November 13, 2010
Dear Guillaume,
We've never met. To be honest, I wouldn't even recognize you on the street. If we happened to be in the metro together I would avoid your gaze like every other polite Montrealer is instinctively supposed to do when riding the metro, except I imagine you're the kind of person who would turn to me and offer his seat when he saw how many groceries I was carrying, as I'm oft to do. The only change in my grocery-laden life is now that I'll have less back pain because bread is lighter than watermelon, and all I want to buy is loaves and loaves of your bread. Fruit is an over-rated food group, except when it comes stuffed inside your baked, slightly-fermented delicacies.
So you don't know me, but you've already done me the ultimate kindness, whether or not you give up your metro seat. You've saved me the trouble of making my own sourdough bread. When summer ended I lost my baker. Well, really, he always belonged to LaPerle (the lucky woman), but she was good with sharing. Bread-less, I resigned myself to growing my own sourdough starter so I could have a little of the tangy flavour of LaPerle's Boulanger's bread all winter. I'm not a maternal person, though, so keeping something in my house alive indefinitely is intimidating. I'm not even good with houseplants, and those need water even less regularly. It's disgraceful.
So when I found you, the weight lifted from my shoulders. I loved you instantly. I saw the list of ingredients in all your breads so I didn't even have to spend 10 minutes of my or your salesperson's time asking what was in each loaf. No milk, no butter, no additives, and half the loaves used sourdough instead of yeast. Oh, Guillaume, it was wonderful. My favourite LaPerle loaf was a hazelnut sourdough, and when I saw your walnut loaf I knew I'd make it through winter in one piece. The walnuts, like LaPerle's hazelnuts, were perfectly toasted. The second time I had this loaf the nuts were softer, a little less intense, but the bread was sponge-y, light, and chewy. I don't know if it's better than LaPerle's Boulanger's, but I consider myself an equally lucky woman, along with the rest of the Montreal population that should get to know your bread and your boulangerie.
Bear with me, Guillaume. I just finished reading a book by the Wall Street Journal's wine columnists who started something called "Open That Bottle Day", where readers would plan a special occasion to open a bottle they'd been saving for whatever reason. After the day passed, they received tons of letters from readers who had participated in the event with friends, family, or by themselves. The thing was, Guillaume, that most of the readers' letters weren't about the taste of the wine itself, but about the experience of opening and drinking the bottle - the story of the bottle, the memories. Sometimes the wine wasn't even very good, but it didn't matter. The wine often transported them back to a special moment when they bought it or received it - a wedding, a trip, a conversation, a last family Christmas, a first job celebration, the family member whose bottle that had inherited from a long-hidden collection.
Your bread, for me, was like a bottle of wine. It brought me back to the summer's sunshine, Sunday mornings of heat, abundant fresh fruits and vegetables, music, and calm. It brought me back to the last farmers' market of the season when the man from LaPerle's Boulangerie at the farmers' market said to me, "Thank you for coming back all summer," as he looked straight into my eyes with a profound, sincere expression on his face. "No," I smiled and laughed, "thank you for coming back each week. It makes my Sunday." What do you say to someone who becomes such a part of your life's routine? Maybe it's silly. I barely knew this man, but maybe you, Guillaume, can understand how important this bread was to me.
I'm loyal, Guillaume. I love your bread itself and I love where it transports me.
In respectful friendship,
Amie
Boulangerie Guillaume
17 Fairmount East
Montreal, QC
Hours: Tues-Sat 7am-7pm, Sun 7am-2pm
514-507-3199
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