5:49 a.m. at the ALT Hotel, Toronto
Finally! I am able to return and fulfill my duties as the Founder of Cora restaurants, which today can be found from coast to coast. I am in Toronto to visit our locations in Ontario. I’m just so happy to be here, accompanied by a few company directors. I am delighted to see our wonderful franchisees in their restaurant once again. It also gives me a chance to greet the customers who recognize me and stop to shake my hand.
Just like in the old days, I take a few minutes to sit with them at their table and inquire after their family, their children and if they like the new dishes we’ve added to the menu. Most of them insist on taking a selfie with me, and I love the closeness! I thank the stars for this brief moment of interaction every time it happens. It’s such a precious connection for me; I consider myself extremely privileged to be so loved.
Thirty-five years of being immersed in the business probably has something to do with it. My face is all over the place: printed on the menu, framed on the walls and featured countless times in different ads. Knowing that I am not forgotten makes me happy. It gives me the push I need to keep going and reminds me that I still can’t imagine departing for another dimension.
Speaking of departures, I boarded a big steel bird to travel from Montreal to downtown Toronto. All it took was 58 minutes – just enough time to drink my coffee and go over the itinerary of our restaurant visits and activities for the next few days. We’ll need to keep a steady pace; there’s not a minute to spare, according to François, the trip’s leader. Except, of course, for the many serendipitous stops for the Founder to meet her customers.
I haven’t flown in nearly three years. I forgot my Bose headphones, and my ears were popping during the entire descent. I pressed and pulled on my ears and tried yawning; my poor head suffered.
“One has to suffer to succeed,” my mother would say if she were still among us, with her hands permanently covered in eczema. She suffered terribly, and I am certain that she’s now the picture of health, busily ironing the angels’ robes in paradise. Honestly, nobody loved to iron like she did! She delighted in smoothing out the wrinkles of her husband’s extra-large clothes.
6:52 a.m.
Seated in the hotel lobby, I unexpectedly get the chance to converse with a man with a face as calm, smooth and radiant as an angel’s. He immigrated to Canada 30 years ago from the Dalai Lama’s home country. Focused like a monk in prayer, he is busy dusting the coffee tables in the lobby and replacing the many cushions on the enormous sofas in the hall. His face breaks into a smile as he gets closer to the cocktail table where I’m sitting; I feel like a worshiper waiting for the holy host. His huge smile and heartfelt HELLO light up my face and a very agreeable conversation about life, grace and the potential serenity that resides in each one of us unfolds.
When I boldly mention the ongoing war in Ukraine, the angelic man urges me to believe that we have to build peace within our hearts. Picking up his feather duster as if it were a sacred object, he bows his head and leaves.
At that exact moment, the elevator doors open and release my flock of colleagues, who are all smiles. They look for the coffee machine and take a moment to enjoy their beverage as we discuss the day’s activities. We leave the hotel for our next destination: a recently renovated restaurant that has been open for 10 years.
The franchisees greet us with much enthusiasm and pride. They are always delighted to see us, especially the Founder; you can see it in their eyes. And for just one moment, I become the world’s happiest person: the one who created this extraordinary breakfast restaurant concept.
After shaking countless hands and sitting down numerous times at customers’ tables, I look up and down the walls, taking in each detail of the renovation. I created a few décor items myself and I insisted that they be displayed in the right place on the right walls. My colleagues put up with me; they know there’s a wolf hiding under sheep’s clothing. Most of them have been with the company for many years and are part of the family.
7:32 p.m. at the airport
I type away on my iPad precariously placed on my lap. Our 8 p.m. flight has been delayed by 30 minutes. My colleagues talk about this and that while they wait for the giant bird to arrive at the gate. They are satisfied with the work they accomplished in the Greater Toronto Area. They can’t wait to be home again. Tomorrow morning, some of them will be joining me at the head office with their children for a photo shoot to announce a special event.
The restaurant business is not an easy one. A reality we have known first-hand for 35 years. We love sharing our expertise and passion with our franchisees, along with a desire to delight our customers.
Cora
🐑
7:37 a.m. at the coffee shop
This morning, I make my way like a sleepwalker to the coffee shop, programmed through habit. I barely slept last night. Thank goodness it’s Friday and I have no appointments. I really want to share the unusual yet priceless discovery that kept me up all night.
A single question tormented me the entire night. Without further ado, here is the question: “If you could keep one single memory and bring it with you in the afterlife, which one would it be?” What would you do if there was life after death and that all your memories were erased, but one? Which memory would you want to revisit eternally?
I got into bed early last night, believe it or not, to read for a while before turning in. Happily nestled in bed, resting on two satin pillows, a page from a magazine threw me for a loop!
What is most important to me? Which memory would I want to remember forever? I sit straight up in my bed and consider this highly significant issue.
You know I’m not the type of person who simply sweeps soul-searching questions under the rug. I have spent the better part of the last three years analyzing my life and telling my story. I jump right out of bed, look for my slippers and head to the kitchen in my dressing gown. I flip open my iPad, tap on a few icons and type the name of the journalist who stole my night’s sleep. I want to know more.
Google tells me that this important question comes from a 1998 Japanese movie entitled AFTER LIFE by director Hirokasu Kore-eda.
I pour myself a coffee, which by now won’t surprise you, and peruse the Amazon website looking for the movie, but for $37, it doesn’t even mention which language it’s subtitled in. I have to wait to get in touch with a friend who’s better at this type of search than I am. I get comfortable on the couch in my library and I turn to the article in the magazine Happiness that first sparked my interest and kept me from Morpheus’ arms.
In the movie, a group of people who have recently died find themselves in a place between heaven and earth – in limbo, I suppose – where they are given one week to choose a single memory from their past life. One single memory they can then take with them into eternity. The movie depicts how each person chooses that memory, which is then recorded so they can play it back at any time afterwards.
My head and my heart plunge into a dreadful existential void as I read. Which single memory will I bring into eternity? My body stiff on the couch, I suddenly become like the deceased characters in the movie, parked in limbo with only one week to decide which memory to bring into eternity. Lost in thought, I am up all night creating my own movie; dreaming up a dozen scenarios that I end up ripping apart each time.
Around 4 a.m., I grab the magazine again and discover a related article by Jacky van de Goor, a PhD researcher whose work is dedicated to collecting all kinds of memories from thousands of people. I try to find out more about her, but most of the information available through Google about Jacky von de Moor is written in German or a doctorate-level English that is too difficult for me to read. My eyelids are becoming as heavy as lead. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to choose. What do we know about death? Nothing at all.
Since I am as curious as Australia’s frill-necked lizard, I would love to know which memory you would take with you into eternity. Dear readers, don’t follow my example! Don’t spend a sleepless night torturing your mind sifting through your memories. Reflect upon it while you are taking a stroll through nature. And if you feel like it, share your precious memory with me – such confessions bring us closer.
I am quite certain that each of our precious memories represents the closest thing to what we might consider our life’s core.
Cora
❤
P.S. I promise you this: I will revisit all my memories from my life until I find the most precious one to take with me into eternity. Eventually I will share it with you in a letter.
(Note to my readers: This letter was written in December.)
I found myself in paradise’s library last Friday. It has to be true because I was in heaven! A huge place, I don’t know how many stories high, with long escalators, lovely posters hanging everywhere, arrows indicating directions, concession stands, information booths and angels dressed as school crossing guards. A thousand kids ran left and right in this real-life dream.
I do not have enough words to describe the unbelievable sight: More than a million books revealing their pages to avid readers. The entire space is filled with the desire to learn and discover. Euphoric and curious, I sway from one bookshelf to the next, gathering pearls of wisdom from each story. I have known all my life that reading is the most fulfilling gift we can offer those we love.
For the occasion, St. Peter has separated paradise by area of interest. I am even under the impression that the children’s section is a hundred times larger than the space dedicated to adults, which is only natural, I suppose. I have lived a full life for which I am very thankful; I have little left to accomplish down here. Young people have so much to learn in order to live well!
As a young girl, I remember not having any books to read at home, no notepad to pour my secrets out in blue ink. And yet Mom had been a school teacher before she married. Had she even read a novel before eczema stopped her from holding a book in her hands?
I had to beg and plead for her to register me at Collège de Rosemont. I can easily recall the small navy blue uniform she had sewn from Dad’s old overcoat, the long beige socks the nuns forced us to wear and the black mantilla covering our heads when we visited the chapel.
I learned how to read real books during my first year of classical studies. And I never stopped. I took my school books very seriously but could lose myself in a romance novel. Soon enough, however, I much preferred the great authors of true literature; those who could teach me how to properly write.
Nearly every wall in my house is covered by a white or brown IKEA bookcase, depending on the room. I’m telling you: I live in a library! And I love to be completely enveloped by books. My books are classified by topic: spirituality, religions of the world, geography and travel, magazines, business, history, literature, pocket book novels, biographies, cookbooks and many more. I guess the only thing I am missing is a book club (I’m thinking about it). I also have many pictures of my favourite authors, who keep me company.
I move happily about the library overseen by angels. I stroll between the tables, I inspect the displays, I scamper down the aisles. Time slips through the divine hourglass.
After many hours of meeting some of my favourite authors, I look for archangel Gabriel’s cane or at least a kind angel whose wings I might fly away on.
My wonderful granddaughter texts me out of the blue as though she had heard me and offers to come pick me up. She wants to have dinner together. So I leave the Montreal Book Fair, transported by the grace of family love. Crossing the city, we find ourselves at her parents’ favourite restaurant in Laval.
Do you know just how much I love my grandkids? My love for them could fill the entire heavens, and then some.
Cora
📚
7:35 a.m. at the coffee shop
The snow painted our picturesque Laurentian town all white overnight. When I open my eyes, I am five years old and want to go outside.
– “Mom, where are my boots? And my mittens and my blue wool scarf?”
The snow makes me think back to a time in my childhood when we carved out snow blocks in the snow to build a fort. My brother oversaw the operations while us girls had to carefully listen to his instructions or we’d get a snowball in the neck. Bobby, like my dad used to call him, was the champion of winter projects. And his specialty was igloos, in which he would sometimes imprison me when I teased him one too many times.
I still clearly remember one particular winter day. My brother and I were building an enormous snowman. The snow was wet and it was easy to roll into two big balls which we were going to use to make a large figure just like Dad’s. That’s right! We were creating a snowman version of our dad, whom my brother enjoyed teasing; I in turn enjoyed teasing my brother.
I had just helped him place one of the huge snowballs on top of the other when my brother’s body started to shake. He was squeezing his thighs and doubling over like he really had to go. Apparently he couldn’t wait, because before I could say anything, I saw a reddish liquid shoot straight out of him, staining the immaculate white snow. My brother was waving his arms wildly, screaming in terror. He thought he had been struck by some illness.
It turns out, Mr. Know-It-All didn't know that when you eat beets, your urine turns a similar colour. How could he have known? The pain from mom’s eczema-blistered hands had abated enough to allow her to garden that summer. And the delicious red-brown beets were just one of the many things we had recently discovered.
8:45 a.m.
This week at the head office, I received a letter from a little-known area in France. The sender was congratulating me on my French Canadian prose. The return address indicated “Gordes,” which I had to look up on Google.
Population: 1,670 habitants
Last census: 2019
Density: 35 habitants/km2
Area: 48.4 km
Altitude: 373 m
Founded in 1031
Gordes is ranked among the most beautiful villages in France. Its distinguishing feature is its location: perched high atop a mountain and visible from far, far away. Seen from the foot of the mountain, it gives the impression that it has been standing guard over the valley since forever. Good heavens, where is that? Google, help me again! “The village of Gordes is a French commune located in the Vaucluse department of the Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur region.” Distance Paris-Gordes: 718.8 kilometres
8 hours and 5 minutes by car
Car rental: 16 euros/day
Apoline Duschesne, the author of the letter, wants to know more about me. Her daughter is a teacher living in the province of Quebec and reads my weekly Sunday letters, which she then shares with her mother. Having retired from journalism 20 years ago, Appoline misses the written word. Without much preamble, she tells me that she wants to do what I do: WRITE.
Apolline wants to empty her mind of the 30 years of news she has chronicled. She wants to change her life and change her style. She begs me to explain how I am able to enjoy such a close, honest and generous relationship with my readers as I recount stories of my life.
10:28 a.m.
Dear Apolline, your letter touches me deeply. We are probably about the same age. After many years of hard work, I stopped my management activities at the business I built in 2018. Fourteen months later, a nasty virus spread around the globe. Locked up in my house, I was eventually asked to write a weekly letter to our wonderful customers, which would be posted on the Cora restaurants Facebook page. And so our customers began to read my Sunday letters. My initial intent was to simply encourage them to keep up their spirits as the pandemic overturned our worlds.
Without realizing it, all the sorrow and frustrations I felt in my new retired life disappeared. I dare say, dear Apolline, that WRITING saved my life. Writing each day has become my ritual for happiness. My heart opened up by talking directly to my readers.
Each day I explore the present, the surprising everydayness of life such as going for a drive in the mountains, visiting the market, browsing a new bookstore or simply pedalling faster on my new stationary bike.
I usually write 4 or 5 hours each day, often at the coffee shop or sitting at my kitchen table while listening to baroque music. A wise man, whose name I forget, once told me that listening to baroque music helps you write. I also admit to taking a midday nap on the couch in the library for one or two hours, a thick mask covering my eyes.
I read the rest of the time. I learn or search for new words that call to me. Since I started writing regularly, most of my money goes to purchasing bestsellers, how-to books and magazines of all kinds. They have now far surpassed the cost of all my colourful clothes, scarves, shoes and trinkets I wear on my clothes or in my hair.
There, you have it, my dear Apolline. I know you will succeed in finding a new voice. Every human in its own way represents a ground to be cleared, a story to be told, a future to be sown. And maybe one day, in the commune of Gordes, I will have the wonderful opportunity to visit the Notre-Dame de Sénanque Abbey with you.
Cora
☃
Cora Breakfast and Lunch is proud to announce that the brand is now a valued partner of Canadian airline WestJet. The onboard breakfast meal, served in Premium cabin on morning flights, is now provided by Cora. It is a satisfying mark of confidence in our brand, the Canadian breakfast pioneer!
WestJet has been offering Cora breakfasts on the majority of its flights lasting 2½ hours or more since June 26. The in-flight dishes are inspired by classic Cora favourites: Smoked turkey eggs Ben et Dictine, a Vegetable skillet and a Spinach and aged cheddar omelette with turkey sausage.
Passengers in WestJet’s Premium cabin are able to savour Cora breakfasts, making it a delicious opportunity for Cora to offer a taste of its menu to a different segment of the population.
Bon voyage!
Cora Breakfast and Lunch, Canada’s breakfast leader, is proud to announce the opening of a new Cora restaurant in Western Canada. This time, it's the city of North Vancouver that the most recent Cora sun has risen.
Pioneering founder Cora Tsouflidou was on location for the Grand Opening. It is when she performs the traditional Egg-Cracking Ceremony, during which the first symbolic omelette in the restaurant is made.
The new location is part of a nationwide expansion of the Cora network, making it the 10th restaurant in British Columbia for the largest sit-down breakfast chain in Canada.
With more than 130 operating restaurants, Cora Breakfast and Lunch continues to offer morning gastronomy dedicated to breakfast: quality food and service in a warm family atmosphere.
The year 2019 has been one of expansion for the Cora Franchise Group, Canada’s breakfast leader. The company’s iconic sun proudly shines in the country’s largest cities!
Two other restaurants opened their doors in March. As for many Cora franchisees, it’s a family adventure for several of Cora’s newest members. The new location in the St. Vital neighbourhood of Winnipeg is managed by real-life partners who decided to open their own franchise, charmed by the Cora restaurant experience, the colourful menus and spectacular plates garnished with fresh fruit.
The most recent opening is located in Regina, the second location for the city. Having successfully established his first Cora restaurant in 2018, the franchisee expanded his operations to include a second location, which began welcoming guests on March 18.
The two new franchises are part of the Quebec company’s national expansion plan. With 130 restaurants currently in operation, Cora serves morning gastronomy dedicated to breakfast, as it pursues its mission of offering quality food and service in a warm, family atmosphere.
Cora Breakfast and Lunch, Canada’s breakfast leader, is proud to announce the opening of two new Cora restaurants in Western Canada. Alberta welcomed a new Cora sun located downtown Edmonton while British Columbia celebrated the arrival of the restaurant in Surrey.
Pioneering founder Cora Tsouflidou was on location for both Grand Openings, joined by local owner-franchisees to welcome dignitaries, lifestyle influencers and guests for a true celebration: the traditional Egg-Cracking Ceremony, during which the first symbolic omelette in the restaurant is made.
The new locations are part of a nationwide expansion of the Cora network, making it the 9th restaurant in British Columbia for the largest sit-down breakfast chain in Canada, and the 18th restaurant in Alberta.
Madame Cora originated the concept in 1987 when, as a single mother of three in need of a career, she bought a small abandoned diner on Côte-Vertu Boulevard in Montreal’s St-Laurent area, focusing solely on breakfast (egg dishes, fresh fruit, cheese, cereal, omelettes, crêpes and French toast). The restaurant quickly became the talk of the town, often with lineups at the door. Madame Cora’s astute entrepreneurial instincts told her that this was a concept that could be franchised.
With 130 operating restaurants, Cora Breakfast and Lunch continues to offer morning gastronomy dedicated to breakfast: quality food and service in a warm family atmosphere.