Nodal location that provides spectacular people-watching, with food I would pay to *not* have to eat again. The fries alone were a gross insult to the club sandwich plate as a philosophical concept. And the faint tang of dishwasing liquid in the lettuce lingers on my palate like a misused apostrophe in a New York Times op-ed piece. And speaking of New York, the club sandwiches in my two favorite old school diners in that spendy city are two-thirds the price of Fameux's. And they are world class.
Mentioning the overflowing tub of mayonnaise dripping over my fries, after I'd ordered it without, and the less than blood temperature of everything on my plate, seems a bit like nuking a dead horse. The relatively clean, functioning restroom, and the fantastic parade of bright-eyed, beautiful women in snow-spangled snorkel parkas hustling past the enormous windows facing Mont-Royal, are the only things keeping this review out of the 1-star dumpster. If I ever come back, it'll be with a camera. I'll have had my lunch.