I'm a student pursuing a doctoral degree in late medieval history. My main interests include but are not limited to Latin, Italian, cultural theory, educational curriculum, historiography, cognitive processes, language-theory, gender relations and THE WESTERN CANON (mwahaha); i am not particularly interesting, avant-garde or risque; My main hobbies include the exciting activities of cooking, baking, going to the gym, eating green apple-caramel lollipops, restaurant reviewing and acting as child-like and sassy as possible. I keep these entries from the years of my life - no matter how i feel about them today - available because i find it useful to revisit events i now interpret differently. My name is heather, i'm of Montreal and i was born in the nefarious, ominous year 1984.

Toi, Moi et Cafe: Restaurant Review

Stopped into the Toi, Moi et Cafe at 244 Laurier in Outremont on a Friday night because we were early for our dinner reservations. I had heard they have the best coffee in town. Unfortunately, i am not a coffee drinker and it actually HURT that i couldn’t order an “Honore de Balzac” brew.

The lights were just the right soft-yellow. The wait staff was friendly, helpful and bilingual. I HATE when a waitress gets all flabberghasted when i ask “what would you recommend with that?” Rather, she gave me a breakdown of the benefits of each option. I appreciate when an employee has actually eaten the place’s offerings.

Toi, Moi et Cafe has real food. We didn’t order it. Instead, we got a The Laurier (Black Tea, Grand Marnier and Fragelico with whipped cream on top). The whipped cream was PERFECT. We compared the taste to Christmas gatherings. It was smooth and decadent.

We opted for a chocolate-dipped biscotti from their many options. I love the texture of biscotti and this one was just right. Unfortunately, chocolate-dipped means only about two inches of a rather long biscotti. A little more chocolate would have been nice. It was not the best biscotti, but it was a good one.

The chairs were comfortable, the tables clean and not woobly.

The conversation was… interesting. As i sat with my notebook and paper jotting down thoughts and comparison my table-partner waxed poetic: “Isn’t it funny that if you eat and get paid to write about it, you’re high-class, but if you do the same thing with sex…” Actually, then you’d be Belle du Jour. but that’s not me. I’m not high-class either as the table-conversation demonstrates.

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