BBook.com’s Daniel Barna reveals the top hangout spots for hipsters in Montreal.
● Tokyo (Plateau)
● Casa Del Popolo (Mile End)
● Bar Korova (Plateau)
● Euro-Deli (Plateau)
● Green Room (Mile End)
● Blue Dog Motel (Plateau)
● Le Pistol (Plateau)
● Blizzarts (Plateau)
● Saphir (Plateau)
● Bily Kun (Plateau)
Montreal has ben rainy and gloomy this past week so why not brighten up your weekend with a comedy show?! Whether you’re going out with friends or with a date laughter is the way to go.
Nothing will brighten up your day like an evening of jokes and drinks. This weekend Neil Janna is taking the stage at the Nest.
With nine appearances at the Festival Just For Laughs and a favourite at The Nest. Neil gets his point across with vigour and volume. No one is left unmoved in the wake of a Janna jam.
The singing duo of John Gatucci and David Messiano have found the perfect blend of song and satire.
The Doo Wops skew popular songs and make fun of ethnic stereotypes, pop culture and sexual divide. They consider themselves good Catholic boys and are never cruder than necessary.
These international headliners are performing at Montreal’s Ernie Butler’s Comedy Nest this weekend, Apr. 16, 17, 18.
Tickets always go fast, so be sure to reserve your tickets a.s.a.p. so you can laugh, drink and be entertained.
Since you probably don’t have work tomorrow, you might be looking to go out and let it all hang out. Well, if your idea of letting it all hang out is getting s**t-faced and taken in some decent tunes in a down-to-earth watering hole (re: dive), then you might want to check out The Angy Parrots tonight at Barfly.
Personally, I haven’t seen them live yet, but I’m friends with them, and from what I’ve seen on their YouTube channel, they’re kind of like what would happen if the Buzzcocks made a guest appearance on Star Trek. The show gets going around 10pm, and cover is only $5.
If you’re straddling the fence on whether or not to check’em out, you can get feel for The Angry Parrots on their YouTube Channel, Facebook group, and MySpace page. But honestly, if their shows are anything like their house parties, they’re definitely worth checking out on a night when you don’t have to get up for work the next morning.
By now, you’ve probably run into someone familar - within one degree of separation - to either the victim or the perpetrator. Last weekend, early Saturday morning to be precise, 26-year-old Thomas Vernis, owner of Santos restaurant in the Old Port, hit François Dumouchel, alias DJ Euterke, and killed him in a hit and run. Euterke means muse in Greek.
Vernis, who is the son of Old River’s founder Edouard Vernis, was arraigned at the Montreal courthouse Monday afternoon on a charge of hit and run causing death. He faces charges in a fatal hit and run case that could land him anywhere from 2 years to life in prison. Some are suspecting that he might get a sentence on the lower end of that range when he appears in court in August. In the meantime, Vernis was released on $5,000 bail, with the condition that he cannot drive a vehicle and must give up his driver’s licence. He is also ordered to stay home between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m., unless absolutely required to be at work. Clubs close at 3am in Montreal.
The 36-year-old Francois Dumouchel was struck and killed at the corner of St-Laurent and Villeneuve. Vernis’ SUV hit his scooter, threw Dumouchel several metres. Vernis, meanwhile, kept going with his SUV, dragging the scooter for six blocks. Allegedly, he got out of his SUV on Esplanade and Rachel to get rid of the scooter. If you are familiar with the city, you know that’s a couple of blocks northbound, a couple West. Vernis was arrested hours later in Old Montreal, at Santos.
The cops didn’t bother to give him a breathalizer, because this was way after the fact, and his results would have been tainted; when was he drinking? Before the hit and run, or afterwards, when he emerged at his bar.
Anyway you dice it, this is sad. People don’t wake up thinking: I’m going to plow through someone on a scooter. On the other hand, no one deserves a death like Dumouchel’s either… who allegedly was sent off by his girlfriend/wife as he crossed that fateful street corner where he met his fate.
Vernis’ fate remains to be determined, according to a story in the Montreal Gazette:
Victor Carillo was parking his car on Villeneuve at the time of the accident. In an interview at his home, he stood up from his couch and pointed to the ceiling to show how high the man flew off his scooter before landing on the sidewalk.
“He was bleeding from his head and his ears,” Carillo said.
He said strangers immediately started giving the man mouth-to-mouth and pumping on his chest.
The driver of the SUV almost hit his wife, who was standing on the sidewalk as the vehicle sped off with the scooter underneath, Carillo said. He said she ducked behind their car and recorded the licence plate number of the SUV and gave it to police.
“If you hit a dog, you stop,” Carillo said. “This guy hit someone and didn’t even slow down.”
Montreal criminal lawyer Marc Giroux said the crown could charge the man with manslaughter, but it is unlikely.
“It’s tougher to prove manslaughter than hit and run causing death, for sure,” he said. In order to show manslaughter, the crown would have to prove that the driver was driving fast with the intention to kill someone.
This being the age of social media, the entire episode leaves a trail of sorrow across the Web. A quick search for Dumouchel lands you on his professional profile on LinkedIn, the popular social networking website that connects employees and employers. When he was not DJing, he was helping the Laurentian bank step into the 21st century, apparently.
Closer to his passion, Dumouchel - who went by the DJ Euterke handle - also had his YouTube page. Since his tragic passing, friends and fans have been leaving their condolences and best wishes on his Facebook page.
Vernis on his end is no stranger online, either. Apart from the countless of stories on mainstream media sources since the incident, he conducted an interview talking about his background and his new restaurant. Catch it on Veoh, or the popular French social networking site Daily Motion:
Notice that the comments on Daily Motion have been disabled; the comments are enabled on Veoh, and understandably, unkind to the 26 year old.
This all begs the question: why. Why didn’t Vernis just stop? Was he drinking? Maybe. Who knows. And based on the events that took place, maybe we will never find out. Vernis is slated to appear in court in August… but instead of leaving you on that somber note… let’s sign off on something worthwhile, an impressive and memorable appearance by Dumouchel at the popular Mont-Royal haunt Patro Vys, enjoy.
“They’ve done it again” was my first impression when I walked in to the dimly lit restaurant with a very bright future. The latest brainchild from acclaimed local restaurateurs (and husband and wife team) Travis Champion and Monika Terlecki is sure to delight locals and tourists. I’ve known Travis and Monika for over a decade (man I’m getting old) and have come to appreciate and respect their fine taste for all things culinary and their attention to the details that make dining out experiences memorable ones.
Two years ago, Monika and Travis were part of the 5-member team that founded one of the most successful restaurants to have launched in the city over the past decade. Looking for a new challenge - and location - Monika and Travis found a gem at 479 Saint Alexis, in Old Montreal, on the corner of Notre Dame (head down McGill, turn right on Notre Dame, and the first street after Saint Pierre is Saint Alexis).
Like many of the standout restaurants in the Old Port, you won’t find any signs donning the entrance, but once you find L’Orignal, you’ll know exactly how to find your way back, thanks to the menu that greets you and the friendly team that serves you.
The location is in a greystone on one of the more quiet streets of our Old City. Words can’t describe the atmosphere, but one word of caution: make sure you don’t walk through the glass entrance that greets (maybe it was the wine/martini/scotch… but I digress).
Of course, any dining experience boils down to food, and not surprisingly, I was quite impressed.
Some of the starters will leave you wanting more: the lamb mini burgers in particular are insanely tasty.
L’Orignal offers an impressive array of tartares that cater to vegetarians (cucumbers) and meat lovers (tuna, salmon, duck, beef). But with a name like L’Orignal, you the focus will be on meat and seafood.
Filet mignon, veal shank, fish and chips, bison meat and a mushroom risotto are just some of the dishes that catch one’s eye on the menu, which ranges from $18 to $52 (for an intriguing filet mignon with maple syrup whiskey!).
L’Orignal opens tonight… I’ll be there with moose antlers on!
The coolest thing about being Canadian is being tacky (and giving things titles like I did this post). Every time someone remotely famous passes through our air space, those plastic sycophants on eTalk Daily will find a way to glamorize it. And if someone Canadian actually makes it anywhere doing anything, if their backwater hometown doesn’t name a highway or mall after them, then we’ll stamp their name into a Toronto sidewalk because we really are distinct from the celebrity-obsessed-world-super-power neighbour.
For these reason (and others) the government gives tax breaks to studios that churn out cliched crap so long as 51% of the people involved in its making were Canadian. Apparently, making second-rate imitations of what Hollywood was doing 5 years ago shores up our cultural identity, and that’s why we get to watch flicks like Bon Cop Bad Cop. It’s so Canadian because it features hockey and both official languages.
But, unlike Hollywood that tries to cover up that they’re using cheaper Canadian labor and filming in Montreal, Bon Cop Bad Cop actually took place here. This made us all feel good because now even the movies shot here are in both official languages. In your face T-dot — it had to be some internet-porn-geek that came up with that abbreviation.
Anyways, one of the many Montreal landmarks that made it into the film was Spurs Country Bar. It was the bar where one of the cops almost got his ass whooped until he dramatically persevered and then stuffed the perp in the trunk of his car. I’ve never been in the place because it’s along a strip of St. Jacques known for its hooker motels and used car lots, but I’ve heard stories. In any case, here’s a picture that makes it look authentically country-western because it advertises a live band.
there is an ice bar open in Montreal! if you’ve ever been curious about what it feels like to sip champagne while your extremities freeze, come on down to the terrace (well, in the summertime, currently it is a frozen wonderland) of Le Garcon at 1112 Sherbrooke (and Peel). Thursday’s opening was as cozy as an ice haven could be, with oysters and chestnuts presented as appys, and champagne and hot wine changing hands as freely as the fur-coated waitstaff changed shifts. it’s kind of a strange concept to stay in an ice hotel (willingly sleep on a bed made of ice, though the selling point is a thermal sleeping bag and reindeer pelts) or get married in an ice chapel, or even watch a movie in a theatre made of ice, but the sculptures and structures are truly amazing. go on down and get a drink, it brings a whole new meaning to “on the rocks”. oh, and watchmojo was there, so there are videos to come in case you miss it…
there really is (or should be) an age when you realize that you are too old for clubbing. now i’m not talking about going to a lounge or a show that happens to be in a club with a few friends or grabbing a drink after work. that is timeless social behaviour, especially for unemployed artists who don’t really have any other pasttimes, but i digress. what i’m referring to is the tarting up with your barely legal friends to allow for alchohol consumption to the point of excess as your excuse to dance badly and make stupid decisions (like hanging out in a miniskirt and a transparent tanktop on the corner when it’s -25 degrees outside, dangit woman, the liquor is not to blame for your pneumonia!)
saturday night, i decided to bite my tongue and go along with the plan to tag along a bday party and venture to “Q” in old montreal. this is the supper club formerly known as “Quartier”, but i suppose they shortened the name to join up with the neighboring “W” hotel (where Raf Katigbak spins on friday nites). since both of them are a block away from the Palais de Congres, one could argue for the conspiracy theory of the sesame street-ization of the neighborhood.
the ladies are free, though the gents have to pay $12. the line actually moves pretty fast, unlike that at Rouge, which these days seems more privy to letting in dirty guys and making cute girls stand outside in the cold. perhaps they want to change the ratio in the club. the should really think of changing the dj or at least giving him a talking to, because one should know not to make bad transitions from New Kids on the Block to Nirvana. anyways, i digress again.
so, the youngish crowd at Q (19-21ish) is a bit obnoxious, especially those in the back who make a big production about how they’re ballin’ out of control, ordering expensive bottles served to them with sparklers (by folks who are at least twice their age, how degrading is that?) and put their grubby little feet all over the booths that i presume are for dining (makes you reconsider actually eating at this supper club).
i also witnessed a particularly despicable new phenomenon (and i’m not talking about the cowboy shirt that seems to have become the club uniform for all boys aged 19-21) of gnashing into brand new packages of table napkins just to have ammunition to make “snowstorms” between drunken, gropey friends. i’m a bleeding heart recycler so i almost punched one of these punks in the face because of the abject waste that is involved in such a ridiculous practice. seriously. i can’t even think about how many napkins on a nightly then weekly basis have to be sacrificed to this end without increasing my blood pressure.
the music is electronic (with dance mix versions of justin timberlake and nelly furtado faves thrown in), the boys are fresh, and the pointless debauchery (tearing animals from limb to limb as a tribute to dionysus is an example of pointed debauchery, sorry, i couldn’t resist after reading froosh’s post about expensive yet forgettable fish) is rampant. the only thing that really made me smile was the immaculately clad “martini boys” in their pinstriped pants, crisp white shirts and suspenders…mmm suspenders. they’re all so metrosexually sexy.
moral of this story? if someone suggests to go to such a place to celebrate their 30th bday, maybe you should ask yourself why exactly you are friends….
