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| - Oh Boustan. The centrepiece of every drunk night out in the Plateau (or Concordia Ghetto). A Montreal chain of Lebanese late-night fare--falafel, shwarma, kaft kebab, garlic potatoes... pretty decent. If you're hammered.
I just have one question:
Why here? Why set up shop next to the most legendary Middle Eastern restaurant in all of Montreal? It's like deciding to open up a golf course next to Pebble Beach, or a concert venue next to Carnegie Hall? Sure--it follows the Starbucks strategy: if an independent café is thriving in Area X, chances are there are enough basic people for your café to survive in Area X+0.00001.
Unfortunately, Boustan misses the mark. By about, seven hundred miles. Watery garlic sauce, burnt pita, chicken that tastes like it did before farmers bred the species to taste like non-dinosaur. A marvellous gambit on part of the Boustan staff to try and pick up the neighbourhood's drunken, sloppy seconds, but then again--that's all this restaurant is. You're better off ordering another shawarma a week in advance, letting it rot on your countertop, and then digging in. It will probably still taste better. Sorry Boustan :(
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