Our trip to the Main began as a search for the consummate Montreal deli experience: Schwatz's. (I had even gone so far as to insult Hilary on Saturday night/Sunday morning by appealing to her Jewish heritage and asking her to help me spell it for Chad when I was too drunk to think straight. Needless to say that this took place on the infamous balcony of 2202; needless to say that upon waking I promptly forgot about making plans to meet Chad). Dirk remembered Schwartz's as being up "this street," so we started walking. And walked. And walked. Now, my sense of direction is best described as "lacking," but even I was getting antsy. That is, I'd've been antsy if I could spare the energy from walking. Twice I demanded a halt while we collected our bearings. During the last stop, Stacy stuck a strawberry lollipop in my mouth. This, of course, gave me all the needed strength to keep on (it must be noted that petting a tiny tattoo parlour dog also contributed to my rise in spirits.) Finally we found the Main, and Dirk got excited. You see, he explained, Schwatz's is for the tourists. When [he] started hanging out with Montreal dwellers, they immediately steered him towards the Main. Upon reflection he decided that he was leading us here anyway. I decided not to be stubborn. This was perhaps the smartest decision I made this side of coming to Montreal in the first place. The food, children. Oh Merciful God, words cannot describe the food. I had never before eaten smoked meat, let alone smoked meat on rye with mustard. Now that I have eaten this rare and wondrous delicacy at the Main I simply cannot lower myself to lesser versions. And yes, some of my rapture probably has to do with the fact that this was my first real meal since the infamous Rue Ste-Catherine's experience. But you have to understand that I don't eat rye bread or mustard. Like, not ever in my life. The roast beef sandwich on Sunday was my first experience with these two foods. And I loved it so much that I cannot describe it. At the Main we ate like lords: three smoked meat sandwiches, two plates of fries, three Cherry Pepsi's (it's big down there; don't ask) and a big kosher pickle for me. I paid as a way of expressing my thanks to Dirk & Stacy for letting me build Fort Sensible in their hotelroom, and the bill was less than $25. Like lords, I tell you. And then, as we left, Dirk discovered the location of Schwartz's. It's across from the Main. We took a photo to commemorate the conclusion of his Cartier-like leadership in exploring the delis of Montreal. Who's in the where now? Photo by Stacy.