Sometimes there's no substitute for the real thing.
Lesters with its iconic bright yellow awning, has been a mainstay in the Outremont neighborhood for years now. My grandma lives just around the corner from this institution and though I often walked by during visits to Montreal, I never found the time to go in for a bite. Why?
Because my grandma and her clan are die-hard Schwartz's folks.
Yes, the sole incarnation of smoked meat they've come to know has been from the famous deli downtown. Even my mother, who finds little to embrace in Western cuisine, has a hankering for the restaurant's famed brisket every now and then.
Cut to a recent visit to Montreal with mum, when we were both hit with smoked meat cravings. My mother wanted Schwartz's of course but we were due back at Grandma's for lunch so we were playing hooky and couldn't ask the rest of the clan for directions. Furthermore, I was without my bearings (i.e. smart phone), so I proposed we hit up Lesters instead. "Okay," she muttered begrudgingly.
There's sidewalk seating during the warm months so deli goers can enjoy the comings and goings of the neighborhood while they nosh. Very European. Inside, there's a different feel. Old-school diner. There's booths, rows of tables and a deli counter where the slicers stand hand-slicing the brisket. Tchotchkes from bygone decades in Quebec fill the walls.
We're seated quickly inside and place our order with our server, a curt but sassy type with a thick Quebecois accent. Two smoked meat sammies, an order of fries and a ginger ale in a frosty mug to share. Mum does not want to share a sandwich despite the obvious fact that we'll be eating more at Grandma's later.
Our meal arrives. The fries are not very crispy on the outside but feature very soft, fluffy and sweet innards. They are addictive but they lack crunch. I take a bite out of my sandwich and I already know what the verdict will be. But I wait for mum to deliver her pronouncement. She takes a bite, squirts a little more mustard onto her sandwich and begins pawing at the meat at bit with her fork. If there ever was a time to tell someone to stop playing with their food.....
But then the kvetching starts up. "NO! Not the same", she weighs in. Adding to that, "Soft meat, no flavor. Other place better." And of course, "How come other table get more pickles than us!"
Okay.
This is her 'I told you so' moment in food form. It's true though. The meat, although velvety soft from the steaming, lacks the beautiful array of spices or much smoke. It may be hand sliced expertly into paper thin slices but it doesn't make up for the blandness or the slimy texture. A extra squirt or two of mustard fails to perk up the DOA meat. There's no oomph here, sad to say. The sandwich reminds me faintly of my experience at Ben's years ago, though even that version had more flavour. I suspect that they use industrial processed briskets which are jacked up with chemicals and preservatives. I don't have a problem with that so long as the flavour remains intact. The whole sandwich is rather underwhelming. We continue on with our fries, gobbling them up.
So this is not the best smoked meat that Montreal has to offer. It may alright fine for diner fare or what not but skip the brisket. Next time, no shortcuts! read more