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the only Jew on Duncan street

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Today, the "only Jew on Duncan street" came to our rescue.

A colleague and I were out for lunch. We were looking for a "Montreal smoked meat deli" place, and despite the fact that it was only two blocks away from our office I'd managed to miss the building (a hazard people take when they put themselves in my hands when it comes to navigating). While my lunch date checked her smart phone for an address, I stopped a passer-by at random and asked if he knew the location.

He did. "Sure, I can tell you. But it's not very good..." he responded, and gave us instructions. We were right around the corner, it turned out.

I expressed my delight in his knowing the answer, telling him, "I asked the right person!"

And he said, "Well you asked the only Jew on Duncan street, and my wife's from Montreal."

The restaurant's called "Corned Beef House" and it took a donkey's age to get served.