Taglio revives the old butchery ways with a 50-year-old Pointe-Saint-Charles smokehouse

It's always "they don't make it like they used to" or "it was better in the old days."

That's true sometimes, more so when it comes to a recipe. After all, it'll be hard to replace a master once they've closed up shop. While it's not impossible to find young blood to replace a beloved casse-croûte, what happens if Montreal's time-honoured producers of bagels or smoked meat let their craft disappear with them? These can be complicated crafts in a time that wants things yesterday.

It makes someone like Matthew Berry more than a rarity. At the Pointe-Saint-Charles butcher shop Taglio he co-owns with his partner David Malka, he’s bringing back a way of doing things that the city is losing—the kind of butchery that involves patience, precision, and respect for the craft for food that doesn’t rush, cut corners, or compromise.

There, aged meat and house-cured charcuterie are carved up in a warehouse-like maze of chilled rooms before being brought to a swish deli counter, where it's turned into all manner of porchetta sandwiches, focaccia piled high with mortadella and pistachio cream, and smoked salmon that’s earned a devoted following.

But, at its core, Taglio and its deli, butcher shop, and smokehouse is all about keeping old-school Montreal alive.

Lightning strikes the butcher’s block

Berry’s path to Taglio wasn’t exactly conventional. Born and raised in NDG, his early years weren’t spent in food—until he was struck by lightning while working in a backyard.

“It kind of swayed me into making life decisions because I lost mobility, lost everything,” Berry recalls. “I had to learn how to walk and talk, read and write again—it was like a reboot button for me.”

Forced to start over, he went back to school and took up cooking, but it was the butchery program next door that grabbed his attention.

“I loved the art of the old-school methods,” he says. “The way things were done before grocery stores started vacuum-packing everything... when butchery was about knowing every part of the animal—not just slapping a filet mignon in a styrofoam tray.”

His education was hands-on, starting in slaughterhouses and supermarkets before moving on to Montreal institutions like Joe Beef, 40 Westt, and the now-closed La Queue de Cheval. That led to conversations with butchers from Europe, where the craft takes years of training, which pushed him to go deeper.

“To them, butchery isn’t just a job—it’s an art,” says Berry.

Reviving traditions

By the time Berry got into smoked meat, the landscape in Montreal was shifting. Old-school institutions were closing their doors, and the city’s signature dish was in danger of becoming more tourist trap than tradition.

That’s when an opportunity landed in his lap: “I was looking for a place with a C1 license when my friend told me about this old smoked meat spot that was up for sale,” Berry explains. That spot was Québec Smoked Meat, a Pointe-Saint-Charles landmark that had been serving up old-fashioned brisket for 70 years.

The owner, Richard Nower, was ready to retire, and Berry saw a chance to preserve something special. “When I walked in, it was like stepping into a time capsule,” he says.

“The place had been running the same way for decades. It had the original brick smokehouses from the 1950s. It was a no-brainer.”

He took over, but not to simply keep the lights on—he expanded the operation into what Taglio is now.

All smoke, no mirrors

Smoked meat at Taglio isn’t just brisket thrown in a steamer. It’s a process. “It takes 13 to 14 days just to get it to where it needs to be,” Berry explains.

First, the briskets are dry-rubbed and stacked in barrels, flipped every other day. After two weeks, they’re seasoned again and smoked for 13 hours using a mix of cherry and hickory wood before being steamed for three to four more hours. “It’s layers of flavour you can’t rush,” the butcher says.

But smoked meat is just one part of Taglio’s ever-expanding menu. “We’re bringing back whole-animal butchery,” Berry says.

“Everything gets used. All our fat goes into tallow for frying, we’re making our own charcuterie, we’re even doing raw dog food tailored to what people’s pets can eat.”

The sandwiches, though, are what’s bringing people through the doors. There’s the classic smoked meat, of course, but also roast beef with spicy aioli and caramelized onions, house-made porchetta with eggplant and red pepper sauce, carpaccio with truffled ricotta and arugula, and a mortadella number stacked with burrata and pistachio cream.

And then there’s the house-cured smoked salmon: “Smoked salmon is a whole other game,” Berry says. “It took me three weeks and 18 different fillets to figure out how I wanted to do it. Now, we use 100% cherry wood and cold-smoke it over five to six hours. It’s got that rich, deep flavour that’s impossible to fake.”

The old ways, the new blood

Inside Taglio, you’ll find just five seats at the counter. That’s by design.

“It’s all about the food,” Berry says. “Come in, grab a sandwich, get some meat to take home—this isn’t about being fancy.”

Inside, one finds a more Italian vibe through the music and design—touches coming from Berry's business partners—but while Montreal smoked meat isn't Italian, that's not what the whole place is about, anyway.

For example, consider how the place isn’t static. Upstairs, renovations are underway for expanded storage and prep areas, with plans for an in-house bakery to bring breadmaking into the mix. “We want to do everything ourselves—focaccia, rye, you name it,” Berry says.

As for the future? “I’m not scared of it,” Berry says.

“I get to do what I want, create food, help people, and share what’s left of an old-school craft. That’s the goal. Just keep it real.”

With smoked meat institutions either fading or turning factory-farmed with mass-produced products taking over, Taglio stands out by keeping things personal. By keeping them hands-on. By making food the way it’s supposed to be made.