Ol’ spice

>>Traditional Trinidadian doubles, rotis
and patties are served large, fresh
and hot at Mister Spicee

by A.J. KINIK

In spite of its amazingly attractive name, Mister Spicee is such a small, humble, almost nondescript bakery that you could easily have passed by it countless times on your way up or down Victoria without noticing it. Located in a quirky little downstairs shop front, underneath Ghost Unisex Coiffure and Mad Fashions, and facing Maison du Cari, Mister Spicee is easy to miss because it’s tiny, it’s got a couple of time-worn signs that are now heavily faded and it quite literally gets overshadowed by its ever-popular second-story neighbour across the way. None of this has managed to stop Mister Spicee, though. At 30-odd years and counting, Mister Spicee continues to chug along with quiet confidence. And with good reason: when you serve food this honest, this delicious, this spicee, you can hardly go wrong.

Mister Spicee offers a few baked items on its menu, but star billing goes to its patties. These patties are typically West Indian in most regards—the half-moon shape, the flaky dough stuffed with a savoury filling, the Anglo heritage—but they’re unusually delicious, and, not surprisingly, a great deal of Mister Spicee’s reputation rests on them. “Renommés dans tout Montreal,” a sign inside reads, and they ought to be, because all three varieties—spicy minced-meat beef and chicken patties, and vegetable patties, made with a combination of stewed greens, onions and carrots (not the frozen three-vegetable mix common elsewhere)—are remarkably fresh and made with great care. At $1 each or $11 for a dozen, they’re also a great deal.

Otherwise, “bakery” is something of a euphemism, because the two other star attractions have nothing to do with an oven. They do have a lot to do with Trinidad’s enormously important East Indian heritage, however. My favourite of these is their authentic Trinidadian double, which is something of a rarity in this town. In many ways, doubles are the ultimate fast food—just as elemental as the hamburger or the hot dog, but, oh so much more exotic.

They get their name from the two golden-hued, fried flatbreads that make up the outer layers of this sandwich. After that, it’s up to you to choose from a variety of tantalizing curried fillings: everything from basic vegetarian versions, like chickpea or chickpea and potato ($1.75), to deluxe chicken, beef and goat varieties ($2.50). At the top of my list at the moment is the chicken and chickpea double, which comes with big hunks of tender chicken (again, not that processed junk) in a delectable chickpea curry. You also get your choice of a tangy tamarind sauce and/or a homemade, ultra-fiery Scotch-Bonnet-pepper-based hot sauce added to your double when you place your order—I highly recommend asking for both, but be forewarned: the hot sauce is not to be taken lightly.

The third star of the Mister Spicee line-up is its roti. Roti is a generic Indian term for bread, and Trinidad is one of the birthplaces of the West Indian variant, the one that consists of an ultra-thin, crèpe-like flatbread that’s stuffed with Caribbean curries. Mister Spicee serves a classic Trini version, one made with a very delicate, layered flatbread that shreds easily. The fillings are the same ones you get with the doubles, and they’re all excellent, but I’m particularly fond of the goat roti with chickpeas and potatoes ($6.25), which is unbelievably substantial and features some of the city’s most flavourful goat. Once again, both additional sauces—the tamarind and the hot sauce—are suggested.

Now, Mister Spicee is hardly a full-service restaurant. There are three stools and a makeshift counter for those who want to dine in, but most of their business is take-out. On a recent outing, four of us got an impressive array of patties, doubles, a roti, an order of pholourie, those irresistible deep-fried dough balls ($1.50 for 10), a couple of briny, deep-fried fish cakes ($1.50 for 2) and some tropical beverages, and made our way over to Parc Nelson Mandela for an impromptu picnic. The sun was shining brightly, the car stereos were rumbling, our Trini delicacies were plenty spicee—summer was upon us.