Rajendra Réjean K. C. B.
Yelp
Cosmos is what it is ! and that will never change, besides, who in their right mind would ever want such a dastardly thing ever to occur on this earth. Yes, ladies and gentleman of the jury, Cosmos is an unchanging vegetarian-friendly Montréal institution. Situated in the leafy westside down-home and salt-of-the-earth West-of-the-Main borough of Notre-Dame-de-Grâce (in N.-D.-G. we call it NDG, No Damn Good, D.G. or the simple classic -- The Deeg) this is where hyphenations got their big break in the 1960s! Once upon a time during an unseasonably warm November all the way back in Nineteen-Seventy-something ... some strange Greek gentleman called Tony with a penchant for flicking cigarette ash into eggs on a griddle opened up a hole-in-the-wall and the rest, as they say, is history. Yes, indeed, the late and great Tony (R.I.P.) is, was and forever will be -- the man of grease as the eponymous documentary film succinctly depicts. Cosmos has, since time immemorial, been a godsend haven and sanctuary to those hungry, huddled and hungover masses. Cosmos has been a place where anybody is somebody and you're always welcomed even if you're a tad short or light in the pocket. Yes, folks, Cosmos is, indeed, the great equaliser! It doesn't matter if you're racing down the mountain from your lofty abode in Upper Westmount like a bat out of hell in your suped-up Rolls-Royce or if you're walking up the hill from below the wrong side of the tracks in Saint-Henri with your shopping cart and German Shepard in tow; you're both equally held in the same esteem (or lack thereof when it's busy) here and it's first come, first served. It doesn't matter if you come from all the way in the middle of Timbuktu on the West Island (wherever that happens to be) or if you call Hochelaga-Maisonneuve home -- at Cosmos if you're here then damn straight you're maître chez nous too! You'll here that sizzle of that griddle all the same, you'll smell the strange and exotic incense that is the intoxicating grease smoke, you'll hear a strange and delirious man repeatedly reassuring himself with the Cosmos mantra that, yes, he is indeed -- the best. "I'm the best; I'm the best." It actually becomes true if you say it enough times; for reals. It's true too -- he is the best -- and you are too, fo'sho! Take a stool, sit down, set up shoppe, let someone pour you a cuppa Giuseppe, read Le Devoir or The Gazette and relax. You order yourself a beautiful veggie Creation or a vegetarian omelette or a veggie Mish-mash with Black Russian or Challah toast, side of potatoes and a poached egg and you really will be the best. On a side note: I'm a born and bred dyed-in-the-wool-blue-blooded-as-the-Saint-Laurent Québécois so therefore as a casual dairy industry protectionist and as someone with taste and also as a fellow with working taste buds -- I'm not the biggest fan of margarine (yes, I can believe it's not butter and in fact I didn't believe it was butter for a God damned second) so I like to BYOB -- bring my own butter, that is. Yes, as crazy crazy hardcore insane as this craziness may sound, I do, in fact, bring my own butter and it is well worth it to portage that stick of golden butter in your pocket and smuggle it into Cosmos. Hand it discretely to your gracious host and taste the difference it makes. Yes, with real butter being used to make your Cosmos breakfast even more authentic, you really are the best and you really can taste the rainbow. Much love. Enjoy!
