A quick pint in Montreal

So on a Thursday I find myself in downtown Montreal with the Hammer and the LBoH, with a little time to pass in between “Just for Laughs” events. The second show is in a dodgy-looking neighbourhood on Ste Catherine East that turns out to have a hidden gem. We grab a pint at le Sainte Elizabeth to slake our thirst.

Is this a narrow street, or a wide alley? It definitely feels like an alley. The pub seems to be the only actual building front. The comedy venue opens across the street, but it definitely looks like a side door. Le Sainte Elizabeth “Pub Européen” looms out of the darkness, three stories high with a black and white painted sign that might easily be as old as the 19^th century stone building itself.

Inside the pub is dim and cozy, the bar is stuffed in to a back corner near the door. How the multiple bartenders can work in that small space is a mystery. There are three sets of tightly-arrayed taps, all different I think. Lots of domestics, a decent selection of Quebec brands, and a few rare imported drafts. I order a Beck’s, which I like in bottle have almost never seen as draft. LBoH get a Bass, and the Hammer a dull domestic. My eyes make out leather-seated booths, wood panelling, some beaten copper, a row of beer-brand mirrors at the dip in the ceiling, and a huge circular window at the back. It is busy, and the 80’s-90’s music is cool, but loud. We used to say “If it’s too loud, you’re too old”. Maybe they still do. In any case I know I am pretty much there.

The pub looks too small to be this busy. Why are there so many bartenders and servers in a 20x25 room? Then I see that there is a back courtyard, and we take our beers out in to the night air. The two-level courtyard is impressive. It is defined by tall brick walls, covered with ivy and tastefully lit; mature trees break up the dozens of full tables. It’s really cool, but only in the figurative sense. Not nearly as comfortable in the humid summer night as the air-conditioned interior, to which we soon return to find a table and finish our drinks.

I see no evidence of a kitchen, or food of any sort. Not that I am hungry, but pubs by definition serve food, and I am starting to think this place might not count as a ‘real’ pub. Maybe it doesn’t. And maybe it’s too loud. But maybe I will come here again, regardless.