Ben & Florentine Ancienne-Lorette

In many ways, the work of the breakfast critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their eggs, their potatoes, and their toast to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and enjoyable to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that, in the grand scheme of breakfast, the average plate is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. There are times, however, when a critic truly risks something. And that is in the discovery and defense of the new. Last morning, I experienced something new: an unexpectedly satisfying breakfast from Ben & Florentine, listed humbly beneath the cheerful promise of a Quebec brunch menu. To say that both the meal and the moment challenged my expectations is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core. In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for the familiar breakfast chain: the bottomless coffee, the laminated menu, the potatoes that appear beside every plate as if required by provincial law. But I realize now, only now, that not every breakfast can become great. But a great breakfast can come from anywhere. It is difficult to imagine humbler origins for such satisfaction than a chain breakfast plate in Quebec: eggs, toast, potatoes, coffee, and a modest apple compote standing by like witnesses to the miracle. I hope to return to Ben & Florentine soon. Hungry for more.