Order a “hotdog steamé” in Quebec and you might never look at a hotdog the same way again.
That’s because Quebeckers have transformed the lowly hotdog into an edible thing of beauty. Dining out, as it were, on the bizarre success of poutine as a culinary celebrity, the hotdog steamé (pronounced “steam-eh”) or steamy has recognized its chance to wrangle a modicum of respectability from its origins in the dusty streets and dark, greasy corners of Montreal, to emerge, blinking and somewhat dishevelled, hungover and hastily thrown together, into the spotlight of trendy, must-experience, foodie-blogger stardom. Just like poutine (french fries topped with melted cheese curds and gravy) managed to parlé its jolly package from the back burners of Quebec to the retail food emporiums of Toronto and Vancouver, the steamé is mid swagger makeover. Exploiting the razor-thin niche between the bloating, saline satisfaction of poutine and the unique long-lingering aftertaste of MacDoh, the steamé comes with a side of urban legend. Rough and unkempt, with its tasty chou and yellow mustard, we are gangsters and hustlers, characters with a story.
The Montreal Pool Room has been there forever and is one of the last hold-outs in a rapidly gentrifying neighbourhood.
If those walls could speak!
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The Montreal Pool Room on Saint Laurent Boulevard has been serving its customers hotdog steamés since 1912.
Keeping warm with a Montreal Pool Room hotdog steamé
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Accept no substitutes or imposters! Besides an abundance of churches, if you travel Quebec you’ll find ‘Casse-croûtes’ (snack bars) across the province serving all kinds of hotdog and poutine choices. My friend Anna swears by the hotdog “toasté” and told me this story would not be complete without mentioning this variant – a grilled hotdog in a grilled bun (the outside of the bun slathered in butter to make it golden brown). She likes Bingo’s version which you’ll find on the back road to Mont Tremblant. But steamé this is not. There’s also the hotdog Michigan, borrowed from the US state. But steamé this is definitely not. Still, in my humble opinion, the hotdog steamé beats them both by a country mile… steamed bun, steamed dog, and the real secret… homemade coleslaw. On a recent trip to Quebec’s Laurentian Mountains north of Montreal we discovered Chez Line, a mother-daughter casse-croûte operation that makes the best slaw, steamés and fries. Wash that down with a cola and a copy of Le Journal de Montréal and you’re good to go.
Bingo’s Place… casse-croûte literally means “breaks crust”. Let’s just call it an eatery.
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I can only hope, now that the steamé has gone mainstream, that this humble dish will come through the glitz unscathed; that it will survive intact the journey from Chevette to Escalade. The steamé has followed poutine with a fancy website, social media and an entire week of celebration called, believe it or not, Steamy Week. Next will be an awards show (sponsored by Lafleur or Lesters) and grant money from the province for promotion during La Fête nationale.
Good luck my friend, bonne chance. Be careful who you trust out there and remember that I will be waiting patiently, hungry, when you return.
Standard-issue double-shot with a beverage. Try it with fries.
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Bon appétit. Are you going to finish that?
The hotdog steamé on this menu is listed as a “hot dog” just below the Poutine.
The assiettes (plates) are served with fries and coleslaw.
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Hey George, I hope you enjoyed that steamé! – Glenn
HOT DOG NOSTALGIA
Well done piece, which I found very entertaining. Personally, I don’t mind the normally undecorated hot dogs (applying ordinary prepared mustard on one;s own at the counter) sold in Banque Scotia and AMC multiplexes, which I suppose is a bit lazy and philistine. With a couple of close friends of misspent youth, however, I did wolf down the famous St. Lawrence Main Montreal Poolroom ones regularly; they were often the actual major breakfast/lunch/dinner of the day.
I will add a couple of sacrileglious comments about a wider variety of similar hand-held treats. I found many years ago that half a dozen European countries have their own local versions of hot dogs, many very good and in at least some ways superior to the famous New York City and Montreal ones. The street vendors of London. England often served what looked like a hot dog in appearance, but with the tube of meat a quite tasty British sausage variety, instead of the original German Frankfurter (mainly pork lung and scraps plus spices, I faintly recall). Paris street vendors and railway stations had dogs a lot like the ones we are used to, but just rammed them through a fresh baguette roll, with very good hot mustard.
Copenhagen also had fairly familiar dogs and buns, but with a wonderful red sauce, which looked like catsup but wasn’t; I think some local mix of horseradish, mustard, and tomato sauce, made great combined flavour. German cities would sell several different varieties of cheap ‘Wurst mit Senf’ [‘Sausage with mustard’, offered with slices of rye bread], some good, some not so great. I think these are now available from a few Toronto street vendors, but not in Montreal, only indoors here, in a couple of St. Lawrence Main delis. I often wondered if the poutine-and-steame’ proprietors, putting political pressure on Montreal city governments against street vendors in general., fought them off here, not just because of theri low overhead advantage, but as potentially dangerous competition from sexier and more varied new offerings..
But Roadstories has the right idea, and strikes the right note, in treating this kind of fast-food delight, as only half-jokingly reviewed in gourmet food guide manner, much more about regional sense of place and happy memories of youthful and on-the-move eating. Nostalgia with a vengeance. I don’t think I have thought about either the Montreal Poolroom steame’s or those various European competitors that I once consumed over half a century ago in years, and this review brought them back to my mind instantly, as it probably did for many other readers with their own varied geographical memories, likely also titillating younger ones.
I will confess to a recent act of heresy and deviationism. I have in recent years developed a taste for pulled pork’ sandwiches with hot sauce served on burger buns, only available in a few places in Montreal,, but spreading I think. The hot dog and pizza slice counter in the local Banque Scotia multiplex just started selling them – or at least I only recently noticed them – and I often now abandon dog loyaltry, and munch one of these when catching a movie alone (when with lady friend, we usually dine a bit more grandly after the show).
I think there is something grotesque about the now frequent crusades of health Nazis to attack fast foods as full of disapproved ingredients, etc. I think most people are pretty aware of this, without need of instruction, even finding that part of the appeal; these are the foods that everyone vaguely remembers being warned against by elementary school teachers and cafeteria dietician theologians, and that is part of the appeal: they are open acts of joyful self-indulgence, and THEY TASTE GOOD. Thanks again for this fine nostalgic gustatory meandering.
Neil C.
I used to serve those by the dozen when I owned a restaurant in Contrecoeur, (Le Tonneau) near Sorel, especially in the summer as there were summer camps along the St. Lawrence. In the winter, it was mostly toasted hot dogs. The buns were quite different.