Big Boy’s Guest House is, to put it plainly, awesome. Montreal is equally grand, but thus far our experience has been greatly colored by the wonderful hospitality of our generous hosts Will and Stephane.
Big Boy’s feels less like a hotel and more like a home. This is understandable because the owners (who live in the top floor) treat their guests less like customers and more like family.
Every morning all the guests gather in the second floor dining room for a delicious breakfast of spicy sausages, sautéed potatoes fresh croissants, sliced cantaloupe, cured hams, variety of cheeses, fruits and juices, cereals, yogurts. This week’s posts will feature some major food porn.
Brunch each morning would run at least 25$ Canadian dollars at a restaurant. When considering the quality and yummy-tummyiness of their daily feast, the true value of this unique B&B gem really shines.
But beyond the money, starting the day off with all the other bears here is quite nice. Everyone catches up on what they did last night (or who). Breaking bread with friends is a nice way to begin a day.
In New York I never have the time to sit down and enjoy a breakfast; usually its coffee in front of my computer, a bagel resting on my financial reports. The other guests here are hilarious.
There are three burly gents from Portland, Oregon. Bryce has had a blast gossiping with them about the city and what bars are closed or opened.
Also staying are a prissy Dallas couple. They are hilarious and so square, but a simpler perspective is refreshing when stepping foot outside the too-cool-for-school box that is my totally happening and hip life.
So? Who have we slept with? Oh my. Sorry my dandies. No sleeping with anyone (expect Bryce) has been achieved.
We did meet an adorable young man named Jay at Le Stud. (Le Stud is the neighborhood bar masculine.)
OK. My train of thought just derailed! Everyone aboard the dirty bus.
The cruising in this city is awesome! Men stare at you like there’s something on your face. Typically it’s another man’s goatee. I’ve never enjoyed so many hard looks. Both Bryce and I have shared swollen egos the past few nights. Strutting through le Stud or Aigle Noir as furry Canadian eyes lock their target on the fresh meat in town.
Whew… So anyways, yeah Jay. He’s totally cool, 30, furry, knows music and found us the best plate of poutine in the city.
I grew up fairly atheist. My family, despite living on the buckle of the Bible belt, didn’t have religion in our home. This trip has made me question my lack of faith. I now believe there is a higher power, and this deity is responsible for the munchy miracle that is poutine.
Poutine is French fries smothered with brown gravy and cheese curds.
Poutine is ever so delicious. Especially at 3:45 a.m. Especially when you’re drunk. Especially when you’re on vacation. My new drag name (formerly Ms. Phoenicia Potts) is Ms. Poutina la Fromage.
Next: Bryce and Neil go to a fancy restaurant with multiple forks and see the world’s largest collection of bugs at the Insectorium!
Also: book your Montreal adventure at Big Boy's Guest House.