French-first language laws turned this old-line delicatessen into a linguistic mouthful, but it's still known simply as Schwartz's to its many ardent fans. They are convinced it is the only place on the continent to indulge in the guilty treat of viande fume -- smoked meat. Housed in a long, narrow storefront, it has a lunch counter and a collection of simple tables and chairs crammed impossibly close to each other. Any empty seat is up for grabs. Few mind the inconvenience or proximity to strangers, for they are soon occupying themselves with plates described either as small (meaning large) or large (meaning humongous), heaped with slices of smoked meat, along with piles of rye bread. Most people also order sides of fries and one or two mammoth garlicky pickles. There is a handful of alternative edibles, but tofu and leafy green vegetables aren't included. Expect a wait. Schwartz's has no liquor license, but it does have a nonsmoking section.