This little hole-in-the-wall is another neighbourhood institution. You regularly see fire trucks or police cars pulled up, and a line of burly guys coming out with bags of chicken.
I'm a Churrasco of St. Clair heretic, which is to say that I prefer the rotisserie to the grilled (shields head and looks around nervously). I find the grilled too greasy for my tastes. The little potatoes are terribly good, and the dressing they give out for their salads is deliciously salty. The caesar comes with big salty chunks of bacon, too. My husband loves the spicy sauce passionately.
Their pre-wrapped chicken sandwiches are okay, but suffer from comparison with the ones done by the churrasco place in the south St. Lawrence market. The Churrasco of St. Clair ones have big hunks of chicken the sauce can't moisten sufficiently, and I've found pieces of cartiledge, which grosses me out hugely.
They've started doing fries which are entirely edible, if not anything I'd skip the little potatoes for.
NB: it's warm in the winter and brain-meltingly hot in the summer. I look at the cooks working over the grills in what must be 35+ heat and wonder how they survive the day.