If you move away from home there are always certain landmarks that have special meaning for you and can't be properly explained to outsiders. ("It's a giant milk bottle made of asbestos!") Usually it's something really over the top built during that sweet spot of Post-War Industrial kitsch  from the 1950s to the 1970s and has gone through various phases. Part of the landscape when you were a kid, forgotten or ignored when you hit your 20s, threatened with destruction, then rediscovered as a beloved icon. In this case I'm talking about the famous Orange Julep located in a conspicuously ugly industrial Montreal neighborhood  on an elevated motorway. It's a restaurant that sells hot dogs and burgers and fries but its claim to fame is a family-recipe orange drink that goes back to the 1930's. The Big Orange, built in 1964,  looms large in the mind of every Montrealer. It rises in the distance above the Kraft cheese factory like the dome of the St. Joseph's Oratory, a secular cathedral to car dates, road trip pit stops and a homely civic pride in architecture as comfort food.