Today’s main coffee event is the anxiously awaited Grand Opening of Café Myriade (1432 Mackay, Montreal, right by Concordia University’s Sir George William campus). I just did my first of certainly a good many coffee-savouring sessions, there.
As a disclaimer of sorts, I think of Anthony Benda as one of the main actors in Montreal’s coffee renaissance. Anthony’s the co-owner of Café Myriade. He also happens to be an espresso blogger. Chris Capell, Myriade’s manager and “espresso producer,” has become a good friend of mine, thanks in part to the Eastern Regional competition of the Canadian Barista Championship, back in June. Despite being friendly with some of the core members in the Myriade team, I still think I can judge Myriade drinks fairly and justly. I do want the café to succeed and there’s a slight bias involved, but I think my perspective on that café and its drinks is relatively unbiased.
So, a few notes on this first session at Myriade.
On Anthony’s recommendation, I started with the allongé.
The allongé was a thing of beauty. Myriade managed to craft a drink in continuity with the ristretto-to-double-espresso flavour axis. (Twitter)
What I mean is that this allongé (or “lungo“) was nothing like a watered down espresso. It wasn’t typical of Montréal’s allongés either. But that’s really not an issue. Those who would order an allongé at Brûlerie Saint-Denis, Aux Deux Marie, or even Café Dépôt (where I’ve been surprised to have flavourful allongés in the past) will enjoy Myriade’s allongé. At least, if they keep an open mind.
To my taste, Myriade’s allongé is pretty much what you would get if you “extrapolated” (in the mathematical sense) the curve from ristretto to a regular espresso (single or double). The difference in flavours and aromas between ristretto and regular espresso is not strictly linear. Some flavours are muted as some others become stronger. It also depends on a number of factors from the blend and the grind to the way it was pulled. The same could be said about this allongé from Myriade, compared to a regular espresso.
I then tried the sipping chocolate.
Myriade’s sipping chocolate is delicious as a dessert drink. Must work really well with pastry. (Tweet)
To be honest, it was on the sweet side, for me. Maybe my tastebuds weren’t ready for this but I’m used to bitter chocolate and this one was decidedly on the sweet side. In fact, I wouldn’t have called it bittersweet because the bitterness was really muted. My mention of this seemed to be surprising to Myriade’s other co-owner, Scott Rao. But I maintain that this was a sweet chocolate.
My favourite sipping chocolate in Montreal so far (and possibly my favourite chocolate drink ever) was from Juliette & Chocolat (1615 Saint-Denis). The last time I went to J&C was probably two years ago so they may have changed in the meantime. There are two types of chocolate drinks at J&C. IIRC, the “à l’ancienne” one is unsweetened and milkless. I distinctly remember having some very tasty sipping chocolate there and the taste I remember isn’t sweet, by any stretch of the imagination. Of course, I might be wrong. But I’m usually pretty accurate about these things. Myriade’s sipping chocolate wasn’t as sweet as mainstream hot chocolate, but it was definitely much sweeter than what I’ve had at Juliette & Chocolat.
I enjoyed Myriade’s sipping chocolate about as much as the one I’ve raved about, from Chocolats Privilège (7070 Henri-Julien). In Myriade’s case, it’s less about cost than about the diversity of experiences we can have at the same place.
Speaking of which, here’s my first tweet from Myriade, today:
Enjoying Myriade’s impressive array of high quality drinks: 1432 Mackay. (Tweet)
When I first heard about Anthony’s plans for a café, I was mostly thinking about espresso. Anthony Benda is a true espresso artist, and the fact that he was a finalist in the Canadian Barista Championship (for which I’ve been a judge) is a testament to Anthony’s passion for espresso.
But Myriade isn’t exclusively about espresso. In fact, it’s probably the place in town which has the widest variety of coffee options. IIRC, they do all the espresso drinks, from single shot to allongé, caffè latte to cappuccino. But they also do pour-over drip, French press, siphon, and Eva Solo Café Solo.
Speaking of the Eva Solo, it’s the one drink with which I’ve spent the longest time, today. It was the first time I had coffee brewed through this method. It’s similar to French press but still different. I’d have a hard time describing all the differences (having to do with the “bloom” as well as with the body and the size of solids floating in the cup) but I did enjoy this coffee very much.
Miralvalle as Eva. Berries to lemon, bright and sweet, some cocoa, bit of raw almond, faint roasted hazelnut. (Tweet)
As it cools, this Eva Solo of Salvadorian Cup of Excellence Miralvalle tastes more like candied lemon zest. With some cocoa butter. (Tweet)
These descriptions are my own impressions, at this moment in time. I fully realize that they may not match other people’s experiences. I wasn’t carefully cupping this coffee nor was I trying to calibrate my descriptors with what would be expected. I was pulling a Gary V: I was simply saying what I got from the drink in front of me, with as few preset expectations as possible. It’s all part of my attitude toward hedonistic tasting (e.g. in my tasting notes about Cuvée Coffee Roasters’ Sumatra beans as Brikka).
Which wraps it up for my tweets about Myriade. Through Twitter’s search, I notice that James Golick also went to Myriade today. I don’t know Golick but I notice that he has also blogged his Myriade experience, along with Daniel Haran. Haven’t read their posts (actually, a single post forked on two blogs) but glancing at the text, it sounds like the three of us have a fair bit in common.
I should also say that Myriade has an impressive selection of high-quality teas and that I really enjoyed their Sencha when I’ve had the opportunity to try it (in a private tasting) a few days ago. I kept thinking about those very tasty baby clams that my then-wife had brought back from New Brunswick, a few years ago. The tea was still subtle and I’m assuming other people would not pick up this flavour nearly as strongly as I did (if at all). But I enjoyed those clams so much (and for such a long time) that my experience of that tea was enhanced through my prior sensory experiences.
Keeping with my RERO resolution, this is probably as long as I should make this post.