The Sandpoint Eater: A taste of Canada

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist

After 7,000 miles, five planes, three trains and myriad meals, we 18 adventurous women are back!

This highly anticipated trip had been in the making for more than a year; and, over the course of two weeks, we embarked on a trans-Canadian journey that spanned from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic seaboard. We rode on three different trains (including the iconic VIA Rail Canadian), and in upper and lower berths, we spent five nights rocked to sleep by the rhythm on the steel rails. Between train transits, we relaxed in some of Canada’s most beautiful hotels — seven nights total — where we indulged in local flavors, fluffy pillows and long, hot showers. 

We began our trip in Vancouver, British Columbia, warmly greeted by sympathetic Canadians, fresh ocean air and more food choices than one could imagine (especially at the Granville Island Market). 

Our first group meal — a proper Chinese feast — was a logical welcome to the city’s rich multicultural landscape. Any worries about being strangers in a new place disappeared faster than a box of Timbits (Canada’s addictive answer to doughnut holes). The warmth of the people, paired with our delight in discovering their culinary traditions, set the tone for the entire trip’s discoveries.

Each day on the train started for me in the same treasured way: I’d wake early, slip quietly up to the dark dome car and cradle a hot coffee as I watched the world wake up through the expansive, panoramic windows. There was something so special about this ritual — prairie sunrises, mist rising from endless lakes and the soft, familiar clatter of the tracks beneath me. It was in those moments, with caffeine in hand and scenery sliding past, that I felt the satisfying rhythm of a well-planned journey. 

Traveling with 17 other women may sound like logistical chaos, but it worked seamlessly. We often split into smaller groups to explore museums, markets or neighborhoods at our own pace; but, just as frequently, we all gathered to share libations and laughter until our sides ached. If dear Erma Bombeck was correct, and if indeed, laughter truly is the best medicine, then my ladies are well inoculated.

By the time we reached Montreal, Quebec, our group had become something of a traveling sisterhood. Many of us explored the city’s famed Jean-Talon Market, nestled in Little Italy, where food stalls spilled over with vibrant produce, fresh pasta, creamy cheeses and fragrant spices. Montreal is a food lover’s paradise, and every bite was an adventure. I silently cheered on all my ladies who stepped out of the comfort zone and tried new and unfamiliar bites. 

We sampled maple-glazed everything, and polished off decadent pastries that rivaled those in Paris. Montreal is also famous for her restaurants and boasts more than 5,000. One of my most memorable meals on the trip was at Gaspar, a French brasserie tucked into the historic heart of Old Montreal. There, in a charming space filled with golden light and laughter, a small group of us came together for a late supper. Around the table, decisions were made and French-inspired entrées were ordered: pig trotters, duck confit, pasta and pâté foie gras. I chose mussels in a cream-based sauce, and it was indeed a wise choice.

I’ve savored mussels in cream sauce in France, but never like this. The sauce was silken and rich, with an unexpected note: a subtle, comforting flavor of (Idaho?) potatoes. It wasn’t heavy like chowder or thick like stew — it was delicate, the flavor lingering on my palate. After some discussion within the group, I decided the secret might lie in using starchy potato water, perhaps left over from boiling mashed potatoes (which bedded the trotters), to thicken and flavor the sauce. 

Everyone at the table tasted it, savoring the sublime flavor. We agreed that it was one of the best dishes of the trip.

The finale of our grand adventure came in Halifax, Nova Scotia, after disembarking our last train: VIA’s Ocean. We celebrated with a traditional maritime feast at the Waterfront Warehouse, with platters of oversized, bright red lobsters. It was the perfect closure to a journey that had taken us from mountains to markets, from West Coast sushi to East Coast seafood.

Throughout the trip, food was more than sustenance — it was a bridge and, often, our main topic of conversation. If we didn’t share a meal, we shared our experiences of where we went and what we ate. Though our palates were broad and varied, we all seemed to savor every culinary choice we made. It reminded us that even though Canada is diverse and vast, there’s a shared love for good food, good company and hearty conversation.

Since returning, I’ve been experimenting with recreating that Montreal mussel dish in my own kitchen. It’s a humble homage, indeed, but I’m determined to honor that perfect balance of cream, sea and spud. I nailed it. And for those of us who are practicing the art of purging and uncluttering, isn’t that just the best kind of souvenir? Something that pleasantly lingers long after the luggage is unpacked.

Now, as I sit and sip my morning caffeine (though sadly, not in a railcar), I think of that quiet vantage point I claimed each day. Watching the country unfold before me, bite by bite, mile by mile, I felt so fortunate. Food and travel, they just go hand in hand. 

Until the next adventure and the next food discoveries I hope to share, try making these mussels in cream sauce. Then we can talk about just how darn good they are!

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Mussels in cream sauce

(Inspired by Gaspar Brasserie, Montreal, Canada.)

Don’t skip the potato water. Boil a few potatoes for another meal and retain the starchy liquid to make this dish simply sublime. Serve with a light crisp, white wine, and don’t forget a vessel for the discarded shells. Serves 2-4.