Locals will wonder what took us so long and everyone reading at a distance will have to file this under “what the hell?” We finally made it to Quincaillerie Dante yesterday while on some errands about town. What an amazing store. Much better prices on kitchen gadgetry and cookware than the fancy-pants cooking stores and it’s a trip to boot. “Quincaillerie” means “hardware store” in French, and Dante is the name of the street (no hell references here). It’s not a true hardware store, but rather a store with all your cooking needs and all of your hunting needs. Yes, that’s right: gourmet on one side and well-armed on the other. I’m not sure as to the history behind the concept, but one can imagine either a shoot-it-and-eat-it sort of sensibility or that the tools are all kind of related (knives are knives, right? Though the shared roots of guns and ovens in fire takes a little imagination, I know). The place was cramped but exceedingly well-staffed (unusual for Montreal) — they seemed to know how to handle the Saturday Jean-Talon Market crowd. We dropped off some knives to be sharpened, and scored a giant cast iron dutch oven, which is something I’ve been wanting for awhile. You can sautee in it, and then you can bake in it. Brilliant. On the way home, Carrie also pointed out that cast iron is a great way for vegetarians to get their iron. I call it “nature’s nonstick.”
Yes, I’m sure I sound even more Anglo than usual when I say “quincaillerie.”
On another note, I actually felt pity for Tony Romo as the camera followed him off the field at the end of last night’s game.