Smoked Meat

A good friend, Gerry, grew up in Montreal. Before our recent trip he gave us a list of things we had to do. Eating a smoked meat sandwich was at the top of it. He called it “a must.” His favorite place—Schwartz’s Deli.

We strolled into Schwartz’s as thousands of protesters moved along Boulevard St-Laurent toward Mont Royal to show their support for Mother Earth. Luckily, their focus was on climate change, so the line outside the deli was extinct. We found seats and immediately concentrated our carnal instincts on meat.

Our waiter, Pierre, recommended the smoked meat platter—a pound of cured, kosher flesh that’s been marinated for more than a week. We ordered it medium fat with a quarter loaf of their classic house bread, a pickle, and two Cotts’ Black Cherry sodas.

By the time we finished, the tables were filled, and people had begun lining up outside. Our bellies were full, so we decided to walk it off alongside a few thousand vegan marchers.

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