La rumeur affamée avant l'enfouissement des fils, Sutton
I'm from the United States, a fact that's not easy to admit in these times of American global ham-handedness. I love to come to Quebec, to Sutton in particular. And while it is true that I both enjoy and encourage the affections of one special Sutton resident, I would probably come to Sutton regardless, for the sheer delight of the place.
I first visited Sutton in April of 2005, but I had tasted Sutton before I ever saw it. While living in Peacham, Vermont, desserts, quiches, and cheeses had all come my way through a friend. I was soon keen to visit the source of her delectable faire: Sutton's La Rumeur affamée . Thus it was that another friend and I conspired to dine “over the border.” On recommendation, we chose Owl's Bread in Mansonville as our destination. But how could I pass so close to the fabled Rumeur and not visit it? A detour through Sutton seemed absolutely necessary. So one fine April day, we set out for Owl's Bread , but by way of Sutton.
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La rumeur affamée avant l'enfouissement des fils, Sutton |
We crossed at East Richford and enjoyed the brilliant views from Scenic on our way into town. Upon seeing Sutton's happy main street, we instantly regretted not arriving earlier. We had only time enough for La Rumeur, a cursory visit at that, but we bought some delicious paté and resolved to return. Owl's Bread was wonderful, and I still recommend it, but it is to Sutton that I continually return.
In Vermont, the tiny rural village is the stuff of lore and calendar photos. Agrarian scenery and leaning barns dot the landscape. But so many of these picturesque villages are now merely bedroom communities for larger places. These larger places are given to sprawl and are difficult to enjoy. And the small villages offer little but postcards and viewpoints. Peacham, for example, is very beautiful and very rural, a town of only 700; if you are a photographer or cyclist, I recommend it. But you can't buy a newspaper or a quart of milk there, and you'll be dining in St. Johnsbury, 20 minutes away, and inadequately at that.
Sutton, by contrast, is a complete and working society. It has decided that being small does not mean doing without. It has found ways to offer high quality amenities, and to do so in a vibrant, friendly, walkable village. It's truly a joy!
When I come to Sutton, I park my car. I walk to Dépanneur Boni Soir for a paper, then to Le Cafetier for coffee and a croissant. I walk to buy fine chocolates at Chocolaterie Belge Muriel, cooking necessities at Atelier Bouffe, cut flowers at Au Coeur des Saisons, fresh seafood at La Poissonnerie du Village, good wines at the SAQ, and spicy sausages at L'Indocile. Later I walk to such fine restaurants as Le Gastronome, Denali, and Cap au Sud. Still later I am brought to my feet applauding the diverse offerings at Salle Alec et Gérard Pelletier and the many manifestations of jazz at L'International, Michael at the keyboard. I walk to art galleries, I walk to video stores, and were I to live in Sutton, I could supply most of my quotidian needs on foot. I have even walked to the Sutton Curling Club for some friendly stone throwing and socializing. If I choose to get in my car, there are innumerable additional offerings, and so nearby that my car never warms up.
But here's the real treat. Almost everyone is affable, considerate and welcoming. You're never a newcomer more than once anywhere on rue Principale. Sutton is an oasis of genuine comfort, hospitality and felicity. My spotty French stalls and stumbles, but “Bonjour!” and “Merci beaucoup” spring from my lips unbidden, and I feel the soft, warm purr of a working village. Vive Sutton!
Jay Sames