Tel.: 393-3866. Hours: Mon - Sun 11:00 AM to 11:00 PM. Licensed, all major cards
 This is a place whose name has cropped up recently in conversations about smoked meat in Montreal. Some have mentioned the "superior" smoked meat here in the same breath as the fabled oldsters such as Schwartz's, Lester's and Ben's.
Recently I accompanied a friend from 70s-era Montreal to check out the rumors. Adrian grew up in Montreal and played drums in a hard-rock band but left in the 80s to pursue his fortune in less language-policed climes, ending up in Vancouver.
"Sure I remember smoked meat," he says now. "It's called Schwartz's." Does he remember why he liked Schwartz's so much? He backs up. "Well, I shouldn't say that Schwartz's were the only ones. There was Lester's and Dunn's as well. But I remember that Schwartz's meat had a spice kick and texture that was somehow indefinably superior to the other guys. It's something that you can only know after going from one place to another in a short space of time." This was something that he admitted to having done more than once. "I was in a rock band. We ate a lot of junk food."
Délicieux (a French pun on "deli" and "cieux", meaning "heavens") is smack in the center of Tourist Montreal, Phillips Square, less than a block away from the teeming millions on St. Catherine. It abuts a very popular pizza joint to the point of sharing owners, as far as one can tell; their respective terrasses come under one roof and are only separated by a metal fence. Diners from one could conceivably trade dishes from the other over the barrier.
is smack in the center of Tourist Montreal, Phillips Square, less than a block away from the teeming millions on St. Catherine. It abuts a very popular pizza joint to the point of sharing owners, as far as one can tell; their respective terrasses come under one roof and are only separated by a metal fence. Diners from one could conceivably trade dishes from the other over the barrier.
It's hopping on a warm day at lunch hour.
 Although we are here for the smoked meat, the menu spans far more territory. There is pasta, there are grilled foods which include souvlaki, there are burgers, there are clubs and there are nachos. This is never a good sign. "Chain-resto tripe" is a term that bubbles into thought like effluvium from a gaseous swamp.
Ignoring the voluminous menu, we order smoked meat: he has the "Regular Old-fashioned" Smoked Meat Sandwich and I have the Smoked Meat Club for variety. Both are served with "our homemade french fries, coleslaw, dill pickle and rye bread". There are variations on this theme: Super Old-Fashioned, Old-Fashioned Smoked Meat Platter, Old-Fashioned Chopped liver.
The sandwiches, when they arrive, defy all expectations, bolstering the arguments behind the popular "obesity epidemic in North America" news harangues. On my plate is easily enough for four large North Americans. The sandwiches (all four of them) are stuffed from slice to slice with multi-inch-thick mounds of shocking pink smoked meat, cheese and condiments. They are so stuffed that they themselves can barely move without collapsing, anticipating the effect upon one’s system should one actually eat the whole thing. And they float in a veritable sea of french fries of the typical Montreal "greasy brown" variety.
But a bite is a revelation. "This is great smoked meat," declares Adrian, as he helps himself to one of my sandwiches after finishing his. "Mmm-mmm good."
I am nonplussed. I am not a great smoked meat afficionado, but I know Adrian is. And if he says it is great, it is better than great. The meat is redolent with hints of cardamom and black pepper and has a firm, fatty chew that merges well with the crusty rye bread and yellow mustard. However, four of these behemoths are beyond my ken.
Délicieux should dump the encyclopedic menu and offer twelve different ways to eat smoked meat. "I’d come here after a gig," Adrian declares. The other three members of his band will have to reform to help him finish his meal.—Reviewed by Nicholas Robinson
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