Portuguese chicken and poutine reached new heights at this Montreal churrascaria
An institution serving up the best rotisserie, and the poutine that iconically blends two culinary traditions it led to.
On any given day, a line spills out the front door and onto Rachel Street. It doesn’t matter if it’s scorching hot or bitterly cold—people are waiting for Ma Poule Mouillée.
Through the charcoal-grilled, flame-kissed, and piri-piri-covered chicken, smoky chorizo that snaps back at a bite, and Québécois-Portuguese hybrid poutine of this rotisserie (or churrascaria), this address has gone from restaurant to ritual for locals, and an essential destination for any out-of-towner.


Photograph: Audrey-Ève Beauchamp / @audreyeve.beauchamp
From Portugal to the Plateau
For Antonio “Tony” Alves, owning a rôtisserie wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision.
“My dream has always been to have something for myself,” he says, having spent 20 years working at the de facto spot for Portuguese chicken in the Plateau, Romados, before striking out on his own in 2013.
Born in Arcos de Valdevez, Portugal, Alves came to Quebec at 18 with no plans of staying long-term. “But I fell in love with the province,” Alves explains. The city’s deep-rooted Portuguese community helped him hold onto his origins, but also transformed him into something else entirely—someone who could bridge two culinary cultures without losing sight of either.
That blend is exactly what put Ma Poule Mouillée on the map, even if Alves, by his own admission, never liked poutine.


Photograph: Audrey-Ève Beauchamp / @audreyeve.beauchamp
“I have never eaten poutine and I am not a fan of cheese, but my son absolutely insisted that we add a poutine to the menu by mixing Quebec and Portugal,” says Alves.
If they were going to do it, they’d do it right.
The result? A behemoth of a dish, layered with house-roasted chicken, thick slabs of grilled chorizo, São Jorge cheese, and a smoky, slightly garlicky sauce that’s become one of the great essential poutines of Quebec.
Fire, smoke, simplicity
Alves’ approach to cooking is deceptively straightforward. “It's very simple,” he says, explaining the process with the kind of nonchalance that only comes with decades of repetition.
The chicken is split in half, marinated for 24 hours, and grilled over charcoal for about 40 minutes. “It's a meat that everyone enjoys and is quick to make. When Ma Poule Mouillée was created in 2013, we had several choices on our menu… but over time, we noticed that it was only the chicken that our neighbourhood came to pick up,” the owner explains.


Photograph: Audrey-Ève Beauchamp / @audreyeve.beauchamp
When an order comes in, it’s carved on the spot and painted (literally, with a paintbrush) with his now-famous sauce made with piri piri (also known as bird’s eye) peppers which comes either mild or hot—though for the full experience, there’s really only one answer.
The sauce, Alves insists, is what makes the difference. “We even get calls asking if we can ship our sauce,” he says. That goes for locals beyond easy reach of the restaurant, who often gladly take a drive to get a taste.


Photograph: Audrey-Ève Beauchamp / @audreyeve.beauchamp
A timeless place
Despite the ever-growing demand, Ma Poule Mouillée has stayed true to its fast-paced, counter-service model. “I don’t think I’ll expand,” Alves says.
“My dream is already done and it’s a lot of work—at least I have my children and my wife to help me. We are always here working.”




Photograph: Audrey-Ève Beauchamp / @audreyeve.beauchamp
The restaurant runs with surgical precision: place your order, grab a tray, and claim a spot at one of the tightly packed tables—if you’re lucky. Otherwise, it’s a takeout operation, with sandwiches and platters flying out the door. Either way, there’s no delivery option. You can either jump on the metro, walk, ride your bike, or get in the car, and pick up in person.
There’s a reason for that efficiency: sheer volume. “We produce a lot of chicken thighs,” Alves explains, showing up in sandwiches, salads, plates, and poutine. There are nods to family, too—the Combo Véronique (quarter chicken and chorizo) and the Mike Alves (quarter chicken, chorizo, and bifana) bear the names of Alves’ children.


Photograph: Audrey-Ève Beauchamp / @audreyeve.beauchamp
The meal that made a Montreal institution
Twelve years in, nothing has changed—not the method, not the menu, not the relentless pace. And Alves likes it that way.
“We always work the same way and we've always stayed the same,” he says.
Ma Poule Mouillée cemented itself as a Plateau mainstay, and there are many that will tell you it’s making the best poutine and Portuguese chicken in the city. The place Alves has built is without a doubt an accomplished blend of old-school tradition with something undeniably Montreal.
Ask anyone who’s waited in that line-up, and they’ll tell you: it’s worth it.
