The best donuts in Montreal aren't on the island, they're at Deux Becs

Pulling up to its Brossard strip mall right after crossing the Samuel De Champlain bridge, it could be like any other small business shoehorned into a commercial lineup—but its sign reading Deux Becs in a punk font tempts a double-take, and it's the donuts they make inside that clinch it: These are the best in Montreal right now, even if they're practically steps off-island.

Like so many spots that make the best, its chef and owner-operator Art Romero's cool about it. Really: Born and raised surfing in Los Angeles, he has that laid-back nature you'd expect from the Californian coastline. Even as I'm waiting to talk to him, he's been up since dawn filling orders for Café Myriade locations, but he's calm about it. Just happy to be here.

Even his metaphors touch on the surf. When asked why he turned away from cooking to take on Deux Becs, he says "I just knew at the time. I told myself: This is the wave that you turn and paddle for."

But that's not the only reason. "I feel like I get to bring joy to other people, and that's all I really want to do," Art says after some thought. "I enjoy making food, and in this case, it's donuts, and I like sharing them with people. People walk in to eat one or a dozen and they're stoked about it. It's a joy fest, man."

From a trauma bay to a pastry bench

Long before he was frying dough and hand-glazing ube creations, Art Romero was jumping in and out of ambulances in LA.

“I was in the medical field for a decade. Started as an EMT, working in rough areas—Compton, Long Beach, all the places you hear about in rap songs,” Romero recalls. "It was intense."

“Did that for five years, then moved to working in a trauma-receiving emergency room for another five. I even went to nursing school, but that’s when I realized the field wasn’t for me. I had great people around me who told me, 'If you’re feeling this way now, don’t get trapped.'”

Leaving medicine behind, Art enrolled in culinary school, and dove headfirst into culinary school in Los Angeles and the city's restaurant scene for three years before landing in Montreal to start over alongside his then-girlfriend.

Stints at spots like the now-closed Perles et Paddock had shown him he wasn't into fine dining, but it was McKiernan Rôtisserie that resonated most: "It was the chefs, the team there at the time—Derrick Reinhardt, Derek Dammann, and Gabriel Drapeau—they were all unreal. Incredibly talented but also relaxed. No yelling, no grind-you-into-the-ground mentality. They ran that kitchen with skill and respect, and that’s where I felt, like, yeah. This is my kind of world."

(This was where he picked up the name for Deux Becs—after Dammann had sternly (but jokingly) requested something of the kitchen, he ended it with 'two kisses!' and broke the tension.)

Seeing what Romero calls "epic creations" and spot-on plating in such a relaxed and professional environment helped forge a new core in the chef, and laid the groundwork for where he is today. First working savory, he started helping the pastry chef. One thing led to another, a pandemic comes along, and suddenly he found himself in charge of the donut program—and it was a birthday cake donut that broke new ground.

"We started putting sprinkles on donuts. And that's when things started getting radical," he says. "Those were dark times, and we knew we needed to bring brightness and joy to people—and you can't have a bad time when you're eating a donut with sprinkles."

"It just took off. We morphed into something simple that you could have at home, but also zhuzhed up in a lot of ways. Familiar comfort classics, but also with whimsy. It was cheekier than what it was before."

For example: Romero was enjoying a day off when he's suddenly called: Midday, 200 donuts had already been sold, and those were records that were regularly broken in the days following.

Pop-ups to permanence

Deux Becs as Brossard and Montreal know it today wasn’t born out of McKiernan entirely—it started to take shape through Café Kuya, run by Romero’s friend and now-business partner Philip Penalosa. “Phil came in for a quick lunch, a donut to finish, and was like, ‘You make these? Dude, this is really good.’"

Meanwhile, word kept spreading and demand kept skyrocketing at McKiernan, but after four and a half years, Romero wanted to take a break. "Next thing I know, we’re running a pop-up at Kuya,” Romero says.

And when a space opened up next to Café Kuya, they jumped on it. “It was a no-brainer,” Romero says. “A small shop, a tight-knit team, and just really good donuts.”

The shop’s location in a strip mall is just right: “In LA, the best donuts come from places like this,” he explains. “Small, unassuming spots where everything’s about the food.” Skate and surf videos play on a TV in the corner, the menu is handwritten, and the staff treats customers like old friends.

“We wanted it to feel like a hangout,” Romero adds. “Come in, grab a donut, talk to us—this isn’t just transactional.”

But the best donuts?

Simply put, Deux Becs has never quite slowed down its sense of invention.

Even now, looking at their feed, they've created flavours that the city (and we're confident in saying this) hasn't seen before: Mandarin marmalade stuffed with a toasted marshmallow cream; Ube pandan bars; strawberry Nesquik chantilly with a chamomile sugar coating; Everything bagel cream cheese with honey; and spiced cherry cream.

You've got your standard chocolate dips and vanilla glaze, but for every one of them, Romero's got something filled with guava, mango with Tajín, actual Bear Claws, or a smashburger with a donut for a bun. It's a dedicated monoproduct spot that's regularly doing recipes Montreal hadn't seen up until its opening.

“We’re small-batch, everything’s handmade, and we don’t cut corners,” Romero says. “If we don’t love it, we don’t sell it.”