Chez Schwartz Charcuterie Hébraïque de Montréal

Frommer's Review

French-first language laws turned this old-line delicatessen into a linguistic mouthful, but it's still known simply as Schwartz's to its ardent fans. Many are convinced it's the only place to indulge in the guilty treat of viande fume -- a kind of brisket that's called, simply, smoked meat. Housed in a long, narrow storefront, with a lunch counter and simple tables and chairs crammed impossibly close to each other, this is as nondescript a culinary landmark as you'll find. If there's not a line out the door, any empty seat is up for grabs. Sandwiches or plates are described either as small (meaning large) or large (meaning humongous), heaped with smoked meat, along with piles of rye bread. Most people also order sides of fries and mammoth garlicky pickles. There are a handful of alternative edibles, but leafy green vegetables aren't among them. Expect a wait. Schwartz's has no liquor license.

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