On Rue Beaubien Est, right at the border of Rosemont–La Petite-Patrie and Little Italy, a quiet dining room opened its doors in April 2026 and is already the talk of Montreal’s food scene. Chouchou carries the first name of its chef-owner, Chouchou Jia. In French, the word evokes something cute, something precious.
Chouchou Jia’s path is anything but conventional. She first studied business administration in Arizona before pivoting toward the kitchen. From there, it was Toronto, where she learned French tradition at Auberge du Pommier, then Montreal, where she joined the kitchens of Île Flottante. She climbed the ranks there to the role of chef, a position she held for three years before feeling the irrepressible pull to carry her own project. Chouchou was born from that desire: to recreate, using French technique and Quebec ingredients, the Chinese flavours she grew up with.
The dining room, designed by Atelier Paradis, seats around thirty guests. Limewashed mauve walls, brown leather banquettes, and wood furnishings make for a warm, hushed décor, punctuated by Studio Botté’s spherical light fixtures. Quiet background music rounds out the atmosphere, in a setting that suits both a tête-à-tête and a night out with curious food lovers.
On the plate, the menu fully commits to its dual identity. You’ll find a black tea-marinated egg served with fermented fish and black beans, a pressed lacquered duck and brie sandwich, an Urumqi-style chicken salad spiked with Sichuan pepper, scallops with Thai chili and smoked coconut, and Zhong-style dumplings coated in sesame sauce. The char siu pork, served with bok choy and a burnt onion hollandaise, sums up the house’s signature on its own. French bistro structure in service of unapologetic Chinese flavours. For those who’d rather let the kitchen decide, a tasting menu is offered at $90. The bar holds its own too, with a short list of house cocktails including a Honey Miso, built on honey-miso syrup, vodka, and candied kumquat.
My experience at Restaurant Chouchou
From the very first bites, I start with the duck and brie sandwich, served alongside a satellite cabbage salad dressed in a well-balanced mustard vinaigrette. The duck, tucked into a soft focaccia, practically melts in the mouth. The texture is flawless. The fried brie, for its part, promises a crunch that the bread doesn’t quite deliver, given the choice of focaccia . A touch too light for the harmony of the dish, to my taste. But every complaint fades in front of the sauce: lightly sweet, gently wrapping the duck, and ultimately taking over the plate.
Next come the ravioli, filled with pork, mushroom, and green onion, set over a tahini scattered with almond pieces and parmesan that stretch the finish nicely across the palate. The sauce is well-spiced but never aggressive, letting the crunchy almonds bring in an almost sweet note as a perfect counterpoint. The ravioli themselves, house-made and cooked to a perfect al dente, hide a lightly lemony filling. It’s impossible to resist mopping up every last bit of sauce left on the plate. This ends up being one of my favourite dishes of the night.
The highlight of the meal is, without a doubt, the beef tongue, bathed in a generous brown sauce with a restrained but present spicy kick, set over a potato purée crowned with an espuma that stretches the flavour long after the bite. The tongue’s texture is exactly what you’d hope for, melt-in-your-mouth tender and the dish finds its balance thanks to pickled mushrooms that cut through, with just the right amount of acidity, the dish’s unapologetic richness. A very generous plate, and one that perfectly captures this meeting of French structure and Chinese flavour boldness that the chef stands behind.
