Montreal's Best Desserts Results!

Thanks to everyone who got in touch with me about their favourite Montreal dessert places, and especially thanks to the special people who ate a ton of cake with/for me. There are still half-pieces of maybe 8 desserts in my fridge, so my roommate has his breakfast work cut out for him for awhile. He was a great second opinion on the Brulerie St-Denis cakes, using wonderful adjectives, and discerning the hint of vanilla in the icing of the carrot cake that I had missed(!).

10 or so pieces of baklava and syrup-soaked pastries, 3 carrot cakes, 2 chocolate mousses, a chocolate cake, a chocolate swirl cheesecake, a key lime pie, a banana cake and a raspberry almond cake later, I think I'm done with cake for awhile. I did sneak leftovers of my favourites today and my stomach is currently wreaking havoc on the rest of my body. It doesn't quite understand that, try as it might, I'm not letting it escape. There are so many more things with which to fill it. Savoury things. Like vegetables. And lemon. And salad. So, so much salad. To see the whole article summarizing last week's adventures, check out Midnight Poutine.

Here's a list of the winners:
Top 10 Dessert Places in Montreal
1. La Croissanterie Figaro
2. Crudessence
3. Aux Deux Marie
4. Le Cagibi
5. Brocante Baleze
6. Brulerie St-Denis
7. Aux Vivres
8. Au Festin De Babette
9. Calories
10. Rockaberry

And here's the inside scoop for those who read here as well:
The best cakes were definitely at La Croissanterie Figaro, the reasons for which I explain in the Midnight Poutine post, but when you're craving cake, you're maybe not thinking about the best quality cakes. The Croissanterie Figaro cakes were light and beautiful and art in cake-form - chocolate mousse success like I've never achieved myself - but when I get a cake craving I will probably end up going to Aux Deux Marie for their chocolate mousse or carrot cake instead. Kind of like you know you'd be better off with the guy who has a house, a steady income, and a responsible four-door sedan, but instead you go out with the guy with the motorcycle and a mickey of gin. You know it's not the 'best' choice for you, but you do it anyway. Fortunately I don't often have this problem, as I would not want to combine a motorcycle with a mickey of gin. See? This is a responsible blog. Maybe even all-ages, what with the celebration of cake. It's important to teach kids good decision-making skills while they're young, I hear. I also digress...

So now I'm proud to say I know the best desserts in Montreal and am more than capable of recommending a place from a long list of sweet options. Feel free to disagree with me, though. In fact, please do! Let me know if I forgot somewhere. For instance, I hear tell that Beauty's has good home-made chocolate cake, but I could not physically handle another sampling of chocolate cake when I heard this, thus it got left off the list. Not good investigative journalism, I admit, but there is a line, and that would have passed it. To thine own self be true. Know your cake limits. Shakespeare knew about this stuff...

Brocante Baleze

Brocante Balèze
2116 rue de Bleury
Montreal, QC
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2 out of 10

I'm sorry, but when I want to be treated poorly, I'll become a telemarketer. I certainly won't walk into a café I've been curious about for weeks and try to cause trouble. I swear I don't even know how to make trouble. I know how to be an inconvenience because of my intolerance of lactose, but that doesn't justify rude treatment. I'm a potential customer, and those need to be treated with respect.

This had always looked like such a cute cafe, and having found no reviews of it online, I figured it was time to check it out myself. I wasn't hungry, just curious. There was a grand total of five people in the restaurant, so it certainly didn't appear busy, and I felt it would probably be okay to ask a few questions. I walked into Cafe Baleze and stared in awe at the stunningly beautiful desserts.

There was a selection of marzipan fruit, or I assume that's what they were, a wide selection of Middle-Eastern style baklava (less syrupy than Greek versions), a home made chocolate layer cake (your guess is as good as mine what was in it, but you could tell it didn't come from the Cheesecake Factory by the simple icing style), and a fresh dessert loaf of some sort, properly wrapped in plastic to let the flavours combine as it sat waiting to be desired.

I didn't ask the cook/owner to come out of the kitchen, where he was obviously busy, but the girl at the counter pulled him when she didn't have the answers to my inquiries. Once distracted, he apparently thought my questions about who made the desserts and what was in them were inappropriate. At a cafe? Really?

Maybe my first mistake was asking in English, but the people who had just been served at the counter were all English, and I couldn't yet hear the French accent of the counter server. She didn't know where the cake came from, she said, it was a friend of the cook. She didn't know what kind of loaf it was, and quickly asked if I would like to talk to the chef. You always talk to the chef if you can. You get the best information and the most interesting conversations that way. "I'll smile and be polite because I know he's busy and stepping out of his kitchen just to satisfy my curiosty", I actually thought.

No amunt of smiling got the sharp resentment out of this man. I even switched to French because the server spoke to him in French. "They're not from a company," he bellowed, and tried to move back toward the kitchen, despite my apparent follow-up question. They're home made? Yes! You don't get cake like that from stores. Yes, I see. What kind of cake is it? (Mumble of anger). Sorry, what did you say? "You could try a piece" (Not the nice kind of offer...More the "stop asking me questions, annoying girl, and buy a piece of cake so you leave me alone). "Unfortunately I can't eat milk or cream or butter. I'm lactose-intolerant". "No milk in the pastries," he says...right...but LOTS of butter. You can get phyllo pastry made from vegetable oil but I didn't get to ask that question before he stormed back into the kitchen. I tried to say a meek thanks, but he certainly didn't hear it through the thick cloud of irritation that muted the sound of my voice around his head. Well I certainly wasn't going to have a piece of cake or pastry and get sick if I don't respect the place that served me the cake. Why would I want to support that kind of cafe?

So I left...and thought about this experience for the next hour while I had errands to run. On my way back I had to pass the cafe again, and I had debated on my walk between never stepping foot in there again, or intentionally going back in to ask more questions, to give the cafe a second chance.

Well I'm a sucker for second chances apparently. It was after lunch now and, again, the cafe was not busy. I wanted to ask about the sandwiches and soup. The sandwich was grilled chicken with pesto. Pesto with cheese? No. Pesto with...? No parmesan? "No cheese" was all I got. The soup, then. What kind of soup? Vegetable puree. Was the broth home made? Yes. No powders or cubes? No, made here, I'm not lying (as if I didn't believe her). I saw the cook peering out from the kitchen angrily at me.

"Okay, thanks..." I said. I didn't exactly feel welcome. At least I escaped un-yelled at...

Well, no, actually. He yelled from the kitchen that you turn the top knob of the door to get out. Translation: "Get out!" Really, in French or English, I could tell he disliked me, and I'd had enough.

So if you go to this place and have a great time let me know. The food could be good, but this man is a modern-day soup nazi. I didn't have the heart to try the sandwich or soup. It was certainly not made with love. I would have gotten an answer to what was in the bread, but it was not worth the trouble (See, I avoid conflict. How very Canadian of me). The soup may have been nice, but I couldn't ask if there was dairy in it (Avoid, avoid). And the desserts looked spectacular, but there's certainly no ingredient list and the cook doesn't seem to know or care what's in them. They just look pretty. At least 3 people had eaten a piece of the layer cake, so at least I know that's really edible, not just a pretty display that no one actually buys because the cook just yells at you when you ask anything about it. I wish I could favourably review the baklava, but no, I don't trust it to be dairy-free. If I don't know the origins of my food I don't like to eat it. Too bad.

This is certainly not how to treat clients when you're in the food service industry. I hope he was having a horrible (Yes, I hope), because at least then he has some excuse for his unacceptable behavior.

Expect to Pay: With your self-esteem