Back in prehistoric times, when I was at McGill University, a trip to the Montreal Pool Room meant navigating the prostitutes who worked this corner of The Main. “Do you want a date?” they would ask my boyfriend. “No thanks,” he’d say. We just wanted a hot dog.
But what a hot dog. Served on a freshly-steamed bun, these dogs came “all-dressed” – slathered in sharp yellow mustard and piled high with chopped onion and cabbage. Ketchup was by request, and generally seen as an abomination. Add a side of hand-cut fries hot out of the oil and a bottle of Coke cold out of the refrigerator and we were in hot dog heaven, all on a student budget.
Of course, the décor was nothing to write home about. The tiled floor looked like it might have been the original from 1912. The walls were plastered with faded wrestling posters and the odd cracked mirror. A linoleum-topped counter along one wall provided the only place to eat-in. You’d be lucky to find a stool. And not a pool table in sight.
I never did find out what the bathrooms looked like, and I heard the place caught fire a few years after I graduated.
By all accounts, the prostitutes have been relocated and the Montreal Pool Room moved across the street in 2010. Apparently, they still serve up the best all-dressed steamies in town. Breath mints not included.