Coq Express Metropolitain (Le)

After looking for a place to eat cheap BBQ rotisserie chicken, I came across this hilarious other review you will see above mine.
When my beloved Coq Plus Rotisserie on Masson closed, I had to start looking for alternatives that are within biking distance. Other than a St-​Hubert, there is not much BBQ chicken in my area, so I decided to give this place a shot.
For about $ 6 (Sundays and Wednesdays), you get the standard quarter chicken with fries, sauce, coleslaw and bread.
It’s not mind blowing, the chicken was a bit dry, but the fries were crisp, sauce was tangy and coleslaw was fresh.
The place is tiny, but has room as it’s always empty when I pass by.
I would go back to try their ribs, maybe in the summer to take advantage of the terrace.

Maybe this is the start of a romance, or maybe it’s a ghost story. Here goes and I’ll let you be the judge: we order spectacular greasy heart attack homey food from Le Coq and yet it may not exist (dun dun dun.)
It started as a sort of joke: a delivery menu slipped into our mailbox despite the «pas de circulars svp» faded sticker; a gigglefest over the name (um, LE COQ.) Normally we wouldn’t order delivery blind but, LE COQ it, we were craving rotisserie chicken and poutine and ribs and here was this menu (LE COQ) claiming 20 years of street cred in the very things we were craving. How strange, how eerily perfect. (LE COQ!)
When we called, the disembodied voice on the other end hung up on us almost immediately after a warning: Delivery could be a long time coming.
We were persistent for some reason, compelled by some unknown icey hand of fated deliciousness. We called back and insisted and with grudging caution they took our order.
The food arrived in stacked boxes, we creaked them open slowly afraid of what horrors might lurk in the unknown, ungodly kitchen somewhere over on Rosemont. Inside? A full dozen fat BBQ ribs so perfect the bones pull away in your hand. Crinkle cut fries with the ribs, chunky square fries in the LE COQ poutine which arrives deconstructed, a local Quebec curd cheese still in the small package to be applied onto fries which are loaded with juicy mounts of shaved chicken, to be followed by copious amounts of still hot hot peppery gravy. Perfect coleslaw. Gifts of heart-​attack, of sweet surrender, of diabolical temptation that kept us coming back, ordering again and again…
For the first time yesterday, late at night after we had finished eating and the wind moaned round the empty boxes and bones I thought for the first time to google LE COQ. As I clicked through page after page of search results, all empty, no photos or reviews, no details just the phone number and address, no official website for this supposed 20 year old institution I grew cold. Walking the quiet streets of google maps in street mode I found the address boarded up, paper on the windows, an illegible sign taped in the window of LE COQ.
And then finally, a Facebook page, empty as well save for one video, an ad for LE COQ with a ghostly figure at the door that will forever haunt my dreams. dreams populated by crackling rotisserie, addictive sauces and a haunting chicken of great mystery and deliciousness…
LE COQ!