Foiegwa For One

Remember how I told you a few months ago to always sit at the bar? I stand by that statement.

From the get-go, the name is extremely clever. It should have been a hint at what I’d find inside, but I just assumed it was some sort of jab at the way the Québécois pronounced things.

Located on what would have otherwise been a fairly nondescript avenue (at least at this time of night), in the historically industrial neighborhood of Saint-Henri, the bright neon sign was impossible to miss.

It took me a minute to actually step inside, both because I was trying to fully take in the experience and because my stomach betrayed what a nervous wreck I was. Am I underdressed? Is it weird I’m here alone? Will I be done before the last metro home?

The interior shocked me with how very intimate it was – diners sitting elbow to elbow, just enough space to walk to the bathroom. I waited at the podium for a bit, which gave me time to really look at the inside before my attention was diverted to the food.

There are only 5 spots at the bar, four of which are currently occupied by two couples halfway through their meal. They’ll leave when I’m in the middle of mine, and I’ll finally be able to wiggle around enough to squish my other leg onto the brown leather stool and under the bar.

The servers wear long chambray shirts reminiscent of vintage gas station uniforms, logo splashed prominently across the left. The music is trendy but not distracting. The decor is charming.

Chloe, the bartender, pours me some water, then comes out to explain the menu. At this somewhat late hour, there are three menus from which to choose: à la carte, découverte (49 CAD p/p), and fin de soirée (25 CAD p/p). The fin de soirée menu, which is the one I’m here for, is only available Sunday to Thursday from 9:00 p.m. But a three-course tasting menu for 18.50 USD? It could be 2am for all I care.

You can choose between two options for the appetizer and entrée, but the dessert is fixed.

The menu also features reduced-price cocktails. The Betty Boop – Cava Segura Viudas Reserva Brut, blackberry, lime, blood orange, ginger, and hibiscus – is super refreshing and perfectly sweet after a good swirl.

Chloe comes back to check on me and take my food order, all the while making small talk and making me feel more at ease. She’s worked here for 2 years, the restaurant has capacity for 45 people, and if I have any other trivia questions about Foiegwa, I should ask her right away because she is the person to know. Like I said, always sit at the bar.

In the process, she has also talked me into ordering the foie gras au torchon which is served with spiced onion and red wine jam. She’ll bring it out with my choice for the first course – chicken liver mousse, crispy onions, apple gel, and milk bread.

Do my food choices feel overindulgent today? Yes. Do I feel like I’ve earned it after walking over 30,000 steps today? Also yes.

The mouse is so smooth. Salty, too. I don’t know why I was expecting it to be slightly… chunkier, but I’m glad it isn’t. The onions are very crunchy. And the apple gel is… Nowhere to be found? A shame because I was looking forward to that combination the most. There’s a reason chicken sausage often has apple in it. Nevermind, there it is. Sourer than I expected and I’m unsure as to how I feel about that.

Oh, the foie gras. Surely the dish that the restaurant is named after must be good, right? Right? The spiced onion and red wine jam is fantastic, although a little more would have been nice. And at the risk of sounding ~~like a prick~~ pretentious, after all the foie I had in Donosti, my standards for it are quite high. That being said, the foie was good. Not great, but solid. What a difference a sprinkle of flaky salt makes.

I’ve slowed down considerably and am starting to worry I won’t have room for the rest of my dinner, but Chloe is not having it. She comes over to insist I finish it – with or without bread. So I do.

Having relaxed a bit now that it’s just me at the bar, I’m equal parts excited and wary for the beef tartare, served with truffle, parmesan, pommes paille, and a 64° egg yolk.

…

THAT. IS. THE BEST TARTARE I’VE EVER HAD. PERIOD. I am actually struggling to remember when the last time was that I had a first bite that blew me away like this. It’s perfectly salty, a little spicy, savory. My god. The only thing slowing me down now is the heat that is progressively building on the sides of my tongue. This might also be the most proper use of truffle I’ve experienced recently. It’s not overdone, and definitely not synthetic. It shines all on its own and enhances everything else.

The cheesecake with red berry compote is more akin to cheese mousse, something my impending food coma is grateful for. Extremely light and airy, it’s the perfectly sweet finish to such a decadent meal.

But Chloe is not done with me.

Un digestif? You’re not driving home, are you?

Oui, merci! Et non, I’m taking the metro if I can still catch it.

One for me and one for her, a shot of tequila and St-Germain is a combo I never would have thought of.

I’m not the last person here, so I don’t feel terribly guilty about overstaying my welcome; and Chloe seems to have enjoyed my company just as much as I hers, as she hands me a postcard with a handwritten note on the back. But I really do have to go, lest I miss the last metro of the night and end up having to Uber out to Laval.

Anna very correctly said when I told her I’d be visiting, “You come to Montreal to eat”. And although it hasn’t been as easy as I’d like to find local dishes, almost anywhere you eat is guaranteed to be good. And Foiegwa is no exception. What I can only describe as the lovechild of a French brasserie and an American diner, it feels perfectly at home here. And in that sense, the concept and execution are flawless – both in venue and menu.

Foiegwa is located at 3001 Notre-Dame Ouest, Montréal, Québec, Canada.