Why Does Montreal’s Street Food Rules Keep Vendors Off Its Streets?

When we dig into why downtown Montreal never developed a real street food scene, we uncover a philosophical pattern in policymaking. Street food is a small but revealing case study in how this city governs the relationship between public space and the private businesses that might otherwise animate it. Looking closely at the regulatory history of street food reveals a cautionary tale, and an opportunity to stimulate urban vitality and prosperity— or quietly suppress it.

1. Downtown's rules today.

Walk through Ville-Marie in search of a food truck and it is unlikely you’ll find any, despite five sanctioned locations: Square Victoria, Place du Canada, Jos-Montferrand park, the Sir George-Étienne Cartier Monument, and Place des Montréalaises. But, entrepreneurs do not apply to the city to sell at these sites. The borough has handed eligibility to a private trade association, the Association des restaurateurs de rue du Québec. Trucks are permitted; however, carts and trikes—the most popular street food options worldwide—remain banned outright. There is, notably, no municipal permit application left to speak of. The apparatus that once ran this system has simply outsourced the job.

2. A pilot built to referee taste.

The apparatus in question was By-law 15-039, adopted in 2015 after Montreal lifted a 66-year ban on street food. Instead of ordinary licensing, the by-law established a five-member jury to score every applicant out of 100 points, with 45 reserved for “culinary creativity” and a 70 per cent passing grade required. Successful vendors then had to fund a second, full commercial kitchen, since the truck itself was prohibited from doing most of the cooking. Permits were capped at 1.5 times the number of city-designated spots. The result was predictable. Within two years, participation fell from 41 trucks to 21. Vendors were criticized for pricing out the very casse-croûte culture the old ban had suppressed for decades. By 2019 the city quietly abandoned the fixed-permit model altogether.

3. New York's opposite bet.

Compare that with New York City, where 7,000 to 9,000 mobile food vendor permits coexist with growing demand. Permit supply has been effectively frozen since the 1980s, producing waitlists tens of thousands of names long. Yet New York never once asked vendors to justify the originality of their menus. Anyone who meets health, safety, and insurance standards can apply. Carts and trucks fall under a single licensing category rather than being divided into approved and excluded formats. The same principle applies to where vendors can operate. Street vending is permitted by default, with a short list of prohibited zones, rather than by assignment to a handful of spots chosen by committee.