When Brigitte Emond Serret and Raphaël Leclerc-Gileau first visited this space on Fairmount Street West, a family of pigeons was still nesting in the awning. Every morning, feathers had to be swept from the doorstep. Then, while clearing out the basement, the duo stumbled on an entire cabinet of taxidermied birds, left behind by the previous owner, a hunter in his spare time. The restaurant’s name was already chosen. Plume was born, almost despite them.
Opened in April 2026, Plume is the couple’s very first solo venture. They met about ten years ago at Bouillon Bilk, for her in the dining room, and him in the kitchen. Their paths later diverged. Raphaël, trained in both cooking and pastry, passed through Bar George before moving into private chef work; Brigitte honed her sommellerie at Candide, then at restaurant Panacée, which she has just left. The pair finally settled into a former Greek pastry wholesaler that had been in business since 1967, at 122 Fairmount West, right in the heart of Mile End.
The room I find is surprisingly quiet, a long, narrow space with a fully open kitchen where the two chefs each work their own station. I take a seat at the small bar, which seats only about a dozen, front row to the action. At the back, behind a large glass panel, sits a wine collection clearly chosen with care, part of a list that favours private imports. The menu changes with the seasons. Prices stay reasonable for this kind of address: about $20 for starters, $35 for mains.
My Experience at Restaurant Plume
It all starts with a fresh tuna, served with chips scattered with nori and small cubes of cucumber (a few too many for my taste). They nearly take over the plate. The fish itself is cut roughly, leaving thick pieces of flesh that could have used more finesse. The yuzu sauce brings just the acidic punch needed to really wake the whole dish up. In the end, it’s the chips that deliver the crunch you want, along with a welcome smoky note.
Next, the striped bass, whose grilled aroma fills the room the moment the dish reaches me. The bass is glazed in a sweet-and-savoury sauce, in the spirit of an XO sauce, and well-cooked (a touch too well-cooked, actually, for my taste). The eggplant sits somewhere in between. Neither fully melting nor fully raw, saved by a light crispness from the grill. Poblano and shishito peppers round things out, fully charred, pushing the depth of flavour further. To me, the dish is missing a touch of freshness to balance everything out, an herb, a dash of acidity, something to lighten the plate.
Finally, I get the two lobster ravioli, coated in a buttery bisque that holds nothing back; it’s that generous. The pasta is cooked al dente, lifted by a good hit of tarragon, and the lobster inside is perfectly tender. I’ll admit I enjoyed myself enough to get bisque on my shirt. A few sprigs of chive or a little white onion would have added the acidic touch the dish was missing to balance its richness. This one, I find, is a complete success.
