265 years ago, on the murky, cool night of Thursday, September 13, 1759, the brilliant 32-year-old British General James Wolfe upended the conventional rules of warfare when he led a daring surprise assault up the cliffs west of Québec City onto the plateau known as the Plains of Abraham (Abraham Martin, that is, and no relation to the Biblical shepherd).
Before the French General, le Marquis de Montcalm, could assemble his much larger forces, Wolfe drove the French back into the city, then turned to fend off their reinforcements. The brutal fight lasted a little longer than an hour, with the 75th Fraser’s Highlanders leading the lunatic charge, and left both Wolfe and Montcalm mortally wounded on the battlefield. It also set in motion the events by which the British eventually drove the French out of North America.
Before 1759, the Seven Years War hadn’t been going all that well for the British, especially in the New World, where George Washington had already started accumulating the long string of defeats by which he would eventually create his own great nation. But then, suddenly, in what the British came to call their Annus Mirabilis (Year of Miracles), they found themselves in possession of vast colonies, from Bengal to Africa to Canada.
Thus started the process by which the English language spread all over the Earth to become the international default for science, literature, commerce, and government—everywhere that is, except in Québec, where it all started..
You know you’re in Québec when you drive into a dusty river port like Trois-Rivières and find not just a tired diner and a donut shop, but twelve gourmet restaurants (and two strip clubs!), all of them packed for lunch on a Tuesday afternoon. Even a dish as basic as Fish & Chips is arranged elegantly on the plate amid garlands of fresh tartare and arugula. Foie gras, confit de canard, and bisque de homard grace every menu. The wine list in a small neighborhood joint runs for pages—and that’s just the Burgundies and Bordeaux.
It’s understandable—and expected—that you’ll linger over your mousse au chocolat and thick café au lait, because outside rages another key feature of this northern province, a winter snowstorm. Or at least that was the case when we arrived on the St. Lawrence River—la Rivière St. Laurent to the Québecois—deep in a January squall.
The St. Lawrence cuts into the heart of Canada like a long, jagged blade that reaches (via its Seaway lock system) all the way to the Great Lakes and the iron mines and wheat fields of Duluth, Minnesota. Like all of the great rivers of the globe, from the Mississippi to the Congo, to the Amazon and the Yangtze, it once afforded a slow-moving avenue of exploration and exploitation—with one important distinction: For several months every winter, the St. Lawrence froze over. In the days when the French and British competed here, this meant catastrophe for their navies and settler parties. Today, it means a picturesque view out the car window, as you drive along the north or south bank.
So there you have the four key elements of this remarkably romantic, beautiful, and sophisticated North American adventure—a river, a season, a language, and a cuisine.
A River
The yawning mouth of the St. Lawrence is one of the great estuaries of the world. It opens from the North Atlantic Ocean with wild, weather-ravaged spaces like Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and New Brunswick. These sparsely settled Maritime Provinces are as Celtic and Protestant as they sound—until you come to the border of French Catholic Québec and one of the most abrupt cultural change-ups in the civilized world.
For the traveler, the Maritimes are focused on the south bank of the river, whereas the beauties of Québec lie primarily along the north shore. The first bridge between the two doesn’t arrive until Québec City itself, so, season permitting, you get to spend plenty of time on the ferries of La Société des traverses du Québec. When the season declines to permit—as in winter, when we arrived—you take the Trans-Canada Highway through endless hectares of flat farmland into Québec City and then backtrack at least as far as William Howard Taft’s favorite resort at la Malbaie.
When we characterize the St. Lawrence as a barrier dividing northern from southern Canada, it’s probably not the best of metaphors. Rather, the shores of the river form a long, skinny magnet, attracting humanity like iron filings from all over the world. Canada is a country built on immigration, and for centuries, nearly everyone—well over half of the country’s population—has chosen to cluster as close as possible to the St. Lawrence.
One thing to keep in mind when you travel here: Québec City is a truly beautiful and elegant Provincial capital. Montréal, on the other hand, is a major World City. If Québec had a Chinatown (it doesn’t), it would consist of a pair of seedy Chinese diners on a corner in the New Town. Montréal boasts a Chinatown, a Little Italy, a Petite Maghreb, a Quartier Portugais, along with any number of other exotic districts. It can take days to get through this delicious stew (on the Metro, of course), but what makes it so fascinating is the French flavor that percolates through every taste. After all, we’re talking about the Paris of North America!
A Season
Travel in any northern climate is a trade-off between bitterly cold winters and sweltering summers, between icy sidewalks and plagues of insects. We generally prefer the former, but it does set certain strictures. As in daylight shrinking from 18 to 6 hours or less. As in layers of clothing—and especially footwear—requiring constant recalculation. But there are few pleasures deeper than doffing your winter gear in a warm and cozy French bistro. And even in the worst weather, there are few landscapes as beautiful as this one.
The wide expanses of the St. Lawrence valley encourage the winds to build, before they pommel the curve in the river and the promontory where Samuel de Champlain settled in 1608. One of our favorite hotels in the world, le Château Frontenac, dominates the Québecois skyline and takes the brunt of any storm that drives through here. If you’re like us (and most tourists), you’ll spend your days in le Vieux Quartier, either upper or lower, with the Château and its funicular as the fulcrum between the two. But dress appropriately—or else.
A Language
We could add a Religion here, since language and religion are inextricably woven together in the history of eastern Canada. Had the British not removed the French Catholic Acadians from around their military bases and ports in the Maritimes, those Provinces today would be as French as Québec.
And Québec is emphatically French—and not just at the performative touristy fringes either. The Provincial motto, “Je me souviens”, graces every license plate and the doors to the Provincial Parliament in Québec City. With varying degrees of violence, the Québec separatists have proven as obstinate as any independence movement in world history. Obviously, the citizens will happily speak your language as they ring up your purchases, but break out your paltry French, and they’ll instantly forget their English.
A Cuisine
No one in France will claim that their cuisine mirrors the Canadian, and in that respect, the culinary exchange with the Old Country is strictly one way. But the cuisine of Québec doesn’t just resemble the French, it duplicates it. So the 9-course nouvelle cuisine tasting menu at le Champlain in Québec City is every bit as French—and delicious—and expensive—as the offering at le Jules Verne in Paris. The steaks and crepes at le Continental flame table-side as dramatically as any French bistro’s fare. And when you stop in any of those small, dusty towns along the river down to Montréal, you can rest assured that your taste buds won’t suffer.
However… One reminder that you’re in the New World is the strange dish, invented in Montréal, called Poutine. We went all the way to the source on this one, at the originalla Banquise in the faintly seedy Quartier Portugais (Plateau-Mont-Royal Arrondissement). In that steamy, over-crowded den, we were treated to an odd mess of cheese curds over french fries, with a ladle of beef gravy and an obscure array of toppings (crème fraîche and onions in the photo). Definitely not the first thing that comes to mind on the subject of French cuisine—but not a left-over bite in sight.
Four Favorites
Off the tops of our heads…
Le Château Frontenac, Québec City. If ever there was a reason to bust the budget, this is the place. It looks like a classic French château that thoroughly dominates the skyline and the peasantry scattered about its feet in le Vieux Quartier. The establishment was, in fact, built as a grand hotel by the Canadian Railways to promote their services. So promote yourself for a few nights, and if you get stranded here (like we were), so much the better.
L’Auberge du Vieux Port, Montréal. Hip, chic, warm, friendly, comfortable, and perfectly situated for exploring the city. Immense views out your windows past the cruise terminals and the freezing river to points unknown.
Restaurant Champlain, Québec City. We never recommend hotel restaurants—except when we do. A 9-course, prix-fixe tasting menu with matching wines. Afterwards, it’s a short crawl off to the elevators and bed.
Aqua Trois-Rivières. The biggest surprise of the trip. A truly nice old woman who knows her cuisine and most of her customers. There are dozens of these superb, little brasseries scattered about the Province. We just happened to luck into this one.
Love Le Chateau Frontenac, haven’t been in years, your piece makes me want to return ✨