Brutopia (1219 rue Crescent; 514-393-9277), Montreal's only Anglophone brewpub, is smack in the middle of the Westmount bar district immortalized by Mordecai Richler. Not surprisingly, it has the atmosphere of a British pub, with dartboards and even a shuffleboard table next to the washrooms. Inside, regulars sit at the tiny bar and chat up the staff, while tourists cool their heels after a day of wandering the shops and museums. In the summer, there's a small terrace, hanging flowerpots and all, in the back.
Brutopia's flagship brew is India pale ale, an assertive version of the style. The draft choices also included brown ale, Scotch ale, and, on the lighter side, honey, raspberry blonde, and extra blonde ale. The beer selection isn't limited to the well-made house beers; there are also Quebec microbrews and, of course, plenty of Guinness Stout.
Le Cheval Blanc (809 rue Ontario, a short walk from rue Saint-Denis; 514-522-0211) is Quebec's oldest brewpub and a magnet for beer seekers. My first impression was that it had to have been a diner; it's long and narrow with a big picture window, soda-fountain style stools at the counter, and a row of booths lining the wall. Actually, Le Cheval Blanc has been a bar for generations, though its sleek Fifties Revival look does a good job of hiding its pre-brewpub existence as a gritty drinking hole.
The beers, for the most part, follow the great styles of Europe: they include Noire, an Irish stout; Blanche, a Belgian-style wheat beer; and Lager, a Continental pilsner. Bock and framboise (a Belgian lambic flavored with strawberries) are also available, along with rotating specialties like cranberry and maple ale. Thanks to the hard-working air conditioner, you can enjoy the robust styles even on summer's hottest days.
Brasserie Artesienale l'Amère à Boire (2049 rue Saint-Denis, just north of rue Ontario; 514-282-7448), in the heart of the café and restaurant quarter, is a popular nightspot in its own right. It's a modern, airy pub with two levels of seating at blond-wood tables, walls painted in soft, dark colors, and lots of hanging plants. I grabbed a seat on the tiny front terrace, watching people stroll past and wondering why that parking meter was looking over my shoulder (in Montreal, it turns out, the meters are set back from the curb).
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