after a suspiciously stunned-looking fish emerges from the deep, previously put back by an eager producer, it is ignored, because fred and dave do things differently. no crudely fried fish and bread crumbs for these large-living, 19th-century men. oh, whoa, holy, what is that? instead, a hearty lunch of french classics, accompanied by many fine wines and liqueurs, as befitting gentlemen of discerning taste who have exhausted themselves in the wild. so, this is how you live? well, more often than not, yes. we always have to travel well and eat properly. we re drinking a natural white wine, white burgundy? these are glacier bay oysters. as well as a couple boujelois thrown in there. they re delicious. those are my prized possession. the funnest part about the restaurant business isn t just the cutlery.
belly, bacon, homemade boudin blanc, plus veal and pork links. oh, yeah. this is a truly heroic charcuterie. look at the beautiful link here. awesome. this dish is the single best argument for sharing a border with germany. and, of course, the finest wines known to humanity. we ve got german wine, we ve got silvaner in pirate bottles. sweet! what am i drinking here? canadian riesling. this is norman hardy riesling from prince albert county, five hours from here. amazing wine. there s an allegory here somewhere. i m reaching for it, something about fred and dave s reckless abandon coupled with precision and technique, a hockey metaphor, perhaps. ah, the hell with it. ooh, look, sausages!
never a suboptimal moment, nothing short of excellent accepted. beyond excellent, too much excellent, yes, possibly. over the top? yeah, definitely. it all comes around in the end. the circle of life. we begin at the beginning, the heart and soul of every right-thinking quebecois, apparently ice, a stick, and a puck. fred and dave and martin picard are joined by the original god of montreal gastronomy, the great chef norman la pris, to watch the canadiens lay waste to the carolina hurricanes, all the while eating, of course, and drinking, as it turns out, the finest wines known to humanity. man, here we go. man, here we go. oh!
for some of another time. the canadian caviar, sturgeon canadian caviar. i m not sure about dave mcmillen, but in fred morin s perfect world, we would all travel by rail. it would still be the golden age of rail travel. so, tell me about the great canadian rail system. it s purely emotional. really? there is nothing rational about it. fred is what one might call conservatively an aficionado. how extreme is your railroad nerdism? this is how bad it gets, operating manual for this model of train. yes, this model. so, you have other operating manuals. yeah. books, printed ephemera, collectibles. fred retains an enduring love for iron horses that still take passengers across the frozen land he calls home, but it s something more than just nostalgia. it s also an appreciation for a dying art. i mean, it s like the old
actually find it pleasurable, like, well, these two gentlemen. do you like the cold? i mean, by you, i mean the quebecois. it cleans the streets of ebola. the cold? yeah, the frigid cold keeps the riffraff out of the city, for sure. fred morin, dave mcmillen, restauranteur, chefs at the legendary joe beef, bon vivant, recanteour, historians of their beloved great white north, princes of hospitality. and what do men like this do for fun when the rivers turn to ice 3 feet thick, when testicles shrink and most of us scurry for warmth and shelter? if they were like so many other canadians, they would go ice fishing on the st. lawrence river. the cabin fever induces in the quebecueo family, because we are confined perhaps to spend so