Equally exciting was the news that mussels in white wine and blue cheese sauce was the day's special, served the Belgian way with a heaping side of fries. A dessert of authentic Quebecois sugar pie with rich cream had me sighing in contentment.

Continuing back on the northern shore of the St. Lawrence on Route 360, we wander around the basilica in Saint-Anne-de-Beaupre.

There has been a chapel in the same location since 1658, while the current Neo-Classical version with its rose window modeled after Notre Dame in Paris was built in 1923.

We loved the sleepy town dominated by this basilica, with its traditional barrel vault ceilings highlighted by detailed frescoes.

Poutine is a Quebec must and its savory blend of fries, meat flavored gravy and cheese is best enjoyed in the province's small towns.

But we were nonplussed to discover an advertisement for poutine glacee in Baie-Saint-Paul in Charlevoix.

Ice cream with cheese? Meat flavored wafers? Although tempting in a Heston Blumenthal science experiment way, we decided to forego the delicacy and instead have some smoked meat at Joe Smoked Meat.

The mix of delicately spiced tender morsels rivaled the best delis in Montreal, and I cleared my plate of smoked pastrami salad in no time.

The St. Lawrence has widened substantially by the time we arrive in the tiny town of Saint Simeon and we can no longer see the opposite shoreline.

We stroll around Poterie Port-au-Persil to admire the two dozen or so artists' works along with the view of the river from the rear coffee shop.

The late Pierre Legault was an innovator in glaze and clay-based pottery, and he founded the studio in a bright yellow barn in 1974.

Today, it is run by Helene Garon, who continues the tradition of handcrafted pottery and runs a workshop teaching Legault's technique to a new legion of ceramic enthusiasts.

After much deliberating, I decide on a Serge Robert-designed water jug that resembles a smart handbag, and managed to transport it safely home without a scratch.

When we head back into Quebec City, we enjoy a traditional dinner at Aux Anciens Canadien, a red roof house that dishes up hearty fare like tourtiere and game dishes.

On our way back to the car, a couple stops us to spout a string of advice in Quebecois French - which we understood not a single word of.

After driving about a block, we encountered the same experience with a neighboring driver who stopped at the same red light.

When we looked at him in confusion, he switched to English and said that our rear tire was dangerously low and verging on a flat.

Maybe it does help to understand some French in Quebec after all.