Montréal Mode | DAY 1: (Pt. 2) W Montréal, Tbsp. Restaurant, Le Petit Dep/Place d'Armes Preview

12/22/2023

Read Part 1 HERE !

Despite not the most seamless recognition process, our Uber driver located us from my grand gestures without issues.

Making our way from Dorval into Montréal by highway, I was met with yet another similarity across the nation: Green road signs. Of course, our highways were wider and far busier. There was barely a handful of cars at the early evening hour.

Along the way, our driver excitedly conversed with us in English. Originally from Syria, he moved to the Eastern side of Canada about six years ago. The move honed his French-speaking abilities, allowing him to work within the province with fluidity while pursuing a degree. He recounted an attempt at furthering his career in Toronto, though ultimately discovered that his lack of English proficiency would hinder his goal.
We listened intently, acknowledging his difficult situation and thanking him for sharing his story while maintaining an impossibly smooth ride into downtown.

The sleek, slate exterior of W Montréal blended into its surroundings and, in the absence of daylight, was hardly visible until we gazed up towards the moderately illuminated blue "W".

After retrieving our belongings from the Uber, we hovered about the entrance momentarily. In this time, a few pedestrians passed us by. The majority barely cast a glance in our direction before continuing onwards, but one, a man in a black jacket, approached us, asking if we wanted assistance with our luggage.

We were initially dumbfounded, under the impression that we had already found ourselves being potential victims of swindling. As I pondered an appropriate response, he clarified his intentions: "I work here.", turning his right side towards us to reveal the W Hotel logo on his oh-too-modern Rudsak down jacket.
"Phew." I thought. Immediately met with apology in my voice, we thanked him for his offer and said we'd be ready to head up after a few more photos.

Our attire of fleecy cotton and winter boots were characteristically divergent from the going-out glamour of cocktail-sippers in the lounge area and tune belchers in the vibrant, mural-lacquered karaoke room. That said, one wouldn't normally be caught rolling hefty luggage while donning heels and sequins.

The staff at the check-in desk was extremely courteous, and possibly the most fluent in her summon of the English language. In our brief exchange, she verified my ID and confirmed my credit card details without giving off the illusion of suspicion - or scrutinizing for malicious intent, as it often feels. I was informed that the gym operated on a 24-hour basis, as did concierge services. W Montréal was, regrettably, devoid of a pool though, leading me to question my own lack of thoroughness in research and the reasoning behind my inclusion of swimming gear in my luggage.

We headed up to the fourth floor, where our room was located.

Spacious, spotless, and swanky, we settled in nicely. Worth noting was the convenient bed end bench and side table; both elements served to provide additional space for our belongings, with the side table able to shifted to whichever section of the room as desired or needed. A consistent gold snakeskin print was used for the chairs and bed end bench, while the rest of the room adopted a glossy white with splashes of black and undertones of blue.

Above the desk was the TV, and adjacent a sophisticated array of liquors, mini bar snacks, and Nespresso machine.

Shielded with grey curtains, the washroom comprised of a bathtub, open shower, enclosed toilet, and sink/vanity. With the exception of the toilet, the other three components did not boast any form of physical separation.

There were initial qualms towards the fixed shower head, and even more reservations towards the utter absence of a shower door. It wasn't until later that evening that the shower head was deemed more functional than anticipated: whether it be water pressure, temperature, or direction of water flow, the design was surprisingly efficient with minimal water escape.

Perhaps my sole gripes would be the fixed nature of the vanity mirror - since who does their makeup directly over the sink? - and the ever-abhorrent square sink.

A nonexistent view lay beyond our window, thus the blinds were closed for the duration of our stay.

Once adequately settled, supper options were weighed. Venturing out into unknown territory at a late hour persisted as an exhausting proposal. Consequently, we agreed upon Tbsp., the hotel's in-house restaurant.

Striding past an unmanned reception booth, several moments passed before our existence was acknowledged and a window seat was granted. Menus were presented English and French, placed next to a dark cloth napkin on a smooth, mahogany table.

Our server, a lanky, bearded man with barely an accent when he spoke in English, greeted us and obtained our drink orders. He soon disappeared after the delivery of our hot water with lemon, only to be seen sporadically in the subsequent thirty minutes while tending to the other three tables in the vicinity.

Tbsp. was horrifically slow. It wasn't uncommon of an upscale restaurant with a co-managed bar, however this lethargy was amplified in the face of fatigue and famine.

Tbsp. Menu - Dinner Menu (Oct 2023 Web Edition)
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Our starters of a Revisited Caesar Salad and Caprese Soup eventually arrived well after the 9 PM mark. Both had been described as "reimagined" and "deconstructed" renditions of dishes familiar to us, noting the creative incarnations as products of the chef's imagination.

The Caprese Soup fit this introduction wholeheartedly. The composition encompassed a mind-blowing medley of textures and even temperatures! Cold confit tomato, spongy morsels, creamy burratini, rich basil cream, and warm tomato soup caressed the senses with each spoonful.

Meanwhile, the Revisited Caesar Salad was truly a work of art. Lettuce and piped dollops of lettuce purée equated to a striking starter of a reimagined ranch-immersed classic.

The Grilled Tomahawk Steak was an original contender for entrée selection. However, upon seeking additional details, the server informed of the limited centrepiece's extravagant 40 oz. bone-in weight. Even after removal of the bone, the fleshy portion was likely to persist between 30-35 oz., ideally suited for larger parties of four or five.

With this knowledge, we instead took to the Beef hanger steak coated with coffee and cocoa and Halibut wrapped in green cabbage. The server's recommendation of Quebec wild mushroom risotto with braised rabbit leg and Parmesan had also been contemplated, but its indulgent, creamier attributes steered me in the direction of the lighter, aquatic alternative.

The cabbage-wrapped Haddock boasted an undeniably lighter profile, while maintaining a gratifying heartiness. Unmistakable was the dish's fishy odours, even when mixed with herbs and drizzled with a zesty yuzu jus. The mellowness was greatly appreciated at the late hour of consumption, as well as the prominence of greens and crunchy topping for contrast.
In particular, I enjoyed the no-drip ceramic pitcher tremendously. The element of pouring contributed a fun element to the dining experience.

Embracing greater robustness was the Beef hanger steak. Notes of coffee and cocoa weren't exactly discernible, but the flavourful dish impressed nevertheless. A flawless medium rare without excess sodium was a beauty to behold - an absolute rarity back home!

Crunchy carrots and wispy Brussel sprout layers contributed textural contrast. Meanwhile, the truffled potato pave was the most exquisite variation of potatoes I had ever had the joy of sampling in my lifetime. The golden specimen harnessed perfectly crisp edges and spectacularly toothsome layers of buttery potato. It was, with much regret, that the potato pave could not be depleted in its entirety, for the block was exceptionally satiating at its given portion.

I stepped away briefly for an intake of medication, only to return minutes later to find our bill was settled with shocking speed.
Now where was this efficiency for the past hour?

Making haste, I led the way to Le Petit Dep, one of many cafés in the area yet one of the few remaining in operation until 11 PM.

We arrived just in time to peruse the cozy space and pluck out baked goods for the following morning's breakfast. A 300 g bag of coffee beans, pricey single serving Hot Chocolate stick (later discovered to be not hot chocolate but rather a solid chocolate bar instead), Lemon Muffin, and Almond Maple Financier were acquired as part of this impromptu visit.

Shockingly, there were still a large number of baked goods in the display case at closing time. Some of these, such as muffins, scones, and a lone ham and cheese croissant were stashed away in a plastic bin, likely for retail the following day.

The vast assortment available at the late hour had prompted us to debate the decision internally: Were they unpopular? Is that why so much remains?
Alas, we had run out of options anyway.

In addition to the standard roster of café items, Le Petit Dep was brimming with Jellycat plushies, postcards, jams and preserves, various chocolates, and even branded merchandise.

Practically all those in presence, be they patrons or staff, spoke French exclusively. While the cashier tried his best to communicate with us, there were definitely a few elements lost in translation, such as referring to cupcakes when we mentioned "muffins" and also relaying my total when I inquired whether bags were extra charge.

As we hovered about the entrance following the transaction, I was amused - and amazed - to witness the entirety of staff dim the lights and leave the store immediately after 11 PM. This scene was unlikely to take place back home, where coffee shops are often cleaning up after operating hours for another hour or so after customers vacate.