Cette histoire remonte \u00e0 l\u2019automne\u00a01987, quelques mois apr\u00e8s l\u2019ouverture de notre premier resto. J\u2019avais d\u00e9j\u00e0 d\u00e9cid\u00e9 que nous allions concentrer nos efforts \u00e0 offrir \u00e0 notre client\u00e8le des d\u00e9jeuners hors du commun. Personne \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque n\u2019aurait pu deviner que ce minuscule boui-boui de 29\u00a0places assises deviendrait le premier maillon d\u2019une grande cha\u00eene de restaurants de d\u00e9jeuners r\u00e9pandus \u00e0 travers notre vaste pays.<\/p>\n
Aujourd\u2019hui encore, je m\u2019ennuie de tous ces braves hommes en bottes de construction qui s\u2019assoyaient au comptoir pour savourer un bon d\u00e9jeuner et quelques caf\u00e9s en esp\u00e9rant croiser le regard de la patronne souvent trop occup\u00e9e \u00e0 tourner ses \u0153ufs sur la plaque chauffante.<\/p>\n
Un peu avant midi, un certain vendredi de novembre, un travailleur d\u2019Hydro-Qu\u00e9bec m\u2019apporte la recette du g\u00e2teau Reine \u00c9lisabeth de sa grand-m\u00e8re Pamela, recopi\u00e9e sur du beau papier achet\u00e9 \u00e0 cet effet.<\/p>\n
Cach\u00e9 derri\u00e8re un joli JEAN-MARC bleu cobalt brod\u00e9 sur le flanc gauche de son uniforme, le bel \u00e9lectricien me tend le parchemin enrubann\u00e9. Faisant cela, ses grands yeux d\u2019acier me d\u00e9visagent comme s\u2019ils \u00e9taient en train de d\u00e9couper une porte dans mon c\u0153ur.<\/p>\n
Je m\u2019en souviens comme si c\u2019\u00e9tait hier. Ces travailleurs m\u2019offraient souvent leur plus charmant sourire, une marque d\u2019attention ou toute autre gentillesse qui pourrait m\u2019inciter \u00e0 leur offrir un deuxi\u00e8me bol de soupe, une autre cuiller\u00e9e de sauce hollandaise sur leurs \u0153ufs b\u00e9n\u00e9dictine, ou une double portion de dessert du jour.<\/p>\n
Nous \u00e9tions ouverts depuis quelques mois \u00e0 peine et j\u2019\u00e9tais encore en train d\u2019apprendre mon m\u00e9tier de restauratrice. Heureusement qu\u2019assez rapidement je suis arriv\u00e9e \u00e0 faire la part des choses et \u00e0 reconna\u00eetre entre tous un regard affam\u00e9, de grandes mains d\u00e9s\u0153uvr\u00e9es, un c\u0153ur inassouvi.<\/p>\n
La recette, maintenant!<\/p>\n
ALLUMER LE FOUR \u00c0 350\u00a0\u00b0F
\nIl faut d\u2019abord verser 1\u00a0tasse d\u2019eau bouillante sur 1\u00a0tasse de dattes hach\u00e9es finement en y ajoutant 1\u00a0cuill\u00e8re \u00e0 th\u00e9 de bicarbonate de soude. Laisser refroidir jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que le m\u00e9lange soit ti\u00e8de.<\/p>\n
C\u2019est probablement ce que je trouvais le plus souffrant \u00e0 mes d\u00e9buts. Ne jamais conna\u00eetre v\u00e9ritablement les clients, ni leur histoire, ni leur vrai nom la plupart du temps. Ne jamais entendre r\u00e9ellement ce que leurs yeux meurent d\u2019envie de nous dire. Ne jamais savoir ce qui arrive dans leurs vies le soir lorsqu\u2019ils entrent chez eux. Ignorer pourquoi ils viennent chez nous, ce qu\u2019ils y trouvent, et pourquoi soudainement, sans avertir, ils ne reviennent plus.
\nDANS UN GRAND BOL, battre \u00bc\u00a0tasse de beurre en cr\u00e8me avec 1\u00a0tasse de sucre blanc, puis incorporer 1\u00a0\u0153uf battu en fouettant. Ajouter \u00e0 ce m\u00e9lange les dattes, l\u2019eau dans laquelle elles ont tremp\u00e9 et 1\u00a0cuill\u00e8re \u00e0 th\u00e9 de vanille.<\/p>\n
Dans ce premier resto, mes enfants et moi \u00e9tions en train de nous reb\u00e2tir une vie. Nous-m\u00eames moiti\u00e9 tristes et moiti\u00e9 joyeux, nous pouvions totalement compatir \u00e0 la tristesse\u00a0des autres et en \u00eatre facilement imbib\u00e9s. Ceci explique peut-\u00eatre pourquoi nos 29\u00a0places assises \u00e9taient tellement populaires \u00e0 nos d\u00e9buts. Nous aimions profond\u00e9ment nos clients et ils nous aimaient en retour. Cette complicit\u00e9 se voyait \u00e0 l\u2019\u0153il nu. \u00c7a se sentait lorsque la nourriture arrivait sur la table, \u00e7a s\u2019entendait dans les conversations des nouveaux clients r\u00e9p\u00e9tant \u00ab\u00a0ici, ce n\u2019est pas comme ailleurs\u00a0\u00bb.<\/p>\n
DANS UN AUTRE BOL, m\u00e9langer 1 \u00bd tasse de farine avec 1 cuill\u00e8re \u00e0 th\u00e9 de poudre \u00e0 p\u00e2te et \u00bc cuill\u00e8re \u00e0 th\u00e9 de sel. Incorporer ces ingr\u00e9dients au m\u00e9lange de dattes en remuant jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que le tout soit bien m\u00e9lang\u00e9. Ajouter au m\u00e9lange \u00bd tasse de noix de Grenoble hach\u00e9es. Verser le m\u00e9lange dans un plat graiss\u00e9 d\u2019environ 9 pouces carr\u00e9s allant au four. Cuire environ 40 minutes jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que la lame d\u2019un couteau, gliss\u00e9e au centre, en ressorte propre.<\/p>\n
POUR LE GLA\u00c7AGE
\nDans une petite casserole, m\u00e9langer 5\u00a0cuill\u00e8res \u00e0 table de cassonade, 3\u00a0cuill\u00e8res \u00e0 table de beurre, 2\u00a0cuill\u00e8res \u00e0 table de cr\u00e8me \u00e0 fouetter et 1\u00a0tasse de noix de coco r\u00e2p\u00e9e. Porter \u00e0 \u00e9bullition \u00e0 feu moyen et laisser bouillir 3\u00a0minutes. Tandis que le g\u00e2teau est encore chaud, \u00e9tendre le gla\u00e7age sur le dessus puis mettre sous le gril 2 \u00e0 3\u00a0minutes, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 ce que le gla\u00e7age ait bruni.<\/p>\n
Peu apr\u00e8s m\u2019avoir fait cadeau de cette pr\u00e9cieuse recette, le beau Jean-Marc s\u2019\u00e9lectrocuta les papilles gustatives en croquant dans une pointe du d\u00e9licieux Reine \u00c9lisabeth \u00e0 peine refroidi. L\u2019\u00e9lectricien me jura m\u00eame qu\u2019il le trouvait meilleur que celui de sa grand-m\u00e8re! Puis, quelques jours apr\u00e8s, Jean-Marc disparut du comptoir pour toujours. Nous en \u00e9tions d\u00e9sol\u00e9s.<\/p>\n
Pourtant, quelque deux ann\u00e9es plus tard, je le revis, effondr\u00e9 de chagrin dans la salle d\u2019attente de l\u2019h\u00f4pital Rosemont de Montr\u00e9al. J\u2019y accompagnais le jeune cuistot qui avait pris ma place en cuisine. Pendant qu\u2019un urgentiste allait recoudre la moiti\u00e9 du doigt coup\u00e9, l\u2019\u00e9lectricien me raconta le cancer de son \u00e9pouse et ses deux derni\u00e8res ann\u00e9es d\u2019enfer. Il avait m\u00eame quitt\u00e9 son travail pour \u00eatre \u00e0 son chevet jour et nuit.<\/p>\n
Toutes ces ann\u00e9es o\u00f9 j\u2019ai \u00e9t\u00e9 la cuisini\u00e8re de mes premiers restos, le seul v\u00e9ritable lien que j\u2019aie d\u00e9velopp\u00e9 a \u00e9t\u00e9 mon immense amour pour mes clients et pour mon m\u00e9tier de restauratrice. J\u2019ai \u00e9t\u00e9 une confidente anonyme, muette et complice. Je pouvais soulager la douleur momentan\u00e9e d\u2019un \u0153il noy\u00e9 de chagrin ou celle plus tragique d\u2019un doigt amput\u00e9 de son anneau de mariage. J\u2019ai finalement r\u00e9alis\u00e9 que le malheur d\u2019autrui s\u2019amenuise \u00e0 mesure qu\u2019il coule dans une oreille bienveillante.<\/p>\n
Cora
\n\u2764<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Cette histoire remonte \u00e0 l\u2019automne\u00a01987, quelques mois apr\u00e8s l\u2019ouverture de notre premier […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":30309,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-30308","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":"","contenu_en":"This story dates back to the fall of 1987, a few months after we opened our first restaurant. I had already decided that we would put all our efforts into offering our clientele amazing breakfasts. No one at that time could have guessed that this small business of 29\u00a0seats would become the first link in a long chain of restaurants that would stretch across this vast country.\r\n\r\nTo this day, I miss all those brave chaps in their construction boots sitting at the counter enjoying a delicious breakfast and a few cups of coffee, hoping to catch the eye of the boss, who was often too busy flipping their eggs on the grill to notice.\r\n\r\nA little before noon one Friday in November, a worker from Hydro-Qu\u00e9bec brought me his grandmother Pamela\u2019s recipe for Queen Elizabeth cake, written out on a lovely piece of paper for the occasion.\r\n\r\nHidden behind a uniform, with JEAN-MARC embroidered on the left side in cobalt blue, the handsome electrician handed me the paper tied with a ribbon. His big steely eyes stared at me as if they were cutting a door straight into my heart.\r\n\r\nI remember it as if it were only yesterday. These workers were all pleading for a smile, a little attention or some connection. I obliged by offering them a second bowl of soup, garnishing their eggs Benedictine with an extra spoonful of sauce or treating them to a double helping of the day\u2019s dessert.\r\n\r\nWe had been open just a few months and I was still learning the ropes of being a restaurateur. Fortunately, I learned fairly quickly to read people and separate the looks of hunger from the big idle hands and unfulfilled hearts.\r\n\r\nNow for the recipe!\r\n\r\nPREHEAT THE OVEN TO 350\u00b0F.\r\nFirst, take 1\u00a0cup of boiling water and pour it over 1\u00a0cup of finely chopped dates in a bowl. Add 1\u00a0teaspoon of baking soda, stir and let cool until mixture is warm.\r\n\r\nIt was probably what I found the most difficult when I was starting out \u2013 never truly knowing my customers. Never learning their stories or their real names, in many cases. Never hearing out loud what their eyes were dying to say. Never knowing what happened in their lives at night, when they returned home. Or why they visited our restaurant, what they found there and why, suddenly, without warning, they stopped coming.\r\n\r\nIN A LARGE BOWL, cream \u00bc\u00a0cup of softened butter with 1\u00a0cup of white sugar. Whisk in a beaten egg. Add the dates, the water they soaked in and 1\u00a0teaspoon of vanilla extract.\r\n\r\nIn our first small restaurant, my kids and I were rebuilding our lives. We felt both sadness and joy. It was therefore easy to empathize with the sadness in others, which we absorbed like sponges. Perhaps this is also the reason why our 29 seats were so popular when we started out. We deeply loved our customers and they loved us. And the feeling was evident. You could sense it as the food arrived at the tables; you could hear it in the conversations of new customers, who would remark the same thing: \u201cThis place is different.\u201d\r\n\r\nIN ANOTHER BOWL, mix 1\u00bd cups of flour with 1\u00a0teaspoon of baking powder and \u00bc\u00a0teaspoon of salt. Mix these ingredients into the date mixture until thoroughly combined. Incorporate \u00bd cup of chopped walnuts. Transfer the batter to a buttered 9-inch square baking dish. Cook for about 40\u00a0minutes or until a knife inserted into the centre comes out clean.\r\n\r\nICING\r\nIn a small saucepan, mix together 5\u00a0tablespoons of brown sugar, 3\u00a0tablespoons of butter, 2\u00a0tablespoons of whipping cream, and 1\u00a0cup of coconut flakes. Bring to a boil on medium heat and let cook for 3\u00a0minutes. While the cake is still hot, spread the icing on it. Place under the broiler for 2\u20133\u00a0minutes, until the top browns a little.\r\n\r\nA few days after sharing his family recipe, the handsome JEAN-MARC gave his taste buds a shock when he sampled a slice of this delicious Queen Elizabeth cake. He swore that it was even better than his grandmother\u2019s. Regrettably, he never came back to the restaurant after that. We were saddened by his absence.\r\n\r\nTwo years later, accompanying a young cook to the emergency who had taken my place at the stoves, I came across that electrician in the waiting room of Montreal\u2019s Rosemont Hospital. He was crumpled over in grief. While an emergency doctor stitched up the employee\u2019s partially detached finger, he told me about his wife\u2019s cancer and how he had been going through a hellish time for the past two years. He had left his job in order to take care of her.\r\n\r\nDuring the years when I was the cook in my first restaurants, the only bond I formed was an immense love for our customers and the restaurateur profession. I was the anonymous person they would confide in, a silent accomplice. I could soothe, if only momentarily, sorrow-filled eyes and the deep pain of a finger suddenly stripped of its wedding ring. I quickly realized that people\u2019s misfortunes become lighter the more they are shared with a caring ear.\r\n\r\nCora\r\n\u2764"},"yoast_head":"\n