The timeline of my life has been so similar to my dad’s and my grandpa’s that I felt the need to document them. I moved to Montreal this year at the tender age of 22. My dad, also moved to la belle Province when he turned 22 to study. My grandpa, started this strange incredibly specific generational tradition when he moved to study medicine. Now there is a reason for these moves. Opportunities for Francophones in Ontario in Medicine were slim to none during their eras. For me, I found myself looking for a new experience. There was no chance in hell I became a doctor.
I figure when kids leave home, there is a certain expectation to receive a last piece of parenting pie. One last “around the campfire” life lesson. I think I received the best advice a son could get.
My father gave me the privilege of a late night run to his favorite Montreal bagel shops. During my move to the city, he treated me with a dozen sesame bagels. Maybe the most famous of the Montreal style bagel shops, Fairmount bagel in the Mile End has served my dad during his studying years at any hours of the night. Now I understand this location is very well documented in MTL, but I need to mention the meaningful connection that 3 generations of Mongeon men made with the shop.
First off, there is something to be said about places who only accept cash. Are they hiding something? Who knows. They are certainly not hiding flavour. I can say that not being able to use a card adds to the experience. Why is that? Right when you approach the shop, you see the big Fairmount sign with the friendly bald man holding bags of bagels. You zig-zag through a labyrinth of bagged bagels ready for delivery. You get to the counter and see the mountains of dough getting treated like royalty before their entry into the wood fired oven. I’m not sure how many bagels they make per day. I asked the man and he said a number that was too big to remember apparently.
The other quality of the shop is its 24 hour access. You would be surprised how many nights I am left craving a freshly cooked sesame bagel out of a brown bag. If only I could be a fly in the wall in that place. I cannot imagine the amount of things they’ve seen during a night shift at Fairmount.
Without my dad’s knowledge, I’m not sure I would of made my way to this bread eater’s heaven. I am eternally grateful for this discovery. With tips like these, living away from home becomes that much easier.
I like to eat my bagels sesame with nothing on them. In the nude. How do you take them? Let me know in the comments.