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They Do It Differently in Quebec

Category: Eat

Published on Tuesday, 19 January 2010 05:00

Written by Teri Dunn Chace

Yet one more thing different about our neighbors to the north: The Québécois version of the convenience store.

Writing advice from writers you admire is always worth considering, especially if you are aspiring. One of my heroes, Annie Dillard, once remarked that it is good to write about winter in summer and summer in winter — clarifies the mind.

So here I am, snowed in in my little New England town, in January, thinking of summer!

This past summer I had a real treat, an opportunity to visit the province of Quebec. Not just right over the border, as I had a few times before (it was great sport in college to nip over to buy a case of Brador beer). Our destination was deep into the territory, past ever-​enchanting Quebec City, and east along the impressive St. Lawrence River to Parc Saguenay. In any event, I had best add that it is not so easy for anyone to “nip” across the border these days. Bring your passport and your patience if you do this, and do not confess to carrying produce or contraband.

Many things are immediately different when you cross over in Quebec, from Vermont, Maine, or upstate NY. The signs in French and the mileage in kilometers, obviously, but also the rolling, attractive terrain, the towns, and entire feel of the place.

My impression was of moderate prosperity. I didn’t see McMansions, nor did I see run-​down trailer parks. Most towns were active and busy, but neither posh nor full of empty storefronts. I sensed a middle-​class life all around me. The roads, both highways and in towns and villages, were in good repair (which is impressive, given that their winters must be awfully long and harsh).

I have some theories as to why this is so, while there are unfilled potholes and struggling towns and worried people back in my own country, not too many miles away: Canada is not funneling millions of dollars into wars. I further speculate that their National Health Care system means folks can go to the doctor when sick or injured, without worrying about their ability to pay, getting bankrupted, or even being fined if they don’t have a policy in place. I am sure there are additional reasons, political, social, and taxation-​wise — and some of you might jump in and educate me — but one has to admit that this lack of everyday pressure makes for a less stressed economy, one that can take better care of its landscapes, towns, and citizens.

But before we get bogged down in things we may not really know about, I want to divert your attention to another difference that captured my attention on the Quebec journey. I want to tell you about “dépanneurs.” These are, in American terms, convenience stores, or corner markets, and there are plenty of them around up there. Like here, they are a handy place to stop in the morning for a coffee, snack, and newspaper, and where you pop in on the way home in the evening if you need a quart of milk. They are small and compact, usually with narrow aisles and coolers to the back. So far, so familiar.

But the Quebec convenience stores are NOT like ours, I found. An American convenience store is mostly full of snack foods, and dare I say, mostly unhealthy, packaged, preservative-​filled ones — the foods blamed for our country’s obesity and diabetes epidemics. Potato chips, cheese doodles, Oreos. Pepsi and Coke and “energy drinks”. Gum and candy. Pints of ice cream. Cases of Bud Lite.

The Quebec dépanneur has some of that, but actually overwhelmingly different fare. The first one I went into, seeking juice and oh, maybe a newspaper, and some batteries for my camera, had what I wanted. But much more. I walked up and down the few aisles in ever-​increasing amazement. I observed: a good assortment of good cheeses. Lots of fresh fruit and vegetables. Fresh-​baked pastries (ones that actually looked very edible, not the horrid half-​stale offerings of my own neighborhood convenience store back home in Massachusetts) and breads (mmm, warm baguettes!). Quality staples for cooking and baking, including spices. Good wines and beers. I felt I had stumbled into a mini gourmet market — but no, that’s not quite right. Gourmet markets often have upscale impractical goodies, like tins of caviar and fine chocolate. This place had good, basic, everyday food.

I thought maybe my first dépanneur was a fluke, or exception. But I had occasion to go into others, and it was always about the same, more good-​quality, everyday, fresh foods. Reasonably priced, too. One evening I found what looked like a very good Porterhouse steak — when I got back to where we were staying, seasoned and grilled it, I was really impressed. It was as good as a steak from a specialty butcher down here in the States. Bought in a convenience store! Obviously, the Quebec merchants are selling what the on-​the-​run Québécois want to buy, or they would not stay in business. I therefore suspect a totally different food ethic up there: eat healthy! Eat fresh! Very interesting.

Another comment I’d make along these lines is that the obvious Québécois insistence on good fresh food and produce is one of the reasons why their farming districts and towns look so prosperous, despite the challenging climate. They want fresh, and this means they buy local, rather than buy fruits, vegetables, and meats shipped in on trucks from god knows where.

One last item, so we can close in good spirits here. The word dépanneur means something different in France; there, it is a repair shop, as for cars, but also for equipment, such as electrical equipment. This difference caused a baffled French acquaintance to inquire of a cashier in one of these places, “Alors, que depannez-​vous?”…so, what do you fix? The lady, recognizing from his accent that he was French rather than Québécois, replied with amusement, “Well, if you don’t have any bread, we can fix that…if you don’t have any milk, we can fix that, too…”

I have to say, I wish she could fix my local Massachusetts dépanneur. I’m sad I can’t pop in and get an excellent steak, some fresh vegetables, and a warm baguette. Sigh. C’est la vie.