Feeding Winter Cities from the Rooftops

// A Hydroponic-Agnostic Pays a Visit to the World's Largest Urban Rooftop Farm

I'll admit it: When I first moved to Montreal, I scoffed at the idea of this ever being one of the world's great food cities. Not that there was anything lacking in its chefs, culinary traditions, or the intensity of flavors on offer. In all those areas, Montreal excelled, and continues to excel. For me, what was missing was freshness. Before settling down in Quebec in the late nineties, I'd spent four years in Paris, and before that, I'd grown up in Vancouver. In Paris I'd lived next to the biweekly farmers' market in Belleville, which reliably brought in fresh fruits et légumes from the campagne; in British Columbia, I'd been able to stretch my paycheques by frequenting groceries in Chinatown, where produce grown in the rich soil of the Fraser Valley was available year-round.

But Montreal had winter. Lots of winter, as in four to five months where nothing green poked out of the ground (and the winters were longer, and colder, back then). I remember going to Toqué!, the flagship restaurant of the great chef Normand Laprise, when it was in its original location on Rue St. Denis, in February, and getting into a first-world-problem-funk about the lack of anything fresh or local on a menu that purported to be farm-to-table (or whatever the buzzword was back then). I stared at a single ground cherry in its husk, aesthetically placed in the center of my plate, and thought to myself: Look, all these Jerusalem artichokes and turnips are great, but, Christ, I'm paying a fortune for root vegetables—and what I wouldn't give to taste just one perfectly ripe, sun-infused tomato.

Of course, Montrealers aren't completely deprived of fruit and veg in the winter months. As in most places, they're shipped from Chile, or the Central Valley, or Mexico, or Florida, at a great cost in air miles and carbon emissions. While Quebec produce is absolutely fantastic when it's in season, the sweet spot for corn, tomatoes, zucchini, blueberries and company is relatively short. There is a period of a few weeks in late summer and early fall when the Jean-Talon Market in Little Italy, the largest outdoor market in Canada and the U.S., is a true cornucopia of Quebec-grown produce. After that, the little cardboard signs with the airplane logos appear in the piles of veg, indicating the stuff's been flown in from God-knows-where. What disappears is flavour, real ripeness, and, almost certainly, all those crucial micronutrients.

During the long months of frigidity and barrenness, Montreal's best restaurateurs turn to greenhouse-grown produce. Out of Jean-Talon Market, the Birri Bros. orchestrate the delivery of high-quality leafy greens and veg., grown under glass—and usually off the island of Montreal—to the best brasseries and white-tablecloths. Market gardener J.M. Fortier, who has turned growing produce for markets and chefs into a philosophy or rural revival, also uses greenhouses when the weather outside is frightful. Which means that these days, you can count on getting a presentable, ripe, and tasty tomato—one that is also locally grown—at a neighborhood bistro like Bonheur d'occasion, or a wine bar like Mon Lapin, even if it's -20 C outside.