With Italian cafes being in the news recently for being targeted and attacked by assailants with Molotov cocktails, it reminded me of a time not so long ago. Not as far back as Star Wars but far enough.
Years ago, say nine years, my sister was looking to do a local film on cafes; specifically Italian cafes and bars. Her goal was to explore coffee bars and its roles in a male dominated environment.
Cafe shops have a long history in the Mediterranean. From Turkey to France, the cafe played a fascinating role in society. Italy in particular had a huge hand in developing the coffee culture in Europe. For example, the Cafe Procopio, the first in Paris, was founded by an Italian - ooops, a Sicilian.
Coffee - or espresso - is synonymous with Italian culture obsessed with maintaining quality on anything related to food and beverage. This reality and fact travelled across the Atlantic and into the bars of Montreal.
This is where the story shifts a little. She asked me to write the script and I went along with the camera crew to various bars. Yes, we did encounter some characters along the way. By the end of three days of visiting shops, I had probably 18 espressos in me. I never experiences such, erm, heightened awareness. I spent quite a bit of time researching the history of coffee and its origins.
To take our footage to the next level we needed money and this is where an arts grant came in. The CBC, or some division attached to it (I forget the story) was considering taking part but with one hitch: They wanted to have women baristas involved. When my sister, after realizing they were out of their fricken minds, tried to explain these are not the sort of places women frequent, the people involved balked.
Imagine that. They wanted to bend the reality of culture to fit a politically correct mold.
I still have the script somewhere - I think. But the film was probably burned.
Just about when you were born, early 5os, there was a very interesting coffee house on avenue Des Pins just east of St-Urbain. It was called L'Échouerie and was operated by a tall Frenchman called Georges. About 60 tables, café américain 0,10 cents a cup, fancier coffees up to 0,50 cents. You could sip your coffee all night without being bothered. You could come into a full room, Georges would yell: "Deux chaises et une table"; and you would see the requested objects come relayed by several hands over everybody's heads...and be seated.
ReplyDeleteThat is where I heard "el condor passa" for the first time when three South Americans with a guitar jumped on a table and sang it just before another guy did the same thing...but read a poem of his. A great evening for a dime. Can't have that today for 30 bucks.
No way not for 30 bucks!
ReplyDeleteI was born, by the way, in the 70s!
I used to go to a sandwich place right around there on Pine. It was run by a French-Canadian and his Italian wife. Then, suddenly, he closed up. I would spend hours there between classes in university.
You are much younger than I thought. My god you are not even a boomer.
ReplyDeleteI thought you knew!
ReplyDelete