Archive 2007

A Beef with Schwartzes

By K. Bellows

Boulevard Saint-Laurent is its official name, but most Montrealers call it the Main—once the dividing line, now blurred, between the city’s French (on the east) and English (on the west). Stroll past the Main’s patisseries, boulangeries, and charcuteries at lunchtime and, not far from where Saint-Cuthbert intersects Saint-Laurent, you’ll encounter a line of diners snaking from the door of a microthin eatery. That’s Schwartz’s, a Montreal legend for 75 years.

The place isn’t fancy. The walls are a pastiche of weathered paintings, city maps, framed newspaper clippings, and signed pictures of hockey players and recent celeb drop-ins like Tina Turner. So what’s the big deal? It’s the viande fumée—$4.25 (Canadian) of rosy smoked meat that overwhelms two slices of rye.

“People come in who can’t speak English or French,” says manager Frank Silva, who has worked at Schwartz’s for 21 years. “But they know how to say ‘smoked meat.’” Throw in the patates frites ($1.75) and the must-have dill pickle ($1.25), and here’s a meal that perfectly complements the teeming streets of an ethnically rich city.

“We’ve used the same smoked-meat recipe since 1927,” says Silva. “We still cook with wood charcoal, not gas. There are no microwaves. We don’t use freezers—and never will. Everything is fresh.” Outside, I sit on a bench, the snow collecting on my shoes, a smoked-meat sandwich steaming in my hands. I reflect on how much this street has changed since I first visited it 35 years ago. But not Schwartz’s. As Frank Silva says: “The whole world changes, except Schwartz’s.”