A perfect wedding anniversary at Hogan and Beaufort

August the 20th was our wedding anniversary!!! It’s already been 3 years since we’ve been married. How time flies.

In fact, you can read all about our first date HERE .

Looking back it’s still the best decision I’ve ever made. Some things never change though like me hating surprises and dear husband insisting on surprising me🙄(no, I am not an ungrateful little person. Well, maybe?). So, like I was saying: I hate surprises with a passion. Particularly on special occasions and hubby knows this but still, he keeps on trying. I want to know in advance so I can plan my bragging, makeup, outifts, photoshoots and such. So, a week before our wedding anniversary, I casually asked him about planning something. He acted vague and uninterested which immediately tipped me off. Naturally, I spent that week casually dropping hint left and right. On the Jour J, the minute our car turned into a certain street I just knew we were going back to Hogan and Beaufort.

To tell you the truth, the last time we went there we were kindly gifted a 100 dollars gift certificate by a precious friend of ours and even with that factored in, we almost had a heart attack when the bill came. Dear husband in particular, considering the poor man was the one footing the bill at the time. Of course, I was equally shocked but a more moderate version of shock….like, you know, the shock of someone who’s not expected to foot the bill. So here we go.

First the entree: It was called something, something carrot (I am clearly not a food critic). With such portioning, I wouldn’t be surprised if a pack of carrot last them an entire season. As you can see, a glouton like myself is clearly not ready for high-class dining. We were explained in great details by the server that the carrot used in that dish comes from a long line of well-behaved carrot grown with great care and utmost attention. It’s like each plate came with a resume. After the server’s intro, I felt very proud and chosen to find myself in front of a carrot with such a distinguished pedigree.

“As usual, the entrĂ©e was so small, it looked like a portion you’d give someone who just underwent gastric bypass surgery.”

Then came “Le plat de resistance” and I am sad to say we demolished it like two walking deads feasting on animal remains. I am also very proud to say we took nice pics before digging in so we’re not complete savages.


We ordered a side of pasta (forgot what kind they were) and I kid you not, there were 4 little pastas in the entire dish. One could easily have mistaken them for big worms.

The last time we ordered dessert, but this time we didn’t. Instead we finished the night with two pieces of cake from Rockaberry a place specialized in cheese cake of all sorts and solely responsible for most of my weight gain of the past few months😔. And then we continued watching Grimm on Netflix. A truly perfect wedding anniversary💕.

Thank you for passing by and Bisous 💋!


Best brunches in Montreal: Mirazu

The Mirazu

What it is: A Turkish style restaurant that serves Middle-Eastern type of dishes located in the Mile-End neighborhood of Montreal.

“Wear loose clothing and reserve the rest of the day for a food coma”

What they serve: Things you wished your grandmother made you for breakfast instead of pestering your mom about how to raise you.

The Gurme in all its glory….(hubby’s favorite)

The making of the dough: Bread is made on the spot, right under your eyes.

Watching those dutiful angels of mercy below working through the dough verges on meditation. You feel like you’ve been chosen to partake in a sacred ritual that’s been passed down from generation to generation. The words dedication, respect and tradition come to mind. 

These angels don’t need wings, they make bread, that’s more than enough 🙂

A bit of back story on our brunch routine:

Before the restaurant:

Husband: “Okay, we’re gonna go there and we’re not going to eat any bread, right?”

Me: “Of course not! Why do you have to repeat this like I am deaf or something?

Husband: “Well, because the last time somebody promised the same thing but when I tried to stop them from digging in the bread basket, I almost lost a hand.”

Me: “What did you expect? You were getting between me and a fast-releasing dose of happiness!”

Husband: “How far some people will people go to justify their lack of discipline….”

Me: “This time will be different, honey, I promise”.

I said that with all the honesty my dishonest soul could muster. I could see he does not believe me. Heck, I don’t even believe my own damn self! It’s just one of those things you say so often it doesn’t mean anything anymore. Just like saying “I am fine” when somebody asks you how you’re doing. They don’t wait for the answer and we don’t thank them for asking. It is understood that they don’t care.

At the restaurant:

We get to the restaurant, head to our seats. Like secret lovers on a much needed break, we developed a ritual: first coffee and then orange juice closely followed by a session of hand kissing and staring into each other’ eyes. That is until the server drops the first bread basket with two round fluffy and buttery little buns. Then we become like animals when they eat: silent and deadly.


“I am quite sure if somebody were to catch a pic of us eating they’d think we’re hunger games contestants catching a breather. “

For two people who swore a minute ago they didn’t want anything to do with bread, it’s kind of funny. At this point, I think we’ve developed a sort of silent understanding. If we wolf it down without any eye contact, it never happened.


Our favorites: 

Pafik: A spinach and feta flat bread as an entree. Some people take it as a meal, we take it as an entree. They have different sort depending on your taste.

This is of course followed by the Gurme, their own version of egg benedict with delicious pieces of lamb with yogurt sauce on top with a side of fruit and freshly made potatoes.

There is also the Menenmen au Queli : An egg casserole with tomatoes, spices, beef and lamb. Super warming.


Considering the huge amount of carbs we usually indulge in, we naturally vow to never come back again until of course the next time witch usually amounts to no more than two weeks.

Price point: Affordable, considering the service, ambiance and quality of food.

The staff: Discreet, friendly and courteous. The type who’ll bring you extra bread without charging extra.  The rare kind, as you can see.

Final advice: If your conscience tries to pay you a visit by reminding you how much of a pig you really are, shut it down with a power nap.

Don’t forget to comment, share and like this article to your heart content.

Gros bisoux and until next time!

Favorite brunch places in Laval: AllĂŽ! mon coco

Who needs a getaway when your food looks that good? Welcome to AllĂŽ! mon coco! The one we went to is located in Centropolis, Laval.

“Doesn’t this make you feel like you’ve landed in a resort buffet?”

AllĂŽ! mon coco brunch

Brunch culture is extremely strong in Laval and Montreal. So much so it is akin to real punishment to have breakfast at home on weekends. For me at least :). Although we’ve tapered off quite a bit, we try to do at least one brunch every two weeks either on Saturday or Sunday. I usually prefer Saturday which leaves me with Sunday to help my body recover from the food induced coma of the previous day.

AllĂŽ! mon coco breakfast

What to wear:

It is brunch not a visit with the Dalai Lama so it’s okay to look like your growling stomach got you out of bed. Just do it in a stylish way 🙂 The last thing you want is for you to just happen to meet an old friend with your hair looking like a snake pit. In which case I sincerely advise you to hide behind whatever you can find, human or object. I’ve clearly thought about everything, thank me later 🙂



Judging by this pic, it is obvious portions are gigantic with plenty of choice. No risk being bored here. It’s also fairly delicious too.

Who to bring: Just about anybody as long as they are paying for you :). It is family friendly. There are long lines but service is efficient. They have plenty of locations all over Montreal as well.

Price: Reasonable

The last time we went I was able to resist their big side of potato. I can’t even begin to tell you how difficult that was. Their mash potato is so good it should be illegal.  I comforted myself in the fact I had great discipline and courage…but not for long…

My self-righteous omelet:)

I felt both victorious and bitter. On one hand I was glad I resisted but on the other hand I felt bitter looking at dear husband enjoying his side of potato sitting right besides me. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend he wasn’t enjoying it. All in all, it was a pretty well-spent Saturday.

Bisous and talk next week!




Great weekend activities around MontrĂ©al: A nice walk in the Oka park

A lovely afternoon in the park…


Don’t we look lovely here?

The morning started out nice enough. Dear husband was in a nice mood so I told myself “Fabienne what better moment to suggest a nice little walk in the park than now”:

Me: “How about a quick shower followed by brunch and then a nice walk in Mount Royal park?” dear Husband agreed at the first  two and barked at the “walk in the park” part.

Hubby: “What’s with you and that park, it’s turning into a real obsession, you know?”

Me: “Well, we all have our little obsessions, don’t we? Plus I like it because we can get a good workout with the stairs. It adds some challenge”. But apparently not everybody is looking for a challenge on a nice Saturday morning. Some people rather stay in bed. shocking I know…

Hubby: “How about the other park, the Centre de la nature?”

Me: “No, I prefer Mount Royal? The other one is always full of moms and toddlers and babies and strollers and flies, etc”.

Husband: “Well, they need fresh air too, you know. But I suppose they could stay home on weekends to give you more room to wiggle! How about Oka Park?”



We got ready in record time, got through brunch and made it to the park in record time. I am at my happiest in nature and with plenty of sun. The Park Oka is such a nice gem. From where we live it’s about 45 min drive. There’s an entrance fee. There’s also the beach on the other side. The last time we went to that beach was in 2014 when we first met. How time flies…. I’ve seen couples with babies and small children and I am not sure how much of a good idea it is but I suppose if they’re used to it there should be no problem.


An insect repellent of some sort is mandatory as well as proper hat and sunglasses. Lots of annoying and vicious mosquitoes. For those obsessed with hitting their 10000 steps a day, you’ll be served. With the mosquitoes hurrying you, you’ll have no problem hitting that goal. In fact, you might even set a new record…

Once we hit 5000 steps, I suggested to dear husband that we start retracing our steps. Dear husband assures me with the confidence of a pioneer:”We just need to keep going and we’ll hit the end of the park and get to the parking lot”. Since I am not good with direction I trust him. 7000 steps later, we hit the end of the park except there no exit. We had to cross the entire park again in the opposite direction to get to the exit or whatnot.


Upon learning that cold truth, my sense of adventure failed me and I found myself haunted by visions of people stranded on deserted islands and dying of thirst and hunger. To top it all off a suicidal mosquito decides to flap its little wings straight into my right eye.


Initially I worried we wouldn’t be able to hit 10 000 steps but with our “misfortune” we made it well past 14 000. The sun was already going down which seemed to bring out the most vicious breed of mosquitoes. But thanks to the help of  these “lovely” mosquitoes, we made it rather quickly to the other end of the park, just under an hour.

On our way back we stopped by the Magasin de l’Abbaye d’Oka. We bought some cheese and saucissons. They have all sort of delicious little goods up there. In my book a stop at this Abbaye either before attempting the Oka park or after is simply mandatory. Life is about balance: Cheese with 10000 steps:)

It was a very enjoyable walk. Lots of fresh air. We highly recommend. Bisoux!


The black Swan…or the ugly duckling

Version Française…

A nice perfect Saturday I was leisurely walking down Saint Laurent in the Mile-End neighborhood when I came across a nice little boutique. Looking in from the outside you’d think it a mere shop that sells ballet clothing but it was much more than that judging from the scribbling on the front window. It was a ballet class offering and it was very light and vivacious. If I had to translate it would probably be: “Whether you think you’re skinny, fat, in between, slim or slim fat, you can do it! Our ballet classes are fun and a great workout. Come on in, we’re waiting for you!”


So as they say fools rush in so I went. I usually avoid these types of places like the plague for the simple reason that there always seem to be lurking around some tall, long and lean person with cheetah-like muscle and a gazelle-like grace who can do it all including giving birth to 10 kids back to back while maintaining a perfect body to show us all mere mortal how it should be done. Considering that day I’d just had a heavy brunch, the last thing I needed was to be reminded of my round belly and my lack of body consciousness. Still against all odds I rushed in round belly and all. And it went rather…well. The minute I stepped in I was greeted by a long lean young woman. She was uncommonly friendly for these kind of places considering I in no way looked like the usual crowd. She looked like an adolescent boy with a bun and lipstick. We chatted a bit as she walk me through the different classes, schedules and general tone of the environment. Everything was going fine until the manager showed up. Then everything changed.

She installed herself behind the reception desk with a brief hello and gave me one of those looks that says it all. Pest control must greet vermin the same way. It was brief and cutting. She looked so scrubbed and healthy and shiny you’d think she is fresh out of the dishwasher. One look and you knew that everything down to her close friends and family is vegan and came straight from the earth bowels. I am sure she comes from a long line of all natural and homemade, heal-the-world, salt-of-the-earth vegans. Even her ancestors must have themselves been vegan even before the term was officially coined. I suspect just as in nobility or wealth it takes at least two generations to produce someone like her. Either that or she is a con artist in which case I need her autograph.

Standing under her gaze I felt self-conscious as if surrounded by the screaming souls of all the animals whose meat I have consumed over the years. It seemed as if they were asking for justice. An eye for an eye or at the very least forbiddance to enroll in the next ballet hop class. I felt like she could see my insides and the nice juicy, plum piece of steak I had just consumed under my husband meat-eating leadership over brunch. The young woman seeming not to notice the subtle “rapport de force” kept going on about the benefits. It is then that probably cornered and feeling unholy I did the unthinkable…I asked for the price of all of these wonderful classes.

The answer came from behind the desk, a quick and cutting, ‘it depends’ with a look that seems to say “don’t you low life meat eater have an insanity class waiting for you somewhere? Preferably where the sun doesn’t shine?” Finally, the young woman decided to put me out of my misery and blurted out the price. I gave her a much grateful look and said ‘thank’ you. We understood each other immediately and I left without asking further questions. I think from now on they’re gonna use the same tactic for all the flesh-eaters daring to step into Sacred territory.

Well, I guess I’ll have to put my black swan plans on ice:)


English Version…


Un jour je flĂąnait sur la rue Saint Laurent dans le quartier Mile-end et je vois une petite boutique avec une devanture super intĂ©ressante qui proposait dans un langage super comique et fun de faire du ballet non traditionnel. L’enseigne Ă©tait vraiment accrocheur, genre quelqu’un qui ne se prend pas trop au sĂ©rieux…comme moi. AprĂšs de longues minutes de rĂ©flexion je me dĂ©cidai Ă  y entrer vu qu’il y avait aussi un petit cafĂ© se partageant l’espace. Au pire, je me dis si une nana au profil “lac des cygnes” m’approche d’un air indignĂ© comme ça arrive souvent dans ce genre de magasin, je ferai semblant d’ĂȘtre venue pour le cafĂ©. Je dois avouer que j’avais quand mĂȘme beaucoup d’apprĂ©hension car bien que n’Ă©tant pas en surpoids je n’ai pas nĂ©cessairement un profil “lac des cygnes”.


Alors lĂ , il faut que je sois honnĂȘte et avouer que la fille qui s’approcha bien qu’elle corresponde assez au profil Ă©purĂ© genre lac des cygnes Ă©tait super gentille. En la regardant j’ai tout de suite compris que si je devais participer au prochain lac des cygnes il faudrait littĂ©ralement remplacer cygnes par Ă©lĂ©phant. De loin, on aurait dit un ado avec du rouge Ă  lĂšvres et de trĂšs longs cheveux noirs rassemblĂ©s en chignon tellement elle avait les fesses musclĂ©es et Ă©troites. Elle m’a pris Ă  part et m’a fait faire le tour des diffĂ©rents cours de ballet disponibles. Ils avaient mĂȘme du ballet hip hop, je crois. J’Ă©tais de plus en plus intĂ©ressĂ©e vu que je me cherchais une activitĂ© sortant un peu de l’ordinaire. Tout se passait bien quand soudain la directrice du studio sortit de nulle part et s’installa façon buddha stoĂŻque derriĂšre la caisse. Elle devait avoir une antenne pour les gens “non In” tout comme je suppose un exterminateur aurait un sixiĂšme sens pour la dĂ©tection de vermine. A vrai dire, je n’avais pas du tout le profil vĂ©gĂ©-bio machin-truc recherchĂ©e. Je devais probablement ĂȘtre entourĂ©e d’un aura carnivore.

La directrice, elle, avait plutĂŽt le profil mĂšre nature c’est-Ă -dire que tout ce qu’elle mange, touche, voit et boit doit ĂȘtre le plus prĂšs possible de son Ă©tat naturel. Je pouvais d’ailleurs trĂšs bien l’imaginer en train de faire son propre kombucha. En portant une attention particuliĂšre au visage on pouvait dĂ©jĂ  noter les signes d’une vieillesse timide qui s’installait tranquillement d’une maniĂšre dĂ©cidĂ©e sans que la propriĂ©taire des lieux s’en rende compte. Tout sur son ĂȘtre Ă©tait aseptisĂ©. A bien la regarder on avait l’impression que mĂȘme ses petits bracelets en corde avaient Ă©tĂ© tirĂ©s des entrailles mĂȘme de mĂšre nature.

Je sentis au regard furtif qu’elle me lançait que mon profil ne correspondait pas nĂ©cessairement Ă  la clientĂšle cible. C’Ă©tait clair que j’Ă©tais un carnivore sans discipline qui buvait de temps Ă  autre une canette de biĂšre et du coke. Autrement dit je n’avais pas le profil tofu kombucha. C’est alors que me sentant guettĂ©e, je commis l’irrĂ©parable…j’osai m’enquĂ©rir du coĂ»t…Je pense que c’est alors qu’elle perdit tout espoir. La rĂ©ponse fut rapide et nette. Elle prit tout de suite la direction des opĂ©rations avec un Ă©nigmatique ‘’Ça depend’’ tout en esquivant chacune de mes questions Ă  propos du coĂ»t jusqu’Ă  ce que bien sĂ»r la fille qui m’accueillit initialement eut pitiĂ© de moi et me lança le prix d’un air gĂȘnĂ©e. En entendant le prix, le miracle tant souhaitĂ© se produisit: Je remerciai rapidement la fille et je quittai le magasin sur le champ sans demander mon reste. A leurs regards de connivence j’ai tout suite compris qu’elles venaient de se rendre compte qu’elles possĂ©daient lĂ  une nouvelle tactique infaillible pour se dĂ©barrasser des gens “non in” osant s’aventurer en terre sacro-sainte :).

C’est clair que je dois continuer à travailler sur mon profil black swan

ZYNG – Quartier Latin

Hello Gang,

Désolée pour mon absence de la semaine derniÚre ! On était en plein déménagement.

IMG_20160608_131929.jpgJ’aimerais vous parler de l’un de mes petits coins favoris du temps ou j’habitais au centre-ville.  Des fois ou moi et mon fiancĂ© on se mettait en diĂšte pour la Ă©niĂšme fois et qu’il se transformait en un vĂ©ritable combattant contre la malbouffe, j’allais me rĂ©fugier lĂ -bas de temps en temps pour manger un bon petit gĂ©nĂ©ral Tao et oublier que j’Ă©tais en diĂšte. Je ne suis pas une experte en gĂ©nĂ©ral Tao mais leur version me plaĂźt beaucoup. Ils ont rĂ©ussi Ă  avoir une bonne balance entre le sucrĂ©, salĂ©e et croustillant. Ce qui je pense est considĂ©rable! On a Ă©tĂ© leur rendre hommage une derniĂšre fois durant notre semaine de dĂ©mĂ©nagement.  Vous ne pouvez pas le  voir sur les photos mais j’ai un sourire carnassier. De plus, les ingrĂ©dients sont relativement frais et les prix trĂšs abordables.

A ce sujet, je vous recommande de regarder le documentaire “The Search for General Tso” disponible sur Netflix expliquant l’origine de ce plat.

ZYNG – Quartier Latin

Hello Gang,

Sorry for being MIA on the blog last week. We were moving!

I’d like to introduce you to one of my favorite hiding places in the quarter Latin…at least it used to be when I used to live in the gay village. Yes I have come to the realization that I don’t live there anymore. Denial can only do so much.

That little place is called Zyng Asian Grill.  It is a little restaurant in the heart of Quartier Latin. I usually go there when my fiancé and I have just started a diet for the 100th time and he is turning into a prime diet enforcer. I usually take refuge there and order their general Tao which strikes the impossibly perfect balance between sweet, salty and crunchy. Plus their prices are very affordable and the produces are relatively fresh.

On that note, I invite you to watch the Netflix documentary titled “The Search for General Tso”. It is so edifying and fun! I can assure you that you’ll learn something new!