Tucked inside the ground floor of a bleak apartment complex at the corner of du Fort and Maisonneuve, Bonjour Supermarché could easily be overlooked by passerby. But within its bodega dimensions the vibrant market strikes a winning formula of quality and affordability that makes homemade Chinese food accessible.
Three things make this grocer stand out. First, the range of products. Despite its tiny size, Bonjour offers an impressive breadth of items imported from China, Korea, and Japan. Alongside countless noodles, sauces, and dried goods, the aisles are lined with otherwise hard to find varieties of meat, seafood, tofu and produce. Items include thinly sliced lamb (perfect for hot pots), pork knuckle, chicken feet, dried shrimp, Szechuan pepper, Chinese broccoli, several varieties of fresh and dried mushroom, kelp, homemade kimchi, and dozens of snacks and beverages that I've yet to work through. Second, the prices. Just about everything sells for significantly less than at other neighborhood grocers. Random sampling: edamame ($2.49 for a bag), soft tofu ($1.69), enoki mushrooms ($1.69 for 300 g), large bag of dried noodles (the good stuff, not the instant stuff - $3.99), udon noodles ($0.69). Third, fresh items like pork buns and tea eggs are sold ready-to-eat. They also have pre-made dim sum and dumplings that can be taken home and steamed.

Put simply, Bonjour Supermarché is a compact and comprehensive grocery store with traditional and modern items from all over Asia. It's cheap, it's inviting, and it has everything you need to make great food at home.


Bonjour Supermarché
2070, boulevard De Maisonneuve Ouest
Montreal, QC H3H 1K8
(514) 904-1804

Attention all artists, writers, dancers, poets, painters, and anyone with a claim on creative talent. CJAM (clinique juridique des artistes de Montréal/ Montreal Artists' Legal Clinic) is getting ready for its much anticipated launch. On Friday, November 27th Cagibi will host CJAM's launch party. Doors open at 6:30 pm. The event will feature performances by Patrick Pleau (from Plajia), Chasing Bright Lights, Athena Holmes and musicfirm, as well as video appearances by Sara Johnston of Bran Van 3000, Kaveh Nabatian of Belle Orchestre; film makers, including Shannon Walsh - H2Oil; visual artists, including Omen and Carlos Sanchez; and authors, including Esther Bourdages and Oana Avasilichioael. Tickets are only $7, and proceeds will go to covering the clinic's costs.

Writing about ballet is like dancing to the gentle hum of old people quietly triumphing over death. Or something like that. The crowd, composed primarily of aging monuments to better days, was as artfully cast as the performers. Many a stern gaze (designed to convey thoughtfulness and gravitas) was fixed, and many a pearl necklace un-ironically adorned the shoulders that bore the weight of another era. Strewn among these botox laden masses, the occasional young person could be spotted. I saw sideburns and plastic rimmed glasses that would have made Elvis Costello (who, incidentally, was in the building watching his wife perform next door) proud. This pattern of old juxtaposed somewhat uncomfortably against new was mirrored in the modern reimagination of Sleeping Beauty. Given the theme and tone of the evening's production, I left convinced that choreographer Mats Ek aimed to reach the pre-Buick and prune juice set. The production's ultimately conservative message, however, remained palatable to the regulars.

The other night I dreamed that an unnervingly bronzed, much younger version of me was inaudibly mouthing something that, presumably, was quite moving. I strained, deep in my own reverie, to give audience to this late-90s apparition, but fared no better than the conviction that whatever I was telling myself, it was Worth Hearing. In fact, I am beguiled enough by the concept of self to suspect that whatever my thirteen-year old iteration wished to impart could, with a measure of unimpeachable validity, stand in for a truer representation of me. It’s more plausible that he simply wanted to remind me that I used to think punk rock was awesome, and that I shouldn’t take the opportunity to see and interview a one-time favorite band for granted.

There’s something about representations of university professors that make the project of post-secondary learning appear childish and banal. What seems like gripping insight the first time you hear it is transformed into trivia when it becomes apparent that, year after year, hundreds of bored students hear the same tired voice retell the same cocktail party anecdote about some neglected theory, scholar, or event. Similarly, if it is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all, it is unclear whether this applies when love checks out and the relationship is stuck with the bill. Playwright Ann Lambert connects the twin disappointments of learning and love in her carefully written and well-directed offering, The Assumption of Empire.

If Boris Eifman, founder and director of the Eifman Ballet Theatre of St. Petersburg, were to go bowling, would he bring his own monogrammed ball? What, we may wonder, tops Mr. Eifman’s Polish sausage, provided of course that he can afford the meat in the first place? Just how many of his dancers does it take to screw in a light bulb? Note the naivety of this last question, as it assumes that there is electricity in Eastern Europe... And so on, ad naseum, until someone makes a Russian inversion. Indeed, a treasure trove of caricatures exists to belittle and cast aside anyone and anything hailing from the wrong side of the tattered, but persistently relevant Iron Curtain. Yet whatever inept image of the Slavic world one adopts, it is bound to be rendered moot against the crushing beauty and powerful grace of Tchaikovski et son double. Can North Americans accept mastery from so maligned a people and place?