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For years, new restaurant openings were few and far between in Downtown Montréal.
The pandemic had a lot to do with it: established institutions dug in even deeper, while new spots were scarce. But the tide is turning. After Papito and Cappello, a spectacular Italian restaurant perched on the 44th floor of Place Ville Marie, comes Le Grand Comité—the Montreal restaurant everyone is talking about.
And not just because of their killer burger.
Read: It’s official: One of the world’s best burgers is in Montreal
The restaurant breathes new life into the storied former home of the Annexe—the same space that Groupe Pamika transformed into a Thai-inspired hideaway called Le Garden Room. When it closed, it was hard to imagine the space sitting empty for long. Alireza Zareian kept the keys, partnered with rising young chef Rémi Lemieux and sommelier David Zamora, and Le Grand Comité was born.
Chef Lemieux is not new to the game. After cutting his teeth at Cabane à Sucre Au Pied de Cochon, he sharpened his knives and ambition in some of the world’s most celebrated kitchens, including Osteria Francescana and Le Bernardin—both three-Michelin-starred restaurants. He’s been looking for a place to put down roots since the pandemic, and Le Grand Comité could finally be that place. Sspecially with the team already quietly working on an even more ambitious project in the same space: Le Petit Comité, slated to open this fall.
The team’s promise is bold—almost audacious: a proper neighbourhood restaurant in Downtown Montreal with friendly but professional service and ingredients sourced from local farms. The kicker? The restaurant’s reasonable “Plateau bistro” prices. Starters are under $20, mains under $40 and desserts under $15. The half chicken from Ferme d’Antoine, at $38, is the most expensive item on the menu. It’s ambitious. But does it deliver?
On a warm evening, I walked in through the restaurant’s sliding glass doors, passing a packed outdoor terrasse.
Inside it was all soft-green velvet banquettes and a (complimentary) welcome cocktail, courtesy of mixologist Alexandre Beaudin (Marcus, Club Pelicano and Le Royal). Made with gin and brightened by the herbaceous notes of lovage syrup, it was a perfectly refreshing start.
The menu reads like a classic bistro: starters, mains, sides, a dedicated croque-monsieur section and desserts. The same menu is served at lunch and dinner—plus a seasonal chalkboard with specials.
The trout from Pisciculture Kenauk arrives as a delicate carpaccio on citrus crème fraîche from Québec farm O’Citrus, dotted with shiso and oxalis petals for acidity, then finished with Greek olive oil. It’s crisp, precise and effortlessly understated.
The Soufflé de la Station arrives with one ask: don’t wait. The server plunges a siphon nozzle into the cheese mixture table-side, giving it an extra burst of volume. The texture is featherlight, almost ethereal, but the flavour packs all the punch of classic mac and cheese. Think of it as a gluten-free, steamed, impossibly airy take on the comfort-food favourite.
The stuffed cabbage, a French country cooking staple that has found its way onto some of Paris’s best menus in recent years, bears the name of sous-chef Adrien Yacoub Gorgui—a tribute to his family’s recipe. The cabbage is impossibly tender, shaped into a perfect stuffed sphere. It arrives in a shallow bowl, nestled in its own rich cooking juices. Halfway through, the server suggests drizzling over the tangy rémoulade vinaigrette on the side, its acidity cutting through the richness and refreshing the palate for the next bite. The idea, he explains, is to keep the flavours from overwhelming your taste buds.
The vegetables with sabayon walk a clever line between savoury and sweet, evoking both a classic aioli and the fruit-topped sabayons of the dessert world. A tarragon sabayon blankets a colourful lineup of seasonal vegetables—zucchini, zucchini blossoms, onions, turnips, shishito peppers and potatoes. Some arrive raw, others grilled or steamed, each prepared to preserve its own distinct texture.
Then comes the burger, the dish everyone told me not to skip. It’s a study in restraint: just a bun, beef, cheese and a whisper of house sauce. No frills, no distractions—just a few ingredients with nowhere to hide and every detail counting.
The bun is baked just minutes before each service and fits the aged-beef patty—carefully ground and served medium—like a glove. The sauce peeks out just beyond the edges of the patty, leaving the mimolette to take centre stage. And make no mistake: this is no ordinary American cheese.
The lettuce, a vivid-red tomato cracked with a few grains of pepper and sprinkled with fleur de sel, a few pickle slices and a piece of raw onion arrived on a small plate.
The trick is to take the first bite as is, before adding anything, and let the details do the talking. Cooked to a rosy medium, the patty is savoury and gloriously juicy, while the mimolette brings a mellow, nutty richness that rounds out each bite. It’s proof that when every element is this carefully considered, less really is more.
Desserts, created by pastry chef Iari Prassi (Hiatus, L’Île Flottante), are a step above. Of the four options—a Montréal-style cheesecake, semifreddo, an Orange Julep-inspired île flottante and sticky toffee pouding chômeur—it’s the last two that win me over.
The île flottante swaps the traditional egg-white meringue for a Chiboust cream flavoured with mandarin, orange and yuzu. It’s a little firmer, but just as airy. In a clever finishing touch, the chef dusts it with sugar and caramelizes the top to order, just like a crème brûlée, before setting it over a lightly sweetened crème anglaise. Each spoonful brings together three beautifully balanced textures: brittle caramel, airy Chiboust cream and silky custard, with none stealing the show.
The sticky toffee pouding chômeur deserves its own moment. A soft, tender date cake comes with vanilla ice cream that melts just so, all drenched in a rich maple-caramel sauce with a subtle salty edge. Every bite begs for another. Part nostalgic pouding chômeur, part indulgent British sticky toffee pudding, it’s the kind of dessert you’ll still be thinking about long after the plate is cleared.
Le Grand Comité is a welcome addition to Downtown Montreal—bringing a much-needed dose of life and energy to the neighbourhood. It’s open 7 days a week for breakfast, lunch and dinner, with brunch on weekends. Just note that it’s closed on Sunday evenings.
For more information about Le Grand Comité, click here.
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