Montréal takes a bit of getting used to.

French is the first language here. Parisian architecture nestles with the brash skyscrapers and wide streets of a typical US city. French-looking coffee shops and cafés rub shoulders with the dual-language ‘Café Starbucks Cafe’ and McDonald’s signs adorned with maple leaves. The roadsigns and large North American cars coexist with a high degree of European cultural activity. And all amongst it is a fierce independent streak. Those in Montreal don’t want to be like the US – or, indeed, the rest of Canada.

Montréal, like many cities, is broken up into many different areas: and I strolled, in the cold, in an area away from the skyscrapers of downtown on the hunt for some microbreweries.

The first, L’amère à boire, brewed all its own beer. The beer menu, proudly advertising ‘ales anglaises, lagers allemandes, lager tcheques’ went into the details of each beer in some detail. I wanted to start with the porter, then realised that if I was to try other beers, this might not be the cleverest plan, so instead, chatting to some new friends from the French-language Radio Canada, I went for the India Pale Ale. It was certainly a faithful, if slightly dull, representation of an IPA – brewed in steel vats behind us. L’amère à boire, which is a piece of French wordplay, was a very fine start to the evening; feeling less like an English pub and more like a south of France bar.

Another walk, and another piece of French wordplay. I’ve no real idea what the wordplay is withinDieu du Ciel, but clearly it was very funny, and extended to the large beer list (above), which was written on the blackboard; the unavailable number 15 demonstrating the continuous turnaround of some of these beers.

I started with the Fumisterie, an amber beer brewed with hemp. It had an odd “signature”, to use the words of my Québec-born companion; an unfamiliar taste of herbs as part of the overall, sweet, bouquet. Certainly one for trying, though whether I would try it again, I’m not so sure.

Then I moved on to the Corne du Diable, a strong and wonderfully hoppy American pale ale. This was deliciously bitter: so much so, it almost made my mouth pucker on first tasting it. Astoundingly good. Most fine.

In both places – and the additional microbrewery I tried the following night – I was struck by the wide choice of styles available. The French or Belgians wouldn’t, typically, also offer you a Scottish Ale, a Kölsch, and a stout; yet the microbreweries in Montréal offered all of these and rather rarer styles, and impressively they get them right, too.

I must find an excuse to visit the city again: there are many delightful reasons to return, especially the people.

APA, Canada, IPA, Montréal