Le premier restaurant Cora a ouvert ses portes le 27\u00a0mai\u00a01987, le jour m\u00eame de mon anniversaire de 40\u00a0ans. Toute ma vie d\u2019avant avait \u00e9t\u00e9 plut\u00f4t difficile, et j\u2019ai r\u00e9alis\u00e9 beaucoup plus tard que ce jour d\u2019anniversaire a \u00e9t\u00e9 ni plus ni moins qu\u2019une porte tournante qui me fit passer drastiquement, en un coup de vent, d\u2019une morne femme r\u00e9sign\u00e9e et soumise \u00e0 une femme lib\u00e9r\u00e9e tr\u00e8s vive et pleine d\u2019espoir. Ce matin-l\u00e0, devant le commerce qui affichait mon pr\u00e9nom sur sa devanture, mes enfants et moi \u00e9tions \u00e0 mille lieues de le savoir, mais nous f\u00eations l\u2019enterrement de notre mis\u00e9rable vie d\u2019avant. L\u2019an UN de notre reconstruction d\u00e9buta en ouvrant la porte \u00e0 notre premier client.<\/p>\n
Si, \u00e0 tout hasard, vous faisiez partie de ceux qui veniez chez nous \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9poque, peut-\u00eatre avez-vous pu constater \u00e0 quel point nous voulions faire plaisir \u00e0 nos clients; \u00e0 quel point nous les aimions v\u00e9ritablement! Je vous le confesse aujourd\u2019hui, mes enfants et moi \u00e9tions les affam\u00e9s de l\u2019histoire. Dans la cuisine ou derri\u00e8re le comptoir, nous \u00e9tions ceux qui manquaient d\u2019amour; ceux qui, tout doucement, apprivoisaient la tendresse et l\u2019affection. Ceux qui travaillaient comme des fous et ceux pour qui un petit compliment devenait une v\u00e9ritable satisfaction tellement ils en avaient besoin pour vivre normalement.<\/p>\n
Voil\u00e0 ce qui explique sans doute cette immense gratitude envers nos clients et ce qui, aujourd\u2019hui, m\u2019aide \u00e0 me souvenir de ces gros morceaux de v\u00e9cus flottant dans ma t\u00eate comme des glaciers descendant vers la mer.<\/p>\n
Je travaillais sans rel\u00e2che. Depuis quatorze mois, je me d\u00e9vouais, sept jours sur sept, sans avoir pris une journ\u00e9e de cong\u00e9. Toute mon \u00e9nergie allait au restaurant et \u00e0 ma client\u00e8le\u00a0: d\u00e9nicher de nouvelles recettes, dessiner le menu, passer les commandes, laver les uniformes, puis recommencer. J\u2019avais trop peur d\u2019abandonner mon b\u00e9b\u00e9; peur qu\u2019un client avale un os de poulet; peur qu\u2019un vent violent arrache une fen\u00eatre. Je redoutais surtout que, si je m\u2019absentais, tout aille de travers et que les clients soient mal servis.<\/p>\n
\u00ab\u00a0Peur que le monde arr\u00eate de tourner\u00a0\u00bb, m\u2019avait lanc\u00e9 ma fille Gigi.<\/p>\n
La premi\u00e8re fois que les enfants m\u2019ont sorti de la cuisine du boui-boui, c\u2019\u00e9tait avec un forfait d\u2019une semaine \u00e0 Paris. \u00ab\u00a0Chambre avec vue sur la tour Eiffel et un beau ch\u00e8que de voyage de 300\u00a0$ pour \u201cmes petites d\u00e9penses\u201d\u00a0\u00bb, ont-ils ajout\u00e9 candidement en me mettant l\u2019enveloppe dans les mains.<\/p>\n
Ils ont quand m\u00eame achet\u00e9 le billet d\u2019avion et choisi Paris parce qu\u2019ils m\u2019avaient entendu dire au plombier que c\u2019\u00e9tait mon r\u00eave de m\u2019y rendre un jour. Juste de savoir que je devais partir le samedi suivant m\u2019a emp\u00each\u00e9e de dormir quatre nuits d\u2019affil\u00e9e.<\/p>\n
\u2014\u00a0Fais-moi confiance, maman. Les billets ne sont pas remboursables; tu dois y aller.<\/p>\n
Je n\u2019ai rien vu des premiers jours, clou\u00e9e de fatigue au lit dans la chambrette avec vue sur la tour Eiffel. Le peu de temps qu\u2019il me restait, j\u2019ai march\u00e9 dans les rues comme un robot d\u00e9connect\u00e9 de sa source d\u2019alimentation. Je suppose que Paris se r\u00e9v\u00e8le magnifique lorsque nos yeux sont disponibles pour la contempler, mais les miens surveillaient les corneilles volant au-dessus de mon petit resto. Comment avais-je pu me laisser convaincre de l\u2019abandonner?<\/p>\n
\u2014\u00a0Pour te reposer, maman! Tu vas prendre une semaine de vacances pour te la couler douce. Ne t\u2019inqui\u00e8te pas, on a achet\u00e9 le forfait avec l\u2019argent que nous a donn\u00e9 le grand fr\u00e8re. Relaxe et r\u00e9jouis-toi. On t\u2019aime et on va prendre soin du b\u00e9b\u00e9.<\/p>\n
Les pauvres poussins. Comment pouvaient-ils comprendre que ce n\u2019\u00e9tait pas le restaurant qui avait besoin de moi, mais moi qui n\u2019existais plus sans lui? Comment leur avouer que, m\u00eame en dormant, je tournais des \u0153ufs sur la plaque chauffante? Comment leur expliquer que je faisais partie du mobilier du resto; que lorsque les clients arrivaient, ils me nourrissaient? Tant et si bien que les livres de recettes avaient supplant\u00e9 mon app\u00e9tit pour les livres de grande litt\u00e9rature et de po\u00e9sie.<\/p>\n
Dans le gros avion qui me ramenait \u00e0 Montr\u00e9al, j\u2019ai vu le monde envelopp\u00e9 dans la ouate par le hublot. J\u2019avais tellement h\u00e2te de toucher le sol, de voir les enfants, de remettre mon tablier et de cuisiner une cr\u00e8me de potiron \u00e0 la fran\u00e7aise!<\/p>\n
Dans la soute \u00e0 bagages, ma valise d\u00e9bordait de nouveaux livres de cr\u00eapes extraminces aux garnitures et pliures extravagantes. J\u2019avais tellement h\u00e2te de parler aux enfants des d\u00e9licieux coulis de fruits auxquels j\u2019avais go\u00fbt\u00e9, du caf\u00e9 moka et de l\u2019extraordinaire saveur de pur beurre des viennoiseries.<\/p>\n
Lorsque l\u2019oiseau g\u00e9ant toucha le sol \u00e0 17\u00a0h\u00a045, heure locale de Montr\u00e9al, tous les passagers ont applaudi. J\u2019esp\u00e9rais voir mes enfants, mais je vis plut\u00f4t Platon, le plongeur, qui m\u2019attendait \u00e0 la porte d\u2019arriv\u00e9e. Sa veste blanche macul\u00e9e de jaunes d\u2019\u0153uf au ketchup d\u00e9tonnait parmi la foule de bras grand ouverts.
\n\u2014\u00a0Laisse-moi prendre ta valise, Boss; j\u2019arrive directement du restaurant.<\/p>\n
\u2014\u00a0Est-il arriv\u00e9 quelque chose? O\u00f9 sont les enfants?<\/p>\n
\u2014\u00a0Inqui\u00e8te-toi pas, Boss, je viens de finir la vaisselle. Tout baigne dans l\u2019huile.<\/p>\n
Le monde n\u2019avait pas arr\u00eat\u00e9 de tourner durant mon absence, me confirma le plongeur. Le resto n\u2019avait pas d\u00e9rougi de clients et les ventes, selon la belle Gigi, continuaient leur ascension, comme avant mon d\u00e9part.<\/p>\n
Le lendemain, pour un court moment, j\u2019ai eu l\u2019impression d\u2019entrer dans un film d\u00e9j\u00e0 commenc\u00e9. Tout roulait. Gigi s\u2019affairant \u00e0 la plaque chauffante, le plus jeune transvidant son m\u00e9lange \u00e0 cr\u00eapes et Marie, la serveuse, avan\u00e7ant vers la table ronde du devant avec trois grosses assiettes de nourriture dans ses petites mains.<\/p>\n
\u00ab\u00a0Youhou, je suis revenue!\u00a0\u00bb, ai-je eu envie de crier. Mais je me suis retenue. Telle une petite souris dans un plateau de fromages, j\u2019ai travers\u00e9 le resto bond\u00e9 en essayant de faire le moins de bruit possible. Je suis descendue au sous-sol et, assise sur une chaudi\u00e8re de margarine retourn\u00e9e, j\u2019ai laiss\u00e9 couler l\u2019oc\u00e9an de tristesse qui inondait mon c\u0153ur.<\/p>\n
Je me r\u00e9p\u00e9tais la phrase que m\u2019avait lanc\u00e9e Platon sans vouloir m\u2019\u00e9pargner ni me blesser\u00a0: tout baigne dans l\u2019huile. Les oisillons n\u2019avaient plus besoin que je leur apporte leur brin de nourriture dans le bec. Ils avaient grandi. Et, tout \u00e0 coup, je ne semblais plus aussi indispensable que je le croyais. Puis, soudainement, comme si l\u2019univers avait entendu l\u2019\u00e9cho de ma souffrance, j\u2019entendis ma fille crier\u00a0:\u00a0\u00ab\u00a0MAMAN!\u00a0\u00bb<\/p>\n
\u2014\u00a0Maman, le vendeur de viande veut te parler d\u2019une nouvelle coupe de jambon. Est-ce que \u00e7a t\u2019int\u00e9resse?<\/p>\n
Tout m\u2019int\u00e9ressait dans la cuisine et surtout tout ce qui concernait nos sp\u00e9cialit\u00e9s matinales! D\u00e8s le lendemain, nous nous sommes affair\u00e9s \u00e0 pratiquer la dizaine de bonnes id\u00e9es que j\u2019avais rapport\u00e9es de la Ville lumi\u00e8re et la plan\u00e8te s\u2019est remise \u00e0 tourner comme avant ma visite sur le Vieux Continent. Sauf que, d\u00e9sormais, il m\u2019arrivait de quitter le resto plus t\u00f4t, juste apr\u00e8s le service du repas du midi. Et personne ne s\u2019en plaignait.<\/p>\n
Je commen\u00e7ais tout juste \u00e0 comprendre que notre sp\u00e9cialit\u00e9 de d\u00e9jeuners devenait rapidement plus grande que le petit resto, plus ind\u00e9pendante et plus importante que la bonne cuisini\u00e8re en moi. Les enfants m\u2019avaient offert un beau cadeau et m\u2019avaient fait r\u00e9aliser qu\u2019eux aussi avaient gagn\u00e9 en autonomie. Ensemble, nous pourrions op\u00e9rer plus d\u2019un restaurant. Avec cette miraculeuse parcelle de compr\u00e9hension, je me mis donc \u00e0 arpenter la ville \u00e0 la recherche d\u2019un nouvel emplacement.<\/p>\n
Puis, comme vous le savez, j\u2019en ai trouv\u00e9 plus de 125\u00a0\u00e0 travers le Canada. Tellement que je n\u2019ai jamais pens\u00e9 retourner \u00e0 Paris! Mais il n\u2019est jamais trop tard pour changer d\u2019id\u00e9e.<\/p>\n
Cora
\n\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Le premier restaurant Cora a ouvert ses portes le 27\u00a0mai\u00a01987, le jour […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":414,"featured_media":68859,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-69569","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-lettre-mme-cora"],"acf":{"img_en":"","contenu_en":"The first Cora restaurant opened its doors on May\u00a027,\u00a01987, exactly on the day I turned 40. Life up until then had been difficult and much later, I\u2019d realize that this birthday would mark a dramatic break, like a revolving door sweeping away a submissive woman\u2019s bleak resignation with one strong turn and replacing it with a liberated woman\u2019s confident hope. That morning, when I opened the small diner with my name on the front, my kids and I were a thousand miles away from knowing it, but we were in fact celebrating the burial of our unhappy past. Year ONE of our reconstruction began when we greeted our first customer.\r\n\r\nIf, by any chance, you were among those who visited us back then, you may have noticed to what lengths we went to delight our clientele and how much we truly cherished them. I confess today that I and the kids were the ones starving. In the kitchen or behind the counter, we were the ones who needed love, who were slowly learning to accept tenderness and affection. Working hard, we were so desperate to have normal lives that a small compliment felt as if we were being handed a gold bar.\r\n\r\nIt\u2019s perhaps because of this deep gratitude towards our customers that I can still remember today these large chunks of life floating in my mind like glaciers making their way out to sea.\r\n\r\nI worked tirelessly. I devoted myself to the venture for 14\u00a0months solid, 7 days a week, without a single day off. I put all my energy into the restaurant and our customers: finding new recipes, designing the menu, placing orders, washing uniforms and then did it all over again. I was anxious about leaving my baby, anxious that a customer might swallow a chicken bone, anxious that a violent wind would take out a window. And especially anxious that it would all go awry and customers would receive poor service if I wasn\u2019t there.\r\n\r\n\u201cAfraid that the world would stop turning,\u201d\u00a0remarked my daughter Gigi.\r\n\r\nThe first time the kids forced me to take a break from the restaurant\u2019s kitchen it was for a weeklong trip to Paris. \u201cA room with a view of the Eiffel Tower and a $300 traveller\u2019s cheque for spending,\u201d they added in a matter-of-fact way, placing the envelope in my hand.\r\n\r\nThey bought the airplane ticket and chose Paris because they had overheard me say to the plumber that it was my dream to visit the city one day. Just the thought of leaving the following Saturday kept me awake for four\u00a0nights in a row.\r\n\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cTrust me, Mom. The tickets are not refundable, you have to go.\u201d\r\n\r\nI saw nothing for the first few days, incapacitated by exhaustion in the small room with a view of the Eiffel Tower. In the little time I had left, I walked the streets like an unplugged robot. I suppose that Paris is splendid when one\u2019s eyes are able to contemplate its beauty, but mine were directed at the malevolent crows flying over my little diner. How did I let myself be convinced that I could abandon it?\r\n\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cSo you can rest, Mom! Take a week\u2019s vacation and unwind. Don\u2019t worry, we bought the package with money that our older brother gave us. Relax and enjoy yourself. We love you and we\u2019re going to take care of the baby.\u201d\r\n\r\nHow could my poor little chicks understand that it wasn\u2019t the restaurant that needed me but I who needed it? How to tell them that even in my sleep I flipped eggs on the gridle? How to explain to them that I was a part of the diner\u2019s furniture? That when customers came through the doors, it was they who nourished me. My love of books had evolved from literature and poetry to recipes.\r\n\r\nFrom the window of the plane that brought me back I saw the world wrapped in cotton. I couldn\u2019t wait to touch down, to see the kids, to put my apron back on and cook a French-style cream of pumpkin soup.\r\n\r\nIn the baggage hold, my suitcase overflowed with new recipe books for extra-thin cr\u00eapes extravagantly garnished and folded. I was so excited to tell the kids about the delicious fruit coulis I\u2019d tasted, the mocha coffee and the extraordinary flavour of the pure butter used in pastries.\r\n\r\nAt 5:45\u00a0p.m. local time in Montreal, the huge metal bird touched the ground and all the passengers aboard applauded. I was hoping to be greeted by the kids, but it was Platon, the dishwasher, who was waiting at the arrivals gate. His white jacket, splattered with egg yolk and ketchup, stood out clearly from the crowd that was waiting with arms outstretched.\r\n\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cLet me take your suitcase, Boss. I came straight from the restaurant.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cDid something happen? Where are the kids?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Boss, I just finished the dishes. Everything is running smoothly.\u201d\r\n\r\nOur dishwasher confirmed that the world had not stopped while I was away. Business was brisk, and sales, according to the lovely Gigi, continued to rise, even after I left.\r\n\r\nThe next morning, I briefly had the impression of entering a movie that had already started. Everything was humming. Gigi was at the gridle, the youngest was pouring the cr\u00eape batter and Marie, the waitress, was heading towards the large round table at the front carrying three generous plates of food in her diminutive hands.\r\n\r\n\u201cHello? I\u2019m back!\u201d I wanted to shout out. But I held it in. I made my way across the busy dining room like a tiny mouse on a big cheese platter, trying to make as little noise as possible. I went downstairs and sitting on an upside-down margarine pail, I released the ocean of sadness flooding my heart.\r\n\r\nI repeated to myself the sentence that Platon had said without wishing to spare or hurt me: \u201cEverything is running smoothly.\u201d My little chicks no longer needed me to place bits of food in their beaks. They had grown up. They were right; I was no longer as indispensable as I had thought. And suddenly, as if the universe had heard the echoes of my suffering, I heard my daughter scream \u201cMOM!\u201d\r\n\r\n\u2013\u00a0\u201cMom, the meat guy wants to talk to you about a new cut of ham. Are you interested?\u201d\r\n\r\nEverything in the kitchen interested me, especially everything to do with our morning specialties! The very next morning, we started to practise all the wonderful ideas that I had brought back from the City of Light, and the world began to spin just like it had before my visit to the Old World. The only change was my new habit of leaving earlier, just after the lunch service. No one objected.\r\n\r\nIt was only then that I started to realize that our breakfast specialty was quickly eclipsing our small diner, becoming more independent and more important than the cook at the griddle. The kids had offered me a wonderful gift and made me realize that they too were now more independent. Together, we could operate more than one restaurant. And with that miraculous epiphany, I started to criss-cross the city looking for a new location.\r\n\r\nAs you know, I went on to found more than 125\u00a0across Canada. So many that I have never thought about returning to Paris. But it\u2019s never too late to change one\u2019s mind.\r\n\r\nCora\r\n\u2764\ufe0f"},"yoast_head":"\n