Strøget Shopping Street

Copenhagen, Denmark

Often cited as one of the world’s most livable countries, Denmark seems uniquely poised to stand as an economic and cultural bastion amid today’s global turmoil. The country is a leader in both sustainability–bicycles are the life-blood of Copenhagen’s streets, and the country has plans to be carbon-neutral by 2050–and reliable economic growth in an otherwise lagging euro zone. Its landmark mid-century cultural exports are recently getting a much needed overhaul by innovative Danish filmmakers, musicians, designers and restaurateurs garnering new international acclaim. Denmark it seems, is finally a destination in which Poor Yorick might fancy himself a trendy, international gentleman of jest.

In November 2012, as winter bore down on Copenhagen and the sun skimmed its nadir, I spent a day and a half  between travels exploring the urban streets of ‘København’.

Published on Fly Me To The Moon - Travel Blog & Advice Permalink: In A Better City: Copenhagen

Austin's Franklin BBQ named Best BBQ in the city, world.

The Anagnorisis

Any man will tell you that to pack up and leave a city they’ve called home for more than a few years is, essentially, to leave that city behind forever. Changes, for the better and for the worse, will chip away at city you knew until eventually the memory is rather incompatible with the new landscape. All this I expected when I left Austin for New York: Dive bars would go bottom-up, restaurants would change hands, high rises would replace my mundane urban landmarks.

But the memories just couldn’t fade gently. Instead, mid-June, smack in the middle of the New York Times section A is a smattering of apparently world renowned BBQ joints cropping up in Austin, Texas. And I hadn’t heard of a one of ‘em.

Worst of all were the award-winners:

Austin’s latest recipient of BBQ love is Franklin Barbecue (900 East 11th Street), which Bon Appétit magazine just named the best in the country. Lines form outside the front door an hour before the 11 a.m. opening, and the “sold out” sign usually goes up around 1 p.m. Customers from as far away as China have been packing whole briskets in their luggage. (NYT)

China? Are you kidding me? No one should have to experience at this age the agonizing moment in adulthood when you realize meat-hungry Chinese tourists suddenly know more about your hometown than you do.

 

The line wound its way tirelessly up the block towards an altar of meat and the high priest himself.

Apparently, the rest of Austin had the same idea.

The Line

By the time we arrive, the crowd was a good 200 strong. Would-be tailgaters (for the UT football game later that evening), replete with coolers full of Lone Star tallboys and a set of lawn chairs and sun umbrellas, had established a stronghold outside the restaurant. Fathers reviewed handwritten lists of purchases for the day’s tailgating: 15lbs brisket, 50 sausages, 10 loaves of bread.

Your correspondent, however, distracted by a particularly somnambulist nostalgia for his hometown (or his tragic reunion with Lone Star the night before), arrived too late to be guaranteed any meat.

“The wait from here is two and a half hours. You might not get any meat,” the server deadpanned in the parking lot, handing the people in front of us a ‘Last Man Standing’ sign. “If I was you, I wouldn’t wait.”

Franklin began humbly in a food trailer, tucked away behind an unassuming chain link fence, before setting up residency in East Austin. Photo credit: Flikr user ----

Nick, as we’ll call him, was a Omaha native come down to San Antonio on business for the week. His face obscured by a trucker-hat and broad aviator sunglasses, Nick told us how he’d wisely chosen to drive the hour-and-a-half up to Austin, having heard that the capital offered far more attractions than its drag of a southern neighbor. When I expressed my anguish at trying to find a legitimate BBQ joint in New York City, he mentioned that he too had lived in New York for a few years as a studio tech, and offered some BBQ tips (more on those in future articles) and snide comments on the recording industry:

We hereby name this establishment the SECOND best BBQ in Texas.

Together we made contingency plans should worst come to worst (no meat) to head up to Ruby’s BBQ on Guadalupe, which Mark claimed was the second best in town. Yet an hour later, after thoroughly geeking out about audio tech (“So tell me, how many U87s did you guys have?”), we found ourselves next in line to enter the vaunted hall of meat.

The door swung open, and I nearly blacked out. The smell was indescribable. Like the aroma of fresh brewed coffee can wake you up before the first sip, so the juicy smells of fresh-cut brisket awoke the best memories of my Texas childhood. My parents, dyed-in-the-wool though they are, praised the Lone Star State endlessly for its smoked meats, and made sure I was well indoctrinated. I assure you, my Elysian Fields would be lined with red-checkered picnic tables adorned with only the finest Texas BBQ. As Mark and I stepped inside, a mere 20 people now stood between ourselves and Paradise.

The Meat

Aaron Franklin, the main man himself, piled our plates high with sliced brisket, sausage and pulled pork. Though our time with his delectable meat was just beginning, Aaron’s day started much earlier. Bon Apetit has the story:

Franklin’s explanation for his overnight success is almost antithetical. “Patience,” he says in his understated way—to which I’d add exacting sourcing and technique. First of all, he uses Meyer Angus beef, which is humanely raised in Montana without hormones or antibiotics. The fires in his pits are started using only post oak wood and butcher paper drenched in the tallow that covered the previous day’s brisket. Then, after seasoning the ribs with (of course) a secret spice mix and putting them in the smoker, Franklin grabs a lawn chair, checks his e-mail, and usually works on the New York Times crossword puzzle for an hour. Once the meat is done, he wraps it in foil or butcher paper and sets it aside for that day’s service. (Bon Appetit)

Almost forgot to take a picture.

A little later on, Aaron stopped by with leftover sausage, which he was handing out for free to the remaining patrons. We complimented him on his fine meatstuffs, ordered another beer, and let the food-comas over take us. Franklin BBQ may be a new addition to the Austin meat scene, but the carefree feeling of knowing your one task for the day is to grab another beer, sit back, and let your body digest the ignoble decisions you made at lunch was as familiar as ever. It’s nice to know some things never change.

*Let’s say you’ve got 18,000 BBQ restaurants in the US (assuming BBQ joints make up 3% of total restaurants). To even narrow that list down to the top 100, with a 95% confidence level, you’d need to eat at something like 12,000 of those restaurants.

To that I say: What a load of hooey. Who knows if BBQ is even normally distributed. Besides, I can cook a pretty mean brisket in my backyard if you’re interested.

Published on Fly Me To The Moon - Travel Blog & Advice Permalink: Austin’s Franklin BBQ

In the early afternoon of a bright warm summer day like this one, the street’s squares were crowded with tourists and locals alike.

Published on Fly Me To The Moon - Travel Blog & Advice Permalink: ul. Długa, Gdańsk

In Quebec City, United Nations flags fly in view of Le Château Frontenac, the luxury hotel overlooking the St. Lawrence in Vieux Quebec. More Photos»

Hungry and lost on dark empty streets without a cent of local currency to our name was, not surprisingly, a familiar sensation. In our travels, my fellow editor and I have had our share of rough starts to new cities. Québec City it seemed, was no exception. And though I was confident we would eventually find what we were looking for (a working ATM), I was less confident that we could find that which had brought us Québec: the sense of boundless adventure that accompanies international travel. Some call this feeling the Travel Bug, though I might say it’s a Cure for Restlessness. For a few days we were hoping we could call it “Canada”.

The streets of where I'm from? More Photos»

Only 9 hours from New York City by Ford Ranger (with modest American livery), Québec City claimed to be North America’s most European city, and our gateway to international travel. Coming out of New York’s Adirondack Mountains and crossing the border into Canada, we entered the endless tree-lined plains that lie just south of the St. Lawrence River and mark the road to Québec City. The Ranger careered onward towards a menacing black-brown storm cloud gathering over the road ahead. We turned up the Old 97′s Too Far To Care as the cool wet air whipped in through our one open window. To your editors, Québec first conjured up nostalgia for the Texas highways between Austin and Ft. Worth, not memories of Europe. We were skeptical.

Now in the city, after stumbling through dark streets and Québecois French, we’d found a restaurant that was still open and took credit cards. We discussed the feeling of again being lost in the unknown, and planned our attack on the city tomorrow.

Streets of Upper Town, in Vieux Quebec. We didn't rent a horse carriage, but they're a good Plan B if the walking tour is too free for you. More Photos»

Old Town Walking Tour

The astute traveler will note: Ordering a pint of imported beer from a bar situated in a UNESCO World Heritage site will almost certainly incur a certain “tourist” premium over an otherwise similar bar situated further afield and as of yet undiscovered by the throngs of travel guides, or looked after by an older couple who were themselves unaware that their establishment had been dubbed a “quaint authentic tavern, oft frequented by locals” in the same Lonely Planet guidebook I was now covertly consulting to find the nearest Old Town bar.

Gimme a break. More Photos»

All this, we knew. But it was 11am, and after nearly an hour of exploring Old Town (itself looking more and more like an Epcot pavilion with every step) a defeated air, not unlike the muggy and unexpected heat that hung over Vieux Québec, had finally overtaken us. It was here as always, my fellow editor proved his worth: Want to get a beer? Absolutely. And so we sat ourselves, with mustered aplomb, up to a bar in what must be the cleanest 400 year old building in greater Québec.

Upper Town

Old Town, or Vieux Québec, is divided naturally into two main areas to explore: conveniently named “Upper Town” (Haute-Ville) and “Lower Town” (Base-Ville). Atop the promontory (known officially as Cap Diamant) overlooking the St. Lawrence river is the fortified Upper Town. Surrounded entirely by 18th-century ramparts, this district was originally reserved for administrative and religious buildings. Notable stops on the walking tour include some of Upper Town’s best preserved (though usually with substantial renovations) structures, including a number of churches, convents and restaurants.

It’s also here that you’ll find Canada’s most famous landmark hotel, Le Château Frontenac. Designed by American architect Bruce Price (who also fashioned us a Manhattan historical landmark just down the street from my firm’s offices) and completed in 1893, the structure sits on top of the former site of the British Colonial Governor’s residence. I could imagine the old governor taking the morning off to head over to the bar we were currently patronizing (just a few hundred feet from the Château) for a cold pint or two of $9 Sapporo amongst the local tourists.

L'Escalier du Casse-Cou ("Breakneck Stairs"), completed in the late 1800's, replaced the original stairs connecting Upper Town and Lower Town. More Photos»

Lower Town

We settled our tab and headed back out into Old Town, where the haze that hung over the city that morning had mostly cleared. (A certain Sapporo kind of haze had settled elsewhere, though.) Venturing onward into Old Town, our walking tour followed the Rue des Ramparts, which wound down the old city ramparts towards Lower Town. At the foot of Cap Diamant, between the bluffs and the St. Lawrence, Lower Town was the commercial center of old Québec. Along these narrow cobblestone streets you’ll find some of the oldest buildings in Québec City, particularly along Rue Notre Dame. Here buildings date back to the 17th and 18th century (i.e. where the governor actually bought his imported beer).

Place Royale, 1759 by Richard Short. Notice the tracts of unpaved land. (Click to enlarge) More Photos»

Lower Town, true to its roots, might have fewer towering structures for obvious photo-ops, but the streets were alive with energy at lunchtime. Here we found some of the ambiance française we came seeking: Cafés spilled out into the streets with such dense wicker furniture that I hadn’t seen since leaving Paris, and the more affluent travelers in our midst fluttered in and out of small (one might say “quaint”) boutiques. In the Place Royal, perhaps the most historic part of all Vieux Québec, is L’Eglise de Notre-Dame-des-Victoires. Originally completed in 1723, this church was destroyed in the British bombardment of the (then French-controlled) city in preparation for the Battle of the Plains of Abraham, which eventually led to the British conquest of all of New France.

Place Royale, 2011. Notice the competing currency exchanges. More Photos»

Admittedly, these winding streets of Lower Town, with their bourgeois cafés and shops, had a certain European atmosphere; limit your gaze to a few select streets and you can convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, around the next corner are the narrow alleyways that line Paris’ Boulevard Saint-Michel. Turn that corner in real life though, and it’s just another working port in North America. Chevy trucks, grain mills, next stop Baltimore.

Nor is Québec exactly a city caught in the past. Indeed many of the old buildings date back hundreds of years, yet the landscape of the city has changed drastically (see inset), despite being one of the best preserved walled-cities north of Mexico. The integration of this past into an urban setting is what makes Québec City so unusual, intriguing, and ultimately unique. Eventually we’d come to find that seeking out “Europe” in Québec is ill-conceived at best. Better to seek out (i.e. eat) the uniqueness of modern Québec.

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Photo credit: Chez Victor. More Photos»

Chez Victor Meat Tour

Since its new world heyday, Québec has lost much of its prominence to the more cosmopolitan Montreal, just a three hour drive down the river. As Montreal grew as a commercial hub and Québec denizens moved out to the suburbs, urban Québec found itself bereft of the energy that had once made it the jewel of Nouvelle France. In recent years though, the city center has undergone a kind of cultural reinvigoration as students have moved back and new innovative restaurants have challenged their Montreal brethren. With nearby metropolises flying cover, Québec City has been able to quietly become not a historical preserve or a European approximation, but very much an unpretentious cultural hub of Québec. In that respect, Québec City is not unlike Austin, Texas, where your editors lived for four years: small enough to be self-contained and easily comprehensible, but large enough to offer a full range of “Only in Austin” activities.

So on the recommendation of the girl at our hotel front desk, we headed to Chez Victor on rue Saint-Jean. Promising interesting takes on the traditional burger (including duck confit, lamb, wild boar, and of course beef), Chez Victor did its part in reminding your editors of an Austin original, Frank, whose wild culinary approach to the Hot Dog used to captivate us weekly. The local press calls Chez Victor (fr) “a rue Saint-Jean institution for over twenty years” that was loved by locals and tourists alike. We called it an excuse to christen a fresh bottle of Tums.

The Merguez au Fondant de Chevre Burger and accompanying Poutine at Chez Victor. "Wash that burger down with some cheese curd" is a phase not often heard outside of Canada. More Photos»

On our waitress’ recommendation, we ordered a pitcher of Boréale Blance, one Canard Burger (Duck and candied beets, lettuce, mayonnaise, mustard), one Merguez au Fondant de Chèvre Burger (Lamb, goat cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, mayonnaise, mustard), and two orders of Poutine (french friends, but better). While we waited for our spread, we chatted with our waitress, who on finding out we were originally from Texas immediately announced that she’d always wanted to see the Lone Star State.

Other views of Québec City (click to enlarge). More Photos»

“Really? Why?”

“I love the United States,” she told us, somewhat emphatically. “I’m so happy to have English speaking people here! I never get to practice. All we ever speak is French, French, French…”

“Happy to accomodate! Anyway, it’s impossible for me to understand your Québecois accent,” I answered (implying of course that I could understand French-French).

After encouraging her to make her first (and only) stop Austin, my fellow editor and I wondered about the difficulties of speaking French as a first language in a region otherwise isolated from the francophone world. No doubt it gives Québec a independent culture and a regional delineation not found in the United States, but it would certainly put our dear waitress at a disadvantage should she look for careers elsewhere in North America.

Eventually, the burgers arrived, immediately assuaging my fears that a non-American burger couldn’t compare to the original (as we’ve almost encountered before in South Korea). Later, weighed down by all the poutine and another pitcher of Boréale, we walked down the same dark streets of Québec that seemed so imposing on that first night. Suddenly, shops on the rue home seemed familiar, as if we were just leaving another habitual visit to Chez Victor. Europe ensnares foreign travelers in a romanticized kind of gothic unknown–what cute café will I find housed in some old church if I turn down this alley?–but Québec welcomes you like a local. You can decide which you prefer.

* * * * *

Québec City as seen from the Saint Laurent river. "Kébec" is an Algonquin word for "where the river narrows". More Photos»

Crossing the St. Lawrence by Ferry

As a final note, one highly recommended activity in Québec City is the ferry to Lévis, the town just across the St. Lawrence. Run year-round (which is quite impressive, given that the entire river freezes in the winter here) by Le Société des Traversiers du Québec, this $6 ferry is your ticket to iconic images of Québec City.

An older tourist pic from the river. See the resemblance? (click to enlarge) More Photos»

Given my love of mass transportation, this ferry was a must. We pulled out from port, located conveniently at the edge of Lower Town, with at least 20 other sight-seers on-board. The ferry angled itself upriver, fighting the strong current to maintain heading towards the opposite bank. Though the St. Lawrence here is narrow (Québec’s name derives from an old Algonquian word for “the river narrows here”), after five short minutes the landscape began to revert to its elemental colors, as it tends to do when viewed from the water: the dark blue of the cold northern waters and true sky-blue of the sky; the green vegetation on the bluffs of Québec with brownish buildings, themselves seemingly natural, jutting out of them; even the sharp white bridge of the opposing ferry was like a breaking wave passing us. It was postcard weather, so we took pictures and enjoyed a relaxing escape from the city.

Next stop, Montreal.

Published on Fly Me To The Moon - Travel Blog & Advice Permalink: Québec City: Walking Through Old Town, Eating Through New Town

Looking from Le Vieux-Port, the architecture of Old Montreal mixes with the city's modern downtown skyline More Photos»

Arriving in Quebec City days earlier we had sought something unique and unfamiliar, to capture the sense of discovery in a foreign land despite our relative proximity to home. What we found was something else, not the detachment of internationalism that we had expected, but a uniquely Québécois appeal. Leaving behind Quebec City’s francophonic charm for the modernism of Montreal then seemed bittersweet, having breached the apex of our northern venture, it seemed we were being drawn back toward the familiar, and everything ahead was literally, figuratively, and culturally closer to home.

Autoroute 40 W More Photos»

What was once an arduous, thirty-six hour steamboat ride against the currents of the Saint Lawrence now makes for a casual, scenic morning drive through the Mauricie region of Quebec. Though occasionally impassable in winter conditions, the summer climate transforms the region into alternating stretches of rich farmland and dense forestry, reminiscent of the plains of the Midwest and the foothills of the Appalachians. Time along this modern route is marked by the passing of the St. Lawrence’s numerous tributaries, ranging from streams to full rivers themselves, most notably the convergence of the Saint-Maurice and Saint Lawrence at Trois-Rivières. Despite the rural respite afforded en route, just a few hours after after departing Quebec City, the silos of Annie Proulx began giving way to the Olympic Parks of Roger Taillibert.

Upon entering Montréal it was clear that the novelties of foreign travel would become increasingly scarce, as they are in all the world’s advanced cities. Of course there would be shades of differences with other cities of magnitude, though many would lie beyond detection during so brief a stay. But for what it has forfeited in Old World charm, Montréal has redressed in diversity, and distinguished itself upon its cultural pillars of cuisine and music.

Photo credit: M : BRGR More Photos»

Food and Drink

Sometimes the way we perceive a new city is more reflective of our self rather than the place. After so many trips, so many cities, so many cuisines, trends begin to emerge, with the traveler as the only constant. In Quebec City, we were looking for European ambiance, and we found burgers. In Seoul, we weren’t sure what we were looking for, and we found burgers. Coincidences perhaps, though evidence to the contrary continues to mount, as on our first night in Montreal, we were looking for dinner, and we found burgers.

M:BRGR: Combo #(n + 1) More Photos»

Specifically we found M:BRGR in the heart of downtown, its sleek glass-front entrance tucked inconspicuously in among Montreal’s high-rises. M:BRGR turned out to be similar in conception to some of our favorite burger joints, but more upscale in execution. In our travels, we have developed an affinity for establishments that offer a unique take on classic dishes , and in the same spirit, M:BRGR inspires new and creative takes on the burger, only here it’s left entirely up to the patron. Start with a plain burger, or a Kobe burger if you’ve got an extra $20 lying around. Pick your cheese. Then add any combination of the 26 other available ingredients to fill things out to your liking. All the standard toppings are in play, as well as some that are more surprising. Fried eggs, grilled asparagus, white truffels, foie gras, porcini or pulled pork, the possibilities are endless! Well, not exactly endless, but we’ll leave the calculation up to you:

M:BRGR was clearly designed with Montreal’s higher-end, downtown clientele in mind, and though suitable for a good meal and a foundation of Boréale beer, to continue the night would necessitate a move toward the thrifty, and in most major cities that usually means a move toward the local university. In Montreal, that meant heading toward McGill, and its adjacent strip of requisite watering holes along Boulevard Saint-Laurent.

Bar Vol de Nuit More Photos»

Attempting to walk off the after effects of M:BRGR, it was for us the gateway to a nightcap, as we saddled up to a streetside table at Vol de Nuit down a cross street of Saint Laurent. Quiet on a Tuesday night, it made for a suitable setting in which to take in Montreal’s lauded cosmopolitan vibe. Indeed it is one of North America’s most diverse cities, a clichéd assessment at this point, though one that’s evident immediately on arrival. At Vol de Nuit, we ordered a few more pitchers and chatted about Montreal-as-global-melting-pot with out waitress, an Iranian-born New Yorker, just back in town for her second stay in the city.

* * * * *

Photo credit: Flickr:sabel More Photos»

House of Jazz

Known more for its Stanley Cups than for its groove, it’s a bit surprising that Montreal has grown into one of the premier cities in North America for jazz performers and enthusiasts. But it is just that, with venues, events, and talent rivaling that of the other storied cities of swing. In 1979, jazz promoter Alain Simard conceived a summertime festival to bring the day’s top jazz talent to Montreal. A lack of funding and popular interest delayed the festival’s debut until 1980, but drew in its first iteration an attendance of over 12,000 with Ray Charles and Chick Corea headlining.

Papo Ross and his Merenjazz More Photos»

Today the Montreal International Jazz Festival draws 2.5 million attendees annually and 3,000 performers, and in 2011 was scheduled for June 24 – July 4. Unfortunately we arrived on the 5th. But the introduction of the Montreal Jazz Festival didn’t represent the abiogenesis of the Montreal jazz scene; it had been evolving throughout the twentieth century with the likes of Philadelphia and New York, St. Louis and Kansas City. During the bebop days of the 50′s and 60′s, Montreal relied on its proximity to New York to sustain its cultural relevance in a post-war era that found the city’s jazz clubs marginalized by a local effort to clean up the seedier side of Montreal’s nightlife. New York mainstays like Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker often made surprise appearances for late night sets with local acts. Earlier still, 20′s era Prohibition served as boon to Montreal clubs that became a frequent destinations for Americans seeking to enjoy their jazz and adult-beverage in peace.

The styles played in Montreal clubs today have changed substantially since the swing and bop of the old days, but some clubs still go to lengths to provide a nostalgic setting, if not nostalgic tunes. Shaking off the disappointment of narrowly missing the Festival, we set out hoping to find a residual show at one of the city’s regular venues. Given our penchant for the Latin big-band genre, we opted for Papo Ross and his Merenjazz at the House of Jazz. Nondescript and inconspicuous on the exterior, the entryway of the House of Jazz quickly gives way to an underground, speakeasy sort of ambience, complete with burgundy, feaux-leather upholstery and gaudy, over-sized chandeliers. Initially I perceived the House of Jazz as caught in a precarious balance between high-class dining room and working-class watering hole, but after the music kicked in and the double-Jamesons started to flow, this modern homage to Prohibition started to come together, and I felt as though we hadn’t just missed the Montreal Jazz Festival at all.

* * * * *

Rue Saint-Paul More Photos»

Old Montreal

Old Towns, it turns out, abound in Lower Quebec. Like Vieux Quebec, Old Montreal is a Québécois throwback to the days of New France. Unlike Quebec’s Old Town, Old Montreal is embedded alongside the modernity of its downtown, and parts could be mistaken for the more dated districts of New York or Philadephia. Start your tour as we did at the Place D’Armes or the Basilique Notre-Dame and it’s easy enough to envision wigged French colonists trading furs and fortifying against the Iroquois. But after the conclusion of the French and Indian War in 1763, the British assumed control of New France. The newfound emphasis on English architecture, as well as a few ill-timed conflagrations, left little remaining from the colonial days of Montreal.

Views from Old Montreal, from left to right: Basilique Notre-Dame; Place Jacques-Cartier; Hotel de Ville (Click to enlarge.) More Photos»

Moving on from the Basilique Notre-Dame, one wanders past the Bank of Montreal, the Royal Bank Building, and the Montreal Stock Exchange. Just as we had felt entering Montreal days before, walking through Old Town itself was a stroll from the distant to the familiar; these buildings were not the stained glass and intricate stonework of France, but limestone blocks and columns that would not be out of place on Wall Street in New York. Which, it so happened, was to be our next stop.

Published on Fly Me To The Moon - Travel Blog & Advice Permalink: Montréal: Food and Music in a Canadian Cosmopolis