Schwartz's

Smoked meat could be Montreal's raison d'etre

Food

Service

Atmosphere

I am sitting at a formica table.  There's a Jewish guy from Israel across
from me.  I don't know him.  There's a couple from Georgia next to him.
She's an artist and he does something with computers.  I don't know
them.  Next to me is a student from McGill.  I don't know him either.

At Schwartz's Deli, the line stretches outside along the sidewalk.  A waiter
keeps popping his head out.  How many in your party?  Deux, trois? How about you? Just one? Follow me.  It's easier to get in if you're on your own.  They seat you anywhere there's room, so you never know your dining companions.

The waiter actually licks the tip of his pencil.  Ordering is quick and standardized:  big plate smoked meat, fries, kosher dill, cherry coke.  You want the fat cut of meat or the lean?  Hurry up, sir, I don't have all day. Impatience drips heavily through his Quebecois accent.

Lunch arrives, piled high on soggy rye bread.  It's everything Montreal smoked meat should be: moist, tender, delicious.  The student and the Israeli make noises of appreciation.  The artist from Georgia talks about how nice Canadians are.  I chew contentedly.