Separated by a Common Language

Just as British and American English differ, the French spoken on this side of the Atlantic isn't quite the same language spoken on the other side.

Take the word "depanneur," which in Montreal means a deli or convenience shop. Here, such shops don't really exist -- newspapers are only sold at newsstands and news stores, toiletries at grocery stores, and so forth; there is probably a law forbidding the mixing of different kinds of shop goods -- but the little stores that carry a small range of common food and drink items and often stay open a bit late are called "alimentation generale."

As for "depanneur," it is derived from the word "panne," which means a mechanical breakdown. That escalator in my subway station that hasn't worked for months is labeled with a sign "en panne." A "depanneur," then, is one who removes a "panne," i.e. a repairman.

Here, though, you're more likely to see the word in different forms: the first sign advertises "depannage," or repairs, while the second promises that your cellphone will be repaired within 48 hours wherever you are:



But at least there's some sense, and even subtle humor, to labeling a deli as a "repairman."

Another French Canadian word that has a completely different meaning here is far more puzzling:


As those of you who were there for the Great Poutine Hunt of 2004 remember, "poutine" in Quebec is a dish of cheese curds, french fries and brown gravy.

But in Nice, where I saw this sign, "poutine" is tiny baby sardines, about a half-inch long and pure white. They were mixed subtly into an omelette like this (you can just see the poutine as little white streaks in the omelette, especially in the lower third):


Anyone who can explain to me how baby sardines became cheese curds, or vice versa, wins a dish of the poutine of his choice ...

(UPDATED: It seems that this is a very, very seasonal dish.)