In a bold effort to uncover What’s Really Good, we’re asking chefs to serve an ideal meal, be it one single dish or seven courses with drink pairings. Our world class chefs will tell us what we should be eating and why. The Perfect Meal aims to give readers an alternative perspective on the restaurant scene by leading them beyond their preconceived boundaries, as it pertains to eating.
At a time when dining extends well beyond what’s on a plate, WRG seeks to relay to our readers the raison d’être of Montreal’s finest cuisine: the fusion of food, decor and the overall feel of a restaurant as seen through the eyes of its creators.
Derek Dammann Head Chef, Maison Publique
It was a particularly hot and humid day, the city and all the people in it were frantic. Half of Montreal suffered a mysterious blackout. The rest was gridlocked in traffic. Handmade signs adorned shop doors: “FERMÉ, panne d’éléctricité”. Below the earth, metro crowds sat motionless, engulfed in darkness. But like a beacon in a storm Maison Publique’s street lamp was lit. We lunged at the door, desperate to escape the sticky haze. As we tumbled in, everything was calm, like Lucy discovering Narnia for the first time. Looking up, there he was, Derek Dammann, standing in the open kitchen just a feet away, framed in an almost picturesque fashion by giant moulding and glass mirrors. This Must Be The Place.
It’s casual, comfortable. It has all the fixtures of a traditional English pub: worn wood floors, sparse tables and chairs, a long black and tan bar, various prized possessions hung haphazardly on the walls – buoys, aprons, a deer head, framed photographs of family and friends – and a bartender with one hand on the tap. It has that musty smell expected of a bar, one that comes with a well-worn and loved space, one that instantly triggers memories. Maison Publique was perhaps itself born from a memory. A tribute to England, where Derek worked as Chef de Cuisine at Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen. Working with world-renowned chefs and in Michelin star restaurants drastically changed his personal perspective on food and his future goals. Whereas many of his peers reveled in the prestige, working at what they deemed to be the pinnacle of the profession and high-end gourmet, the experience led Derek to appreciate and develop his own individual style.
“I really like the idea of sharing,” he said. “I’ve noticed that when people eat – especially now with bloggers, camera phones, Twitter and Instagram – when people get their plate, it’s like someone is cheating off them in school. They keep it to themselves, they don’t talk.” It’s true: the modern diner is so enthralled with the process of eating, the ritualistic habit of scanning the menu, the ceremonial wine ordering, the ostentatious sniffing and swirling, the very notion of gluttonous consumption, that the most essential aspect of sharing a meal is lost. Here, in Derek’s world, food is a communal experience: “you can see their body language opens up, they’re reaching, they start drinking, they’re having conversations. And I really like that idea of people eating like that.”
Derek lives in the Plateau, the very same area of Montreal where his restaurant is located. A vacant corner lot and the idea of a neighbourhood watering hole with simple, mouth-watering food is an image reminiscent of when he lived in England. But Maison Publique isn’t trying to be an authentic British gastro-pub; in fact, it can’t be tied down to one particular style or type of cuisine: it’s Canadian. And proudly so. “In Canada, I think we haven’t got a very defined cuisine of our own, so we can draw from a lot of different inspirations, which is nice. We’re a port city as well. We’re lucky to be very, very multicultural.”
The Perfect Meal starts with perfect ingredients. Ingredients so flawless it would discredit nature to over handle them: “some of the stuff is so good, it’s better just left alone… if that makes sense.” Calling his food Canadian, goes beyond ethnic influences. It means using Canadian products, including beer and wine, from local vendors and farmers. He shares a space with Société l’Orignal, a group that works with farmers, activists, chefs and grocers to provide quality products from Québec, such as honey and oils, as well as produce and fish, to many of Montreal’s best restaurants. Derek has worked with Alex Cruz for nearly six years and this new initiative – a grassroots, quality-conscious, locally supportive movement – has played a pivotal role in his professional evolution: “his stuff inspires me, you know, to understand where things come from; taking ten steps back before one step forward.” It’s a thought provoking, encouraging friendship that extends beyond a mutually beneficial business transaction. These essential relationships, forged with the farmers and fisherman that supply ingredients specifically for Maison Publique are based on common morals. It’s a bond between the select few who understand the significance of canning salmon and the duty to then drink the juice and eat the bones along with the bounty.
View all imagesMaison Publique’s Perfect Meal shows a marked awareness of its purpose: to please. While the dishes are executed with calculated intent, their genesis arises from a humble, honest and sincere desire to create a perfect moment. Genuinely appropriate to the present “here and now”, it could never be replicated under other circumstances. The perfect meal depends on the ingredients, the people and the place:
“You could say you had the perfect meal in Piedmont, Italy, with white truffles and everything, then come here and try to recreate the exact same dish with all the exact same ingredients but it will never taste the same. It’s because of the smell in the air, who your with, the fact that you’re in Italy, the ground the vegetables grow in. Even if it’s precisely the same, it will never be. So it’s all related to the moment.”
On this wretched day, the Perfect Meal consists of several small dishes, all light, herby and fresh, showcasing Derek’s desire to eat local and use Canadian ingredients. Instead of one heavy dish, the palate is tantalized by many refreshing flavours and textures: the delicate Sockeye, the sweet strawberries, crisp green beans. Its a sensation that is even more gratifying when shared with good company.
With the appropriation of Britain’s most loved institution, Canada can partake in the tradition of having a laid-back spot to unwind: “I have a style where I want people to share and to have fun. We just want to accommodate with zero pretension.” It’s a welcoming place for The Guys to catch a game, for visiting industry friends to taste the fruits of their labour, for ladies to brunch, for Derek’s son to grab a snack on his way home from school. It’s a place where furry friends are treated to homemade dog cookies, where the cooks wave to neighbours walking by the open kitchen visible from the street, where Derek steps out to snip a few basil leaves from the herb garden growing near the sidewalk.
At Maison Publique, the Perfect Meal isn’t all about food on a plate. It’s about the experience, the people, the conversation. Ages ago, the first “Public Houses” were a place where people could gather, drink, eat and forget the day’s hardships. Like the oldest incarnation of the Pub, the famous Tabard Inn, which served as a meeting point for pilgrims in the Canterbury Tales, it’s a place for storytelling, crude jokes and unruly behaviour. Laughter rises and falls, exchanges spill over to nearby tables, the food comes as it’s ready and there’s always a cold beverage at hand. The conversation flows from Guerrilla gardeners, to brutal Canadian winters, to fight league hockey. By the end of the evening we’re sharing more than just mouthfuls of delicious food. We’re sharing memories.
In a bold effort to uncover What’s Really Good, we’re asking chefs to serve an ideal meal, be it one single dish or seven courses with drink pairings. Our world class chefs will tell us what we should be eating and why. The Perfect Meal aims to give readers an alternative perspective on the restaurant scene by leading them beyond their preconceived boundaries, as it pertains to eating.
At a time when dining extends well beyond what’s on a plate, WRG seeks to relay to our readers the raison d’être of Montreal’s finest cuisine: the fusion of food, decor and the overall feel of a restaurant as seen through the eyes of its creators.
Derek Dammann Head Chef, Maison Publique
It was a particularly hot and humid day, the city and all the people in it were frantic. Half of Montreal suffered a mysterious blackout. The rest was gridlocked in traffic. Handmade signs adorned shop doors: “FERMÉ, panne d’éléctricité”. Below the earth, metro crowds sat motionless, engulfed in darkness. But like a beacon in a storm Maison Publique’s street lamp was lit. We lunged at the door, desperate to escape the sticky haze. As we tumbled in, everything was calm, like Lucy discovering Narnia for the first time. Looking up, there he was, Derek Dammann, standing in the open kitchen just a feet away, framed in an almost picturesque fashion by giant moulding and glass mirrors. This Must Be The Place.
It’s casual, comfortable. It has all the fixtures of a traditional English pub: worn wood floors, sparse tables and chairs, a long black and tan bar, various prized possessions hung haphazardly on the walls - buoys, aprons, a deer head, framed photographs of family and friends - and a bartender with one hand on the tap. It has that musty smell expected of a bar, one that comes with a well-worn and loved space, one that instantly triggers memories. Maison Publique was perhaps itself born from a memory. A tribute to England, where Derek worked as Chef de Cuisine at Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen. Working with world-renowned chefs and in Michelin star restaurants drastically changed his personal perspective on food and his future goals. Whereas many of his peers reveled in the prestige, working at what they deemed to be the pinnacle of the profession and high-end gourmet, the experience led Derek to appreciate and develop his own individual style.
I’ve noticed that when people eat – especially now with bloggers, camera phones, Twitter and Instagram – when people get their plate, it’s like someone is cheating off them in school. They keep it to themselves, they don’t talk.“I really like the idea of sharing,” he said. “I’ve noticed that when people eat - especially now with bloggers, camera phones, Twitter and Instagram - when people get their plate, it’s like someone is cheating off them in school. They keep it to themselves, they don’t talk.” It’s true: the modern diner is so enthralled with the process of eating, the ritualistic habit of scanning the menu, the ceremonial wine ordering, the ostentatious sniffing and swirling, the very notion of gluttonous consumption, that the most essential aspect of sharing a meal is lost. Here, in Derek’s world, food is a communal experience: “you can see their body language opens up, they’re reaching, they start drinking, they’re having conversations. And I really like that idea of people eating like that.”
Derek lives in the Plateau, the very same area of Montreal where his restaurant is located. A vacant corner lot and the idea of a neighbourhood watering hole with simple, mouth-watering food is an image reminiscent of when he lived in England. But Maison Publique isn’t trying to be an authentic British gastro-pub; in fact, it can’t be tied down to one particular style or type of cuisine: it’s Canadian. And proudly so. “In Canada, I think we haven’t got a very defined cuisine of our own, so we can draw from a lot of different inspirations, which is nice. We’re a port city as well. We’re lucky to be very, very multicultural.”
Some of the stuff is so good, it’s better just left alone… if that makes sense.The Perfect Meal starts with perfect ingredients. Ingredients so flawless it would discredit nature to over handle them: “some of the stuff is so good, it’s better just left alone... if that makes sense.” Calling his food Canadian, goes beyond ethnic influences. It means using Canadian products, including beer and wine, from local vendors and farmers. He shares a space with Société l’Orignal, a group that works with farmers, activists, chefs and grocers to provide quality products from Québec, such as honey and oils, as well as produce and fish, to many of Montreal’s best restaurants. Derek has worked with Alex Cruz for nearly six years and this new initiative - a grassroots, quality-conscious, locally supportive movement - has played a pivotal role in his professional evolution: “his stuff inspires me, you know, to understand where things come from; taking ten steps back before one step forward.” It’s a thought provoking, encouraging friendship that extends beyond a mutually beneficial business transaction. These essential relationships, forged with the farmers and fisherman that supply ingredients specifically for Maison Publique are based on common morals. It’s a bond between the select few who understand the significance of canning salmon and the duty to then drink the juice and eat the bones along with the bounty.
View all images
Maison Publique’s Perfect Meal shows a marked awareness of its purpose: to please. While the dishes are executed with calculated intent, their genesis arises from a humble, honest and sincere desire to create a perfect moment. Genuinely appropriate to the present “here and now”, it could never be replicated under other circumstances. The perfect meal depends on the ingredients, the people and the place:
“You could say you had the perfect meal in Piedmont, Italy, with white truffles and everything, then come here and try to recreate the exact same dish with all the exact same ingredients but it will never taste the same. It’s because of the smell in the air, who your with, the fact that you’re in Italy, the ground the vegetables grow in. Even if it’s precisely the same, it will never be. So it’s all related to the moment.”
On this wretched day, the Perfect Meal consists of several small dishes, all light, herby and fresh, showcasing Derek’s desire to eat local and use Canadian ingredients. Instead of one heavy dish, the palate is tantalized by many refreshing flavours and textures: the delicate Sockeye, the sweet strawberries, crisp green beans. Its a sensation that is even more gratifying when shared with good company.
With the appropriation of Britain's most loved institution, Canada can partake in the tradition of having a laid-back spot to unwind: “I have a style where I want people to share and to have fun. We just want to accommodate with zero pretension.” It’s a welcoming place for The Guys to catch a game, for visiting industry friends to taste the fruits of their labour, for ladies to brunch, for Derek’s son to grab a snack on his way home from school. It’s a place where furry friends are treated to homemade dog cookies, where the cooks wave to neighbours walking by the open kitchen visible from the street, where Derek steps out to snip a few basil leaves from the herb garden growing near the sidewalk.
At Maison Publique, the Perfect Meal isn’t all about food on a plate. It’s about the experience, the people, the conversation. Ages ago, the first “Public Houses” were a place where people could gather, drink, eat and forget the day’s hardships. Like the oldest incarnation of the Pub, the famous Tabard Inn, which served as a meeting point for pilgrims in the Canterbury Tales, it’s a place for storytelling, crude jokes and unruly behaviour. Laughter rises and falls, exchanges spill over to nearby tables, the food comes as it’s ready and there’s always a cold beverage at hand. The conversation flows from Guerrilla gardeners, to brutal Canadian winters, to fight league hockey. By the end of the evening we’re sharing more than just mouthfuls of delicious food. We’re sharing memories.