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Reason for the Revival of Little Burgundy? It’s Alimentary

“I don’t think I would have lived here four years ago,” says Toby Lyle, looking out the window at rue Notre Dame, one of the main arteries of Little Burgundy. It’s a late-September afternoon, and in the watery sun, the business strip of this once-moribund quarter emanates a glow of quiet confidence.

 

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Little Burgundy is a neighbourhood that’s going places, thanks, in part, to establishments like The Burgundy Lion, an English-style pub that Lyle opened with his business partner earlier this year. On a Friday or Saturday night, the pub draws a small crowd of revellers to an area that was previously desolate after the dinner hour. But don’t expect a scene like on St. Laurent or Crescent Street.

“If we can avoid that, it’s for the best,” Lyle jokes.

For a neighbourhood accustomed to changes, the most recent developments have been nothing short of dramatic. Lyle reports that only five or six years ago, between Notre Dame and the Lachine Canal to the south, “it was abandoned warehouses and undeveloped land.” To walk in this area today is to witness in full force the effects of that much-maligned phenomenon, gentrification, which Lyle himself employs with reluctance and a bit of a grimace. He’s proud to work as well as live here.

Little Burgundy began life as the village of Delisle, down the hill just a couple of kilometres from downtown Montreal. In 1875, it was incorporated as the town of Saint-Cunégonde, separated from the neighbouring Saint-Henri by rue Atwater. In the early twentieth century, the growing town attracted immigrants – most of them black – from American cities such as New York and Washington. In 1905, Montreal annexed the town, it was thereafter Little Burgundy; by the 1930s and 1940s, it became the most swinging place in town, taking centre stage in Montreal’s flourishing jazz scene. Oscar Peterson, perhaps the country’s most famous jazz pianist, was born on Delisle Street.

In Little Burgundy, you’re never far from reminders of the past. Walking down rue Coursol, surely one of Montreal’s prettiest streets, it’s still possible to see numerous examples of the earliest local buildings. The row houses, replete with well-tended balconies and ornate gabled roofs, were mainly occupied by the workers of the local factories. Thanks to the nearby Lachine Canal and extensive rail tracks, the area became Canada’s industrial heartland.

But the boom didn’t last. The decline and eventual closure of the canal had a depressive effect on the immediate area. Between the 1960s and the turn of the century, it would have been fair to say that Little Burgundy’s best days were behind it. Today, however, there is new hope for this Montreal gem. According to Toby Lyle, the current revival is a direct result of Atwater Market and the new condominium developments popping up like mushrooms on either side. Atwater’s distinctive brick tower is a beacon to food-worshippers from all over Montreal, not to mention a big plus to developers looking to sell property to a burgeoning professional class.

On Monday – ostensibly a workday – the fromageries and boucheries and stalls of eggplants, tomatoes and pumpkins are a hive of commerce and conversation. To behold the vibrant mosaic of reds, yellows, greens and orange is to see the raw beauty of food. In the main hall, families and young professionals gather at tables, enjoying a coffee or a pastry. Well away from the hubbub, in her third floor office, the market’s communications manager, Isabelle Létourneau, explains how the market has helped revive the fortunes of the surrounding area.

“Markets have, in a way, taken the role of churches,” she says.

Opening in 1933, Atwater enjoyed decades of activity – even selling live animals up until the 1960s. But under Mayor Drapeau, at a time when, according to Létourneau, “markets didn’t have any cachet,” Atwater was threatened with closure. Area residents rallied to its defence and saved it. By the 1980s, the city administration acknowledged its importance and invested over a million dollars in renovations.

Atwater is now a pillar of the community, fuelling the growth not only of condo developments, but of new businesses that can cater to residents and numerous visitors. The first new business that took a chance on Notre Dame was Joe Beef. When partners David McMillan, Frédéric Morin and Allison Cunningham opened the restaurant in 2004, the immediate vicinity boasted numerous antique stores (so many that it had earned the nickname rue des antiquaires) but almost all other business activity was dormant.

David McMillan, who built a reputation and clientele working on St. Laurent, describes how he came to settle on the current location.

“I used to come here all the time,” says the burly, tattooed chef. “It was a coffee shop... Sometimes I’d sit here and I’d see my former customers shopping for antiques.”

Still, it must have taken a bit of imagination to picture a neighbourhood renaissance – or even the success of one upscale restaurant – in an area that was home to junkies and drug deals conducted behind the local Couche-Tard.

Chuckling, McMillan says, “There was a lot of free parking.”

His trip down memory lane is interrupted every few minutes by calls for reservations, as well as a call about an article published in the Journal de Montréal that day. The article sought to kick up some controversy for McMillan and other restaurant-owners who have chosen English names for their establishments.

“I’m already getting bookings from that article,” McMillan tells the caller, enthusiastically. “It’s a registered trademark. Come after me!”

When the subject returns to food, McMillan’s enthusiasm only grows. He lauds the merits of grass-fed beef – so much healthier than the corn-fed alternative – and celebrates the continuation of Montreal’s traditional “chop-house” style evoked by Joe Beef and its sister restaurants, Liverpool House and McKiernan’s. Aficionados of fine dining can feast on oysters, lobster, beef tartar, sole – not to mention the best Burgundy wines.

Little Burgundy offers those with a disposable income (a lot of disposable income in the case of Joe Beef) a full evening of entertainment. You could sip a $100 bottle of wine at any of McMillan’s restaurants, or spend an evening in the English vibe of The Burgundy Lion, where the menu includes traditional English fare like scotch egg, Yorkshire Pudding, Shepherd’s Pie, even Sunday Roast, as well as English beers like Bass, Boddington’s, and Tetley’s.

The neighbourhood is even witnessing a comeback of the music scene that kept it swinging through the 30s and 40s, with the revival of the historic Théâtre Corona. First opened in 1912, the theatre was closed for decades, but in recent years has been lovingly restored, and now plays host to cabaret and musicals.

Food even enters the equation here: on Friday and Saturday nights, the theatre offers patrons a full dinner, catered by none other than Toby Lyle’s Burgundy Lion. In the corporate world they’d call it synergy. In Little Burgundy, it’s the recipe for a satisfying night out. {w}

profiling: volume i, issue ii

 

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