloin was a perfect, juicy medium rare, but needed slightly more béarnaise sauce; the accompanying cheddar mashed potatoes were too dry and did not taste like cheddar. The coq au vin was generously portioned, rich, and intensely flavored. Hot cinnamon sugar-encrusted beignets were fragrant and wonderfully accompanied by three sauces; the petite four combination plate was served too cold to enjoy the truffles and the gelee in the macaroons was unpleasantly cold and firm.

Our young server was so astonishingly timid that it was impossible to provide any constructive feedback. She failed to tell us the daily specials, took too long to deliver milk for my tea and deliver our entrees, and forgot to give us forks for dessert. On the other hand, she was friendly and pleasant, knowledgeable about the food, and refreshed our beverages several times throughout the dinner without asking.

The Essex, Vermont’s Culinary Resort and Spa, 70 Essex Way, Essex (Burlington), VT 05452, USA

Q-Shack; B+

I simply could not leave North Carolina without tasting some genuine regional barbecue. Les Quebecois have their smoked meat; the Carolinas have their bbq. While many places were closed over the holidays, the Q-Shack fixed up a surprisingly good smoked pork butt plate. The pulled pork was smokey and woody, and had just the right amount of tangy barbecue sauce keeping it all together. The stewed collard greens were a little boring, but my fried okra was hot, dry, and crispy. A tall bottle of cold birch beer washed it all down.

One wall is decorated with several lines of caps – donate a hat, get a free sandwich – and cartoons or sports flicker gently on the tv. It’s the sort of place you want to go wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt. Throw on a plaid flannel shirt if it’s cold and/or a jean jacket; in warmer weather, enjoy your bbq in the small outdoor enclosure with ceiling fans. Speak up when you order at the counter and watch your meal assembled as you approach the register.

2510 University Dr., Durham, NC, USA

Nana’s; C-

The culinary offerings are very well done at this small, upscale suburban restaurant in Durham, NC and in the interest of full-disclosure, my in-laws are regulars and quite friendly with the executive chef and staff. However, this past December, I was inexcusably slighted by an inattentive server in the bar/lounge area, which overshadowed what could have been a very nice dinner.

Throughout the evening, I watched servers presciently attend to my in-laws at various intervals without being asked – they just knew what was to come next. It was like being at some old-world millionaire’s mansion with knowing butlers flittering about the hosts in a well-choreographed dance – which didn’t include me. In fact, being accustomed to our hosts’ routine probably worked against me, as there were assumptions made by the staff which wouldn’t have been made at any other table.

First, everyone’s drink order was taken except for mine; the barman walked away as if there were only three people at the table and not four. I laughed awkwardly and shrugged since I probably wouldn’t have ordered anything anyway, but was left wondering whether I was slighted as the only ethnic minority at the table in the South. I don’t normally jump to such racist conclusions, but the mind does tend to wander when unexpectedly embarrassed, whether subconsciously or intentionally, by an otherwise friendly and attentive server.

We ordered food, and after enjoying my delicious appetizer, I decided that I needed something sweet and acidic to cut into the fat and salt. Throughout our meal, our server was clearly more focused on a table by the door than us (which seemed odd to me, since the executive chef himself was taking special care of my in-laws, even sending over an extra dish when one of the plates was taking longer than the others), and it wasn’t until everyone else was finished with their entrees that we managed to drag him back to us again.

I was practically done with my risotto and thus no longer needed the palate cleanser I was craving after appetizers, but since we had finally gotten him, I felt compelled to order something. But what? Mortified at being suddenly the focus of attention and feeling unreasonably singled out because I had to articulate my order without being preempted, I hurriedly fumbled through tasting four glasses of wine before finally ending up with a sweet dessert wine that I didn’t really want. Everyone politely waited for me to finish my dinner so we could move onto dessert and coffee.

While I recall the house specialty risotto as being uncommonly good, with a wonderful savory crunch, the rest of the meal was a blur thanks to the overwhelming feeling of being a third-class hanger-on accompanying VIP guests. It is unfortunate that a single (or double) breach in manners could ruin an otherwise pleasant evening at a restaurant, but that is how it is. Diners expect a certain level of care while in an upscale restaurant and a perpetuation of the dining fantasy. In this case, my high expectations were sadly disappointed.

 2514 University Dr., Durham, NC, USA

Carmen’s Cuban Cafe; B+

While suffering through a long yet profitable layover at Raleigh-Durham, we went to a nearby Cuban restaurant for lunch. The popular restaurant, tucked into a strip mall off of the highway, is almost within walking distance of the airport. I went with a tender, juicy roast pulled pork, along with yellow rice, succulent and crispy fried yucca, and a tasty black bean soup. While waiting for our entrees, we sipped mango juice on ice and gnoshed on crispy, paper-thin plantain and smooshed plantain patties. Portions are generous and service is friendly and prompt enough for lunch. Food was all slightly greasy, but cooked and seasoned to perfection. Even after finally getting back to Montreal at 2am the next morning, I was still thinking of that luscious pulled pork…and drooling. Slightly. Definitely a find.

108 D Factory Shops Rd., Morrisville, NC, 27560, USA

A practical and hygienic alternative to recent airport safety measures

My husband and I were in Durham, NC when an inept fledgling terrorist was tackled by a quick-acting Dutch film director aboard an international flight around Detroit. As we followed the emerging details of the story, we watched with growing dread the new safety measures that would be taken for US-bound flights. Would we be subjected to these rules if we were leaving the US? Surely terrorists had better things to do than pick a fight with Canada – after all, the crown prince and duchess had left months ago.

As we trudged through the standard safety checks at Raleigh-Durham, I eyed the x-ray machine to the side furtively, as if a prolonged look would increase my chance of being herded towards it. Please, I kept thinking, I’ll take off my shoes and unsheath my laptop…just don’t image me naked carrying holiday flab. Or better yet, don’t image me naked at all.

A while back, I had seen an article mocking the TSA polices on laptop transportation, and suggesting an open paper bag as the ideal laptop carrying device, according to policy. Well, I propose that instead of using an x-ray machine for some passengers and not all, there should be an airport-wide policy of stripping everyone down and giving them clear plastic poncho/bodysuit-type clothing to wear for the duration of their time at the airport, onboard the plane, and prior to collecting their luggage at their final destination. Clothing could be packed into carry-ons or checked into luggage. There would no longer be a scrambling to unlace shoes and rebelt pants – there would be no more shoes, belts, or pants. New policies prohibit using the lavatories an hour prior to landing? Fine. Just add a set of Depends to the ensemble, and we’d all be set.

My in-laws mentioned something about horses and locking the barn, but it’s all true. I don’t feel safer having to take my shoes, coat, and belt off and then having to hastily throw them back on several seconds later because the person behind me needs space to tie their shoe laces, too. I don’t enjoy having my papers checked every few yards at the airport, fumbling to make sure that yes, I have my luggage receipts and making sure that my passport is open to the photo and that I’m clutching the actual boarding pass and not the ticket receipt which looks strikingly similar. I especially hate ineffectively long check lines (ahem, Dulles) which make even US passport holders arriving in the US feel like Italian immigrants coming to Ellis Island à la fin de siècle – complete with mini replica of Lady Liberty herself (again, Dulles). But please, please don’t make me hate getting x-rayed at airports, too. I don’t care if they claim there are no videotapes made or that the person observing naked passengers can’t see what they look like with their clothes on. Pat me down every time (by a female officer, please), run me through metal detectors or past bomb-sniffing dogs. But please let me keep my clothes and what little dignity I have left at the airport intact.

Brabo; A-

Having just sprung up in Feb. 2008 in Alexandria, VA, along with its associated Kimpton hotel, the Lorien Hotel & Spa, Brabo has the youthful vitality and personality of an eager-to-please puppy. During the Dec. 2009 blizzard, the surrounding sidewalk was obsessively shoveled; when we walked into the Brabo Tasting Room by mistake, the maitre’d personally walked us through the wind and snow to the neighboring Brabo. Delicious, chic, and enjoyable, it doesn’t at all feel like a “hotel restaurant.” The service is especially spirited, tempered with well-trained professionalism (e.g. when listing the sorbets available for dessert, our server told us she refused to tell us one of the items on the list, hoping the chef would remove it from the menu because it “wasn’t selling;” she went on to give us the most tempting descriptions of dessert I’d ever experienced – one of our party almost clapped at the end).

Bread was brought with butter sprinkled with reddish Himalayan salt. We ordered a selection of appetizers and side dishes instead of large entrees. The bonbons of pomme duchesse were dry and too browned; roasted artichokes and Gruyère were pleasant but forgettable. My duck confit ravioli with the orange slices and cognac sauce were too subtle to stand up to my other dish of light, crispy roulade of veal sweatbreads with a rich, dark sauce (more a fault of ordering than of the restaurant itself). The creme fraiche cheese cake – dubbed the “OMG cheesecake” by the server, due to its honey-sage pineapple topping and richness – lived up to expectations. While lacking hot cocoa, my decaf cappuccino was good and piled high with froth.

After dinner, we were encouraged by the server to tour the soothingly modern hotel, and were given a guided tour by the head housekeeper. With their “dreams” theme, the Lorien seems like a great deal, and promises a very pleasant stay.

1600 King St., Alexandria, VA, 22314 USA

Nasher Museum Café; B+

We came back to the museum specifically to eat lunch, after viewing the exhibits before Christmas. No admission fee is required if one is only eating in the café, though reservations are recommended at peak times. Saturday brunch was happily spent sipping Mighty Leaf tea and biting into creamy eggs Benedict lined with spinach and spicy sopressata, accompanied with delicious savory home fries. There was a mysterious brown spot inside of my water glass, but I was in the mood to ignore its existence as long as it didn’t start to dissolve or float. Friendly, helpful service; airy ambience as the cafe is in one corner of the spacious museum lobby area.

 Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University, 2001 Campus Dr., Durham, NC 27705, USA