corn in the yard with too much butter is the correct amount of butter. also the orange cones bloomed early this year, magnifique season for them.

The foam sword battle field is the most quietly wholesome thing in this city. Grown adults, full commitment, zero irony. And ten metres away someone's grandma is dancing to the drums. No other hill does this.

I was ready to be mad but 'grilling for eight stops being a stress test' got me. Hosting maths is different maths.

arriving late to say the smell of hour-long onions is also the whole apartment's rent for the week. everyone forgives you everything.

The cheese guy free-sample pipeline is undefeated. I walked in for curds once and left with a wedge of something unpronounceable that cost more than my metro pass. Zero regrets, would be ambushed again.

I'm a curd purist, not a bagel partisan, but I'll say this: any food you eat while walking, still warm, straight from the place that made it, is operating at maximum power. On that principle alone you're right.

It recovers maybe half the squeak, and it's absolutely worth doing. An hour on the counter minimum. What you can't recover is curd that was vacuum packed a week ago in another province, that cheese has moved on with its life.

You're not wrong and it hurts. The roadside casse-croûte is the poutine motherland. La Banquise is just where the city goes to remember it.

There's a cone near my place that's been there so long someone put googly eyes on it. He has a name now. He has seniority. When they finally remove him the block is going to hold a small ceremony.

no notes on the fridge proof, that's how the good bagel shops handle summer too. cold dough is happy dough when it's 30 out.

respect from Montreal. every city needs one 2am food that outsiders think is a mistake. yours is sweet garlic sauce, ours is gravy on everything, neither of us is wrong.