Blork recently reported on some pleasant surprises found in his new suburban neighbourhood, including a depanneur that offers a wide selection of microbrews and imported beers.
This reminded me of a similar dep in nearby Dorion, called Le Gobelet. We pass by the place on the way to K‘s brother’s place and, once in a while, pick up some stuff there. It’s a lovely store, full of microbrews and imports, as well as fine Belgian chocolates, and fancy sausages made of speciality meats. It’s a nice place for those who have a taste for finer indulgences.
That’s why it seems like such an odd place for Dorion’s teenagers to congregate on a Friday night. But there they are, week after week, wearing their giant baggy pants with the caps turned backwards (or whatever it is the kids are wearing these days). I presume their conversations go something like this:
translated from french
“Yo, Alexandre. You gotta go in there and get me some of that fine ass winter warmer they just brought in. It’s all nutty n’ shit with just a hint of chocolate. It’s better than last summer’s wheat ale. I shit you not!”
“Oh snap! I can hook you up with that. Now I don’t know if I want that or that Pumphouse Porter from Moncton. Maybe I’ll check out some of that crazy Dutch chocolate they brought in this week.”
“O man, let’s go behind the store, smoke this blunt and get something to eat. I could go for a nice venison sausage. Spot me twenty-six dollars?”